Coming Home

Two days ago, on Sunday Sept 11, the new group of volunteers arrived in Macedonia and it reminded me of the sense of anticipation and excitement I had felt the beginning of my adventure. This month, I am once again filled with anticipation of what life holds for me when I return at the end of next month.

We had our official COS (close of service conference) last month in August and through a lottery system picked the dates we leave the country with a new acronym – RPCV (returned Peace Corps Volunteer). It reminds me of graduation – a period of disciplined study, learning, teaching and cross-cultural exchange that officially ends with being presented a diploma or certificate.  I will truly treasure my status as a RPCV as I join thousands of fellow volunteers, tied by a common bond of living within the narrow confines of choice in developing countries and finding love, joy and happiness in our lives.

Vesna Markoska

I have pulled my two suitcases out of storage and started sorting out the items that I will leave behind, and packing what I will take back with me.  Albeit there is so much that I am taking back that doesn’t go into a suitcase and so much that I leave behind that cannot be quantified.  I am going home, taking back with me a piece of my adopted country – forever stamped in my heart.  A place that I have both loved and hated, a place of successes and failures, of completed projects and projects that never went past the first stage. A place with time filled with cold, excruciatingly lonely days and time rushing past in a blur of activities. A country filled with dreams of a long lost civilization.  A place of enduring friendships and a place where I learned to live with strangers and communicate in a new language!

Cena Noveska and her Mother

Today I am reminded of the things that I will truly miss.  The 50 feet walk to the local green grocer and returning with a couple of bags full of fresh fruits and vegetables that set me back about $3.  The grocer smiling indulgently as I buy one tomato, one potato, an onion and a carrot, guessing what meal I am preparing that day. I will miss the friendly conversation with strangers while walking in the forest paths, the friendly ‘toot of the horn’ by the ‘combi’ drivers as they pass me in town and residents inviting me for coffee and then serving the equivalent of a full meal. I will miss the children boldly calling out my name in English savoring the sound of the word. The people will never really think of me as an American - but an Indian living in America.  To be entirely honest, many of my fellow volunteers think the same! I will miss walking in the hills with a friend who is afraid of cows, snakes, wild boar and all sorts of strange noises.   I cannot quantify the pleasure that comes from gathering fresh tea, herbs, berries and fruit growing alongside the hill paths.  I absolutely will not miss my workday as much of it is spent in casual conversations, drinking coffee or tea and sampling the various ‘foods’ and ‘cultural’ events through out the year. I may think back nostalgically about the challenge of teaching English to my colleagues at my work site and incorporating current events, American mores and culture into the lesson plans.

 Karen Dastick and Jasna Trengoska

In these two years, I have experienced a freedom only a temporary sojourner experiences in a strange land. I will cherish these memories and the friendships with other volunteers, our common shared experiences bringing us together.

Why Volunteers Keep Pets?

Banji

So here I am looking forward to walking with my doggie friends – Dimko and Banji. Mutts, of course are very common in my neighborhood. Dogs are not neutered because there is an underlying anxiety that they will no longer be ‘real’ dogs. Never mind the irony that people use silicon and botox to enhance their appearance or use contraceptives and other procedures to prevent reproduction. So late spring the community is flooded with some of the cutest sweetest little cats and dogs. Just want to bend over and take them home!

Banji

My neighbor now has two of these dogs –a few months old and quite an odd pair –Dimko with curly black hair with a delicate patch of white on his front legs, proportionate build and quite a sweetheart. Banji on the other hand turned out with short legs, glossy black short hair, one erect ear and one folded over and quite a character.  For the first couple of weeks when I passed him on the road, he would run scared and refuse to approach me.

Soon Dimko and Banji joined my friend Cena and I for a walk. As we climbed up the mountain trail we met a dog that protected his turf fiercely. Whereas, Dimko went gamboling around and made friends immediately, Banji scooted home and would not join us on that path.  Indulging him we set off on a different trail and Banji happily led the way, looking back every so often to make sure we were following.  Reminded me of a little child.  Banji now keeps a look out for me as I walk past his house and follows me up and down the street, but never loosing sight of his home.

Girls Leading Our World

Children's' Resort Campsite

One week ago, I was at a camp resort waiting for approximately four score apprehensive young women coming from all across the country.  Many were leaving their family and friends for the first time and while it seemed safe and exciting when they were with their friends, it was daunting to be among new faces and expressively required to speak only in English!  Each small group of 10 multi-ethnic campers was selected with care from a cross-section of the country and ethnicity and that they were not from the same village, town or city. Led by a stranger with a funny American accent, which they could not always understand, they were taken to their rooms after registration to unpack and get ready for a round of evening activities!

Dawn from the terrace Pelister National Park

Meanwhile, a group of select Macedonian young women (of different ethnicity) and Peace Corps volunteers who had arrived a day and an half earlier to prepare for 7 days of activities from 7 am to 11 pm daily for these young women, quickly assembled on the terrace.  To the amazement of the new campers, we performed a newly learned dance revue, choreographed to the tune of “Vogue”.  Not perfect by any means, it was meant to convey, “the whole is greater than the sum of its parts” which is the essence and spirit of the camp that seeks to empower young minds.

As a junior coordinator last year, I had the privilege to watch 80 campers bloom and glow with self-confidence and this week reestablished my bond with the campers returning as Counselors in training or Senior Counselors. They were representative of the enduring transformation one week of Camp GLOW had on these young women. 

Throughout the week, watching the metamorphosis of the campers from uncertainty and tentativeness at the beginning to being completely at ease with oneself in the space of week is an amazing, awesome and a rewarding experience!

Wall for kind words envelopes

Listening to the words of coordinators, counselors, instructors, counselors in training and campers at the emotional closing ceremony, which involved sitting in a circle in the dark and speaking only when the person next to you lighted your candle, stirs powerful emotions and makes for a lasting memory.  Though a light rain this year forced us to move from the outside assembly to the darkened dining hall, the spirit of the moment remained unchanged. Listening to each one talk about what a life changing experience this has been for her and acknowledging her own transformation, her fears and feelings openly is the crowning glory my service as a volunteer.

