A Foreign Service Christmas

Christmas is different at every post: pouch vs. DPO restrictions, time constraints for getting the gifts in time, time zones to take into consideration when opening presents, posts where many people don't celebrate Christmas, etc.  This Christmas has been our most challenging so far since we joined the Foreign Service. When we were in Ecuador, flights flew in daily from Miami; so getting things didn't take long at all by comparison.  Canada had everything the states had, and the mail came daily; so we never had issues there unless the weather got too bad.

Well, a little elf that used to live in Albania told me to make sure all of my shopping was done by Halloween.  Out of fear of what would happen if I didn't listen, I did just that.  Everything was here by early November, and the waiting began. The two big mistakes that my husband and I made were: not buying nice wrapping paper and bows early and not buying each other's gifts until Black Friday.  Today is Christmas Day, and I am still waiting on my beautiful wrapping paper!  It never did show up.  My hubby and I got lucky that our gifts for each other finally came in (God Bless Amazon Prime).  It's hard when you've spent nearly $90 on ridiculously pretty wrapping paper and then have to buy $.99 wrapping paper from the local dollar store.  Such a bummer.  Apparently, our diplomatic pouch (well, SEVEN pouches) got sent to Istanbul rather than Tirana.  Since that's a whole different country, I'm not sure how that was possible to mess up seven times running, but it is what it is.  Regardless, everything important came in or came with the grandparents when they got here!  I must, MUST remember to order candy in October next year.

Mail and diplomatic pouches aside, Christmastime in Albania is so interesting.  There are three main religions here: Catholic, Orthodox Christians, and Muslims.  What is the most fascinating is that all of the religions live in harmony.  Muslims and Christians marry, have each other to dinner, make friends with one another, etc.  No one cares what religion anyone else is.  Now, I am no expert; but from what I understand, much of this is due to the fact that Albania was under a Communist dictator for several decades.  During that time, Albania was the only "Atheist" country in the world; and people were not allowed to worship at all.  While many are true believers, believe me; it seems like many others are simply a certain religion because their family has always been that religion.  For example, there are many people who call themselves Muslims but eat pork and drink alcohol.  That said, there are many, many faithful Muslims who answer the call to prayer five times daily.

My in-laws came to visit for Christmas, and we could not have had more fun.  It was an unbelievably Albanian experience.  It started with the rental car.  My husband and I have a 4 1/2- seater unlike anything most Albanians have ever seen.  For security reasons, I won't go into what we drive; but just know that it's a "one of a kind."  Anyway, there is no extra seating in our car; so my father-in-law decided to rent a car that we could all fit in together (all six of us).  Since this is Europe--and Europe doesn't really "do" minivans--we ended up getting something between a van and a bus.  In Albania, that type of vehicle is known as a "furgon."  Essentially, a furgon is a type of bus system that takes people from town to town, province to province, etc., for a small fee (usually only $5-10 or less).  These things are always chock full of people and usually flying around mountain roads.  I kept wondering why so many people on the side of the road were flagging us down.  At first, in my naivete, I thought there were simply a lot of hitchhikers out during the busy holiday season!  After the third or fourth town of hard looks and waves, I realized what was going on.

My husband's parents, my father-in-law especially, absolutely loved the food.  What a relief when they raved over all of our favorite things!  We started at Prince Park, a place right near where we live, that serves seafood year-round.  My goodness, how proud I was when everyone dug into my octopus and arugula salad!!  I have to admit, I was happy to share such a wonderful meal with people I love and to have them love the meal as much as I do.  I guess that's just a throwback to my Southern heritage or something.   Anyway, the restaurant really outdid themselves for our guests: wonderful seafood risotto, mixed grilled seafood, stuffed peppers, and octopus.

