Unable to let go

Yes, today is another deadline, probably one of the bigger ones . . . but it's only 7.30 am right now . . . the day could very likely go by quite quietly. A lot of talk and fear travels around this place, maybe a bit justifiable, but mostly not . . . at least not here right now. maybe a few extra gun shots - "celebratory fire" they call it - but as far as daily life . . . not much. There will be protests and demonstrations all over today and if I had class it would be cancelled, but I don't so no big deal. my fight out of here is on the 14th and they should go out with no problems. it's when, if the government unilaterally declares independence that it might get a bit louder. but who knows. that will wait until after the holidays when all of the internationals working have been able to cgo home and come back. i do wonder, though, if i will continue to have my classes in Januray. depending on what happens, my serbian students might be too afraid to come into town . . . who knows.

The link above goes to a blog about the current campaign being carried out in Serbia, "Kosovo is Serbia!" It goes on to show very prominent images of British and American leaders known for making great strides in times of trouble. The intent is, "To remind Serbian citizens the gravity of what they are fighting for in Kosovo." It's propaganda at it's finest. Imagery, manipulation of using quotations out of context. It claims that Serbia is more American than America!

Knowing my Serbian students and their distance from what is happening between the governments and knowing the conditions in which they are currently living as marginalized minorities in Albanian dominant Kosovo, my heart softens and I want to back the plight of the Kosovar Serbs to maintain their national identity. However, as soon as I read this sort of media manipulation being spun by the government in Belgrade, my sympathy melts for the Serbian movement. One of their leaders, Tadic, claims to be working toward EU standards and recognizing an independent Kosovo defies those standards, and he is one of the more liberal thinkers in the government. Most others look down upon the EU and would feel better siding with Russia in opposition to the EU. They are trying to build a wall to block what is coming at them in full force and that is the European Union.

December 10th will come and go. There will be some noise from both sides, but what decision will finally be made, when and what will the ramifications be . . . I might be here to see it, but wouldn't be surprised if I wasn't.

Decisions being made?

It's been a long while since I wrote about the political situation here. To be honest, I got a bit tired of all the talk and nothing really happening. Didn't seem like much worth writing. Crucial dates come and go with not much new to report. That could very likely be changing soon, though , , , maybe.

Yesterday Kosovo held elections for prime minister and parlimentary seats. The opposition party, PDK, has taken the unofficial lead which would mean that a former Kosovar rebel fighter would be Prime Minister. Not surprising, really. Thaci's campaign poster was one of the biggest and most abundant in the city. His along with one of a current war criminal awaiting trial in the Hague and another of a dead guy. December 10 is the newest "deadline" for negotiations between Kosovo and Serbia. If no resolution has been made by then . . . which it of corse won't be . . . Thaci and his people say that they will unilaterally have a declaration of independence. My ticket out of here for the holidays is booked for the 14th. Hope it takes at least 4 days before the shit really hits the fan.

The international community here does a really good job of getting scared. The streets on election day were more dead than normal, mostly because the internationals were locking themselves in until things supposidly settled. But there was nothing to settle. I was out walking and the only unusual site was adults coming out of the school buildings after voting instead of kids playing in the school yard after class. The hype, the talk and the anticipation from the international community always makes one a bit nervous of what might explode in front of them on the street. But so far nothing has. These dates of reconing come and go and all is good.

So the next date is December 10. Theyre already talking about how THAT will be the day to stay inside. I guess we'll see. And of course I have to wonder how it will effect my classes. Will the Serbian students keep showing up? If they do, what sorts of conversations will be had between the Albanian and Serbian students? If there are conversations, how headed will they be? I guess we will see whether something actually comes of any of this or whether it will just be another date come and gone.

My Aunt Julie

My aunt passed away on Saturday. My uncle’s wife, my cousins’ mother. I was on the phone that day talking to only some of the people that took up an entire floor of a hospital. Brothers, nieces and nephews, in-laws and friends all together to embrace four people that were losing their wife, their mother. I almost feel sorry for anyone else on that floor that had to be pushed out by the crowd. But on the other hand, I am envious that they were there to see the strength of the bond that group of people has with each other.

