Tirana Tales

      We've been in country almost a month now, and we are still in our honeymoon phase to be sure.  That said, we're planning on extending to a third year.  There are too many pros (of course, what WE consider to be "pros") to think about uprooting our little family after only two years.  See, your third tour in the Foreign Service is generally a three-year tour--the first two tours being only two years--but being that this post is considered a significant hardship for officers, it is only a two-year tour at present but with an option to extend to three if the powers that be agree to it.  We have to decide pretty quickly, though; so I am glad the family and I all agree that we really want to stay here.  You know, our kids seem really well-adjusted so far; but no move (especially across the world) is easy.  The thought of jerking my boys out of school and away from a place they're really comfortable after only two years isn't something that leaves a good taste in my mouth.

     Our home is exquisite, especially compared to our little apartment we lived in for the last year.  The boys are still sharing a bedroom, though, because we really wanted them to have a playroom.  The consensus in the house is that it was a good idea.  And, judging by the number of neighborhood kids who visit us, we did well!  The neighborhood (or compound, if you prefer) is wonderful for children.  There are few cars, tons of kids, pretty much open-door policies for playdates, a covered playground for rainy days, a pool and gym, yoga and exercise classes, and--my favorite--Raki on the Ridge every Tuesday night.  Those are the weekly meet and drink fests that take place right across the street from our house in a little gazebo.  The kids run crazy while the parents share snacks and drinks.  It's such a nice morale booster for our little community, and the kids love that they can play until 10 or 11 PM at night!

     I may have mentioned before that Raki is the national drink and is made from grapes.  Almost every family has their own Raki recipe, and most of those families grow their own grapes for just that purpose.  Our first Raki experience was something we'll never forget.  We were staying in our temporary quarters, an apartment complex that has its own cafe.  The young guy who runs the cafe had a bottle of his family's Raki, stored--conveniently enough--in a Jagermiester (sic) bottle in the cafe's cooler.  My husband and I wanted to try it; so he poured us a couple of shot-sized portions.  In Albania, one sips Raki rather than "shooting" it.  Before sipping it, I smelled it and was overcome with the feeling that I'd smelled this stuff before.  I'm usually pretty good with remembering voices and smells, but this particular smell escaped my memory.  The first sip was a killer!  Oh my God, how it burned going down!  And the taste was so...interesting and STRONG!  It was something akin to vodka, I guess; though I believe Vodka is made from potatoes.  Anyway, it nearly killed me.  A couple of days later, when I was changing my nail polish, I realized what that Raki smelled like: pure Acetone!

     A few days after that happened and we were finally settled in our permanent home, the family and I decided to walk to this restaurant we'd heard so much about.  Now, one must cross a small wasteland to get there--literally, a place where locals throw their trash that is always covered with wild, mangy dogs--to get to Prince Park.  The place was heavenly for us, with only a couple of glitches.  First, there was an actual playground there for kids!  Our boys made a beeline right for it.  There is an outside, covered seating area with white linen tablecloths and black-tie waiters.  The outside eating area looks out on a forest and has a nice balcony.  The prices were amazing: $4 pizzas, $8 seafood risotto, and $1 beer.   The boys ordered Sprites, drank most of it, and ran to play.  We watched them on the little merry-go-round for around 10 minutes, when my eldest returns holding his stomach.  Uh-oh.  My husband grabbed him just in time and got him to the balcony before he proceeded to vomit down the hillside.  This, of course, is a mother's worst nightmare.  Once he was done, we all looked around and were amazed: no one saw it!  We got away with it!  It was unbelievable--first, that it happened; and, second that we didn't have to leave in shame.   We did feel a little bad for the couple who ended up getting the table next to where "it" happened.  But, we didn't feel bad enough that we told them :).  

     More to come soon!

Taking in Tirana

Between researching, bidding, finishing up our last post, an 11-month TDY (temporary duty) for language in Falls Church, spending $9k on consumables shipments, and our VERY LONG flight here; we've been waiting and preparing to move to Tirana for about two years.  So far, I can honestly say that it was worth the wait.  We're all very happy here.