The following day, we went to Kruja.  I cannot say again how much I like Kruja/Kruje (depending on where it's used in a sentence).  We were able to show the fam all of the little shops that we found so interesting when we first went.  They're all full of ancient Byzantine coins, old typewriters, national costumes, and even old Communist regalia.  Of course, the only thing my two boys were interested in were the old Communist army hats with the red stars on the front.  Eventually, we gave in (though my father-in-law bought them) and let them have the hats.  The boys were so excited and proud to have real "army" hats, and they couldn't give two rips about which side wore them.  The old men we passed kept pointing and smiling at my boys and calling out, "Partisans."  The good news is that we're pretty sure no one was offended by the hats in Kruja; however, we did end up removing the red starts when we moved to other cities.  The boys still wear the hats everywhere and are so proud!!!  Of course, we had good food in Kruje too (can you tell I'm becoming a foodie??), and we had lunch at the gorgeous Panorama Hotel restaurant.   Our yummy lunch was followed by a brisk walk up to the Skanderbeg Castle and a delicious coffee at the restaurant next door to it.  We came upon a little cat colony at the restaurant and were absolutely amazed at the fearlessness of some of the animals.  They just pranced around the ledge of the mountain, teetering right on the edge and not afraid at all.

Kruje was followed by homemade Spicy Peanut Soup (recipe from @ShrinkingKitchen)  and a trip to Berat, Albania, the following day.

The trip to Berat was nowhere near as heart-stopping as our trip to Corfu was, but it wasn't dull.  What should take two hours took three and a half due to crazy traffic and roads.  There were turkeys everywhere on the side of the road.  I'm guessing that they were "at market" for Christmas or New Year's Eve dinners.  There were hundreds of them all over.  I think the most fun we had was listening to the boys counting bunkers as we drove down the road.  For all those who don't know, Albania had a very...strange dictator who was scared of being invaded; so he had something like 100k bomb shelters/ bunkers built all around the country.  Some towns have like 10; some towns have none.   That part of history is fascinating and worth a read, FYI.  Driving in to Berat was like driving back in time.  The first part of the city was a visual history lesson of Communist times, with Soviet block-type apartment buildings and an abandoned factory that stretched on for blocks and blocks and blocks.  My husband, who can always be relied upon for interesting tidbits of obscure knowledge, told us that Berat used to be the leader in Albanian textile making.  Apparently, they had a towel-making deal with Cuba years and years ago.  Another interesting tidbit is that most houses and buildings in Albania have some sort of teddy bear or stuffed animal hanging on them, which is thought to ward off evil.  Further down the coast, we've also seen garlic hanging with them.  My mother-in-law was in love with them and was constantly pointing them out and photographing them.

Before traveling to Berat, I knew that it was famous for its castle, but I had no idea what to expect.  Well, past the old, Communist block buildings, lay the "Old City," which is where our hotel was.  Apparently, "Berat" in English means "White City." We stayed at the White City Hotel, which seemed fitting.   The place was really nice, with excellent service (I mean phenomenal) and WiFi.  One cannot ask for more than that when traveling here!   After a late, lazy lunch at what was actually a bar moonlighting as a restaurant, we started to climb the mountain road to the castle.  See, the "Old City" of Berat is mostly built right into the mountain that extends under the castle.  The houses and cobblestone streets have been there for centuries, with their massive wooden doors and brass knockers.  To say the walk was "stunning" would almost be insulting.  I cannot find a word to describe the wonders of architecture that we saw there. We knew we wanted to go up to the castle eventually, but we started winding around the white stone houses to see what we could see.  So many of the paths have been worn slick from the tests of time and people.  We meandered for a long while, and then we started what was to be a significant climb.

Of course, we didn't know that cars are actually allowed inside the castle walls; but we do tend to get ambitious.  The road was, of course, steep and cobblestone; but the castle was worth it.  Wow!  We got up there and started looking around, and we were almost immediately approached by a gentleman who lives there within the castle walls.  His name was Tony (or Toni), and he knew many of our American friends' names.  Fortuitously, it turned out that he often gives tours of the castle and offered to give us one.  Toni showed us things and told us things we never would have learned about on our own.  His tour was as informative as it was extensive.  We never would have known how old it is--mostly from the 13th A.D.; however, some of the ruins are older--or the fact that there are like 13 churches there.  We never would have known that invading forces over the years didn't destroy the churches but did destroy the mosques (there were two and are now in ruins).  The list goes on and on.  For everything we saw and learned, even the walk back down the mountain (in the dark) was worth it.

