Bishqem

Last Sunday (right before I went to the internet cafe to make my last post, actually) the five of us volunteers who live in Bishqem made the short 15 minute walk over to the neighboring village of Pajove to meet the volunteers living there for a picnic. One of the volunteers in Pajove had a birthday that day, so we used the occasion to celebrate, get out of our houses on our one day off, and enjoy the fabulous weather that Albania has been kind enough to provide us with so far. We bought some food supplies in town (my contribution? The Albanian equivalent of jumbo graham cracker sticks and a jar of nutella. Always thinking of health, I am.) and hiked a little way up a ridge next to town into an abandoned group of homes. During communist times, the homes apparently belonged to some of the poorer people in the area who were not allowed to live down in the valley itself. Once the communists left, they all moved down off the ridge, leaving behind a scene that looks straight out of a Mediterranean wall calender. Here were the small homes with tiled roofs, thick wooden support beams, and meandering paths that I had imagined. Small yellow and purple flowers covered much of the ground. The homes' position on the ridge was undoubtedly inconvenient, but it offers a wonderful view of the Shembin (spelling?) River Valley below-- it floor covered with fields of crops in their spring yellows and greens and its surrounding hills/mountains with their orchards and the dull green trees that are natural to the area. From that height, all the trash was a distant memory and you were able to enjoy the beauty that the land has to offer.

The weather couldn't have been better. A big storm had come through the night before, clearing the air and leaving behind that refreshing spring weather that balances perfectly between warm and cool. We sat on the weathered patios and steps of the village, ate our food, talked, sang some songs (one of the volunteers brought along a travel guitar), and enjoyed the feeling of the sun on our shoulders. After staying there for a couple of hours, we made the descent back into Pajove to a cafe, ordered espresso, and chatted the afternoon away on a shaded patio. It was the type of day that I'll probably remember years from today, not because of any single moment, but because of the overwhelming peace and happiness that it provided.

That was certainly a highlight of the trip so far, but it is reflective of much of the experience up to this point. Life moves at a different pace over here-- especially in a small town like Bishqem. Bishqem has a population of about 1,600 people. Nearly every business in town-- the two gas stations, two restaurants, a clothing store, the general store, a pool hall, and a few other odds and ends are scattered directly along the main highway that runs through town. The school and community health center are also on this road. The Shembin river runs just south of the highway. Between the highway and the ridge line on the north side of the valley are most of the homes that make up Bishqem. As best as I can tell, most people in the town are farmers-- many of them at the subsistence level, I'd imagine. The town provides for all of your practical needs, but not too much more.

As it is, our schedule stays plenty full. We have language classes four days a week in Bishqem itself at the school (want to feel like a celebrity without all the hassles of fame? Be the American walking through a school yard in the developing world. Problem solved.), after which we get lunch and then spend most of the afternoon and evening studying the language. Two days a week, we take the 25 minute ride into Elbasan to meet all of the volunteers and have classes on culture, health, and, of course, language.

In amongst all this, though, there are many coffee breaks, the lazy lunches, the Elbasan happy hours, and then a couple more coffee breaks. Aside from the stresses that come with living in a new place and learning a new language, I find myself very relaxed nearly all of the time. Life certainly isn't perfect-- I crave moments away from the sounds of the highway, the five feet that separate me from death by semi-truck on every walk through town don't exactly enhance my state of zen, and the trash-- guh, the trash-- gets old. But all told, this has been a wonderful introduction to my new (temporary) home.