Bears, Idioms, and Maybe Chickens

So this is a mishmash of a post and no pictures except the ones at the very end that have nothing to do with anything I wrote here.

Now that things have calmed down a bit—no field trips the last few days, a few meetings, notices of confirmations for conferences and workshops, but everything is basically in a “planning” stage so I thought I would relate a few tidbits of information about Albanian culture.

BEARS AND METAPHORS

When my colleagues and I left Shushicë, we took a different unpaved (I am calling the unpaved roads we were on “unpaved” and not “dirt” deliberately, which I will explain later) to the main road. As we drove along, I started noticing that most of the houses had Teddy bears hanging somewhere near their gates or doors, or if the house was unfinished from a support beam near the top of the structure.

I asked my colleague what was up with the bears: “What’s up with the bears?”

“What bears?” was the reply.

“The Teddy bears on the houses.”

The reference without a visual didn’t mean much to my fellow travelers, so the next time I saw one I pointed it out.

None of my colleagues knew of a legend or lore related to the bears. They speculated that it might be a regional custom related to “good luck” or “good fortune” similar to a horseshoe in the U.S.

Then at lunch one day with other colleagues, we started discussing the Albanian language. They were telling me how there are certain words in Albanian that are spelled the same, but based on how you speak them (where you put the accent), they mean two entirely different things.

One such word was the word “ari,” which depending on where you put the accent, “ar-EE” or “ARR-uh,” means “bear” or “gold.”

So I thought that the bears hanging on the houses could be related to that connection between “bear” and “gold,” but of course that is pure speculation on my part.

Side note:  Another such word is “fund” (FOO-nd), which means both “skirt” and “end’ (as in “in the end” [në fund]).

Both of these examples gave me pause to reflect on the logic of languages and how we as symbol users moved from the use of object language to metaphoric language.  As Lakoff & Johnson make so clear in “The Metaphors We Live By” (http://www.amazon.com/Metaphors-We-Live-George-Lakoff/dp/0226468011), the metaphors in a language are the keys to a culture’s orientation, to how we as symbol users live our lives.

So maybe in teaching languages we should not start with the banalities of phatic communication but with the language’s dominant metaphors. Or would that be too complicated?

As I have grappled with rudimentary Albanian, I keep thinking, “What if I am saying this wrong? What if this is actually offensive?”

Which leads me back to the “unpaved” road. Once we left the main road on our way to Shushicë, I commented to my colleagues that I had been on “dirt” roads far worse than the one we were on. 

After my remark, my language professor colleague asked me for another way to say “dirt road” in English: “If the other road was ‘paved’ what is this road?”

“Unpaved” was my response.

He said something to our fellow travelers in Albanian and then said in English, “Dirt road simply means ‘unpaved. Not ‘dirty’.”

While I do not know for sure, I think calling the word “dirt” might have been offensive.

And I think perhaps if I understood the dominant metaphors evident in the Albanian language, I would be more comfortable with my obvious butchering of pronunciation.

Or maybe that’s just a copout.

“THERE IS A SAYING IN ALBANIAN . . .”: IDIOMS, MYTHS, AND LEGENDS

Here are a few sayings I’ve heard since I arrived here. I am sure in time I will hear more.

“If you kill the duck, don’t leave it in the road.”

This was told to me the night a colleague gave me a ride home from an event. I had said he could let me out at a corner rather than having to go down the rather narrow and car-crowded street my apartment building is on.

It obviously means if you start a job, finish it! I can’t think of an American equivalent, except the more literal, “Don’t start what you can’t finish.” Perhaps “If you can’t take the heat, get out of the kitchen” or “Don’t bite off more than you can chew” come close; however the former connotes a context of criticism and the latter a context of overload, while the dead duck saying does neither.

“If the baby doesn’t cry, you don’t know it wants milk.”

This was told me by my office mate, in suggesting I was not forthcoming in asking for some things (like turning the air-conditioner up or down.)

I really like that one! Sort of like “the squeaky wheel gets the grease” but more “humanized” I guess.