I think the most fascinating part of Berat was the mountain we could see from our hotel.  Try as we might, I don't think any of us were able to get a picture of it.  See, the former Communist dictator was named Enver Hoxha.  Well, his name (just the "Enver" part) had been written on the side of the mountain during his regime. After he died and Communism fell, the letters on the mountain were transposed; and "NEVER"--as in "never again"--was then written.  It's still there today and is easily visible to all.

On par with the amazing hospitality that Albania is famous for, the hotel gave my boys Christmas gifts of massive chocolate eggs filled with a toy.  They were a "special gift from the owner of the hotel."  The fact that they were presented after the boys had breakfast made them even more perfect.  We packed up and headed home for our first Christmas Eve in Tirana.

The trip home took an hour less because of a different road.  Much of it was gravel and dirt, but we made it.  Of course, our trip was followed by an orgy of Christmas greed and present opening and then topped off with a trip to our absolute favorite Albanian restaurant: Pine.  We had about five courses of amazing seafood and good company.  Santa came later and was extremely kind to all; and we spent Christmas Day eating gumbo and pizza.  I can't remember a better Christmas.

An Expat Thanksgiving: Making Our Own Traditions

tra·di·tion

trəˈdiSHən/

noun

1. 1.

   the transmission of customs or beliefs from generation to generation, or the fact of being passed on in this way.

   
     Ever since I joined my husband's family, most of our Thanksgiving "dinners" have been a-typical/non-traditional by most Americans' standards.  We usually wind up eating dinner at the only open Chinese restaurant in town or something similar.  And let me say that I've truly grown to love our little non-traditional tradition.  There's something to be said for just spending time together and being thankful for one another, rather than having Mom or Grandma slaving away in the kitchen while everyone else plays games and watches football.

     All of that said, I do think that the traditional turkey dinner--and all of the hard work that goes into that dinner--is a beautiful thing.  Since my husband and I became vegetarians over three years ago, I must admit that the wonders of the Thanksgiving feast have lost their luster for us.  Because of our ethical decisions and lifestyle changes, I often feel like our kids are missing out on some of America's best family traditions.  But not this year.

     I've been blown away by the community support and love that I've seen this year.  We thought maybe we'd take a trip or have Thanksgiving "stuffed fish" at home, just the four of us.  Then, the unthought of happened:  Our friends invited us to go to their house, kids and all, for "THE FEAST."  It seems like five or six sweet families have taken on Thanksgiving this year, and they've invited the rest of the loners and vagabonds to join them.  This means that we all get share in the tradition this year, and I'm quite surprised by how much I'm looking forward to it. The boys are really excited too!  It's going to be their first time experiencing Thanksgiving dinner, and I'm excited for them.  Here in a few minutes, I'm going to start my Thanksgiving contributions: vegetarian stuffing, green bean casserole, my first attempt at pumpkin mac and cheese, and a bruschetta appetizer.

     Another Thanksgiving surprise this year was when the entire Embassy received a Thanksgiving dinner invitation from the President of Albania.  It seems that he's anxious to familiarize himself and, subsequently, celebrate some of the various embassies' national holidays.  For instance, we've heard that the Germans were invited over for "October Fest!"  So, off to our first "State" dinner we went!

     The dinner wasn't held at the President's residence but rather at his representational "Pallati" or palace.  There was a red carpet up the steps of the palace and everything.  We were shown into a massive room with impossibly high ceilings, where an orchestra and at least five T.V. cameras were already set up.  It turns out that even our U.S. Marines were attending, and they were all in their dress uniforms.  We said hi to everyone, and one of the Marines remarked that I looked pretty all dressed up with my pearls.  My automatic, Southern girl response was, "My Mama would be so proud!"  And she would.  I felt proud for all of us last night, the whole Embassy.