We had no idea what to expect when we got here, other than finding out a week before our arrival that our house wasn't going to be ready.  I think that was the biggest thing to get used to.  After our almost year-long stint in a tiny apartment where we were literally on top of each other, we were REALLY looking forward to moving into our three-bedroom house.  C'est la vie.  If there's anything we've learned from being in the Foreign Service, it's that you have to learn to go with the flow; and, also, the "flow" can change from moment to moment.

Our packout from Oakwood was a horrific experience.   We had a packout surveyor come to the apartment and assure us that we were nowhere near our weight limit.  (The State Department will pay to ship all of your belongings up to a certain weight only.)  Of course, the scale that the movers used the following day didn't agree with our packout survey; so the hubby and I had to make a lot of very hard decisions about what would stay and what would go.  The boys were staying with my parents; so we were so thankful they didn't have to witness us getting rid of their basketball goal, toy boxes, wagon, legos, etc.

When it was all said and done, we got to Dulles with three hours to spare.  I don't know how we managed it, but we had eight, 49.5 lb bags, six carry on bags, two kids, and two cats with us.  Our flights were all on time, and thankfully the seats had in-flight entertainment for everyone!  The boys slept five or six hours out of nine; so we were really thankful for that.  The hubby and I were not so lucky, and we had to stay alert during our four-hour layover in Vienna.  We were able to get a really nice meal (for a whopping 40 euro).

Our arrival in Tirana couldn't have been more pleasant, to be honest.  We're definitely not a family who jumps in the front of the line just because we carry black passports.  That said, we definitely didn't mind hopping in front when a guard saw our passports and insisted we go first.  The customs officials checked our visas and sent us right through.  They didn't even ask us the typical questions.  It was definitely the best long-haul travel experience we ever had.  The Embassy sent someone to make sure we got all of our bags (one duffel was missing but was sent on later), and our sweet sponsors were there waiting on us when we walked out of the arrivals doors.

See, post always sets you up with a sponsor so that you have some kind of resource/safety net at post.  They usually buy you some groceries and some toilet paper, and they make sure you have a ride to work.  They also answer the endless questions that spouses like me tend to ask.  Our sponsors were/are great, and they even had freshly cooked spaghetti and pancakes in the fridge for us.  It was beyond sweet.

The ride from the airport was long, hot (because the driver couldn't figure out the AC) and eye-opening.  We were surprised by how poor the first part of the city was.  It caught us off guard.  And I heard stories about the traffic for months before we got here; but, compared to Guayaquil, it was nothing!  That was a big relief, because it took me a year before I had enough courage to drive in Guayaquil.

Anyway, our apartment complex is very nice.  Granted, we're REALLY looking forward to our house; but this place is lovely.  We are in a two-bedroom apartment in a complex that has a pool, a playground, a cafe, a gym, and a game room.  The boys have been happy, but I know they wish there were more kids here.  There are several restaurants just a short walk away, and we've gone on long walks through the local neighborhoods.  The local gardens and vineyards, and orchards in people's yards have been the most beautiful part of getting to know Tirana.  One home can have a grape vineyard (which I hear is to make their own Albanian liquor, called Raki), fig trees, olive trees, tomato plants, pear trees, AND then a regular vegetable garden.

Apparently there was a huge construction/building boom a few years ago; but economic issues made completion impossible.  That means that there are hundreds of homes and buildings around town that are only half completed.  Many people might live only on one story of a three-story home, while the other floors are empty of walls and protection from the elements. I have to say that none of it takes away from the rustic beauty of this place.  I mean, I realize that the first step of culture shock is to fall in love with the new place and idealize it; but I truly don't feel like that's what we're doing.  I mean, the people are kind and hard-working; everyone speaks at least a little English; it's safe; it's cheap; the food is unbelievable; and we're all very happy with Tirana.  I've even come to find the sound of the Mosque's call to prayer peaceful and comforting.

The only two "problems" we've had so far are the fact that everyone here smokes.  See, smoke doesn't bother me at all; rather, it entices me.  I smoked for most of my life and only quit about 9 months ago.  So, I spend most of my days salivating.  The other "problem" is trying to get waiters and cooks to understand that we don't eat meat.  The other day, we went to a restaurant and looked at a menu.  When we came to the third thing that the restaurant didn't have, we tried to explain our dilemma to the waiter. He brought out the chef, who agreed to make a special veggie risotto for us (without onions).  It was amazing and only cost about $15 for all four of us to eat pasta and risotto and drink beer and sodas.

