Happy New Year! I hope that everyone has had a lovely holiday season. I spent Christmas in Romania with a few friends (more on that trip later) and returned to Albania on December 30th with just enough time to unpack my big bag, repack a smaller bag and make the trip to Bishqem to bring in the new year with my host family.
New Year's is arguably the biggest holiday in Albania. In some ways, it incorporates bits and pieces of several of the American holidays that I am familiar with into one big, blowout night. In the weeks leading up to it, decorations announcing its pending arrival appeared throughout town- New Year's trees, New Year's lights, and the jolly patron saint of New Year's himself, Santa Claus (he has a different name here, but I can't remember what it is. Më fal.). They may look like their Christmas-themed cousins on the surface, but you'll get confused looks from the locals if you tell them how pretty their Christmas tree is.
On New Years Eve, you gather with friends and family for a feast not all that unlike our own Thanksgiving- roasted turkey and all. They up the ante, however, with giant platters of Baklava. Take notes, America.
Finally, when the clock strikes midnight, everyone goes outside and puts on a fireworks display that would put your average Fourth of July party in America to shame. Throughout the month of December, the soundtrack to life in Albania began to be peppered with the occasional loud explosion. The frequency of these booms and bangs increased steadily as the end of the month drew closer. Walking around Pogradec and Elbasan on New Year's Eve day, I was struck by the thought that a small scale military attack could be happening in an Albanian city that day and it would probably take a few minutes before people took notice. The firecrackers that kids play with here are more akin to small bombs than to the piddly strings of black cats that we have in America. It's slightly disconcerting at first, but you get used to it.
With such firepower at their disposal during the day, I was quite curious to see what the show would be like at night. It did not disappoint. Whenever I had the chance to play with fireworks as a kid, my favorite part of the night was when the box of artillery shells made its appearance. These are the egg sized fireworks that shoot high into the sky and explode in a miniature version of the displays that your town or city might put on in their central park. There is a sense of danger that accompanies the artillery shells. You shoot them one at a time out of a thick cardboard tube that is placed on a stand. This tube, of course, must be 30 feet away from all people and buildings. The lucky person whose turn it is to light the shell carefully slides it down the tube, lights the foot-long fuse, and then runs back to the shelter of the house to wait expectantly with their friends for the lone shot to come forth. They are big and pretty, but even on a fast night you're only setting off about one per minute.
There is another popular type of firework that I grew up with in the states: the Roman Candle. These, in case you need a refresher, are the small foot-long tubes that you hold in your hand. They contain six or so small colored charges that are connected on a single fuse and shoot off one after the other. They are great if you want to add a little color to the night and even better if you want something to shoot at your friends. In Albania, they apparently looked at a box of Roman Candles and then at a box of artillery shells and then thought, “wouldn't it be fun to put those two together?”
The results look something like this. I took this video while standing on the balcony of my host family's house, overlooking the tiny town of Bishqem and neighboring Pajove. The quality isn't the greatest, but you'll get the idea. Happy New Year, everybody.
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