Having something to say about Julie isn’t hard. From the time I was four with my first memory of Julie before she and Kevin were married, I saw her as a woman that wasn’t like most. In the 70s she stood out as someone that wasn’t going to do something just because it was expected of her. I believe she saw life for its opportunities. She knew what she wanted and had the intelligence to know how and when to achieve it. She was the kind of woman I wanted to be.

I remember when us older cousins – Chris, Jen, Josh and myself – used to play this make-believe game in Grandma and Grandpa’s basement. We each took on identities of cool teenagers and created our own sort of Hays Happy Days. If I remember right, Chris tried to be this blonde Fonze-like character and made Josh, who was all of 2, be his little side-kick. I clearly remember the small battle Jen and I took on with our identities. We both wanted to be intelligent, independent and of course beautiful young women. That was easy. The battle happened over what our names would be. Before we could begin playing, Jen and I would argue over who could claim the name Julie. At the impressionable ages of 4 and 6, the woman that would become our aunt was, to us, the woman we wanted to be when we were 20- something.

When I was eleven Julie had earned her MBA and a great career. At that time she had known what she wanted professionally. It was also at that time that she had Jessie. In the early 80s women were beginning to find a place in the work force. The drive was for women to fight to prove they could work right along-side men just as well as they could be house-wives. I wasn’t old enough to understand exactly what that decision meant to Julie and the family. Some people probably thought that giving up her career to be at home with her children at that time was a mistake. To Julie, however, it must have been the next opportunity, to give herself to building a family. What I clearly remember is thinking that it was one of the bravest things she could have done. That was the woman I wanted to be when I was 30-something.

Then once Jessie, Jake and Abby were all in school, Julie broke the norm again and went back to get her PhD. She knew what was next for herself, found the opportunity and took it. I remember her laughing about being the oldest person in the class, but it clearly didn’t bother her too much. There was still a career to be had and she was going to have it despite the voices that might have said she was too old. I remember looking at her and believing that a woman can have it all. She can be a fully active stay at-home mom and have a career, in her own time. I remember thinking, that was the woman I wanted to be when I was 40-something.

Whether it was planning for life and family or reusing birthday candles and wrapping paper, Julie always did it for her reasons and didn’t care about the flack people might have given her. She figured out how to balance her own needs and desires with the needs of her family. And it is because of her life choices, her independence, determination, sense of humor and love for her family that, Julie could create a Hays/Mountain core that is about as solid and strong as it can be.

After finding out on Saturday that Julie wasn’t going to make it, I thought about Jessie who had to travel alone for hundreds of miles. I imagined what it must have been like for her to be alone for those hours. When family is such a major part of your life and you decide to leave it for a while, the experiences you have away from them are priceless, and it’s because of their love and support that you can succeed away from them. But when something happens to one of them, it must feel as if that core is breaking apart and holding it together can only happen when you are back around them. I imagined that for hundreds of miles Jessie traveled knowing that her core was near bursting. I then imagined what it was like for her to see her dad, brother and sister when she arrived. I imagined that core coming together with palpable strength. That hold between Kevin, Jessie, Jake and Abby was probably not only felt by them but by every person on that floor of the hospital.

It’s that hold that will keep their core together. The core has a big hole in it now that might not ever be completely filled. There is no doubt in my mind, though, that the four of them are strong enough to hold it together. Their lives will continue and other things will move into that core including new lives that will live because of Julie’s. I have no doubt that Kevin, Jessie, Jake and Abby will keep that hold strong. The memory of Julie will also be there with them, holding them. And when it’s really hard for them, the rest of the family and friends that took up the floor of that hospital will be there for them.

As I said before, having something to say about Julie isn’t hard. I’ve thought these things about her for 30 years. It’s saying them that’s always the hard part, and I’m sorry it has waited until now to be said and that poor Jessie had to say it for me.

I have always admired you Julie and have to thank you for the place and the impact you have had in my life. I love you!

Birthday in Brussels

There is a special kind of Karma that presents itself to travelers. When touring new places in the world, there are inevitably times when you need some help and the amazing things is that more often than not there is a kind and considerate person that will offer you that help. The thing is that, in turn, when you notice a traveler in need of help, it's always a good idea to do what you can for them in order to keep your good travel karma alive.

