Lessons learned

There is an old bit of wisdom that says “In school you are taught a lesson, then you are given the test. But life gives you the test, then lets you learn your lesson.”

Life obviously has a wicked sense of humor, because midterms began while I was out of the country.

Lesson 1: Never look around and enjoy the view when walking down the streets in Kosovo. Always keep your eyes on the ground and watch where you are going.

Meet kapanxhë. Kapanxhë is a very friendly manhole – but sadly, someone stole his hat. He looks innocuous enough, doesn’t he? Be warned – he is overly friendly, and VERY sneaky!

People regularly steal manhole covers in Kosovo, because they can sell it for scrap metal. Websites about the country warn of this practice, and advise tourists to be on the lookout. But in spite of this being a common sight, it is hard to remember all the time. Especially when some adorable puppies are chasing a laser pointer on the grass strip next to where you are walking.

So yes – I watched the puppies, and while my attention was diverted Kapanxhë snuck up on me and gave my leg a great big manhole hug. Everyone walking nearby was horrified, and came rushing up to me exclaiming all kinds of things in Albanian that I could only assume were expressions of concern for my wellbeing. Luckily I was uninjured, and thought the whole thing was funny. Surprising, and more than a little embarrassing, but very funny. So I laughed. I laughed a lot. People probably thought I had hit my head on my way down. I wiped the dirt from my pants while I showed that there was no blood, and continued on my way – rather anxious to disappear (just not down another manhole.)

Lesson 2: No matter how far you may have to hike, or how hot it may be outside, never, NEVER place your water bottle in the same bag as your electronics.

Because I had no car in Kosovo, if I wanted to go to church I either had to pay for a taxi or walk. Of course I decided to walk every week – about 2 miles in blasting heat and lousy shoes. And of course I had only one bag. In it I carried my camera (of course), my local phone (for emergencies), my iPhone (for the maps/GPS) and my iPad (SO much lighter than carrying my regular scriptures.) My last Sunday was Fast Sunday – but with the heat and the long walk, I knew I would get dehydrated and headachy before I was halfway there, so I made sure to grab my water bottle (drinking tap water is a bad idea in Kosovo – so there are no water fountains.) I did pretty well, drinking just enough to avoid the headaches, but not enough that I felt I was breaking the ‘spirit’ of the Fast.

So walking home from church I still had more than half of my water left. Silly me – I stopped to take a picture, and my camera must have hit the water bottle wrong when I put it back. About half a block later I noticed that my bag felt damp, and when I looked inside, to my horror there was a pool of water in the bottom of the bag, leaving all of my electronics at least half submerged.

After a week of sitting in bags of rice, I knew that my local phone was dead. My other three devices showed signs of life – so I kept them in rice until I got back to the states, where I promptly transferred them to a bag of silica gel. A week later, and I was able to resuscitate the iPad and camera. My iPhone was beyond all hope. 50/50 success rate - it could have been worse I suppose, though I would have preferred to swap the camera and the iPhone so I would have an excuse to upgrade my camera...

Lesson 3: Never buy from the first street vendor you meet who has what you need.

I learned this rule a very long time ago from my parents while shopping in Mexico. No matter how desperate you are to obtain that item, always check with the next few people. You will get a better feel for what things are actually worth. I have lived by this rule for a long time, and shared it with others I have traveled with.

After my local phone died I found myself in need of a new one. Work had provided me with that one, and I was going to replace it before I left, come hell or high water. Friday was my last chance to remedy the situation – I was flying out the next morning, bright and early. I was wandering the streets with a friend and we were tired and hungry – ready to go to dinner and be out of the sun. Feeling guilty for making her follow me around, I was more concerned with replacing the phone than with the price asked for it – so I broke my rule, and bought from the first guy who had a phone that looked like what I needed. €25 and half an hour later, I learned that the phone was an American phone, and did not work with the local phone service.

I ran back to where I had found the guy to start with hoping to swap for an ‘IPKO’ (local) phone, only to find that he had packed up and skedaddled as soon as I was out of sight, leaving me back where I had started, with an expensive paperweight to add to my collection.

So another €20 was paid out to yet another vender, but only after verifying that it actually worked with the appropriate sim card. Very expensive lesson, but perhaps next time I will actually remember it.

Lesson 4: Never pack your toothbrush in your checked luggage. Or anything else you might need when you get home.