      Then, what luck!  We were told that it was actually open seating!  The Albanian President, the U.S. Ambassador, their wives, and several ministers were to sit at the head table; but we got to sit with my husband's boss and his wife at the very next table!  They came in from the rear of the room, and both the President and the Ambassador gave speeches about the meaning of Thanksgiving.  The Ambassador even read a letter from President Obama that was to congratulate Albania for their Independence Day, which corresponds with Thanksgiving.

     We were then presented with a four-course dinner, complete with turkey and dressing!  Of course, the unfortunate part is that my husband I couldn't eat any of it, but it looked wonderful and very authentic!  And, then, we had my absolute favorite thing in the whole world: cheesecake.  Woot woot!

     It was just about then that I realized and reaffirmed that my husband and I made the right decision.  I miss home like crazy, but I am experiencing things in this Foreign Service life that I would never have experienced in South Louisiana.  It's not every day that a bayou girl gets to get all dolled up in her pretty dress and matching shoes, wearing the real pearls that she got for her high school graduation, and then gets introduced to the President of Albania by the U.S. Ambassador to Albania.  I'm sorry, but that's cool stuff right there.

   

Missing Cajun Country

     I just read a blog entry that someone shared on Facebook called, "The Cajun Test;" by a blogger named "The Impatient Cajun;"and now I'm terribly homesick.  You know, the funny thing about me is that I'm not a Cajun by birth or blood.  Actually, I'm a hybrid.  My mother is from Tennessee, and my stepdad/daddy to me is from Louisiana.  For me, I grew up in the best of both worlds, because I feel like I got to be immersed in both cultures.  I got the Country music and the Zydeco, the rice and potatoes, the crawfish and the fat back (until I became a vegetarian).  South Louisiana is so full of rich culture, music, food, jokes, language, and family traditions.  I'll say it again, but there's no where on Earth--or the 18 other countries I've been to so far--like it.  I wouldn't take a million dollars for it.
     I grew up hearing the little old people speaking Cajun French, and I never thought a thing about it.  Everybody went to Mardi Gras parades; everybody tailgated; everybody drank hard, partied hard, and prayed hard.  They still do; I'm just not there as much to witness it.
     I realize that most of the real South Louisiana things I grew up with centered around my step-grandparents.  And all of the traditional Tennessean and country traditions centered around my Nanny and Pop.  Now, don't get me wrong: we had the traditional Christmas dinners and things at our house.  We had crawfish boils and fish fries for Good Friday on many years.  It was just so different when they were at someone else's house.
     But the most vivid, traditional, South Louisiana memories I have as a child are those ones at Granny and Grandpa's house in Belle Rose.  All the grandkids still got together, before everyone got married and had kids or went away to school.  Thanksgiving, Good Friday, and Easter Sunday were the really big dinners we always had at Granny and Grandpa's.  Everybody brought food and made food and gorged on Granny's famous chocolate chip cookies and "pop ices."  We rode Grandpa's four-wheeler with no helmets, usually putting one of the outside patio sofa's cushions on the back rack so that we could fit an extra child or two.  We only fell off once, when it really hurt.  We tore up the cane roads and made trails in their massive back yard.  We must have driven the neighbors absolutely crazy during those days.  Back in those days, the plantation where both Granny and my daddy grew up (Belle Alliance) was just a shell of a massive house.  It was incredibly spooky, with holes in the roof and holes in the massive wooden floors.  There were fireplaces and ceiling medallions in disrepair and empty, dark rooms.  We rode the four wheeler on the grounds there too, stealing moss from the trees and having birthday parties at the pool on the property.
     Anyway, those memories are still so vivid in my mind.  Those times at Granny and Grandpa's were so filled with fun and imagination.  Once they were both gone, it's like the heart of the family went with them.  Don't get me wrong, the family still gets together from time to time.  It just isn't and never will be the same.  To me, the traditions didn't come from the holidays; instead, the ritual was going to Belle Rose and eating at the kids' table, riding the four wheeler, and being on your best behavior.  The ritual was pressed napkins, silver, goblets, and Granny's famous dessert parfaits, Easter egg hunts, and trip to the Baton Rouge City Club after church on Easter Sunday.  I always thought it was so neat that Grandpa passed the collection plate.  And what a small, beautiful church they went to!
     Anyway, sorry for the nostalgia; but I just miss it sometimes.  I like the traditions I'm making with my family too; but I'm allowed to miss the ones I no longer have.