About 4 years ago, my friends Christina, Sarah and myself were at or favorite Manhattan bar, Scruffy Duffy's. We would always go to this place because they serve the best buffalo chicken wings in town. On this particular night the three of us were REALLY hungry and amibitiously ordered a basked of 50 wings for the three of us. Needless to say, we didn't finish the entire baskiet. Three men from Belgium that had just arrived in NYC were at the bar and wondering what these things were. Since we weren't finishing the 50, we offered them to have a try. They in turn bought us beers and we all ended up spending the weekend hanging out together and a string of good Karma began. These guys said that because of our kindness and willingness to be their NYC tourguides, they had an amazing hoiday in New York. A year later they even retunred to the city and for another week we all lived it up with drinks, dinners, parties and again, they were very greatful for our hospitality.

Sarah is now taking a tour of Europe, staying with a friend in Rome, visiting a friend in Prague and in between she decided to head to Brussels where Kris, Wim, Kun and Gerrt live. It was my 35th birthday so I treated myself to a trip to join them. From the moment the boys picked us up at the airport to the moment they dropped me off yesterday morning, Kristen, Sarah and myself were treated like queens. On the day of my birthday, they drove us to the city of Brugges about an hour drive northwest of Brussels. This city is called the Venice of Belgium with its river, stone roads and bridges. We walked around, ate chocolates and drank good beer during a long leisurely lunch. A good friend from Kosovo who is now studying in Brugges even met us for a drink or two during lunch. That made the entire day even more amazing because I had Sarah whom I've known since St. Olaf in 1992 and Pascal whom I met in 2006 in Kosovo together with my Belgian friends I met in New York together in the same place. My lives past and present were together in one place for a couple of hours on my birthday. Amazing!! The guys then told us not to eat too much because we were expected for dinner at 8.00 that evening.

After a short rest from a great day, the boys once again picked us up and escorted us to what they said to be the best restaurant in Brussels for true Belgian cuisine. The table was set, the champaigne was ordered and for the next four hours seven people that have, over 4 years of visits, become good friends celebrated being together again. My birthday was toasted enough times for each year of my life. Between toasts we ate mussels, steaks, chocolate mousse and profitteroles while taking endless amounts of pictures. Over and over again us girls said how blessed we were to have such amazing hosts. Every time we said that, they replied with the same grateful words. The travel karma had done something to all of us that we didn't dare question for fear of it all falling apart.

The next day Sarah, Kristen and I had the day to ourselves to be tourists in Brussels. I have to admit, my knowledge of the city isn't much more than it was before I went there. We did see the little peeing boy statue - Manneken-pis - which is one of the biggest attractions in Brussels. Wim also told us about the lesser known Jeanneke-pis, a more modern statue of a little girl peeing which was erected in 1987 by what had to have been a women's libber looking for equal rights. I've got more pictures of it all on flickr. But because it was our last full day in Brussels, the touring was limited because I had to do some serious shopping knowing that once I was back in Kosovo my chances of buying good clothes that fit were gone. They met us once again that night for drinks where another friend from Kosovo came from his home just ouside of Brussels to meet us. We told our story to Bram and he couldn't believe it all. The night continued until 3 in the morning when I went to bed because I had to wake up for the airport in 4 hours.

So early Sunday morning, Wim picked my up at our hotel and took me and my new purchases to the airport where I had to say good-bye to the guys. The last time I saw them in New York I truely did not think that I would ever see these guys again, especially not in Brussels. When and why would I have ever gone to Brussels?! But that Karma is strong and when I said good-by to Wim this time, I felt pretty sure that I would see them all again, somewhere. We all agreed that the next time we met it would be in a country that none of us had ever been to . . . South America, Africa . . . who knows, but I can't wait!!