Common sense, of course – but as long as I have one free checked bag, I would rather carry as little as possible through security and passport control. So I packed as much as I could in my checked bag. So of course when I arrived in Rochester after 20 hours of traveling and 48 hours without much in the way of sleep, I was delighted to find that when baggage came off the cart, mine was nowhere to be found. Seems it was delayed in customs back in DC, at least that is what the airline representative who showed up an hour later was guessing. So an hour and a half after my ride was supposed to pick me up, I finally made it out and found her – and had to make do with what I could scrounge from around the house until my bag showed up the next day.

Lesson 5: Do not store ANYTHING in the great big basement of your rental house.

Coming out of the airport Saturday afternoon a massive storm slammed Rochester, dumping sheets of water, bruising hailstones, and a series of jaw-cracking explosions of thunder on us. I’m not sure how we made it back to the house – visibility was next to nil. But make it we did, and just in time too. As I walked into the house, one of my roommates came up from the basement with the news that water was rushing in from a crack in the wall.

The race was on and we were hauling soggy boxes of storage upstairs as fast as we could, while at the same time running to fill as many 5 gallon buckets and garbage cans as we could find, and dumping the dirty water outside, away from the house. 100’s of gallons later, the basement was empty and we were beyond exhausted. We finished mopping the floor – ate some pizza, and collapsed.

The next afternoon I was jerked out of my slumber by another crash of thunder over my head and so I was awake to watch the next storm break, and I was downstairs to watch the water start pouring in again. Luckily the basement was empty, and all of our stuff was still filling up our kitchen and living room. I was so tired, and so very, very sore. So I gave up and just sat and watched the water rise for a second time.

Lesson 6: Never trust your landlord to do any more than he legally has to.

Enough said - you will only be disappointed if you expect more than an “I told you so” (he didn’t) and an “I can’t do anything about it.”

Lesson 7: No matter how bad things get, don’t give up hope.

Two weeks without a phone was long enough – I went to the Verizon store a few days ago, hoping they could do something, and prepared to pay another $300 to replace my dead iPhone because I hadn’t had the foresight to buy insurance. Instead, they looked at me with pity and informed me that it would cost me $600 to replace – full retail value rather than the new contract price. As shock filled my eyes, they advised me to go to the Apple Store first, as they will occasionally take pity on poor souls and give discounts on replacements.

I had resigned myself to paying a good chunk of money and was at peace with that piece of bad news – but to be offered a bit of hope, along with a big piece of really bad news (I could NOT afford $600) felt almost cruel. Sometimes it hurts more to have a little hope revived, especially with the luck I had been enjoying of late – because the whole way there I was just feeling that hope being slowly crushed by my pragmatism.

So, with much trepidation, and very little hope I made my way to the VERY busy Apple Store, half an hour away. I squeezed through the crowds and waited in the appropriate lines. I handed over my very expensive paperweight and told my story, and then did a lot more waiting while it was autopsied.

Imagine my shock when I was told that although there was no hope for the old phone, they could help me out with a new one. For various reasons they were able to set me up with a new phone for very, very cheap, and they were extremely nice about it all. So I am finally in touch with the world again, and so very happy. (Plus, Apple has very firmly solidified my loyalty. Smart company.)
Lessons learned? I really hope so. Even though they all make great stories, and provide lots of laughter either at the time or in hindsight, I would very much prefer not to take these ‘tests’ again.

Shoqata e të Shurdhërve në Prishtinë

Each and every day here in Kosovo has been an adventure in and of itself, but some days really stand out as extraordinary. Yesterday was one of those days.

There were a few things south of Prishtina that I had been wanting to visit ever since finding out about them - so as soon as work got done on Wednesday, we found ourselves taking a taxi down to an old Serbian Orthodox Monastery in Gračanica. I had seen some pictures of it from nearly 100 years ago, and wanted to see how it had aged. Rather than take the bus, we grabbed a taxi and saved ourselves a bunch of walking - he dropped us off in front of the Monastery and we arranged to have him come back for us in a few hours.

This building not as grand as the Monastery at Dečani that we saw a few weeks ago, more frequently used, smaller and a little dingier on the inside, but in some ways I thought it was more beautiful, for those exact same reasons. The stone work itself was beautiful, and inside the woodwork was incredible - so intricate! I cannot imagine the kind of work that must go into making something so beautiful. The nuns who make their home there were not much in evidence, but the feel of the place was quiet and serene - in spite of the beggars looking for handouts from the Americans.