“Too many cookies spoil the baby.”

Obviously not the same meaning as “Too many cooks spoil the broth.” More about being prudent in indulging others.

“There is a saying in Albanian that if a woman salts the food before she tastes it she must love her husband very much.”

Traveling back from Shushicë, my colleagues and I stopped for lunch in Peqin (http://goo.gl/maps/Ojxzu) for lunch. We had chicken, but that's another story.

When a plate of grilled vegetables arrived, the young woman in our group immediately picked up the saltshaker and started salting the vegetables. My colleague, the language professor, commented, “You must really love your husband.”

My colleagues laughed all around and the young woman noted, “I don’t have a husband yet.”

At lunch the next day I asked my office mate and another woman about the saying. They laughed, too. And noted, “If a woman uses A LOT of salt she loves her husband so much she wants him to die.”

So I guess it is something said with sarcasm and as a warning about the dangers of too much salt. J

“If you’re from Vlora/Berat/Korçë you must be . . .”

I have heard several stories about how people from certain towns have certain characteristics, such as “clever,” or “self-confident,” or “thrifty.” But these characteristics are usually applied disparagingly. For example, sneaky or self-serving rather than clever, arrogant rather than self-confident, and stingy rather than thrifty.

This seems equivalent to the “People know you are from Arkansas if . . .” jokes. Self-deprecating humor, if, of course, one is talking about his or her own place of origin.

“Don’t place your purse on the floor or your money may disappear”

Ever since I got here, I noticed that when I put my purse or tote on the floor when I sat down for a meal or a meeting, someone would scoop it up and place it on a chair or hang it on the back of the chair where I was sitting. I thought this might have something to do with making sure the bag stayed clean or something.

Yesterday at the reception after University Marin Barleti’s graduation ceremony (which I will write about in a later post), a woman I was sitting next to explained that there was a saying in Albania that if you placed your purse on the floor, your money may disappear.

“Seven Brothers, Seven Mountains, One Daughter”

I don’t know the actual name of this legend/fairy tale, but it is about seven brothers, seven mountains, and one daughter. Also I may have some of the story wrong because the story was told partly in English and partly in Albanian with translation.

Once there was a mother with seven sons and one daughter who lived in the mountains. One day a prince traveled over seven mountains and came to the village in which this family lived. He was smitten with the daughter and proposed to her.

The daughter refused, saying, “I don’t know if you will be a good husband or not. And we would live so far away from my family.”

The woman’s youngest brother overheard of the prince’s proposal and told his sister, “Go ahead and marry the prince. If he is not a good husband, I will know and I will travel over the seven mountains and bring you home.”

So the daughter married the prince and traveled over the seven mountains to his castle.

[I assume from how the story ends that all was not roses in the marriage between the prince and the daughter, but I am not sure.]

Many years passed. In those years a war ensued. All the brothers went to fight in the war.

One day, the woman’s youngest brother knocked at the door and told his sister, “It is time for you to come home.”

So they traveled over the seven mountains to the village where the woman had once lived.

They stopped at the graveyard. There the woman’s youngest brother said, “I need to rest here for awhile. You go ahead to our mother’s home.”

The woman went to her mother’s home and knocked on the door. When her mother answered she was overcome with joy, hugging and kissing her daughter.

“My dear one, how did you know I needed you to come?” the woman’s mother exclaimed.

“My youngest brother [I wish I could remember the names the person who told me the story used. They were quite beautiful. In fact, many Albanian first names are beautiful and significant, but that is a story for another time.] came to get me,” the daughter explained.

Her mother looked at her incredulously. “But he died in the war. In fact, all your brothers did.”

Both women were overcome with emotions, almost fainting. The woman’s youngest brother had kept his promise even in death.

The End.

As to the moral of the story, I can only speculate but the person who told me the tale explained that it was a tale typical of “the mystic” legends of Albania. It obviously also has clear themes of deep family ties and the importance of keeping promises.

