Ancient Apollonia

Last Saturday we had the pleasure of visiting the site of an  ancient Greek settlement some way down the coast, near the city of Fier. Apollonia was established over 2,000 years ago and within a few generations had developed its own distinct identity as a small city-state, neither Greek nor Illyrian. At its height, the population was around 40,000 people. 

The archaeological ruins have only been 6% excavated and explored. What is visible is this partially restored temple, an amphitheater, and the foundations of several homes where families (counting enslaved people) averaging around 30 members lived. 

The major river that was this city's main access highway and irrigation source for the lush farmlands all around was diverted by a major earthquake (I forget when), after which the city declined. 

In the 13th century, an Orthodox monastery was built on the ruins of the city, and it still stands today. We briefly saw a priest in his black robe standing under a tree as we came up the hill. 

It was very dark inside, but we were able to see ancient frescos, stone carvings, and a beautiful floor mosaic that has been partially uncovered.

The layers of history run deep here. 

One of the most fun parts of the excursion was the company of two other families, whose sons are classmates and good friends of Gabriel. The boys were so happy to spend time together on a Saturday! 

After the visit to the archaeological site, we all went out for an amazing fish and frog leg dinner at a nearby restaurant. It was a bit of a drive to get there, but so worth it - a place I'd been wanting to see for a long time! 

 

A hot minute

Hello! 

It's been a hot minute since I've posted here, actually more like 1 million thirty thousand minutes (give or take...). Basically I spent a year after that last post processing a lot of "life stuff" internally that I wasn't really comfortable making public, and then this past year I've been super busy teaching. Plus, the kids are at an age where they're a little more aware of what gets posted about them on social media, so I haven't felt as free to talk about them as much here. 

But here we are, and I thought it might be a good time to rev up the ol' blog again. 

We have started school online this year!

We had hoped to begin in person on the 20th, then on the 24th, and then got word that permission to open face-to-face was denied by the Albanian Ministry of Education. But, we could start online, and then transition to face-to-face once all the Albanian schools open on September 14. 

It seems like everyone connected in any way, shape, or form to formal education is struggling with the pandemic and all that implies for the ways that we do school, at all levels. It has been a learning curve, for sure, but I've felt a lot of confidence in our administration - the thoughtful planning, consultation, and decision-making that has gone into preparing for this year gives me a great sense of optimism.

And, so far so good! There have been tech issues and glitches, to be sure - on Tuesday, four of my 9th-graders living near each other lost power! But students, teachers, and families have shown themselves to be adaptable and resilient. The four 9th graders got together at one home and used 4G to connect on one laptop to their class. It looked to me like they were actually really enjoying doing school together. 

We have had our own little family "pod" as well. 

Over the summer, our kids have had regular playdates with a couple friends from their respective classes, and so when school started we decided to keep the friend-pods going and invited the other kids to join us at our house. We hired a recent high school graduate to look after them while Terry and I work, and so far it's been going really well. 

COVID-19 stats in Albania have not been great this summer. We are up to 101 deaths per million, which is lower than the global average, but not by much. After lockdown lifted on June 1 (after a whole month of *no deaths*), people seemed to feel quite free to do whatever and also seemed to be trusting in the summer weather to knock out the virus. Daily cases soared - and are only now just starting to come down again as people seem to have realized the consequences of their actions. 

So, we will see how things go. That's all we can do, really - prepare and plan, but be ready to flex at a moment's notice. 

The Return to Sotira

Six year ago, almost to the day, we attempted to join some friends in a hike to a waterfall called Sotira. It... didn't quite work out as planned... but the event took on the warm sheen of nostalgia over the years thanks to the lovely photos and the intercultural adventure of it. I had literally forgotten that we didn't eat a real meal for 7 hours (with a 4 year old and a toddler), and that the kids and I all threw up on the bus trip back to Tirana. But the friend who organized the original trip always felt bad about the "disaster" in her mind, so this year she organized our triumphant return on the May 1 holiday, only to have things.... not quite go as planned. 

Same group as last time, minus 100 random hikers and plus two more kids

The kind man who carried Gabe for part of the hike last time (husband to our friend Ledi) now has 2 kids of his own and threw out his back the evening before our hike while playing tennis. You can see hi looking pained above. So instead of driving 2.5 hours past Gramsh to get to Sotira, we instead drove about 1 hour up Dajti. 