Sarajevo

And I still remember it for the 1984 Winter Olympics . . . but how much has happened in this beautiful mountain city since them. I hate to keep giving Wikipedia links for information on the places I go, but it's conscise and pretty darn accurate. The stories and still clear evidenc that this place was the target of some of the worst attacks in during the Bosnian/Serbian conflict add so much to the experience that goes beyond the river, mountains, cool clubs, great restaurants and cobblestoned old roads. Living in Kosovo where the Serbian population is marginalized and living in harsh conditions compared to the Albanian majority here skews the perspective a bit on who deserves the term "victim" here. Traveling to Bosnia/Herzegovina gave me a perspective of the conflict that I don't get here in Prishtina. The Serbian government of the 1990s did some disgusting and horrifying things to people and it is all there to be seen.

We were fortunate enough to have a friend with a flat right in the center of Sarajevo, who happened to not be in town when we were there, so he left us his keys and we moved ourselves in for two days. Once we found a place to park pumpkin, we were free to roam the city. The historic city center is not all that big, but there are a lot of sites to stop at. Huge cathedrals, mosques everywhere, jewelry shops and the old market, which is still remembered for the bomb that was dropped on it in 1994 killing almost 70 people and injuring at least 200. It's back in action now, and unless someone tells you that it was the place, you'd never know it. Then you walk to the other end where the national library sits. Obviously not open for business, this was also a Serbian target due to it's housing of so much Bosnia history and culture. It remains with pullet holes and bombed out holes, open to the public only for special occasions. The Sarajevo film festival was there right before we were and the library was open during it.

The tunnel museum is about 20 minutes drive from the city center. It is the home of a bosnian family who risked their lives and their realestate to save the people of their city. it was the city-side of a 800 meter tunner that went under the airport away from the war zone. It was the means of transport of food, weapons, fuel and electricity while the people of the city were being beseiged by the Yugoslav army. The tunnel museum c ommemorates what the tunnel meant to the survival of hundreds of thousands of citizens of the city. You can walk the first 25 meters of the tunnel yourself to get a sense of what these people had to count on.

This all happened in my lifetime while I was graduating from high school, attending my first college classes, going to house parties with my friends, starting my first job, going to graduate school . . . All of this happened in my life while people were being attacked and killed by what was meant to be their own government. Until this trip, Sarajevo was simply the sight of the 1984 Winter Olympics.

Driving along the Adriatic

A broken down rental car, cops and out of date car registration, no insurance at the border . . . we laughed at the little orange Chevrolet Matiz when we first saw it. All right, so maybe it wasn’t clean and it had a few dents in the doors, but it had Albanian license plates which was enough for us. A road trip to Bosnia and Croatia could not happen with Kosovo plates which most European borders do not recognize. The down side to that is Countries might recognize them and accept them through their borders, but they’re not often recognized and liked. And on top of it, taking a short-cut through Serbia was not a plan because the company said that it would not support us if anything were to happen in Serbia. But, we were renting form Hertz and figured a reputable company like Hertz would rent out well maintained and reliable cars.

NEVER assume!!! We hadn't gotten 50 kilometers before the little pumpkin started making a banging noise, would not accelerate and started to smoke. turned out there was no water in the radiator. We had to sit on the side of the road and wait for Hertz to drive out with another car which ended up being the twin sister of car number one. Needless to say we were a bit wary of taking pumpkin #2, especially since its "check engiine: light was on . . . but we were already 3 hours behind and had a lot of driving to do, so we were off up the mountain into Montenegro where we had to stop for our first night. After one night in the classic communist Hotel Palace, it was off to the Croatian Border!!!

As soon as we saw the blue water of the Adratic the worries about the car vanished. We had entered an unreal Disney World type dimension that was unbelievable to look at. Despite the two cruise ships filled with people that had just entered the harbor, Dubrovnik was like a fairy tale. An old waalled city with narrow cobblestone streets that took you up into nooks and crannies where people actually lived real lives. Church bells rang and street performers played traditional music while the people walked by on their way to cafes and restaurants.

After a night we started up the Croatian coast to Bosnia. I have driven the highway coast road down the Pacific to San Francisco, but the site wasn't even close to what this Balkan shoreline had to offer. Colors, mountains and islands got more breath-taking with every turn. I was the lucky one behind the wheel that made Bram take pictures, but none of them does justice to what my eyes saw. I wish everyone I know to be able to see the site.