The Priest and the Women at the Wells

Again, I don’t know the actual title of this story but it about a “priest’s” (the title used by the person who told me the story) encounter with two women at wells. And again I am reconstructing the story from memory so it might not be actually as it was told to me.

A priest and another man were walking through the mountains. It was hot day and when the men spotted a well, they stopped to have a drink.

There was a young woman at the well also. The priest asked her if she would get some water for him and his companion. The woman gladly obliged taking great care to wash the pot she offered the men a drink from and making sure the water was just right.

The men drank the water and, being refreshed, were ready to continue on. As they were leaving, the priest turned and cursed the woman telling her she would marry a bad husband.

The priest and his companion traveled on, but were soon thirsty again. They spotted another well. Here too a woman was waiting. They asked her to get them some water.

The woman rudely said she was too busy with her own chores and they could get the water themselves.

The men got their own water, rested a bit, and decided to continue on. Before they did, the priest blessed the woman who had refused to help them, saying she would marry a good husband.

After they had walked a bit, the priest’s companion asked him, “Why did you curse the first woman with a bad husband and blessed the second woman with a good one?”

The priest answered, “Because God gives everyone only as much suffering as she can handle.”

The End.

As to the moral of this story again I can only speculate. The tale seems to convey the same message as “Bad things can happen to good people,” with the added dimension of gender roles thrown in. I’ll be on the lookout for other legends/fairy tales/myths to see if they contain reoccurring themes related to gender roles, family ties, and the importance of keeping promises.

MAYBE CHICKENS

To end this post, I have a short (really it will be short!) story about the lunch stop on the trip back from Shushicë.

Instead of going through the mountains, we went toward the sea and through the town of Peqin. Peqin is the hometown of the young woman who was in our party.

Her cousin (or maybe her brother, I should have taken better notes!) has a restaurant there. She called ahead to let him know we were coming.

When we arrived, our table was waiting. And in a matter of a few minutes, plates of grilled vegetables, an Albanian salad (cucumbers, tomatoes, olives, cheese. Yes, you may know it as a Greek salad, but here in Albania is it an ALBANIAN salad.), yogurt, potatoes, bread was brought to the table.

Then came the chicken. Two whole chickens, split and grilled. Come to find out they were slaughtered (do you slaughter chickens?!?) right before we arrived. By far the freshest chicken I’ve ever eaten and delicious!

My colleagues also told me that the Peqin region of Albania is know for its turkeys. The turkeys are fed a diet of olives and walnuts that makes their meat really juicy and delicious. They are usually ready to be slaughtered in December, right in time for holiday celebrations.

One other quick chicken observation. The other day as I was walking through Wilson Square, I noticed chickens tied to the trunk of a small tree. I don’t know if they were for sale or not . . .  

Here are the pictures I promised. They were taken from one of the bridges over the Lana River that runs through Tirana. Quite lovely!

That is all for now. More later. Concerts, Graduations, Pancakes, and Democracy. 

People & Places Part Four: Field Trip to Shushicë

This is a story about constitutional rights, but it also the story of a lovely trip through the mountains.

Apparently I didn’t totally botch the presentation in Krujë because on Thursday afternoon, my colleague called to invite me to join him and two young faculty members for another training session in Shushicë.

The Invitation. Actually he called the school administrator who I just happened to be passing in the courtyard of the school while they were talking. She handed me the phone and he said, “Ask me where I am.” I bit.

“Where are you?”

“I am in the middle of NOWHERE!” was his reply. (Shushicë is about in the middle of nowhere, but maybe not for long.) “Would like to join me here tomorrow?”

Why not? I thought. 

We agreed that a colleague would meet me in front of my apartment around 7:45AM and we would walk together to the place where another colleague would pick us up.

[Side note: Addresses here are not very straightforward. For example, my apartment address includes a street name, a door number (apparently there are several ways to enter the building but none of them connects to the others), and a floor number and then “Tirana, Albania.” No apartment number, no actual street number, no postal code.