I think our favorite things are the stores here.  The European supermarket is very good, but the local produce here is phenomenal.  We're amazed that the fruits and veggies taste like they're supposed to!  I've never had such good food.  

In short, I'm in love with this little Mediterranean country.  More to come...

Melting Pot America

    Today was orientation today.  They put me in a huge room with hundreds of other people today.  For many of them, this will be the second, third, or even the fourth language they are going to learn at the Foreign Service Institute.  One of the speakers today said that they are presently teaching over 70 world languages and have people working their from over 90 different countries.  Those figures were astounding to me.  Not only do they have teachers for all of these languages; but they have a process that they liken to "Marine Bootcamp" for teaching and learning languages.
     You have to forget all of the languages you know (including English) and start out like a toddler, learning his/her first word...words...sentences...conversations.  To become truly fluent, they make us read, write, speak, repeat.  We're (and I am paraphrasing from the info they gave us today but have also been through this once before when learning Spanish) supposed to welcome mistakes and corrections and learn from them.  It's mind-numbing, headache inducing, and overwhelming; but it is one of the most effective language learning processes in the world.
    But what REALLY wowed and impressed me today was when we had to introduce ourselves.  My class and another language class were in the second (yes, you read that right) orientation of the day, and the department head asked us to introduce ourselves and list previous language learning experiences at FSI and all languages spoken by each person.  There were eight of us in there, and I heard: Spanish, French, Chinese, Russian, Ukrainian, Arabic, Korean; and we were all in there to learn either Albanian or Hungarian.  Most of the people knew at least two languages, with a lot of them repeated of course.  I mean, am I the only person impressed by the sheer amount of knowledge in that one little room?  Because with each language learned comes classes on the country or area of the world, politics, economics, culture, customs, etc.  They don't just teach us what the word is, they teach us why THAT particular word is used.  I don't know, it just impressed me.  It made me proud to be part of this.  It made me proud of my country and the people who serve it.
     Tomorrow, I actually start learning the language.  I know it's going to be excruciating, because I've seem my husband come home exhausted and almost broken for five months now.  But I believe that the independence knowing a bit of the language will give me is going to be well worth it.  I love people, and I love to learn; so I'm just glad I get the opportunity.  And I will be so thankful that I actually get to speak with people on their own terms once I get there...fingers crossed.

We're Starting Another Chapter

The last few months have been Foreign Service "lite" so to speak.  We've been "in training" rather than "at post" or "in route," etc.

We've been living around Foreign Service families with Foreign Service concerns and questions like: "Where are you going next?" or "Do you get language with that?" or "What do you use your consumables for?" rather than everyone else's questions of: "What do you do?" or "So you think it's fun to pack up your kids every two years and move to a different country?" or "Where are you living now?" and even, "What language do they speak in Albania??"

You see, as I've explained before, this lifestyle is not measured in normal weeks or months between Summer vacations or in seasons of the year and things like that.  This lifestyle is measured in tours and times in between them.  We're ALWAYS waiting for something: to bid, to get assignments, researching bid lists, training, home leave, R&R, getting reimbursed or advanced for random costs, getting kids and pets vaccinated, packing, waiting and/or planning to pack, buying stuff to pack, preparing for housing, or waiting to pass a language test and/or get our orders.  Because NOTHING can be done without orders.  Our orders are our lives when in between tours like we are now.  If it's not in our orders--perfectly--we don't get it.

These periods of waiting and/or planning are usually six-month cycles.  When you're in the middle of a tour (or coming to the end of one), you find out where your next tour is going to be about six months before your current tour is up.  Six months before that, you were starting to think about what "might" be on the bid list.  If you're anything like me, you'd begin obsessively researching the hidden jewel places that might suit your needs/wants.  And so it was with us.