The next stop was Mostar, Bosnia which was even more unreal. I can't even begn to explain the set-like surroundings with true turquoise blue rivers flowing hrough stone built homes, restaurnts and cafes built on the river's cliffs. The new "Old Bridge" perfectly arching 21 eters above the river that begins with an N, mosques and calls to prayer on one side, churches and bells on the other. First the Bosniaca and the Croats fought the Serbs Yugoslav army together which united the city divided by a river. Then something happened that turned them against each other as well. Their guns then pointed across the river. The bullet holes and mortar wounds still exist everywhere here. Seems as though a limited amount has happened to bring it back, other than the bridge and the perfect setting surrounding it. Shooting from inside out, inside in and outside in, all still very visable. Strange how they keep the memore of the anger aorund them while trying to rebuild and reconnect this little town in the middle of a valley.

We stayed in the home of a man named Omer who is a retired French and German professor at the University in Mostar. Bram called him and asked iin French if there was a room available. As he talked, Bram started laughing when Omer identified immediately that Bram was from Belgium and that Flemish was his first language. For some reason Omer who was frail and nearing 80, opened up his home to travelers roaming through his town. he had 2 rooms with 4 beds and the sharing of a bathroom was compensated for by the hominess of his residence.

These first few days of our trip might have strted out rough, but pumpkin #2 rolled us through this amazing countryside and these amazing towns that I never expectd to exist in this area called the Balkans on the Adriatic coast that a year ago I would never have imagined I'd ever be.

I Want

I want to be the sun
to shine during the day,
I want to be a star over the sky
to show the road to unknown man.

I want to be angle
with God to discuss. (talk)
I want to be a bird
in freedom to fly.

I want children in peace to live.
I want happiness
everyone to share.

I LOVE you Bitola very muchhhhhhhhhhhh . . .

Urim

Pelister

Before I came to Pelister I expected to meet new friends, new games, new language, new places. In Bitola I heard Macedonian language for the first time. The children were very good. We played new games every day. But the day after I felt sad because I have left my village and my family. Anyway, day passed very quickly and I didn't feel sad anymore. Now I am happy. My first impression is that the national park is very good and modern. I also liked nature very much.

Blagoje

My Days in Camp

When I went out from bus I have seen a new world of which I have been discovering the next week. He looked very different form what I have experienced. That for me was very strange. For me there was new town, new school in which I have to learn new language with new teachers. I found new house where the rules were different. I found new friends too they were very different form friends which I have home. I met new teachers who looked very different from me: Almir, Jovana, Faruk, Ayla, Michael, Molly, Tara, Juliet and Jeanine. But days were going and I felt take down.

The second day I went up a big mountain "Pelister," of which I hold up and I see the town how looked. I hiked up and we too pictures on high rock. After we too pictures on tree who was 200 years old. When we back to the hotel we had a free time and after a class of English. The third day we visit a town where we visit a lot of shops, place and we took a picture. When we back we have a dinner and we play "Capture the Flag!" Next day I stand up breakfast and I was preparing for swimming pool. After we came back at the hotel we had an Engish class. On Friday we had a last class of English and at the night made a fire, sat near the fire and we told stories. The next day we left at the Ohrid on beach where we were swimmoing, walking but when Sunday came we left our houses.

In this camp we spend a very nice moments a long way from our families and the other. It was very interestig it was a lot of fun. I met English language and good teachers of which I was all day. I'm glad to come here and change my life for one week. If we will see again that will be very interesting and very funny like this week. Who was gone and who we will remember of everything what was here. Thank you for everything!!

Omar

English Camp in Bitola

When I heard about this camp I was very happy. Michael and Molly came to my school to choose children for the camp. They chose me. I believed that this camp will be nice and useful. I felt excitement before coming to this camp. Because it was in the mountains in Bitola, I thought that this mountain was so high. Goals of the camp were to learn English language and to communicate with others. Because we met a lot of new people. I liked Egzon the most. He's from Rahovec. We told a lot of jokes with him. He became a friend to me who lives in Rahovec. I was impressed of the nature in Pelister. it was full of pine trees. I can't forget the good relations we had. The nature and sight of Ohrid were also wonderful. I enjoyed the lake, swam and dived into the water, was fun. This is a good experience of mu lofe. I won't forget the good relations we had with friends, teachers and counselors.