About 2km down the road from the monastery lies the ruins of a Roman city, destroyed thousands of years ago and left to decay in peace. All that was left for people to see were stone foundations and an old cemetery. Ignored for years during the war, German archeologist are finally starting to excavate the area and piece together some of the history - I have heard some people say that with enough work and investment, it could become Kosovo's Pompeii. It was incredible to be walking along an old farm road, with corn and hay fields on both sides - and then start to find very carefully excavated holes in the ground. We wandered through the first area of ruins, careful to stay away from places where we might mess something up and explored the foundations of 3-4 different buildings while staying out of the way of the family tending their vegetable patch right next to the archeologists canopy.

The best part of all came when we walked farther down the road to where we could see people at another dig site - and though they spoke no English, and we didn't speak any Serbian, we managed to get permission to walk through this part of the excavation - the cemetery, complete with crypts, sarcophagus, human bones, old pottery shards with designs still visible, stella, and the bases of marble pillars. Flat out amazing - nothing else I've seen in Kosovo can compare.

Having worked up a bit of an appetite while climbing around and exploring the ruins, we met up with our taxi driver from earlier that day and asked him to drop us off at Renaissance, a restaurant in downtown Prishtina. After getting dropped off however, we found that the restaurant was nowhere in sight. We consulted the guide book we were using, and walked a bit in both directions looking for anything that might look like a nice place to eat, and found nothing but dingy alleys and cheap shops.

Lucky for us there were 3 very friendly looking members of the Kosovo Police Force standing nearby, and one even happened to speak some English. They all went to work trying to figure out where this place might be. Conflicting directions and confusion about what we were looking for sent us in circles for nearly half an hour, but we had a good time seeing parts of the city we never would have gone into otherwise, worked up a really good appetite, and we had a great time laughing with the policemen - they were great sports and stayed with us till we found it!

It was worth all the effort to find it - lots of delicious food, more than we could eat, really, for a set price. Veggies tasted fresh out of the garden, and they probably were. The beef was tender, and was marinated in a mild mustard sauce with mushrooms and green onions. I never would have imagined it, but - YUM! We left well filled, and grateful to have had a good workout before hand so we could enjoy it all so thoroughly.

So we had a great afternoon. The Monastery was beautiful, Ulpiana was astounding, the Police were friendly and the food delicious - but the best part of the day came as we were walking from the restaurant to the bus stop.

I was watching the street vendors, hoping to find someone selling cheap cell phones to replace the one I lost to a water bottle (I will tell this story later.) I was jerked out of my food & sleep fogged state to find that I had walked right past a group of people signing to each other, and on their way to the nearby Deaf Club. The very same Deaf club we had been searching for ever since arriving nearly a month before - and that I had actually walked past at least twice! (In my defense, the sign was very well hidden.) Of course we gave up all thoughts of an early bedtime and fell in with the group. Attempting to communicate was just plain fun - lots of gesturing was involved, and a great deal of laughter. Luckily a few of the people there understood American fingerspelling and some English, so when worst came to worst I could fingerspell to them and they could translate for me. Somehow, ideas were communicated and I think everyone had fun, either teaching us new signs, or enjoying our ignorance - I know it certainly amused me!

By time we made it out of there it was late enough that the buses had stopped running, and we had to grab a taxi to make it home, but that night was well worth the extra euros - though I would much rather stay another month and really get to know the country and the people, at least now I can leave without any real regrets.

Happy me.

Kisha e Jezu Krishtit e Shenjtorëve të Ditëve të Mëvonshme

Traveling to foreign countries provides opportunities to learn at every turn. I have been especially impressed while I have been here with the Muslim faith. Since nearly 90% of the population is Muslim, I have had some good opportunities to observe some of the more visible aspects of the culture and religion. It makes me laugh though, because being here actually reminds me a lot of home. Not only is the climate and geography similar, but Mosques in the area are about as common as LDS church buildings in Utah, i.e. there seems to be one on nearly every corner.

What has particularly impressed me are the obviously strong values held by the people here - God and family are of the utmost importance (sounds somewhat familiar...) I have loved wandering around town and watching people gather at the mosques for worship, and watching families interact in restaurants, at the park or just walking down the street together.

Right now the people are celebrating Ramadan, so a lot of the students are fasting every day (3am to 8pm). This takes a lot of dedication in my opinion, just giving up two meals on Fast Sunday is challenging enough for me - and the part where nobody has been grouchy and irritable (that I have noticed) is just impressive. It has been fun to be here for this - usually Ramadan is just a word that shows up on calendars, or is briefly mentioned in news feeds. Being here has given it meaning and texture.