Rock-Climbing Across a Heap of Rice

Pilav Tepe –I think of the Indian rice dish Pulao or Pilaf heaped on the plate! That’s exactly what this little mountain 14 km outside Radovish, in the north central part of Macedonia is called. This picture though, is across the Pilav Tepe peak and is the one set up for rock-climbing - with different levels of difficulty.  This whole area lies south of the great rice fields of Kochani, so the people who moved here must be missing their rice and imagined this huge helping when they decided to settle here a couple thousand years ago.

Two adventurous Macedonians – one a certified climber and the other a biker, purchased an old cottage with the help of an American friend 3 years ago with a dream of building a thriving small scale business geared to entry-level extreme sports.  I along with 5 other volunteers jumped in to help with the refurbishing and decorating of the mountain house with 2-bedrooms (3 bunk beds each –sleeping a total of 12 people), a modern bathroom and a common kitchen area in exchange for an experience to do some rock-climbing, albeit one of us was a certified director of rock-climbing herself back in the States.  We were given the soft tasks in the remodeling event, while the Macedonian volunteers took care of building kitchen cabinets, laying the bathroom tile, installing the plumbing, including the sewage drain, and installing the bathroom fixtures.  A lot of this work was completed before our arrival. Our tasks of painting, sewing curtains, washing donated kitchen paraphernalia, putting up posters was just as important to makes this empty house into a welcoming weekend place.

The hiking trails leading to the taller and more difficult rock faces in the adjacent picture, had been created and marked with signs throughout the forest with colorful red and white stripes. These markings on wood and on stone were at every possible fork to guide us even if we lost sight of each other. We did exactly that, when we encountered a land turtle and a few of us stopped to take pictures!

Macedonian countryside in spring is filled with a wide variety of colorful flora from the bright red poppy and yellow buttercups to purple, pink, white, lavender and blue wildflowers that I am tempted to gather them in armfuls and bring them in to decorate the house. Alas, I have digressed a little!  Back to rock climbing in Pilav Tepe.

I was able to choose a rock climbing shoe that fit me, from the clubs collection.  They look like sturdy moccasins’ and stretch, mostly in width, but not in length   It had a strong heel and high cut upper leather around the toes and ankles, designed to grip the juts in rock face with the toes.  Shoes for rock-climbing are extremely important so they don’t slip and slide but grip the rock face and I am grateful I was able to find a perfect-fit pair, unlike some of my colleagues. 

Next was the harness, which I stepped into and adjusted both around my upper thighs and the belt around the waist. It had a number of elements to it, but in my first descent I was carrying nothing other than the belaying rope for security, so I don't know what they are for.  The belay rope is a security device. Though, for my short climb, it’s primary function was to provide for a smooth descent. It was so comfortable to “sit in” when I took my hands off the rock and leaned back into the seat holding the belay rope and pushing off the rock in a series of jumps. The belay rope was attached to my harness with some fancy knots and looped at some high point in the rock face and back down into the loop of the belayer, who controlled the length of rope slowly during ascent and descent for security in case of a fall.

My second climb

The club had prepared all the rock faces with fixed loop bolts, for clipping on the belay security devices with a carbiner, but took us up the presumably easier beginner climbs. The owner-director-leader first climbed up the rock himself to set up the belay ropes before we were allowed to start our climb.  On my first climb I only ascended up about 2 meters, finding a piece of jagged rock with my hands and pushing with my feet and not pulling with my hands, each time feeling for those slightly jagged indentations on the rock wall to find a hold. The shoes didn’t slip and with each push up, I felt a rush of adrenalin and a heady excitement. The first time I just kept hugging the wall, not daring to let go when I wanted down! However, with encouragement and by following procedure, and knowing I was supported by the belayer, coming down was so easy – much easier than picking my way down a mountain during a hike when I am afraid to slip and fall!   Absolutely enchanting Macedonia!

The climbing on the first two days and the 3-hour hike in the morning of the day of return to site, on a portion of the steep ascent the biking path takes up the hill from the cottage, past a monastery and through an old village is for the physically fit. The bikers descend down to Mantovo Esero (lake) near Radovish and loop back to the cottage, while we returned the way we walked up!

For a small developing country there are a lot of hidden gems for recreational activities – from the passive sun-bathing on the shores of beautiful Lake Ohrid, to beginner level extreme sports such as rock-climbing, white water rafting, para-sailing or hang-gliding during the weekends at a local spot nearby!

Weekend Vacation Spot

With Macedonia in the throes of special elections for its parliament, it was a good weekend to find a place to vacation deep in Mavrovo National Forest on the western flank of the Republic.  Not knowing what to expect, I was in for a surprise.  The intensity of my experience during this vacation was not only a function of place alone, but also a combination of place, ambience and companionship.  This weekend these three things came together.

Beyond the stunning vistas and the equally interesting monasteries with their relics – bone fragments of saints, a small piece of the cross Jesus was crucified on, etc., obtained at the time of the Holy Crusades in the 11^th century - the utterly delightful experience of seeing how the villagers themselves appreciated their simple, slow pace of life, the unpolluted air and the nutritious nourishing food growing abundantly around there homes set the stage.

Of the two must see monasteries in the area, the outbuildings of Sveti Jovan Bigorski, most well known off all in Macedonia, had burned down two years ago in 2009 and were under construction during this visit.  This monastery is nestled in a peaceful tranquil setting on the western flank of the Bistra mountain range.  Hidden in the forest, it is reminiscent of the time when the world was in flames with the battles between the Roman Empire and the crusaders.  Fortunately, the stone church built in 1020 AD and dedicated to St John the Baptist, and the main wooden monastery buildings were saved in this fire.   These buildings have the look and feel of newness as they have been remodeled and added along, especially in the early 19^th century, a fairly recent event in its history. The soffits are built in the same style as the Turkish sultan’s palaces in Istanbul as was the room where we had coffee.