Eren K.

Stars

STARS!! The stars are an important part of nature for me. I like them because they have slightly different colors. Sometimes when I look at the stars I think to myself, "Is there any life among them?" I think about stars like I think about people. But the stars connot disappoint you, as people can. I also like them because they shine over me. I feel peaceful and I can think about anything. There are so many reasons to liek the stars. Remember the stars seemvery simple when you look of them but in reality they are complicated! Everybody finds them deeper when they look at longer The stars are just one part of my time in Bitola. We also played some games and learned English. We played a new game, "Capture the Flag." It was a very exciting game. One of the best days that we had was our visit to Bitola. It impressed me very much and so did the camp. I think I will never forget the time I spend there and the friends.

Enisa

English, Marshmallows and Capture the Flag

I said a Boom-chicka-boom!
I said a Boom-chicka-boom!
I said a Boom-chicka-rocka-chick-rocka-chicka-BOOM!!!

Friday night, day 6 of my camp in Bitola, Macedonia, night of the campfire. The American camp songs came out along with marshmallows, graham crackers and chocolate bars. Those songs might be ringing through my head for a while. A lot of the past week will be going through my head and I hope it's for a while.

Eight days started well and basically sustained a high plateau with a few small valleys and peaks along the way. Broken light bulb, slow English classes, teenage Macedonian skiers hitting on our Kosovo girls that probably don't get the chance to flirt back home, tooth-aches and sprained ankles were off-set by massive-all-inclusive UNO games, capture the flag, students singing Pink Floyd at a talent show, swimming in Lake Ohrid, shopping and night walks to look at the stars. Together, counselors, teachers and students created a family for a wekk that followed new rules, played, ate, worked, experienced and explored together. When it was time for it all to end there were a whole lot of crying eyes that didn't want to leave. The collective existance was inspiring.

Then there were the individual students that wil forever be engrained into my head. Enisa from Recane who gave me a dream of a five star hotel when she saw that I was about to fall over from exhaustion. Eren B from Prizren and his face that said more than any words in any language could. Marija from Velika Hocha that broke into giggles at the drop of a hat. Elmija form Rahovic, so quiet, private and thoughtful. Omar from Recane, such an accommodating and caring friend that became a leader because he listened and was so willing to follow. Valisa from Recane, so intelligent and wanting to accomplish so many things that her indepencence and confidence will no doubt lead her to. Milena from Velika Hocha who knows and loves Engish but has a 15 year-old attitude that gives her the front of someone who doesn't care about anything anyone else has to say. Underneath her tough exterior there is something that will eventually show itself and take her to great places.

I know well enough to know that most of those kids will go back to their own lives surrounded by the politics and negotiations of a country in limbo. They will go back to uncertain futures and marginal living conditions. But for one week myself, three American Peach Corps Volunteers and a Canadian gave them security, predictability and a good time. Will this experience change them, take their futures in different directions? That would be very wishful thinking, but you never know.

I wish everyone I know could know how great this week was for me. People will ask and I will tell stories, but my monologue will become a scripted resopnse and lose its meaning and imact the more it's told. I want to hang onto it for a while at least before I start telling and I want to keep this full feeling I have - literally over flowing with beautiful faces, kind hearts and wondering minds of 24 teen-agers.

Beginning the summer of camps!

Leaving Minnesota this summer after three weeks of being with family and friends was harder than it has ever been before. I see my grandparents getting older my nephews getting older and the thought of being away from them and missing time with them is really hitting me. I was able to have a whole week with Shane and Will and I couldn’t have had a more perfect time with them. Breaking the heat in the pool, checking out Sparkey the seal and the buffalo at Como Zoo, visiting with grandparents, discovering the Minnesota History Museum and checking out the big city with them allowed me to be a real aunt for the first time. We got to know each other at a time when they are changing so quickly. I think I cried spontaneously the entire 20 hours I traveled from Minneapolis to Hungary thinking about them.