Trip to Sarande, Albania and Corfu, Greece No. 1

      My little family took an amazing trip to Corfu, Greece, a few weeks ago.  I would have blogged about it sooner; however, I succeeded in cutting large pieces of two of my fingers while using a mandolin and haven't been able to type with ease for quite some time.  :)
     Our trip to Corfu took two days.  Leaving Tirana in the early afternoon of a Friday before a long weekend, we got our first lessons in: traffic, mountain passes, the fact that it takes at least twice as long as the locals say it will take to get somewhere, and various and sundry other quirks in Albanian culture.  Suffice it to say, we had a very eye-opening and unforgettable time.

     It took us over an hour to get out of town; but once we did, we saw the most beautiful landscapes!  I've blogged before about the "pill box" bunkers Albania's former dictator commissioned throughout the land. Well, we passed hundreds, if not thousands, of them across the mountains and coast.  Some of them are open for visitors; others are absolutely buried after years of neglect and landslides.  One thing along the ride that was interesting were the massive, barely-full riverbeds.  We suppose that the upcoming rainy Winter season will fix that.  How I'd love to get a metal detector and explore one of those riverbeds!

     The mountain roads in Albania are treacherous to say the least, but they have some pretty amazing things to offer the tourists anyway.  One beautiful town that we passed through (the name escapes me) was built  over a natural spring.  Apparently the natural springs are well-known, and there were tons of cars and trucks that would pull over to fill up jugs with the cool, crystal waters.  This was an interesting part of the trip, considering that the mountain roads have no shoulders!   We saw restaurants built over running water, where they fished right out of the springs!  Some of the stores and restaurants were built right into the mountains and caves.  

      We were warned ahead of time about a nine or so mile stretch of road that was only gravel.  There were no signs for it, of course; we just ran out of road!

     The actual mountain pass to Sarande (Albania's "Riviera and the first stop on our road trip) was a bit scary.  There were hundreds of hairpin turns up and down a mountain chain with very few guardrails.  An interesting part of the ride was the insane number of memorials on the sides of the pass for loved ones who were lost (died) on the roadway.  There were often photos and memorials of the victims, and I finally lost count.  When seeing how people actually drove along the pass, I understood why there are so many casualties along the route.  The cars and motorbikes would fly around us and around blind turns at full speed, with no regard for their own personal safety or the safety of those who might be coming around the turns!

     Six hours and some severely frazzled nerves later, we arrived in Sarande, Albania.  An interesting thing to note is that Google Maps and navigation do not work in Albania; so we never REALLY knew if we were going the right way.  We were able to get a round about map of the route, but we had to rely on the very sparse road signs we'd see at times to make sure we were going the right way.  It took us another hour to find our hotel, which was a very clean and out-of-the-way place run by a nice family.  It was dark when we got there, and the kids were tired and hungry.  We were able to keep them busy until the hotel's restaurant opened for dinner by showing them the game room!  Unfortunately, it was way too cold to put them in the swimming pool; so they had to settle for billiards.