Now I think understand why the person who picked me up at the airport had a bit of trouble finding the hotel I stayed at the first night I was here and why my language tutor didn’t ask for my address but rather walked with me to my apartment so she knew where it was.

Also if you try to get directions in Tirana through Google Maps, you get really strange instructions, like “go past the AMC store on your left”:  Here’s an example of the directions you would get if you searched for how to get from where my office is to ERA Piceria, a good pizza and traditional food restaurant in the Bllok area: https://maps.google.com/maps?saddr=Universiteti+Marin+Barleti,+Tirana,+Albania&daddr=ERA+Piceria+Tirana+Albania&hl=en&sll=41.33165,19.8318&sspn=0.200826,0.271912&geocode=FUttdgId3BMuASEtC1IHzuDSlymhdwy9UTBQEzEtC1IHzuDSlw%3BFa1ndgId_6MuASGr-BeSdXMljyllaz503zBQEzGr-BeSdXMljw&mra=ls&t=m&z=14

You have to wonder what happens if “Big Bite” or “MoF” goes out of business. Also, uh, there is no “1^st exit” at the roundabout at Wilson Square – it is a city street! Go figure . . .]

Long digression, sorry!

Anyway, my colleague was right on time to pick me up and we walked together through a fine mist to our first meeting place, got into a car with another colleague, picked up the language professor and were off to Shushicë!

Getting There. Shushicë is in the almost exact opposite direction from Krujë. It is southeast of Tirana, whereas Krujë is northwest: https://maps.google.com/maps?saddr=Tirana,+Albania&daddr=Shushic%C3%AB,+Elbasan,+Albania+to:Kruj%C3%AB,+Kruj%C3%AB+District,+Durres,+Albania&hl=en&ie=UTF8&ll=41.29019,19.922333&spn=0.803811,1.087646&sll=41.279655,19.917705&sspn=0.803938,1.087646&geocode=FcKrdgId-JsuASnbxfpwBDFQEzEgN2UQr5IABA%3BFQkFcwIdwI8zASnXbsA2O11QEzGZn_Qb6FZ9rQ%3BFUJdeQIdJQAuASmpNdqPec5REzGBA52ZaSPGiA&oq=Kruj%C3%AB+District,+,+Albania&mra=ls&t=m&z=10

But when you go either way out of town, you go through mountains.

In fact, on the way to Krujë, my language professor colleague told me a joke about how God created Earth. He reached in his pockets and found fertile land and said, “I’ll put that in the middle of this continent." Then he reached in again and found beautiful streams and said, “I’ll put these in this country.” And on and on, until he reached in his pocket and all that was left were rocks. So he threw them down and said, “That will be Albania.”

But really the mountains are beautiful. The landscape reminds me of a cross between the rolling hills of Tuscany and the towering peaks of the Rocky Mountains in Colorado, if that makes any sense at all.

Here are a couple of pictures taken from the top of Krraba Mountain before we started making our descent into Elbasan and then on to Shushicë.

Taken from the top of Krraba Mountain on the way to Shushicë.

As we made our way down to Elbasan, we passed several olive groves and people on the side of the road selling big bottles of oil olive and various fruits and vegetables. I hope I have a chance to go back through there and stop at a stand or two.

We didn’t spend too much time in Elbasan, just passed through the “outskirts” (funny word, no? My colleagues and I talked a bit about such words as we drove along. Since being here, I have experienced a heightened sense of the English language and its oddities. “Outskirts” implies that cities are gendered. Hmmmmm.)

At some point we turned off the main road unto to a slightly less well paved road. My colleagues had said the road to Shushicë was not very good. I commented that the road really didn’t seem that bad to me.

But as we drove farther and farther in, the road turned from barely paved to not paved at all.

Being There. We knew we were in Shushicë when we saw this sign:

My colleagues got a kick out of the sign as it suggested the officials in Shushicë had been practicing their English, but perhaps they needed a few more lessons.

But the larger story was about economic development in Shushicë. One of my colleagues pointed out that many of the people there had embraced a free market economy, and many had built new and elegant houses with their own funds.