On the other hand, the women only Rajcica monastery with the church of Sv. Gjorgi, offering a stunning vista of Debar Lake was perched on the most visible location by the lake! The day we visited was sunny, bright with blue skies and the terraced monastery grounds filled with a profusion of red roses and green grass.  It was stunningly beautiful.  Inside, the dining hall tables were covered with drying mint leaves, to be later added to bottles of oil, liquor and sugar water for mint flavored products.

We had a tour of a gypsum mine by a Macedonian engineer from the German plasterboard construction company Knauf.  Though he was very thorough, the tour was in Macedonian language and it was hard to believe that this large valuable pure gypsum mine was handed it over to the German company without any payment.  This encompasses a known area of approximately 10 km long by 1 ½ km wide by 700 meters high and sits along the northeastern edge of Debar Lake.  Depth unknown.   So I did a little web research. According to Wikipedia, inexpensive Gypsum (known as gips in Macedonia) is a calcium sulfite mineral with the formula CaSO₄·2H₂O and though used primarily for drywall, it's uses vary from fertilizer, dietary calcium, flash freezing cement and plaster of Paris among others! I wonder what they add for calcium-fortified milk etc. in the US!

Our host, a hotelier with the Slow Food vision, something quite unusual in this part of the Balkan peninsula provided the vital ingredients that changed a ho hum holiday to this incredible experience.  Slow Food is a non-profit member-supported association, founded in 1989 by Carlo Petrini in Italy, to counter the rise of fast food and fast life, the disappearance of local food traditions and people’s dwindling interest in the food they eat, where it comes from, how it tastes and how our food choices affect the rest of the world.

On arrival at Hotel Tutto, after we oohed and aahed our way in, we were seated at one of the tables on the terrace with stunning views of the River Radika. We started with a very traditional yellow rakia, a Macedonian plum brandy.  As we waited for the salad, we became quite a raucous group, drinking alcohol albeit a little, on an empty stomach.  The food came in different courses and with simple recipes using local vegetables and dairy products. The meats – veal, chicken and fish were delicately flavored.  After the main course and before dessert, we walked through the village picking the herbs – mint, chamomile, thyme, oregano, etc as we walked along – our host thoughtfully provided us with plastic bags!  Dessert of baklava and ice cream with coffee came after our return about two hours later! No dinner necessary.  Breakfast was an equally superb gastronomic experience, where we consumed fresh preserves of strawberry and apricot jams with our buttered toast, omelet, white cheese, both sun-dried and freshly sliced tomatoes, roasted banana peppers, olives, slices of baloney (?) and fresh air. Truly a wonderful weekend vacation!

Na Gosti in Lazani

Macedonians have rediscovered, post Communism the many holidays associated with saints’ days. In addition to his or her birthday, each person celebrates “imenden”, the saint’s day from whom their name has been derived. Yesterday and today were Spasov den (day) and Sveti Nikola den respectively. Three-year-old Nikola had his imenden slava (celebration) today in the nearby village of Lazani, in the municipality of Dolneni. The gathering was for his immediate family and my colleague (his father’s sister) and her family. It was privilege to be included.

Though Lazani is about the size of my community, it is more of a village than a city without paved streets or sidewalks and a buried sewage system. There was no evidence of a modernized ‘plostad’ or town center, and I was disappointed that my tour was cut short by a lighting storm that drove us indoors. We had just barely finished a tour of their farm at that time. They grow corn, wheat and tobacco as cash crops and more than enough vegetables for consumption at home and for the green markets found in most Macedonian cities. It is a modest living. Tobacco sells typically for 3.5 euros a kilo, far less than the 5 euros the Bulgarian and Greek farmers get. No wonder that last fall the tobacco farmers protested, when the price had fallen to 1 euro a kilo! Of the two plum trees laden with fruit, one produced sweet fruit and other sour fruit. The plums will be ready at the end of June early July when the family starts making plum liquor or “rakia” the traditional alcoholic drink of Macedonia. It is often said that rakia will cure every ailment!

The one story farmhouse had a small porch with a washstand and wooden railing built like a fence giving it the appearance of a small room - similar to an attached gazebo. We sat there chatting with an elderly neighbor who claimed he consumes 80 kilos of tobacco every two years and rolls his own cigarettes. It was hard to believe he started smoking when he was 4 years old and at 74 didn't suffer from a smokers lung! Anyway, the adjacent primary school has two shifts for the classes and as the second shift ended, I was startled to see young children run into their yard and grab a bike each to go home. It says a lot for this family who takes care of their bikes during the school day. It was also quite a sight to see the roosters and hens followed by their brood running helter-skelter, like the children, to find shelter from the rain.

 

The village is predominantly Muslim with little opportunity for a young Christian farmer to meet young Christian women in the village. So a marriage broker arranged this marriage between an Albanian Christian from a small village near Skoder, Albania and this Macedonian family.  She quickly learned Macedonian upon her arrival 7 years ago and now brings dual language skills to her two children.  She is lively conversationalist and we found common ground to talk about children with a mixture of Albanian, Macedonian and English! We were so engaged in conversation that the husband had to remind us to leave the learning for a while, as it was time to serve the food. This is the kind of woman I have been eager to meet and befriend – so engaged in life beyond the mundane tasks! Her husband too was knowledgeable about the world beyond farming and we were able to communicate on a number of issues.

Fridays is a day when no meat or dairy products are eaten and the meals are “poct”. Hrana literally means a meal or food. The meal was thus considered “poct hrana”. Just before we started, my host glady went to the fields in the rain to cut some fresh spring onions to supplement our dinner of a ‘tavche gravche’ and ‘fried fish’. Tavche gravche is the traditional Macedonian bean dish. The afternoon went by too quickly and I have promised to return for the next celebration on August 2 to their home.

