Cheese heads

The transition from life in pre-service training to life as a volunteer was very abrupt. For ten weeks, we were told where we were supposed to go, when we were supposed to go there, and how we would get there. Whenever we traveled outside of our sites or Elbasan, Peace Corps staff members were always there to make sure that we were getting on the right buses and that we would know what to do whenever we arrived at our destinations. Even at home, our responsibilities were very limited. Our host families made us breakfast and dinner every day, and, for some of us, cleaned our rooms and did our laundry. It was a very busy time, but it was made much easier by the fact that we had few requirements outside of studying the language and learning more about the country that will be our home for the next two years.

That life effectively ended the moment that we took our oaths as Peace Corps volunteers. The Peace Corps certainly looks out for our well being after training, but they take a much more hands off approach. After weeks of having our hands held during every step, it was oddly stressful to suddenly find myself in complete control of my actions. I knew that I had to get to Pogradec, but nobody was going to tell me how or when. When I arrived at site, nobody was there to direct me to my apartment or talk to my landlord or help me find the odds and ends that I needed to settle into my new home.

Soon enough, though, I remembered why I enjoyed independence so much and set about getting my life in Pogradec into some semblance of order. This began on the first afternoon with the small, but ever-important task of moving furniture around into an arrangement that I would be happy with. Then I sat down on my bed, envisioned how I wanted my apartment to look, and began making the list of all the things that I had to do and to buy in order to make that vision happen.

The next day, I took that list and met Stacy (who had put together her own for her apartment) for our first of several trips to the bazar to do some shopping. We had not even made it the entire way to the market when a girl in front of us turned around and asked us if we were from America. This question is not uncommon in Albania (or any other foreign country, I'd imagine), but you never know what the follow up question or statement to your answer will be. Most people want to know why you are here. Many have family in America and want to know if you lived in their state. Others just like Americans. I certainly never expected, however, to hear the response that we got from this girl.

"No way! I'm from Wisconsin!"

Alda, our new friend from Wisconsin, was born in Pogradec and lived there for the first ten or so years of her life. In 1999, though, her family moved to Wisconsin and began a life in America. As it turned out, she had returned briefly to Pogradec to get married to a guy from Albania. So, as you would expect to happen anywhere, she ended our three minute conversation by inviting us to her wedding.

Ok, so maybe not anywhere. But it does happen in Albania and I am a big fan. The wedding was this last Wednesday at a reception hall in Pogradec. Weddings in Albania are very different than weddings in the states. There usually is a small ceremony at a church or mosque (or simply the civil court), but the real meat of the celebration, and the things that most of the people go to, are the huge parties that they hold with their families. The bride and the groom both have their own parties for their own friends and families. We, obviously, attended the day of the bride. In the beginning, the only people at the celebration are the friends and family of the bride. The bride sits at a seat of honor in the middle of the room and is flanked on either side by long tables that seat her immediate family. Other family and friends sit at tables around the room, much in the way that they would at a reception in the states.

About half way through the day, the groom and his immediate family arrive to join the celebration. The groom sits with the bride and the family that he brought sits across the long tables from the close family of the bride. Toasts are given, pleasantries are exchanged, and then everyone gets back to the business of the day-- namely, eating and dancing. And dancing. Aaaand dancing.











The vast majority of the dancing that happens at traditional ceremonies in Albania happens in the form of a circle. To be precise, it happens in a line that moves in a circular motion around the dance floor. There is always a defined leader of the dance, who directs the steps and usually brandishes a scarf in their free hand. The basic steps are easy to learn and very repetitive, but the dance remains entertaining for a long period of time. Whenever you get tired of dancing, you simply return to your table and to the new plate of food that that was probably served while you were up. This goes on for hours. It is loud, hot, slightly chaotic, and loads of fun.

After the wedding, we took some pictures with the bride and her brother-- who currently is a student at the University of Wisconsin. We met up with him a couple other times during the days after the wedding to talk about peace corps and college and the wedding and america and albania and all those other fun topics that come up when you run into familiar strangers so far from home.

So gone are the days of structure and order that we had in training. It is intimidating in some ways. It is up to each of us now to make the next two years as productive-- or not-- as we want them to be. I want to do this well, and suddenly I find that I am putting undue pressure on myself to not to take any missteps (which really is just a part of life you must accept while living in a foreign country). But this reality also opens the door to the chance encounters and improvised adventures that offer so much of romantic appeal to experiences like this. Because you just never know when you'll turn a corner and run into someone from Wisconsin.