When I arrived at the Teaching Tolerance Through English Camp in Balatonllele, Hungary on Lake Balaton I was worn out from 20+ hours of travel, dirty and would have liked to have been back in my comfortable bed with the people that I know best in Minnesota. Then I heard, “Molly Teacher,” turned around and the bright smiling face of Vjosa and Vlora came running toward me. They are two of the ten Kosovar Albanian students that I selected back in May to come to this camp where teachers and students from Romania, Serbia, Montenegro, Hungary, Kosovo and Croatia were meeting for two weeks of English and camp fun together. They had only been at the camp for two days and already they were having a fabulous time. As soon as I got unpacked, cleaned up and had some food, I looked around at the kids playing volleyball, ping-pong and listening to music together and I knew exactly why I came back here.

Taking this trip is a really big deal for the kids from Kosovo. For most of them it’s their first time on an airplane and even their first time to a McDonald’s. One class activity students were asked to draw a picture of one of their best days ever. Arber’s picture had Kosovo, an airplane and Hungary with a camp-site on it. He explained how on the day before they got on their airplane they didn’t even know if they were going to have the visa required for them to go. But finding out that everything worked out and that he would be able to make this trip was the happiest day of his life. In Kosovo these kids, being Albanian, are the majority. Here among students form the EU, they are a sort of sheltered minority experiencing for the first time many things all of the other students have access to daily. Being here they are experiencing a global perspective . . . something outside of the Kosovo they have been confined to their entire lives. Heck, that is the first Big Mac Vlora and Vjosa have ever seen . . . seriously!!!

I am a traveling English teacher. Every time I leave my family my heart breaks and I wonder if it’s the right thing for me to do. Then I get to where I’m going with the students I work with and the tears dry out for a while. It’s a tug of war that I’m not sure will ever end. Until it does, these museum and McDonald’s moments will continue to be the exact places I belong at the time.

Somewhere Over the Rainbow

Yes, the school year is about over and I am really really really excited to get back to the States for a few weeks this summer, but that is not the reason for the Wizard of Oz reference in the title. The inspiration for the title comes from the absolutely amazing rain storm I just got stuck in. After seeing a great performance of a pianist and cellist at the National Theater here in Pristina - amazing comedy musical performance where these musicians played everything from Beach to Bee Gee's - and having a cocktail, my friend Jerome and I started a walk home when the sky opened up and the wind blew showing something made the gods unhappy. And there was absolutely nothing we could do. We were half way home on a dirt road, no restaurant open around us and still half a kilometer to go. The wind was blowing rocks from the dirt road up into our faces, the wind made it next to impossible to walk and I was laughing in amazement at the whole situation. I had never been in anything like it. I seriously felt like Dorothy trying to get into the cellar with Auntie Em as the twister came toward her. UNBELIEVABLE! Just got home and felt like getting in the shower was pointless. God, I hope my flowers on the balcony made it through!

And when I wake up from my journey over the rainbow I will, like Dorothy, be back with my family in the mid-west. It's been a heck of a trip full of my own strange caste of characters that have been my companions through it all. There is no wizard, but UNMIK is behind the curtain of smoke and mirrors doing what it can to make sure the people of Pristina are told what they need to hear in order to keep them happy. International friends and colleagues have walked with me along the yellow brick road helping me negotiate which way to travel and some fun adventures around the region we have had.

There have been some big bumps in the road with my students in which I have had to be the guide helping them to decide how to react and move forward. With them, the destination isn't very clear. For some it's an independent status for Kosovo, for others it's a unified Serbia and for a few it's just living in harmony without individual pride getting in the way. In a final evaluation I asked students to fill out regarding the class I asked whether or not they would return for next year. "YES of course!!" was the answer they all gave. I believe they all want to return to our nice safe and fun milti-ethnic class. It's what they all want to be able be in the long run. Despite what they say, I'm sure they all know in their minds that there is a strong chance this will not be able to happen because of what the wizards and rule makers will decide, whenever it is decided.