Spring is here!

With the onset of warm weather, the slow pace has slowed further. Joining a group of women last week, on makeshift seating in front of a little general store (prodavnica) on the main road after work listening to the friendly gossip was an eye opener.

First, it gave me an opportunity to stop and read the small 8x11 notice announcing direct buses 3 times a week from Brod to Italy via Slovenia on the store window. This information will not only remain unknown to most residents, it also went unnoticed by me for the last couple of weeks when I passed the store during my morning walk! Now, if and only if I had been planning a trip to Slovenia, it would save me some serious connecting time at bus stations along the way. Now, I need to find a direct connection to Dubrovnik, Croatia my next destination of choice!

Second, I also found myself glancing at my watch whenever a combi went by, noticing any differences in the regularly scheduled times as well as if additional times were added for the summer hours.  With much laughter, when queried by a passerby about cost and times to go to Skopje, they yielded to me for accurate information as I travel far more frequently out of my community than them. Though the fare between Brod and Skopje went up by 50 mkd in February the drivers gave us a grace period to get used to the new rates till mid May, after which they insisted for the new rate, especially with students.

Third, I became part of a semi-closed system, in which local entrepreneurs went shopping for clothes to Greece, Bulgaria, Turkey for jeans, blouses, dresses in the ‘latest styles’ and fashions for non-professional working women. These women are too constrained by meager wages and lack of time, spending hours growing their vegetables and other staples, planting, harvesting, canning and pickling all year long along with meeting the obligations of raising young children, food preparation and keeping up the house, to travel to neighboring cities for purchasing clothes. As always I am eager and open to new experiences I wanted to meet this entrepreneur. The following day Dragan, stopped me on the street to introduce himself and set up a time to meet at the opstina to see his wares!

Fourth, watching people walking past offered not only a window to my community, but an insight to the stereotype of construction workers on lunch break back home.  I now have a better understanding of the light-hearted play between the watchers and the watched.  My experience last week of watching people walk by, some self-consciously, others with a wave or with small children and still others stopping to say hello and curious about the foreigner among was delightful. The evening had the ambience of a lazy summer vacation day – a soothing balm to the hectic pace of life and to be indulged in once in a while and indulged in small towns the world over.   

Musings on my Work

After a prolonged stay in a foreign country, when no observation needs to be described or written about, the conclusion is that this foreign culture has become part of the landscape and this country has become a home away from home.  This process of acclimatizing to the country of service, sharing American culture and bringing back the Host Country (Macedonia for me) culture to Americans meet two of the three goals of the Peace Corps mission. The first goal “helping the people of interested countries in meeting their need for trained men and women” sometimes comes in last, especially for generalists like myself.

Though I plunged into teaching English to many of my new colleagues at the municipality immediately on arrival, my assignment as a technical advisor (goal one) to the Local Economic Development group at the municipality of Makedonski Brod lagged.  Armed with rudimentary Macedonian following a 10-week intensive immersion course, I was eager to plunge into my site and make things happen, American style.   However, as none of my new colleagues had working knowledge of the English language, our conversations were stilted. As the first Peace Corps volunteer for this local government unit, it took many months to establish a level of trust and cooperation and in which ways I could help.   

The stereotype facing me was that in the years following the breakup of Yugoslavia, this country was the recipient of massive USAID with focus on building a broadband, internet connection in every village. When the war in neighboring Serbia and Kossovo in 1991 brought in thousands of refugees, International Development Funds flowed into the country and everyone, including small and large ngo’s and municipalities got used to grant funds.  What the municipality wanted now was money to build and repair aging water, sanitation and road facilities with the thinking that this would somehow lead businesses to invest in this dying town. I was therefore seen as an American who is here to help them access funds and was handed an grant application packet with vague reference for laying water lines to villages on my first full day at site.  Mind you, my community with more than half the total population of the municipality has piped in clean water to every home from a filtration plant built in Kichevo, a big city 26 km away.  So I had to clearly establish at the onset, that though I was ready to translate any material in English, I would not be writing grants but work with them in prioritizing and focusing on achievable goals.

So I spent the first couple of months learning the names and locations of the 50 villages in this municipality with a square area of 888m² and learning that every year the younger generation moves out, leaving behind their aging parents and grandparents. This municipality is down to 7000+ people from a high of 20,000+ twenty years ago!  A few of the 50 villages are totally empty, while all but one has seen a decrease in population.  The village, which had an increase in population is connected by road to Skopje and is about 50 km away from where I live, received infusions of funds to develop it as a weekend home area. Though this village is in the municipality of Makedonski Brod it is not yet currently accessible by a regular asphalted road from here.

It took a year of observation and personal initiative to visit many of these villages on my own to come to the conclusion that the municipality has some natural assets and a few unique folklore events that would bring tourists. By the end of my first year of service, after reaching a level of trust and articles in Lonely Planet Guide and the Macedonian American Chamber of Commerce’s 10^th Anniversary monthly magazine, my suggestion to focus on making available information on these historical folklore activities, natural cave sites, calendar of events in the villages, the hunting season for wild boar in this region as well as availability of food specialties’ of the region, such as chestnut honey, chestnuts and a mountain sheep cheese in a centralized place was met with enthusiasm. This tourist kiosk, to be set up for two or three events in the city of Makedonski Brod as well as two other specific event sites in the municipality will have informational material and a trained volunteer citizen guide to answer any questions and make suggestions of things to do in the municipality to tourists who come for these events. 

To make the program more robust, these informational brochures and material will be used to develop specific tours and marketed to the University of Tourism and Management and tourist agencies in neighboring Ohrid – a UNESCO heritage lake and city and the center of foreign tourism in the Republic. Bed & Breakfast is on the table for overnight facilities due to the lack of hotels rooms.