I have heard repeatedly that Muslims and Mormons have more in common than not, and the more I learn, the more I believe this to be true. The Church here in Kosovo is small but strong, and slowly growing. My first Sunday here was one of their first meetings in a brand new location - in the past they had to meet in someone's apartment. Now they have a two room store underneath an apartment building that has been cleaned up and made into a lovely meeting place. That first Sunday nearly 20 people were able to come - 6 service men, 4 missionaries, a visiting 70 and his wife, the Branch President, his wife and 2 kids, 2 girls from Albania, 1 from a nearby town, and me. Since then the average has been more like 9 or 10 each week (the servicemen were deployed shortly after I arrived, and the Branch President was released because he was being reassigned to another country for work.) Meetings are short, without much business to take care of, and only one talk for sacrament meeting, and then two short Sunday School lessons - two hours is running long.

The Missionaries certainly have their work cut out for them - I imagine proselyting here is about as successful for the Elders as it would be for Jehovah's Witnesses in Preston, Idaho. But at least we have a presence now, and as people get to know us and see that we are not here to take anything away from them, only add to the things they already know, I believe the Church will continue to grow. (Also, I think it helps that the people here have a great respect for Internationals, Americans in particular.)

I will miss the small, intimate church meetings I have been enjoying here when I leave. But the one thing I truly love about the Church is that no matter where on earth you go, what language the meeting is in, or how big or small the congregation may be - the Church is the same.

Do të marr çfarë të më sugjeroni ju.

Today marks the end of the second week of regular classes, and though it isn't the end of the work week, it is a reminder that my time here is nearly half over. Hard to believe that in a little over two weeks I will no longer hear the call to prayer broadcast from the Mosques 3-4 times a day - something I have really been enjoying, and will miss.

It has been brought to my attention that my decision to simply give up on attempting to catch up with missed posts is... unacceptable. And I suppose that randomly showing up in Kosovo does require some measure of explanation - it is certainly not where one would expect me to pop up.

Much as I would love to tell all, I will have to skimp on the details because my activities here are nearly all work related, and thus subject to a high degree of confidentiality. Suffice it to say that RIT provides ASL interpreters for their deaf students who decide to participate in study abroad programs, and that I was selected (miracle of miracles) as one of the interpreters to work in Kosovo for a month of classes and weekend trips around the country.

Though work does keep me busy here, there is still plenty of time to get out and explore. I have gone on a few short hikes up into the hills near my apartment, and am hoping to go a few more times and really start to get into the National Park just up the road. I have also been able to do some exploring in town - Church meetings are held in a residential part of the city, meaning in the 'store' under the missionaries apartments. Walking there takes me through some pretty random back streets and alleys and allows me to see a much more personal side of the city - not just the main streets or historical sights that cater to the internationals.

I have had the opportunity to hit some of the tourist sites, both with work and on my own - including a Turkish Bath, an old Orthodox church, battle sites, natural caves, fountains with purported magical properties, Mosques, statues, monuments, memorials and museums. I have been so impressed by the history and natural beauty of the country - it may be Europe's newest democracy, and only 3 years old, but it has a lot going for it. Not the least of which is the food.

Last night's excursion into town led to a much talked of, but hard to find restaurant, unmarked and out of the way, but beautiful in it's simplicity. Having been told that it was the place to go for good, traditional Albanian food, and that menus were not available, we gave full control to the waiter, who brought us half sized portions of four traditional entrees so that we could try as much as possible. I am still feeling a trace of disbelief about that meal. Who could have imagined such an exquisite melding of flavors from such simple dishes? Before we left, I made sure to have the waiter write out the names of my favorites so that when I go back, I will know what to ask for. Perhaps I will also get lucky and find a good recipe to try once I get home... (for my adventurous cooking friends, take a stab at making some Elbasan Tava and let me know how it turns out.)

It was on my walk home from dinner last night, strolling up narrow brick sidewalks and savoring the memory of that last bite that I realized that with this trip, my regrets about the lost year in Indonesia are finally starting to fade. (It helps that I am still employed at this point, whereas with that job, I would have been seeking work right now instead of playing.)

The evening's final call to prayer has just started to ring across the valley, reminding me that while there may not be classes in the morning, I still have to wake up early tomorrow, and that my pillow is missing my head.