     Dinner was a really fun affair, because we were the only people in the restaurant.  The kids ordered french fries and "fried cheese."  I assumed this was an Albanian grilled cheese, but I was mistaken.  It was better!  They took a huge chunk of Edam cheese and grilled it by itself.  It was delicious.  We ordered the grilled fish, the first time we'd had it in Albania.  Boy, was I surprised when they put an entire fish--head and all but gutted, thank God--in front of me.  I had to put lettuce over it's head in order to eat it, but it was absolutely delicious.  The kids ordered ice cream, and we retired back to the game room.  The hotel room was reasonably comfortable and spacious, and we got up early to drive the hour and a half into Greece so we could catch the ferry to Corfu.  The wonderful thing about European hotels is the traditional breakfast that's always included in the price of the room!  So, after some Nutella toast for the boys and cheese sandwiches for us, we were on our way!

     Well, the drive took longer than half an hour, of course, especially with the small issues we had at the border.  We were told to enter Greece on our regular/civilian passports due to the fact that diplomatic passports have to contain a visa for entry.  Well, we realized at the border that our oldest's blue passport had expired in April!  We offered them our diplomatic passports, which they decided to accept, thank goodness; but then came the trouble with the car.  See, our car was still in route from the States; but a really kind member of the embassy community had lent us his while he was out of town.  When the Greek customs officials found out it wasn't our car, we were really afraid that they weren't going to let us in.  They said that if the Albanian authorities would grant us international car insurance in both the car owner's name and my husband's name, they'd let us in!

     Back to the Albanian border we went; and, surprisingly enough, we were greeted by a woman dressed in civilian clothes and wearing a fanny pack.  She told us she could help us with the insurance and brought my husband into her office.  Well, what a surprise: she was the boss!  She made change for the 20 or 30 Euro fee from her purse, and off we went back to the Greek border!  The supervisor for the customs agents agreed to let us in on our diplomatic passports without a visa and in a car that wasn't ours with one exception: that we actually return in two days as promised and that we return a little slip of paper he wrote up that gave his "ok."  We shrugged our shoulders and off we went!

TO BE CONTINUED...

   
   

Day Trip to Kruja

A few weeks ago, we went to a small town called Kruja. It's only about 45 minutes or so outside of Tirana proper; however, the traffic just getting through Tirana's center takes 30 minutes on most good days.  We passed probably 50 or so furniture stores along this long strip of road outside of Kruja, and we kind of marveled at the fact that there were so many.  We kind of came to the conclusion that, because Albania was under a Communist regime for so many decades, they don't really understand the idea of supply and demand.

Kruja is an ancient town that is located at the top of one of Albania's many mountains.  We'd heard stories of castles and these beautiful wooden boxes that can be found there, but we didn't really know what to expect.  There's a really beautiful hotel at the edge of town, called the "Panorama Hotel," and it houses a restaurant with a balcony that gives a spectacular view of the whole mountain side.  Of course, due to our lack of planning these things ahead of time, we weren't actually able to get a seat on the balcony :).  The restaurant did, however, have beautiful framed pictures of Kruja's "Old Market" from many decades before.

Kruja's Old Market is really the heart and soul of the town. In all honesty, it's only one long, cobblestone alley that's chock full of shops.  We drove around, following the signs to the castle.  There were tons of young, adolescent boys who kept flagging us down to "help" us find parking.  I'm not sure about Albania's parking culture yet; however, previous experiences with this usually me that you pay someone not to break into your car while you park it on a public street.  This is usually only a 100 Leke (1$) or so per day.  We didn't go to the castle immediately, because the lovely antiques outside the shops were calling to me.

The first shop we entered was just incredible.  Naturally, it was full of the wooden boxes we'd been told about.  We had no idea what our friends meant, but I knew them when I saw them.  They were Albania's version of the South's "hope chest" and all different sizes, ranging from two feet to about six feet long.  Some were hand-painted, and others were hand-carved.  See, I collect trunks and suitcases and the like; so these were even more enticing to me.  The shop's proprietor had met other Embassy personnel and was quick to tell us that he offers free delivery to Tirana.  What he told me about the chests was incredible.  Most of them are a century or two old, and they were used (before the days of the regime) to hold a bride's wedding clothes.  They range from $200-$500 U.S.  Well, naturally, I want to get one; I just have to budget for it as soon as I can.  All of the items in his store were really, really old and extremely well-priced.  He didn't seem to be gouging them too much for the Americans.  See, the secret is that the Albanians do not buy the antiques.  They prefer modern furniture!!