In addition to this, the municipality has started to actively promote the events and assets of the municipality at conferences and seminars starting with the February 2011 mid-service conference for volunteers and their Macedonian colleagues (also known in PC lingo as counterpart).  All volunteers were invited to join us for the annual May 1^st picnic that is held in the fields surrounding Cave Peshna. This was undoubtedly a success and I hope a venue for future volunteers every year. 

Smaller community development projects pop up as and when a need is identified, such as starting a fitness exercise club, working with the primary school children on arts projects, working with the women’s ngo on needs assessment, translations, etc.  A few volunteers invited for the ‘Veligdon’ celebration on the Monday after Easter Sunday enjoyed the folklore events of the day.

Though I have primarily focused my activities in my community, I enjoy working with other volunteers as the financial coordinator for the weeklong national girls camp (GLOW – Girls Leading Our World) for 80 girls and have assisted in a couple of other events. 

Now with just six months left, it seems I will not have time to visit other parts of Macedonia let alone the other Balkan countries as planned before starting service! I have moved from the earlier days of “a watched pot never boils” to the “time flies when you’re busy” state of mind.

One and a Half Year Later

This month 50 years ago, Americans responded viscerally to the clarion call of our government and the Peace Corps was established. Thousands of young Americans signed up to travel to different countries for twenty-seven months with only a rudimentary knowledge of the local language and culture, living far away from loved ones and familiar surroundings.  The mission then and as it is today, is to provide technical help of an unknown nature, adapting and developing ideas from learned theoretical processes and applying them to the situation at hand.  This, together with sharing American culture and values and bringing back an understanding of the local culture and mores to share with others at home is what PC service is all about!

Though it could be argued that volunteers are more prepared than ever with information available through high tech gadgets and the internet, this visceral response remains the same today as it was 50 years ago. Even with 7% of the volunteers over 50 years old and an average of 28 years today, volunteers are still open to the idea of learning a new language and culture, choosing months of maybes, why not’s and lets see coupled with days of isolation and loneliness, just because beneath it all they are cocksure and foolhardy to think that they can conquer anything, anytime or anywhere.

The PC mantra is not only a safe and moral choice about helping others, but it is also to prove to ourselves that we can do it.  Though we sign up for any number of reasons and use different coping skills, each one finds an inner strength to live, work and return, with a better understanding of self and that all human relationships are based on fragile, cultural norms.

Macedonians I have learned define nationality by culture, tribal or bloodlines, and not by territory or citizenship. So, the citizens’ are Macedonians, Albanian, Roma, Vlach, Bosniaks, Turks, etc. even if they have lived here for hundreds of years! My readings of the Balkan people suggest that it is also true elsewhere in this region of Europe.  The people are not integrated in the rural towns and villages; they live parallel lives, at times with little or no social interaction beyond public life.  In small towns and villages they remain segregated and a recent fight between two students (one from a neighboring town (Turks) and one from here (Macedonian) at the local high school quickly took on an ominous overtones of them and us..

Beyond that great divide, a year and a half later, I no longer see Macedonia with ‘foreign’ eyes, loosing that observer mindset, as the daily activities concerned with work and life have insidiously seeped into me.  I enjoy the “let life happen” attitude and take things and events as they come, with a shared sense of working towards common goals and a collegial feeling with coworkers.  The focus of local government is still on finding ways to get grant money to take care of ambitious municipal projects, to rebuild the town in the manner of a great metropolitan city and less on improving maintenance of the infrastructure or encouraging investment in the shuttered factories in town.

Though I still have difficulty fully comprehending the subtext of a Macedonian conversation, the mothers’ voice the same concerns and anxieties I had about raising kids. We are equally concerned over changes in generational values and mores. Yet I see the comfort and ease with which different age groups talk and interact with each other.  This may be more widespread in the villages and small towns with fewer economic resources, but is in stark contrast to the trendy adult living communities, in the US where families with children cannot purchase or rent a home.

On a closing note, I met an incredible woman, a soul sister, separated not by ideas or thoughts, only by a different language.  We manage to communicate and understand abstract notions by a combination of hand gestures, analogies, and isolated Macedonian and English vocabulary, albeit occasional misunderstandings.  Once she told me that if only she could speak English, together we could introduce new ideas in her school and community filled me with hope for the future!

Airplanes, Airports and Destinations

When I first boarded that Air India flight in August of 1970, I was as much in awe of the opportunity to cross the ocean by air as today's generation would be of boarding a commercial rocket. Though I grew up on an air force base with Dakota's and DC-3's buzzing in the air and even got a turn at the wheel of a 'glider' in the city of Poona while in high school, I was impressed by the spacious cabin and service of the flight attendant. Were they even called flight attendants in those days or steward and stewardess?

Back then my family walked with me on the tarmac to the plane's boarding steps at Delhi airport - which was just an expanded air force station. As I entered the plane they retreated to the safety of the building, where they could stand and wave to one of the many faces peeping out of the windows as if they were waving to me.  I couldn't wait for my adventure to begin and since it must have been written all over my face, the steward quickly brought Air India Maharajah writing paper and a beautiful pen to start my scribblings right away.  I was bound for graduate studies at the University of Florida's Food Science Department in the College of Agriculture armed with the knowledge that once I reach Jacksonville, Florida all I will have to do is find the Greyhound Bus Station and make my way to the campus.  Alas, if I did write on that vellum, I didn't mail it home or save those scribblings.  So sporadically did I write letters that they didn't even fill the shoebox my mother kept my mail in.  Years later I found no letter written on the plane or my impressions of the world on my first long journey away from home. 