*To forestall additional complaints, you should know that I have been taking pictures. I simply don't have a convenient way to upload and share the photos I have taken. Patience.

Mirëmëngjes

What a tremendously beautiful morning. Last nights rain - short as it was - seems to have scrubbed the air, leaving things smelling vibrant and alive, and sharpening the usually muted, dusty colors.

I am sitting in the little park in front of campus taking it all in and letting the cool, gentle proddings of the wind distract me from my studies - I refuse to spend my time indoors where I might as well be back in the States, (plus, my apartment is hosting a spider family reunion, complete with scary second cousins, children running around, reclusive aunts and commanding patriarchs), but it is awfully difficult to concentrate on the work at hand when there are so many things ready to lure my thoughts down other paths. Hooded crows, magpies, and jackdaws are always on hand to to make me laugh with their antics. The flocks of pigeons are stunning when they take flight, and the little birds - swallows, house martins and chickadees stay hidden in the trees, but fill the air with their calls.

This blissful state of being won't last long though. By this afternoon my eyes will start burning again, annoyed by the smog, and this mornings' green breeze will have dulled to a dusky smell of woodsmoke. Later today cars will start zooming by, blatantly ignoring the speed limit (it seems to be more of a suggestion anyways), motorcycles will roar by, un-muffled, with helmet-less riders jockeying for the position of 'leader of the pack,' and as soon as the morning chill burns off, teenagers enjoying their summer break will start streaming by, laughing and talking as they wind their way up to Germia Park and it's enormous swimming pool.


The maintenance man is washing the sidewalks again. Taxis are pulling up and spilling their loads of students and faculty members, and soon the buses will begin dropping their passengers as well. Classes start in half an hour, and soon the air will fill with students chattering in Spanish, Albanian, German, Serbian, and French, and the breeze will be laced with the heavy scents of coffee and cigarette smoke (80% of the population smokes), but for now I will bask in the early morning sunshine, revel in the beauty of a foreign country and just listen to the amazing mix of languages that surround me.

Çfarë gjuhe flisni ju?

A full moon is rising over the hills across the valley from me and illuminating the hills around me with a glow that only comes from large amounts of air pollution. It is beautiful though, and the cooler temperatures are a relief after the sweltering 40 degree high from this afternoon.



This marks my second night in Prishtina, Kosovo - and the end of my first full day. As hot as it is here, I seem to be setteling in just fine. I have been set up in a very nice little apartment for the next month and have already completely unpacked and made myself at home.


I even wandered into town a bit, trying to find a store with an ATM in an attempt to get some cash, but wound up settling for the first store I could find that was willing to accept a credit card. Since I have tomorrow off, perhaps that will be my main project - make it to the bank!


Then, if I am feeling extra brave, perhaps I will try to find the building where I will be trying to go to church on Sunday. Hopefully I won't get too lost - I don't speak a word of Albanian, and the translation app on my iphone will only go so far.

Even though most people working with me speak some amount of English, I am really feeling the need to learn more than just 'thank you.' The last few days, being surrounded by people who seem to speak every language except English has left me feeling humbled.


I make my living as an interpreter, and rely on communication to feel as though I have some measure of control over my life. It drove me nuts when I went to Costa Rica becaue I had to rely on my sister (who speaks Italian) for communication with the world, because my Spanish proved to be meager at best.




As I sat in the Brussles International Airport Thursday morning, I again felt frustrated, and very much like the stereotypical, arrogant American who speaks 'just English' and expects everyone else to learn it too. Families sitting nearby switched effortlessly between multiple languages, and though they may not have been fluent in all of them, they could make themselves understood.

I want to be more like them.


I have SO much to learn.

Give up.

At some point, you just have to throw your hands in the air, shout 'uncle,' and hope a corner of the universe is paying attention.

I have started 20 different posts in my head since March - and you have seen just how many made it to fruition. It's pathetic.


I really wanted to sit and write all about my trip to NC with Habitat for Humanity, share my newest favorite foods, bore you to tears with complaints about Computer Programming, and make a big announcement about me going to Kosovo.


But once you get behind in the news-sharing department, it can be really hard to catch up - so here it is.

UNCLE!

I give. Getting caught up is officially a lost cause and I am not even going to try. I am just going to try to start again. I may just throw in some of the old stuff later on, but there are no guarantees.


For right now, I will be satisfied if I can get all my tech toys to play nicely with each other before I have to catch my flight. I am about ready to give up on them too...