We decided on Albania.  If I had a dollar for every time I or my husband's been asked, "So you actually bid Albania HIGH? You wanted to go there?" I'd be a very rich woman.  And the answer is a resounding, YES!!  We're excited about this place, this country, this quite mysterious part of the world.  I mean, we're either going to love it; or we're going to hate it.  There are not very many in-betweens in this lifestyle.  And, for us, that's perfectly okay.  I truly believe we're going to love it, though--for the travel opportunities if nothing else.

So, after taking you through a very long, yet circular tangent into my life, we're back to the six-month cycle.

My husband and I got  our housing assignment today.  We have been lucky so far this tour, because we've gotten our first choice bid and our first choice housing section.  We're going to be living in a community that will be absolutely wonderful for our boys to grow in: a large, safely gated American neighborhood that is full of kids living a life just like them.  I can't think of any better scenario for them, as they're thriving in that lifestyle here where we're living now.  Now, it's true that we're going to be living in a bit of a fishbowl, but we know that going in.  Now begins the six months (actually, five this time) of planning for our move, arrival, etc. Our easy, carefree first six months back in the States are over.  Game time commences.

My sweet husband is coming along beautifully in Albanian class, and I am supposed to start at the end of the month.  Then we have to plan for consumables, trips to Goodwill to rid ourselves of locally acummulated crap, vaccines, medical clearance updates, traveling with pets, planning how to alter our govy issued furniture, etc.

Our vacation has ended; it's time to plan.  Wish us luck.  Oh, and we know most people think we're crazy to live this nomadic existence.  But know this: it works for us. We're happy.  We're doing exactly what we want to do in this life, and that makes us extremely lucky!

Waiting on the World to Change

We took our boys to the Smithsonian Museum of American History today, and it was really moving.  There's an entire section of the museum that deals with the history of African-Americans from the time of the Emancipation Proclamation all the way through the Civil Rights era.  My husband I debated whether or not to bring the kids through it, because race is something we just don't discuss in our home.   We don't feel that race is important; therefore, all we've ever told the children is that people are a rainbow of colors and are all beautiful.  Being different is beautiful.  We don't refer to a person's color; so the kids never really notice there's a difference.

My husband pulled them aside and explained what slavery is/was.  When he told my oldest son that white people held black people in captivity and owned them, my son immediately asked, " Dad, what's a black person?"  I was so moved by that and so proud of us.  I mean, he's nearly six years old!

It's like my husband told me later, "We grew up knowing inequality first and learning tolerance later.  I'm glad it's going to be the opposite way for our boys."  My kids do not understand differences in races in any kind of negative way at all. In fact, they just don't notice it.  People are people.   I think that's a gift we've given them.  It was sad--and a bit embarrassing--to have to tell them that people owned other people because those people were different from them.

The saddest part for me was that all of today's children could be like mine if only my generation and the generations before mine would see that race does not define a person.  We're doing our children a disservice by pointing out differences; we should be pointing out similarities.  We need to teach unity rather than division.  I don't mean to sound preachy or anything like that; I simply saw the world through a child's eyes today.  And I like what I saw.  And I'm truly glad that my little family is trying to make a difference--even if only by two children at a time.  My husband also wisely pointed out that this is how it starts.

Our children will teach others and then will teach their children one day.  It moved me in a way that is really hard for me to put into words right now. In essence, everyone wants to grow up and "change the world."  Today, we did.

Trailing Spouses

I'm pretty sure I've written about Foreign Service spouses before, but I've really been thinking about them lately.  Back in the day they/we were called "trailing spouses," but that's not really the "PC" term now.  I was lucky in a sense that I was still in school when I met my husband.  I hadn't established myself in a certain field ; I didn't have a career yet.  I know that for me, we move from place to place and country to country with the hope that there will be some kind of way where I can bring home a paycheck.  We got lucky in Ecuador and Canada, and I was able to bring home some bacon of my own.  Granted, I worked full-time in Canada and was able to pay for childcare and groceries every month; but you take what you can get in this lifestyle.

     When I look around this apartment complex, I see every kind of woman and/or mother.  Some of these women (and a LOT of men too!!) had lives and careers of their own that they gave up to travel the world their spouse.  A lot of spouses are actually foreign born and were met while the AMCIT/officer was at a foreign post.  A lot of women home school their children, take in other people's FS kids during the day to bring home a pay check, or try to find a hobby.  I know jewelry makers, knitters, seamstresses, bakers, cooks, crafters, painters, artists, etc., who learned their craft as a(n) FS spouse.  I myself am a novice bookbinder--and I use that in the loosest sense of the word!