During this flight from Chicago to the city of Ohrid, Macedonia, I negotiated my way through a maze of security checkpoints arriving at my gate about half hour after I said good bye to my family at the check-in area of the airport. Gone from economy class was the linen service with it's starched white napkin and gleaming silverware, porcelain plates, complete with a glass goblet for water and in it's place I was handed a hastily made sandwich with a smear of mayonnaise, cheese and a lettuce leaf wrapped in cellophane and a plastic glass for water!  This modern airplane seat was narrow with just enough leg room for my knees to bump into the seat in front of me. Heaven forbid if (being in a window seat) I needed to go to the airplane's 2'x3' lavatory (who uses the word 'lavatory' any more?) to freshen up or use the toilet with the people sleeping soundly between me and the aisle.  It takes courage to wake them up and have them unbuckle and stand in the aisle for the few minutes even as I would have edged my way out, half-folding my body at the waist and trying not to rock the headrest of the passengers sitting in the row ahead. On the first and longest (7 hours and 45 minutes in the air and about one hour cumulatively before takeoff and after landing)) leg of my flight, I somehow managed to stay put even after drinking at least 4 glasses of water.

When my last segment of the flight into Macedonia from Zagreb, Croatia was delayed and diverted due to heavy fog blanketing the Skopje airport and most of the country and I was in a window seat - you can imagine my amazement that I could see clear to the ground without fog obstruction when we crossed over the mountain ranges south of Skopje.  I felt some of that same excitement I did on my first plane journey, when I tried to find landmarks I could identify and saw an odd shaped lake, which I excitedly told everyone on my descent was Lake Koziak- a dammed lake formed by the River Treska as it flows through a narrow gorge into Lake Matka and finally emptying itself into the River Vardar.  Vardar once lent it's name to northwestern Macedonia and may still! Only later after searching for the shape of the lake on "google earth" did I realize it was Lake Mavrovo that I spotted!

The plane flew south above a couple of mountain ranges separated by narrow valleys - which I believe has kept the ethnic Albanian communities relatively isolated from the rest of eastern Macedonia's villages and small towns. The valleys were a shade of deep green while the peaks were oasis of white snow and with the low altitude maintained by the pilot during this descent I could see the narrow mountain roads as they zigzagged along the sides of the mountains.

When we arrived around 3:30 pm at Ohrid, the city was not visible through the fog.  It took about 10 minutes for me to collect my baggage, roll it past customs and place it on an angled luggage belt to offload on the upper street level and into the arms of taxi drivers trying to grab your suitcase and negotiate with you into their unlicensed cabs. The airport authorities had lined up two buses to transport all the passengers to Skopje and though I hoped I could use them and hop off one third of the way at a city named Kichevo, I couldn't resist taking a cab right away to Kichevo, enabling me to board the connecting combi (minibus) to Makedonski Brod.  I had been worried with the flight delay that had I arrived at Skopje airport at that time, I would most likely have missed the last combi from Skopje to Brod and would have to knock at a fellow volunteer's door to put me up for the night or spend a fortune on a taxi to get home. Thank you heavy fog at Skopje!

College Friendships

When a group of college friends meet to celebrate the wedding of one of their children, the meaning of friendship for over 40 years becomes special! Though this was not the first time we came together for a wedding such as this, it is my current sojourn, albeit for 27 months (16 down, 11 more to go) in Macedonia which has brought this camaraderie sharply into focus.

We met after we arrived as students at the University of Florida in late 1960's and had no family to celebrate the holidays with - and we became a 'family', staying in touch after graduation and jobs which took us to many different States in America. It is remarkable that after marriage the spouses accepted this friendship, with the same spirit that first brought us together and continue to welcome us into their homes without reservations further strengthening the bonds.

Though we all have since those days added many more friendships, I continue to marvel at this special relationship formed by strangers needing some kind of anchor at a time when travel was limited, there was no internet and computers filled huge rooms.

Rituals, Faith and Funerals

Faith and belief play a strong role in shaping the rituals surrounding birth, marriage, and death. In my small city observing and participating in the rituals of a funeral presented itself on one clear Monday morning in October.

On my way to work six weeks ago, I waved nonchalantly to two of my colleagues standing by the side of the road near the entrance to the side door to my office, deep in conversation probably related to the newly torn up earth where a new roadbed was being laid.  Across the window of my ground level office, in a different direction I could see a crowd gathering. In the early hours of the morning a citizen, struggling to recover from a debilitating stroke had died. This was not a good start to the day.

A little after noon, I went over to one of the offices to see if I there was anything I could do as my colleagues were standing looking very distraught. One of my two colleagues I had waved to earlier in the morning was dead – of a heart attack! Not knowing the proper Macedonian words to express my shock and grief and uncertain of the sequence of events, I suspended the English lesson that I teach to my colleagues. Soon knowing that no other work could be done, they started to leave for home, after a collection was made for a donation to the family of the deceased.

Next morning my friend took me under her wing and took me to the deceased’s home early in the afternoon. I entered the living room to find my colleague’s body lying in a coffin, surrounded by flowers and gift boxes of candy and chocolates. Beside him was a temporary aluminum tray filled with tiny earth-colored pebbles and a stack of church candles. I placed a small donation and lit a candle in his memory. I was asked to sit down along with the other mourners and offered a small glass of Rakia (a local alcoholic drink), followed by one piece of candy.  I partook both as instructed by my friend prior to entry.

As additional mourners entered the room, I went and waited outside. Shortly afterwards a procession formed outside the apartment building, led by young children holding flowers in their hands, followed by high school children. The priest went ahead of the hearse, his wife and children. His extended family, friends, colleagues and townspeople followed behind, some in cars, though most of us walked about one km to Sveti Bogodorica, the Eastern Orthodox Christian church.  Only the family and coffin were taken inside the small church, while we waited outside for the completion of this phase of the service. After about 20 minutes, the procession started towards the cemetery. This path went past the new home that was being built by the deceased and it was a heart-rending poignant moment for all to hear the anguished sounds of the family when they passed the home that would never be occupied by the husband and father to two teenagers, whose life had come to a sudden end.