I must have gone into every single shop in Kruja; in fact, I'm almost positive I did. The variation of styles, prices, and AGES!! of the products for sale were unbelievable.  These people have literally dug up everything from rusted WWII guns and ammo to coins from the Ottoman (and probably even older) Empire.  I saw U.S.S.R. war helmets, Nazi medals and patches, hundreds of old HAM radios, century old light fixtures from what must have been massive homes, old linens and hat boxes, national costumes from days gone by...you name it; we saw it.  And it was all for sale.

The most beautiful things I think I saw were actual pieces of an old house that were for sale.  This man had doors, wall panels, shutters, and--the most beautiful--a ceiling medallion.  The pieces were all hand-painted; and they had all been taken from the same house.  The sad part was that the pieces had all come from the shop owner's family home.  He had pictures of what the house looked like....with the pieces all in them.  He wanted about 1300 EURO for a set of two wall panel pieces.  I couldn't afford them, of course; but I believe they were absolutely worth it.

We left the Old Market and climbed the path to the castle.  The castle had been Albania's national hero, Skenderbeg's, fortress hundreds of years ago.  We were able to go right up to it and see all of the ruins that remain.  The view was gorgeous, the lack of guardrails of any kind terrifying.  I don't do so well with heights; and in Albania, there are lots of heights...

It was a wonderful day trip that I'll not soon forget.

Why I Do It

When I was growing up in small-town Louisiana (we had one stoplight and one part-time restaurant), I always wondered and fretted about why I didn't fit in.  I never wanted what those around me wanted.  I have never cared about society, popularity, fitting in, fashion, wealth, position, or any of the things that come along with them. I always thought I was weird--I was told I was weird--for wanting to see the world.  I mean, of course people like to travel every now and then; but I wanted to break out and away from the norm that I was raised with.  I never, ever pictured myself staying in one place, doing one thing for my entire life.  I had my travel dreams for years and years. Eventually, I came to believe that my dreams of seeing the world one small piece at a time were actually delusions.  Even my oldest and dearest friends sat me down (around my 25th birthday) and told me that I was living a "pipe dream."  They told me that even though they loved me more than anything, I needed to come back to reality and find a way to be happy in South Louisiana.

Look, I want to get something straight about South Louisiana before I go any further.  South Louisiana is amazing. There are no better people.  There is no better food.  There is no better culture, language, or laisse faire attitude than can be found in South Louisiana.  The architecture, the attitude, the people, the beauty, and just the natural surroundings of where I grew up cannot be explained or equaled anywhere else in the world.  I do not believe that my wanderlust comes from anything that my home is lacking; it just comes from me.    My life with my husband has been a dream come true.  My wanderlust isn't--COMPLETELY--fulfilled per se; however, I am so much better and satiated than I used to be.  My dream--our dream--has always been to get out and to see the world and to then decide to go back and settle in South Louisiana.  If I have my way, I'll bring a dish back from every wonderful country I get to live in and open a restaurant in New Orleans where I can share then with the locals (I have great hopes for Crawfish Poutine and Crab Ceviche so far).

Anyway, I just know that some of my friend and loved ones have never understood exactly where my incessant need to explore comes from.  Honestly, I don't always understand it either.  All that I do know is that living as a nomad fulfills and inspires me in ways I never thought possible.  At this time, I can imagine no other life for me, my family, or my children.  At this time, I only want more of the unexpected.  My wanderlust is in full-force; and I am just so grateful that I'm not doing this on my own.

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!