     Many of us leave our homes, our families, our jobs, our schools, our countries, our language, and/or our entire WORLD to live this life and serve our country.  I like to think and hope that we do this because of the love we have for our country and our spouse, because this can be a pretty brutal lifestyle at times.  I live this life because I have everything I've ever wanted (except for that elusive baby girl I keep dreaming about).  But I can say without reservation that this is not a perfect or a fairy tale lifestyle.  We have one of the highest divorce rates in the country, btw.

     I see people, and mothers, and couples that really struggle, not only to make ends meet (since we're not rich), but also struggle daily to keep the family unit intact, to stay in touch with the people we've left behind--and continuously meet and leave behind--to make sure that our children understand that they are Americans and what that means, to keep American traditions and holidays alive in our small communities, and struggle just to get up in the morning on occasion.  I know, personally, how I feel about living this life varies almost weekly.  My husband I are constantly trying to teach our kids what it means to be an American; the elections were big in our house and what they mean for Americans were a great lesson on patriotism.

     But getting back to the topic at hand--Foreign Service spouses--I just want to say that I'm equally amazed by and proud of us.  We get to do what so many people only dream about.  But we REALLY do it.  We get dropped into countries and left to our own devices, to make our mistakes, to acclimate, and to represent the United States overseas.  I mean, times have changed; don't get me wrong.  The Dept. of State does not expect me to be a perfect hostess and to speak the language flawlessly.  But we are extensions of our officer spouses; so there is always that thought lingering in our minds that this might be a test or turn into some kind of international incident if something goes horribly awry :).

     I am just so proud of my fellow trailing spouses.  I know so many people who are going to countries where English is not at all common, and they aren't able to take language classes or don't want to.  I know people who are going to or coming back from  countries with small children where healthcare is but substandard.  I've heard the myths and know the realities--just like my fellow FS spouses--but we're still here...waiting to get to post.  We spend half of our lives settling in or planning for the next one.  Some get Paris; some get...really unpleasant places.  And we all seem to wind up here in Falls Church every few years.

     Asking people "where are you heading to?," is the norm here.  People are learning languages I have never even heard of!  I've never heard of so many "-stan" countries in my life!  But, again, I am amazed and proud by the sense of community and understanding I find here.  Everyone looks after all the kids at the playground.  We never worry about our safety here.  We tell stories that would make the faint of heart...well, faint!!  I live for evenings outside where we take turns telling horror stories from abroad.  There's a lot to be said for stories and memories and living.  And that's what we're doing, day by day and hour by hour.

Something to Relate To

Home leave is over, and our year in the D.C. area for training has begun.  It's so strange to be back here in these apartments again.  We were here four years ago, when my hubby joined the Foreign Service and was in training the first time.  I had post-partum so bad that I never went anywhere or did anything.  I wasn't working, was far away from home for the first time for more than a few weeks, had a new baby, had a newish husband, and had just signed our lives away to the State Department for at least a year.  We had no idea what we were getting ourselves into, and I didn't know how to handle it at all.  Well, two tours, a foreign language, and another kid later, I am really liking it here.

I've got the boys involved in all the activities going on in the complex; I found a Montessori school for my youngest w/ a half-day program; and my oldest is going to be in the best public kindergarten in the country.  I'm even making "friends" rather quickly.  This is a whole new world to me.

The moms that I've met at the playground are mostly a couple of tours in (at least) and understand the many ins and outs of FS life.  Talk revolves around language training, countries lived in, languages learned, pros and cons of various postings, incredible stories of what they've experienced in countries like: Eritrea, Japan, China, Lesotho, Nicaragua, etc.  We speak each other's language and all have kids who are transitioning between new and old schools, languages, homes, countries, nannies, and lives.  It's just so refreshing not to have to explain my life for once; rather I get to talk to people who are going through the same thing for once!!!

Another really neat perk about living here is that we're able to see a lot of people that we haven't seen for a few years/tours.  I've been catching up with my best friend from when we were in Ecuador.