At the cemetery the open coffin was placed on two sturdy 2x4’s spanning the open ground and prayers were said.  The wife and children then placed a newspaper and other favorite articles of clothing before covering the face with the shroud and closing the coffin. The 2x4’s were removed and coffin lowered into place on two sturdy ropes that were removed once it settled on the ground. The priest put the first symbolic piece of dirt in the wife’s hand and she threw it on the coffin, followed by the children and close family, then friends, colleagues, neighbors, townspeople, etc. 

The lunch was preceded by a sip of Rakia, which was consumed by first pouring a little bit to the ground (symbolic inclusion of the deceased), followed by a spoonful of boiled whole wheat grain and finally a small piece of blessed bread, a bit of both were saved by the side of the plate. After the meal, as we left the cemetery, we dropped the piece of bread behind us, without turning around to keep the spirits following into our homes.

Last Friday, six weeks after the death of my colleague, another collection was made and I learned that another service was to be held. Once again we gathered at the deceased home and walked behind a procession led by the priest and the family, but this time directly to the cemetery. Candles were passed to the mourners at the gravesite, which were lit during the prayers and snuffed out upon completion and returned to the church. This was followed by a meal and we partook of the same rakia, whole wheat and blessed bread before the meal. At both meals we were given plastic bags and as the sweets and savories were served, each of us took a piece and placed it in the bag to take it back home with us.

I apologize for any errors of understanding, but from now on every year on January 7 (Christmas day of the Eastern Orthodox Church, the date on the Gregorian calendar which corresponds to December 25 on the Julian calendar) all the townspeople who have lost a family member will once again prepare food and go to the cemetery, laying the plates on the gravestones. Mourners will come and light one candle and take a snack (usually in a bag) –symbolic of sharing a meal with the family member who is living in another world, unseen but there with the family on this day.

Sveti Pre-Obrazene, Zrze

 On the road to village Zrze, the monastery is seen folded into the side of the mountain. The picture below is from a brochure simply because it occurred to me that it would be so much fun to climb up the hill behind the monastery looking down and someone had already had the same thought!

My best days are usually linked to a spontaneous decision. Walking back from work on Friday, wondering what was the best thing to do on a forecasted warm sunny Saturday, I impulsively invited two of my fellow volunteers to join me for a visit to a monastery built near the village of Zrze about 30 km from my home. This site was chosen by monks as early as the 4^th century, high above the Pelagonia plains on the western ring of mountains, which form the eastern mountains of my municipality.

 

Only Candy Wiggum was free, so around 10:30 am right after the sun had burned the low fog that settles into the M. Brod valley in fall and spring, we walked over and invited my Macedonian friend Cena to join us. She was not available, so we took a taxi, knowing full well that the track to the monastery from the village of Zrze at the bottom of the hill is designed more for a 4x4 and not a car. Well we were in no hurry, so we negotiated that the taxi will wait 3 hours for us to allow enough time for us to climb up and back and spend quality time at the monastery.

 

Ahh, it was a magical sight when we first spotted the monastery in the distance and not only were we eager to scale the cliff, so was our taxi driver – whose Aunt, as it turns out was a resident of the village and our driver – Smiler had last visited the monastery 30 years ago!  Expecting him to stop the car and inform us that he could go no further, we held our breath as he slowly went up the steep, twisted road with deep gulley’s from water run off.  Higher and higher he went and at one point we asked him to stop to allow us to take some pictures, when it finally dawned on us that he wanted to go there too and his Peugeot would make it!  The pictures speak for themselves, so I will give a brief historical recap.

 

Though the early 4^th century monks lived in the caves, by the 5^th century a church and a citadel were built housing a vibrant community - the ruins of basilica are currently under excavation and restoration and lie a little to the north of the current church.  The site of the current basilica was built in the 9^th century, with additions in the 14^th when it was turned into a male coenobitic* monastery and the church dedicated to the Holy Transfiguration of Christ.  Many 14^th century murals were restored in the 17^th century and for a period of time during communism, it became the home of two nuns, Matushka Irina (1891-1962), a noblewoman and escapee from the Bolshevik revolution and her companion, who died in 1975. In 1998 it was re-established as a monastic community with male monks.

* In the dictionary of the Coptic Orthodox Church, coenobitic monasticism is defined as a type of monasticism established by Abba Bakhomious, Father of the Community, in the third century, where monks or nuns live a communal life in a monastery or convent.

More on Makedonski Brod

This link to Chris Deliso's article is a fabulous piece on Makedonski Brod.

The reason why my community has this name is because there is another Brod in the Balkans and this is a handy way to distinguish the two.  In all Macedonian publications it is referenced as M.Brod, Mak. Brod or Makedonski Brod.  The locals including myself just say Brod when we travel between villages and to and from the bigger cities of Macedonia

Why I Fell in Love with Makedonski Brod

Walking early this morning with overcast skies, threatening to rain, but just holding off, I felt a sense of balance with my surroundings.  Why is it that I fell in love with this isolated small city nestled along the river gorge? I love the solitude that comes from the forested mountains, enveloping the harsh sounds of people at work, absorbing the foul odors of motor vehicles and the occasional shrill voices of birds that fly across my path.

My mind flew back almost 50 years to that summer traveling through Periyar Wildlife Sanctuary in Kerala. I must have been 6 or 7 years old, but that lake, the government guesthouse with the wide verandah and large square flagstone remains imbedded in my memory. Each time I recall those memories I cannot remember family or friends, only the sound of the wind whistling in the trees, the sight of a lone fox startled by the sweep of the car headlamps, the elephants washing themselves by the side of the lake. I recall leaning out of the side of the boat looking to spot the magical fish that fly through the air!

Thoughts are magical as they allow me to cross the time barrier indiscriminately and suddenly I am on a bike riding the steep, oh so steep hills surrounding my home at the military base outside the city of Poona, now called Pune as a wave of nationalist fervor consumes the Indians hell bent on reclaiming the names of their ancient cities, polluted by anglicized names. I remember a winding road going up and up and stopping at the bridge to look down on the river (?), road (?)  or was it just a cow path at the base of the hills and feeling that I am in a place of earthly paradise! This time I remember my friend Sutapa and I spent countless hours exploring the countryside in tune with the butterflies and birds in the hot sun and not a worry in the world.

