Try Your Wings

Coming from Los Angeles, I never understood why people could dislike summer. However, I've now come to learn how crippling the summer sun can be without that refreshing Southern California breeze. Last week, I volunteered at a hostel in the south of Albania, where we worked only from 7:30-11:00 each day. At first, I wondered why the working hours were so short, but I soon realized how hard it is to work outside in 100+ degree temperature, especially when mosquitoes are nipping at you all the while.

Other than that, summer vacation has been treating me mighty fine this year. Last month, I learned how to pull espresso, and that's definitely enhanced my productivity while working at the hostel. I've already gone fishing a handful of times at the river in Peshkopi and along the coast of Southern Albania. The largest fish that I caught was a 9-inch red snapper looking fish that I grilled that evening at a beach called Jal. We celebrated July 4th in Peshkopi with a barbecue, a trip to the river, and fireworks. Firing roman candles into the night with my Peace Corps friends, it reminded me of Kerouac: "The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars."

Today's title comes from a 50's/60's cabaret singer/pianist named Blossom Dearie. It's a sweet song that I shared with some fellow volunteers a while back. It turns out that they passed the song along to their family, and it ended up being played as my friend's sister walked down aisle at her wedding!

A hostel where I volunteered in village called Vuno in Southern Albania. The building is an old school that's a 30-40 minute walk from the beach. The place had no internet and rarely had electricity during the day.

The dirt path in front of the hostel

The hostel's kitchen

The village of Vuno

Benja, a natural hot spring outside of Permet. The bridge on the left is an Ottoman era bridge, perhaps 15th century. 

A cafe en route to Benja

The canyons beyond Benja

The village of Kelcyre

Albanian side dishes to accompany drinking raki. On the left is a can of sardines that has been mashed with a fork. In the center, boiled meat and young garlic. On the right, a tomato, cucumber, and olive oil salad.

The Sun Also Rises

This weekend, I visited Macedonia for my second time. After being in Albania, it feels so wonderful to see the amount of infrastructure that our neighbors enjoy--scheduled busses, children's organized sports, recycling, radio stations, and 4-lane highways! It's amazing that such levels of organization now make me gasp with astonishment.

Last week, several volunteer and I painted a mural at the hostel. A friend came up with the design and three of us others helped him to stencil buildings and windows for four days, as he drew a giant child stomping through the city to plant flowers.

Another piece of news is that a friend lent me a fishing rod, which I plan to use sometime this week. Though years of dynamite and net fishing have taken down the numbers of fish in our local river, the Black Drini, new laws have helped to regrow the trout populations. Going fishing in the mornings, I hope to get myself out of bed early often this summer. 

For today's title, I'm switching up my normal routine to include a book title, Ernest Hemingway's The Sun Also Rises. During my recent trip's combined 8 hours of furgons (Albanian minibuses), I listened to most of an audio-recording of the story. As a kid, I listened to Jim Weiss's stories tapes every night going to bed and washed dishes in college listening to short story librivox recordings. So, it feels nice to carry on the tradition.

Where I plan to go trout fishing. 

My friend, Nesti, making breakfast

Walk in the Park

Yesterday was the first day of Ramadan. For a month, many of my friends are fasting food, drink, cigarettes, and even water from sunrise to sunset. During these long summer days, this means no eating or drinking from around 5:30 AM to 8:30 PM. Instead, people eat once at night and wake up early to eat again before going back to sleep, often around 2:30 AM. It's certainly an amazing sacrifice, and I have nothing but respect for my friends observing the fast.

After school ended on June 6th, I attended a conference in an area outside Albania's main port city, Durres. The luxurious hotel was a welcome vacation after a long school year. However, I learned some technical skills and a lot about post-Peace Corps opportunities, so the stay felt justifiably productive as well.

Even though school ended, I feel almost as busy as before--just not constantly tired from listening to children shouting all day. Studying for the GRE and applying for project grants are what I'm making my "work" for this summer. However, I feel the urge to push myself this summer, traveling to new places and making the most of where I am. So, hopefully I'll have some exciting news to report you over the next couple of months.

Today's title comes from Beach House's 2010 album, Teen Dream. I bought the album on vinyl recently, so I've been listening to it a lot lately, imagining how nice it'll sound on my turntable when I get back to the states.

The second mural that we completed in Peshkopi.

The third mural that I worked on.

Heavenly beds at the conference hotel.

The view from my balcony.

The hotel's pool--the first pool that I've swam in for a year. Each day of the conference I swam for an hour before the buffet breakfast. 

Rafting with some of my best friends in Albania.