Going Gets Tuff

Gone are the days of sleeping with the window open. In addition to my sleeping bag and two blankets, I just added a third last night. Despite the cold, I've found that I sleep better when it's dependably cold. I can never find the right temperature during warmer months, so it's nice not to wake up sweating one moment and chilled the next.

Walking home after a busy day of school and potting iris rhizomes (I had to look that one up), I was debating whether or not to go to volleyball when a bird defecated on my head. Despite irritation being my natural response, I remembered that Albanians interpret this event as a sign of good luck. Though I don't buy this theory completely, deciding whether to feel mad or fortunate misdirected my initial shock, and I've decided, whether good or bad, it's an omen that I should go home and take a shower. So, no volleyball today.

Besides being the victim of bird feces, life is good. On warm days like today, I enjoy gardening at the hostel and my compost piles are doing better than expected. My secondary projects are gathering momentum and add refreshing spontaneity to my work. Through a grant that I wrote, the volleyball team received six new volleyballs, and I've gotten to share in the pleasure of this new equipment. Other than that, my wood stove keeps me pinned to my couch and I'm enjoying a new book, Blood Meridian.

Today's title comes from a track on The Growlers 2014 album Chinese Fountain. It's a nostalgic sound that reminds me of driving home on the 405.

I had a dream of eating Randy's doughnuts the other night. Here's the best that I could do to recreate it. These packaged "Today!" pastries taste like staling Hostess doughnuts but are still sufficiently enjoyable. To complement it, I've finally found a coffee shop that will grind me coarse beans, so my coffee life has just escalated to a new level. 

This man, Turi, is a cafe owner and a wonderful human being. Tomorrow, he'll be giving me a bag of coffee grinds for my compost piles. Over the summer, he's offered to teach me how to pull espresso shots.

Bleigiessen (mine's on the right)

Fancy You Fancying Me

I returned to Albania yesterday from a lovely vacation.

Now that it's over, the trip feels like an intermission between chapters in my Peace Corps service. After ten days of wonderful reunions, warm central heating, and many miles in a rental car, it's surprisingly unshocking to come back to frozen windows, sidewalks more slippery than skating rinks, and a drafty apartment. Though I would have enjoyed spending more time with my friends and family, it's comforting to sink back into the rhythm that I've grown accustomed to. This morning, I chopped kindling, bought groceries, refilled my stove's gas tank, and will hopefully visit the gym later on.

Today's title is lifted from an under-appreciated gem: "Fancy You Fancying Me." The song comes from something of a novelty record by a Scottish actor and comedian, Ronnie Corbett, whom I know nothing about. Despite being released as a, "novelty record," it's a fantastic tune that describes a warm emotion.

Copenhagen, "the Venice of the North."

Tivoli Gardens in Copenhagen

Me at the well-decorated home where we stayed in Copenhagen. 

The royal bakery in Graz

My Vienna highlight was visiting this Egon Schiele exhibit at the Leopold Museum.

A unique monument in Vienna--an empty trench coat on a single railroad track

Peshkopi behind my frozen-shut window

Peshkopi after my window thawed

The kindling that I cut on my first day back in Peshkopi. As I chopped, I learned the Albanian word for kindling is, "ashkla," from a few bored children who spectated my work.

Over The Mountain, Across The Sea

Peshkopi continues to stay warmer than I expected. I bought two cubic meters of wood back in October, fearing that snow was on our doorstep. All in all, it's a bit chilly in the morning but I remember feeling much more miserable during my high school lacrosse practices at 6:00 AM, but that was in Los Angeles. Almost daily, the phrase comes to mind, "There's no such thing as bad weather, just bad clothing." Though it'll only hurt me in the end, I'm somehow looking forward to when the myth of "bad weather" becomes a reality.

I had never intended this blog for anyone other than friends and family. However, given the off chance that a future volunteer stumbles here, here's my abbreviated packing list. Other volunteers' lists were helpful when I was preparing to leave, so I feel indebted. However, I'd like to get back to reading The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle, so I'll avoid mentioning everything. These are just a few of the things that I was particularly glad that I brought.

- Quality headphones (do yourself a favor and upgrade from those apple earbuds)
- Portable speaker for your laptop
- Lots of gifts (mine were peanut brittle)
- Kindle
- Chef's knife
- Ice-pack
- Warm boots for winter
- Ear plugs
- ... As I remember more, I'll add them. Now it's time to return to my book.

I figured that I'd actually attempt to find a song that's title had something vaguely to do with what I wrote about. Here's the first thing I came across: "Over the Mountain, Across the Sea." The Bobby Vinton version is what I'm familiar with but writing this encouraged me to listen to what I'm thinking is the original by Johnnie and Joe.

What's a post without a picture? Here's a picture of a fellow volunteer, a good friend of mine.