Digging a hole in the ground and lighting charcoal briquettes till they were white hot and covering them with a layer of dirt.  Placing marinated chicken pieces wrapped in foil and burying it with more dirt! What joy to camp by the side of the river in some farmer's meadow outside Corvallis, Oregon in the coastal range of mountain. Digging up the meal after a trek to find the chicken cooked, moist, dripping with spiced juices! Learned how to wrap a white flour dough around a stick and slowly bake (?) roast (?) it till it became our bread to mop up the juices from the succulent chicken.

Now where was I? Oh, I was walking along the side of the road hugging the River Treska in the narrow gorge west of Makedonski Brod. Look where I ended up – my childhood memories swirling around my head, at peace with myself. The hills are swathed with muted brown leaves of the local dab (oak) and beech trees, more reminiscent of the colors of Japanese paintings and less of the bright golden, red, brown maples of North America. It is with this sense of stillness that comes with emptying the mind that I can walk away my fears and the nagging sense of my inadequate language skills, unable to express the beauty of my surroundings to my native friends.

Lunch Diplomacy

More on culture and traditions! After a Mexican Fiesta for our Macedonian friends two Saturdays ago, at which only a handful showed up, many still wanted to “taste” the food. Though they appear to be emancipated working-women, my colleagues from work are unable to move freely without censure in the evenings and weekends.

So I volunteered to host a quick lunch during the half an-hour long midday break during a working day, making one of the items from the fiesta – chili.   I added fresh parsley potatoes to the menu using my first batch of homegrown parsley. The lunch menu was rounded out by a bag of tortilla chips, which were purchased in one of the big international stores in Skopje.

In order to rustle up this meal, I took a longer break, in fact I went to work only for one hour and that was to make sure that my guests were coming! The lunch was a success.  Now, if I continue to host lunches such as this every couple of weeks, will that be considered a skills transfer or just a “fun break” from work for my colleagues?  

Volunteers in Macedonia are either CD’s or TEFL’s. CD is the acronym for Community Development and TEFL stands for Teaching English as a Foreign Language.  Having been assigned to the CD sector because I stated that I have no teaching experience and have no interest in teaching during my period of service, I find that my biggest contribution to the skills transfer aspect of my service is teaching English and sharing culinary skills every once in a while!

Field Day

Learning the culture and traditions of our adopted countries is only one aspect of service. Following in the footsteps of an individual or a group by repeating an event or some actions can give rise to traditions.  Here in Macedonia an annual event named Field Day has become a poignant MAK tradition.

This event takes place in October, usually 6 weeks after the arrival of the new group of Peace Corps trainees. Within another six weeks all the volunteers completing their 27 months of service will have left Macedonia as RPCV’s (Returned Peace Corps Volunteers).

On the one hand there is the hope-filled energy and excitement brought by the new group who are learning about Macedonian culture and traditions, its’ aspirations to join the EU, the different cities and villages where they may be assigned after the completion of training.  They learn about the different ethnicities that don’t call themselves Macedonians, but Albanians, Roma, Vlach, Bosniaks and Turks, even though they have lived through 4 or 5 generations on this land. 

On the other hand there is talk of plans to travel through other regions of the world, what graduate school options await them or just waiting to go back to the States and chill out. There are those volunteers who have formally extended their service for another year and must take one month off from site.  Other volunteers, who have delayed their COS (close of service date), as there is some unfinished work at their sites and they will leave in a few months.

All during this time, my peers and I are busy organizing “getting to know each other games”, setting up the pot-luck picnic lunch and selling souvenir calendar and t-shirts.  We also manage the rummage sale of bits and pieces of paraphernalia, such as waffle makers, blenders, irons, extension cords, musical instruments, stationary bikes, clothes, shoes, handbags, etc., that the departing volunteers no longer need and that would be useful for the incoming volunteers. We nod our heads, listen, smile as all these conflicting emotions flow around us, thinking that it was just the other day we were the newbies’ and didn’t have a clue of where we were going to live and what it would entail.

Time is a very elusive concept for a volunteer! Time goes incredibly slowly when we are throwing out ideas at site hoping one will stick.  We wait for things to happen for days at a time and nothing happens – so we start a hobby, learn to cook, read an incredible amount of books, learn about new internet sites to watch free movies and TV shows, maintain a blog and/or multiple facebook pages, take an incredible amount of pictures of everything dreaming of turning it into an album, a photo exhibit, etc. 

Then a project sticks and there are not enough hours in the day to fine-tune the details and get things off the ground – designing, scanning, printing, are not the quick trip to Kinko’s at midnight, but can take a few days to load everything on a flash drive, go to the nearest city in a combe (minibus) get things printed and come back to find your flash drive has picked up a virus. Things start happening and you are soaring on the top of the world, feeling that you have arrived.  Some projects work and others don’t and sometimes the unexpected happens and the project disappears from our grasp. You learn how to function in a simultaneously structured and unstructured environment! A place where time flies by and doesn’t move at all!

Field Day takes place in Skopje – the capital city rapidly growing into an international destination as development money has opened up Macedonia to international tourism. I can go to the movie theater, a Bob Dylan concert and attend a weeklong jazz festival. I can buy butter (not in my town), peanut butter and avocado.  I can shop in an upscale international mall or walk along the river on a wide river walk and eat at restaurants offering more than Macedonian foods.

Then reality sets in when I call my combe bus driver and he asks me to wait for him at 5:00pm and he doesn’t arrive till 6:00pm.  I am not complaining, as I know he will not leave me stranded and he will pick me up from the street corner most convenient for me in the big city.  This is, after all, only one example of the cultural experiences that I had volunteered for.