Apparently everybody else in Tirana had the same idea as we had to drive around a bit to find a picnic spot, but eventually we found one.

The kids really had a great time wandering around in the woods and finding flowers. Val got upset about all the trash she saw littering the ground. It was really nice being out of the city, in a higher and cooler spot. So even though we didn't see Sotira (again) a good time was had by all.

Gingerbread!

Continuing the Springtime Catch-up blog marathon... 

When I was in the States for a conference in December, I bought a couple of gingerbread kits - one to make "Ninjabread men" and one to make little houses. We had so much fun with these. I looked EVERYWHERE for molasses, so we could make more, but none was to be found - luckily my Jantzi grands were able to bring some in January. But the kits actually came with everything needed. 

We invited some friends to help us with the little houses - Abby, Daniel, and Elsa - they all had so much fun. Their mom Lizzy and I imagined that they'd keep the houses to look at but actually the kids just couldn't wait to eat them right away.

We made them wait until we could take a picture of all five!

 And then I made my own with leftover pieces. That one hung around a few days before Hansel and Gretel ate it all up. Nobody except Ninjabread men ended up in the oven though. Yay!

O Zemër

I guess it's no big secret that Terry and I really miss Albania a lot. I think I spent the first year and a half here actively grieving. I didn't realize before we left how much I had fallen in love with the place, the people. I had gotten a little bored and thought I needed a change of scenery... I wanted to be closer to family, and I wanted my kids to learn Spanish.

For me at least, my attachment to the place is inextricably connected to that phase of life with the kids. I look at pictures now and goggle at how small they were then!

But at least now I can look at those photos without my heart aching so much. I think our last visit in January last year was something I very much needed to do, in order to truly say goodbye.

I can make myself a cup of coffee in the mid-afternoon without crying. I don't feel so guilty about leaving Shpresa.

I still think it is one of the most beautiful and fascinating places I have ever been to. And that has at least a little bit to do with how we felt there among our Albanian and expat friends - wanted, appreciated, loved. 

 
 

I have found friends here; over the last year I think I finally accepted that it was ok that my closes friends are all people I work with, in most cases supervise. It doesn't seem to be an issue for the Colombian women on my team so I decided it's not an issue for me, and I've been much more content since I made that shift.

We are still uncertain about what our next steps will be. Albania could be in our future again, not only in the past. I have more thoughts about leaving that I will leave for another post - just processing in these last few months here.

Summer Juggernaut of Fun

Probably the best thing about home leave is hanging out with friends and family. (It is definitely not reading the newspaper, even though I do that as a civic duty.) One weekend we went to a Jantzi reunion in Akron, then camping with our Star Trek group. I totally forgot my camera (for the entire trip) but someone took this one for me:   

This was Bug's first camping trip ever, first time sleeping in a tent, and the first time for both kids eating s'mores! A couple highlights of this trip were looking at Saturn through a friend's big telescope, and the mountain swing (with a 5-point harness). Pretty awesome!

Another day we went swimming in a friend's pool the kids had SO much fun. It was raining, but not as cold as where we've gone in Bochica. We even ate ice cream sandwiches!

I got to see my sister! She was on the East Coast with her two girls, so she actually came to Harrisonburg and the cousins got to see each other and hang out at the park and the children's museum:

Playing with the green screen "invisibility cloak"

Fish tickling their toes in Black's Run

Just before leaving the country, we went to Pennsylvania for another Jantzi reunion:

Three generations of Jantzi males!

 That Saturday, my wonderful sister-in-law drove me five hours to Pulaski, NY, for my youngest cousin Max's wedding! It was absolutely fantastic to see nearly all the family there, I was sad to leave the party early but had to get back to PA to join up with Terry and the kids in order to fly out from DC the next day.

A friend of mine in college used to do something called "Jug Days" (short for "Juggernaut") where you try to pack every single fun thing you can think of into one marathon day of fun. I kind of felt like this home leave was like that. I haven't even mentioned the 14 lbs of blueberries Terry and the kids and I picked, or the knit night at a friend's house, or thrift store bargain hunting, or the library, or fireflies, the city pool, or running into friends at pretty much every turn. 