Moreover, the people of Shushicë had built a brand new municipal building (see below-- it's a little fuzzy but i think you can get a sense of the building) AND had received a grant to pave the road into the town.

All of this mainly, according to my colleague, to bring in tourist trade, as the setting is truly idyllic, near a lovely small park where people can camp and picnic, and close to mountain trails for hiking. Here are views from the window of the room where we did the training that may give you some sense of the area.

An Ah-ha Moment at the Training. This training, I think, went much better than the training in Krujë. I had learned from my time in Krujë to slow down, way down.  Plus, the other two people who made presentations on doing economic analyses and preparing budgets had brought a portable overhead projector that they let me use, so the people in the training had both the written and the spoken words to follow.

I also shortened the presentation some, stayed more on script, and tried to use more specific examples. Learning by doing.

So, I was cruising along at a nice pace, in the final stretch of explaining the rights guaranteed by the first ten amendments to the constitution when one of the participants made a comment--in Albanian, of course.

The person translating motioned for me to stop for a moment and said, "He wants to know how the American constitution can be of use to Albanians."

He wanted to know how the American constitution can be of use to Albanians! A good question indeed!

"That's a good question!" I said.

"I guess the answer has to do with serving as a model in regard to inalienable rights, such as free speech and due process. That's what the U.S. constitution guarantees to all citizens."

The translator explained what I had said in Albanian. The man seemed satisfied and I went on.

But I kept thinking in the back of my mind it was not a satisfactory answer. Yes, the U.S. Constitution may serve as a model; however, the guarantee of a right is simply not the same as people believing they can act on that guarantee. That requires a trust in the system, the governing officials, and other citizens. And those are, in my humble opinion, characteristics of democracy that come only from within  a system--characteristics built over time through honest relationships and honest communication, keeping promises and holding others to their promises. None of those things can be imposed. They must grow in native soil (sorry for the mixed metaphor!).

Anyway, it was an "ah-ha" moment. Or maybe a "re-ha" moment, but at any rate a moment to seize to reflect upon the relationship between a constitutionally guaranteed right and the belief that one can act on that guarantee.

Again, a group photo was taken when the training was finished:

And some of the men in attendance invited us to coffee. We talked of their visits to the U.S. Everyone of them had been to the U.S., some multiple times. And the progress in Shushicë. The proposed new road, etc. etc. It was a lovely coffee.

Until next time! When the topics will be bears and idioms and maybe chickens.

People & Place Part Three: Field Trip to Kruja

Teaching/Learning Democracy by Teaching English: Field Trips to Krujë and Shushicë

So the next two stories are about my outings to two towns: Krujë (pronounced “Crew-YAH”) and Sushicë (pronounced “Shoe-SHEET-cah”).  They started out as stories about the rhetorical act of teaching English, but turned into stories of an Albanian hero, the intricate structure of American democracy and questions about building restrictions, national identity, and what constitutions actually offer to citizens – Whew! That’s a lot.

On top of that, I wish to set the scene a bit for each location—so each story may meander a bit and take some time to come to a point—if it ever comes to a point. Don’t worry—jump to the end OR . . . check out the pictures. They are definitely the most interesting things you will find here today J.

Krujë: Where Skanderbeg Held Back the Ottoman Empire . . . Three times!

The Invitation to Krujë. Last Monday I had my orientation at the U.S. Embassy. Between walking to the embassy (or more accurately being walked to the embassy since I didn’t know the way), having lunch and the orientation, going to the bank, and various essential though nonacademic activities, I managed to be out of the office for most of the afternoon.

At around 4PM, I received a call from one of the professors at the university where I am to teach. He was my first contact when I applied for the Fulbright and is a brilliant scholar of modern languages. He good-naturedly chided me about being so difficult to get a hold of and then asked if I would be interested in accompanying him and another professor to Krujë the next day to do some training for local government workers.

“Just a short presentation on how American government works.”

I eagerly agreed and then set about figuring out what I would talk about. I decided on revising a presentation I have done a few times for civic groups and teacher in-service trainings based on the Project Citizen curriculum (http://new.civiced.org/programs/project-citizen): What I considered fairly basic information, such as various definitions of public policy, the public policy decision-making process, triggering mechanisms that bring issues to the attention of publics and decision-makers, and some basic frames for making public policy arguments.

Uh-huh. Basic stuff.

I emailed the PowerPoint slides I had created or revised to my contact and went to bed rather excited about the prospect of a field trip!

Getting There. The next morning I attempted to meet my colleagues at the appointed time in Wilson Square, which is near my apartment.

[Side note: my colleague remarked that during communist times, American names for streets or landmarks were forbidden, but since the fall of communism, such names have emerged; hence, Woodrow Wilson Square.

Further side note: The young son of a friend of mine here told me that certain given names were also banned during communist times; that is, parents were allowed to pick names for their children only from a list of approved names. I have not had a chance to investigate the veracity of this, though.]

I say I attempted to meet my colleagues promptly because once I got to the square, I realized I didn’t know which corner of the “square” was to be our meeting place. The “square” is really a roundabout with traffic coming into the square in four different directions. In other words, I had the choice of eight different places where we could possibly meet.

I did not choose wisely L

After a bit, my colleague came up to me and said he had been waiting on the exact opposite corner for about fifteen minutes.  No matter, we quickly crossed the street, met our other colleague and drove off to Krujë in a fairly new red Peugeot. (Yes, that red Peugeot—the one featured in the previous post.)

On the drive there, we saw some beautiful scenery. Once we were through Fushë-Krujë, the road turned into one hairpin turn after another as we climbed higher and higher to the town where Skanderbeg, a [perhaps the] national hero of Albania, held off the Ottoman Empire, not once, not twice, and three times. In fact, he kept the Turks at bay until his death in 1468. My colleague related the story in brilliant detail as we made our way up the mountain.

I can see how Skanderbeg could be successful at defeating the forces of the Ottoman Empire in this mountainous region. For one thing, he would have known the lay of the land, and for another, he would have had the vantage point of being able to see for miles—all the way to the Adriatic Sea on a clear day.

But perhaps most importantly, he was defending a most beautiful, uniquely Albanian settlement. As one of the women in the training remarked, “There is saying here that you haven’t actually been to Albania until you come to Krujë.” Here are a few pictures that may serve as evidence for her assertion:

This is the view off the second story balcony of the municipal building. The turret-y structure to the right in the background is part of the Museum and Castle at the top of the mountain.

This is the view from the plaza in front of the municipal building. That's a statue of Skanderbeg on a horse in about the center of the picture.

Standing near the back of the Skanderbeg statue on the terrace of the restaurant where we ate lunch. My colleagues told me that on a clear day, you can see the Adriatic Sea in the far distance.

A view up the mountain from the main road in Kruja. On the left in the middle background is one of the construction projects I mention later in this post.

My colleague and I looking over the souvenirs in the ancient bazaar. The souvenirs are not ancient (obviously).

The Training. As soon as we arrived in the center of Krujë, we found a café to have coffee and water before going into the municipal building to do the training. As we were sitting there, it dawned on me that my colleague and I had not talked about the slides I had sent or the structure of the training. So I asked him, “Did you get the slides I sent?”

Yes, he had, but he thought the training should be far more basic. He handed me a jump drive, I found the file labeled with my name, copied the file to my computer, and opened it up.

Oh my!!

Yes, in some ways the information was very basic: guiding principles (e.g., popular sovereignty and inalienable rights), branches of government and their functions, important documents (including amendments to the US constitution), and a few economic terms (socialism, communism, capitalism).

But it also included lots of information that, although I am sure I was taught at some point, I had completely forgotten—like the senate has the power to elect the vice president if the electoral college fails to do so and the house of representatives has the power to elect the president if the electoral college fails to do so.