Nevertheless it's been good to be back in our own space, back in our routine, catching up with work that was hanging over my head the whole time we were away. I still have a few more pics to post if I can find them. We have a team retreat this weekend so it will probably be next week. Onward!

Can you see me and my sis in the background there? Not a dry eye in the whole room!

Chills...

I just realized two things: First of all, I just marked ten years of blogging. Second, Tara started this blog for me on May 15, 2006... two years to the day before Valerie was born.

Just letting that sink in for a minute....

My blog shares a birthday with my daughter, and that was totally not on purpose.

ñame - sounds like yummy!

Well, this just made my day!

One of the great things about being back in MCC in Latin America has been seeing our old friends Patrocinio and Crecencia again. They were on our MCC team in Bolivia in the '90s, when Terry and I first met - and so did they - they became a couple about a year or so before we did :-). Now they have two smart and terrific kids, and so do we!

Since we've been living in Colombia, Patro has visited twice to help us out with some agricultural project evaluations. He's a born farmer, and just a super capable person in general. One thing he took back to Bolivia with him was a small piece of ñame, a root vegetable (discorea alata) popular among small-scale farmers here, especially in the coastal areas. He just sent us a picture of his first harvest!

This is a terrible picture but it's the only one I have of myself with the family when I visited Bolivia last September. 

Urgent Action

It's been a hectic couple of weeks and blogging, once again, got away from me. We've been fairly preoccupied with a crisis involving one of our partner organizations on the Caribbean Coast (these photos are all from my visit there last November). In  nutshell, a community leader and organizer who has worked for decades to promote non-violent social change is under threat, and another has been imprisoned.

I remember as a young(er) person, staying with my Grandma Beth in NY, and seeing her at her desk late at night writing letters for Amnesty International. As a budding social activist type I remember feeling so impressed and so proud of her. Now I feel grateful - to her and to the many people who take time for this kind of action. It might not seem like it makes much of a difference, but it can - the difference between life and death.

I won't try to explain the whole story here - in fact, there are aspects of the story that cannot at this time be made public because to do so would put people's lives in further danger. I've been spending most of my work time in the past 10 days working with an amazing network of people (who understand much more than I do about the situation and about international advocacy processes) to discern what exactly can and should be said, and to whom, and via what means, under a strong sense of urgency to have it all done three days ago.

So here are some good things to read:

• The MCC Action Alert which has a clear and concise telling of the story (the two young women named at the end are part of our team here).
• The Amnesty International alert
• A personal first-hand account from one of our MCCers, Anna (you should follow her blog, actually - it's awesome on a regular basis!)

It's been incredibly humbling and moving to see the responses beginning to flood in. Like over 1500 signatures collected online already. Ricardo is a dearly beloved and greatly respected in peacebuilding circles around the world. And in Colombia.

Goodbyes are hard

Last night I pulled a sheet over myself instead of turning on the air conditioner. Last week I noticed that the angle of the shadows has shifted on the balcony, and the days are perceptibly shorter. The mornings are cool before the sun gets high. The arc of the sun across the sky is lower; it's only a few weeks until the Equinox.

Yesterday I packed up and mailed the first of about five boxes to books plus a few odds and ends to Colombia. All of a sudden it felt real - that we are leaving in a few short days. I almost started crying in a souvenir shop, and then I did start crying while watching Shpresa play with Gabriel.

By far the hardest part of leaving Albania, for me, is saying goodbye to Shpresa. Sure, I'll miss the ubiquity of local fresh fruits and vegetables, macchiato e gjate, roasted eggplant in everything (pizza! quesadillas!), learning Albanian; I'll miss Fun Cafe and the lake. I'll miss walking everywhere and the delicious range of fruit juices available. And I'll miss some of the women from church. But Shpresa has been like a sister to me, more than a friend. Her affection and care for our children has gone far beyond that of a paid employee.

I think part of it is just not knowing if or when we'll be able to come back, thinking of how much the kids will have changed if/when we do, wondering if Gabriel will remember her. She's almost like a second mom to him right now. She gave him his first "solid" food, she was there when he started walking. He talks to her in Albanian.


"It is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all," right? I know our lives are richer for having shared them with her, and I hope she can say the same about us.