Or the gist of the Monroe Doctrine—the New World telling the Old World to leave us alone.

Before the training, I joked with my colleague that he knew more about my government than I did, but really is wasn’t much of a joke!

I had to laugh at my own naïveté of preparing a presentation that both ignored the intricacies of the democratic system and explained too much about the public policy decision-making process. It would have been a disaster!

As it was, I am not sure the training went that well, but what faults there were must be attributed to me. I had never given a presentation that was translated as I made it. I kept talking way too long before I gave the translator a chance to jump in. I also didn’t “stay on script” which made the translating even more difficult, but we managed to muddle through anyway.

What struck me during the training was that the young people who attended already knew everything I had to say (well, except maybe for the Monroe Doctrine). They were the most fluent English speakers there and almost every time I’d start with the name of a document or an amendment to the constitution, they would comment on it: “freedom of speech,” “freed the slaves,” “life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.”

Their knowledge of English seemed inextricably tied to their knowledge of American democracy.

I had never really thought about the teaching of a language as a rhetorical act before I did this presentation. Perhaps I am just hopelessly dense in coming so late to this revelation. I mean, of course, it is a rhetorical act, just as any teaching is.

But the act of teaching a language seems so profoundly rhetorical to me since the teacher is instructing the learner on how to act into a culture and what is important to know of that culture.

While the first lesson might be innocuous phrases such as “Good morning,” “Thank you,” and “Please.” What comes next? Who gets to decide?

Will we read the King James version of the Bible? The US Declaration of Independence? Or The UN Declaration of Human Rights?

Will we browse through People magazine to understand syntax? Or Mother Jones? Or National Review?

Will we listen to Fox News to learn how native speakers pronounce words? Or maybe NPR? CNN?

In the end, teaching English by teaching American democracy (or is it the other way around?) seems as good a way as any as long as people are also taught to be critical consumers of the information. 

That’s the key, isn’t it? The critical thinking aspect of any teaching/learning enterprise keeps all of us on our toes and ensures freedom of thought and expression.

I haven’t been here long enough to know exactly how the critical thinking aspect of the teaching/learning enterprise works here. I am eager to learn more about it and am sure I will once I start teaching in a few weeks.

After the presentation, we took a few group photos (one is below) and then my colleagues and I went off to lunch.

Post Training. My colleagues and I went to a restaurant in town recommended by one of the people at our training. We (well, my colleagues really) ordered salad, pork chops, pan-fried potatoes, and a “meatball” soup (the meatballs here tend to be more log than ball but really delicious!).

The food was good and the conversation was lively. The restaurant looked over the town and as we sat there, one of my colleagues commented on the various construction projects going on—one about half way up the mountain, one smack dab in the center of town, and one toward the castle and museum far up the mountain. What my colleague noticed about all of them was they disrupted a view, particularly the one in the center of town that obstructed a clear view of the Adriatic Sea and the one that obstructed the view of the castle and the museum.

Such rampant “progress” can be one of the by-products of a free market economy and, as my colleague noted, makes vividly clear the need for strong government regulations to ensure the integrity of an environment and the preservation of historical and natural phenomena. Finding that balance between free enterprise and government control is tricky and something the people in Krujë (and people all over Albania really) are just now starting to grapple with.

There is one more thing I wish to share before ending this post. It is also something one of my colleagues noted at our lunch in Krujë:

Did you know that Albania is surrounded by countries that have significant populations of people who identify ethnically as Albanians? My colleague rattled off various countries (Montenegro, Macedonia, Kosovo, Greece) and the percentage of people in each who identify as Albanian (anywhere from 5% to 30% as I remember, but I don’t remember exactly what percentage went with which country).

Moreover, nearly all of the people who live in Albania identify themselves ethnically as Albanian—somewhere between 95-98% (although those statistics may be outdated).

I’m not exactly sure what the significance of these statistics is but they are interesting nonetheless.

I plan to ponder on them for a while. You may wish to ponder also J

Next time: Sushicë

Mirupafshim! (See you later!)