Durmator National Park

Yet another long weekend offered another opportunity to explore the countries around Kosovo. This time it would be Montenegro. formerly a republic of Serbia, Montenegro obtained independence late last year. Like the rest of the Balkans, it is an amazing landscape whose beauty is slowly being discovered. The trip included 9 people from Switzerland, Belgium, Canada, Australia and the US and an intinerary that would cover mountains and ocean coast.

We left Friday after work and after a 5 hour drive, our three cars arrived at a little mountain hut complete with kitchen, fireplace and three bedrooms to accommodate us for the weekend. The moon was full and the snowy silouhette of the mountain was clear uner the stars. The next day we would wake and take about a four hour hike up through the mountains. Two of the group had been here before but had never done the hike because of too much snow. This winter was much more mild so there was a good chance the snow would not hinder us too badly.

At about 10.00, from a small lake just inside the park gate, we began to head through the pine forest up the base. It was quite warm so some of us were wearing shorts, short-sleeves and sunglasses with sweatshirts tied around our waists. We had packed ample amounts of water and some food for lunch that was spread out in backpacks. The trail was well marked and easy to follow. Small patches of snow showed up, but nothing that couldn't be walked through in tennis shoes. The higher we climbed the deeper the snow became, but it was lways in patches that were surrounded by dry land. After a coupe of hours we found a dry spot and sat for lunch. There were two maps in the group and everyone took their turns looking at it and agreeing on which way to go. The markers were getting a bit harder to find with the snow which posed a bit of a challenge. But we all put faith in our map readers and were ready to conintue on.

The half-way point was a lake and we were apparently about half-way there. A loop would then take us around and back to the lake at the bottom where we started. As we continued up the snow of course became deeper, at some points people fell into snow piles up to their waists. The best bet was to follow exactly the person's steps in front of you. Even though all nine of us were failrly fit, it was inevitable that some fell behind. Four of us continued following footprints of a hiker from a day or two before us. They continued up, ridge after ridge, all of us assuming the lake would appear over the next ridge. At one point we looked back and noticed our 5 companions were no where in site. They had somshow found a marker and had taken a right up to a different part of the mountain. They knew they were on the right trail . . . we weren't as certain. The other detriment to us was that none of the four of us held a map. All we had were the footprints to follow and the hope they lead in the right direction.

Bram was wearing shorts, natacha had on tennis shoes, we were all soaking wet but had choice other than to continue. for every up hill stretch there was a downhill slide. These were steep and nearly impossible to decend on foot. Our jackets became our sleds and we flew down, often out of control. When Brm's leg-bare body swoosh by me I couldnt' help but laugh while at the same time think that we were doomed. The one thing we had on our side at this point was that there was quite a bit of sunlight left. This continued for at least an hour. Finally we rounded a ridge and looked above at our 5 friends screaming down at us! Oh God, were we happy. Now, at least they'd know where to send the rescue team if we didn't make it back. They didn't stay in our site for long, but we again had hope that we were going the right direction and that we would meet up with them at some point.

And, sure enough, the path they were on merged with ours and we all continued for at least another hour back into a forest, less snow and finally our starting lake. We were wet, exausted, cold, dirty, hungry and ready to sit down to giant plate of meat, bottles of wine and flasks of beer. The 5 with the maps admitted that there was a point that they accepted the fact that we were lost and it would be up to them to send the rescue team to find what could possible be our dead bodies. The four hour hike ended up being seven. THe next day while eating breakfast outside our hut we saw a group of people heading up the mountain equipped with snow shoes, hiking poles and winter boots, clearly prepared for what we were not.

On the Sunday three of us headed back to Pristina while the rest made their way to a warmer coastal climate in Budva and Kotor. The pictures are amazing, and the experience is now one to smile at and remember as an amazing experience. Although, few of us would admit to thinking it very amazing while we were int he middle of it.

Kids go to the dogs

Because of the large amount of stray, verile dogs wandering the landscape of Kosovo, it is easy to understand why so many people here are absolutely terrified of man's best friend. This makes it rather ironic that there is a shelter here that takes in these stray dogs and trains them to be of service to humans that need the companionship. I guess it takes all kinds, though. And it is true that this dog shelter is kept alive by the donations given by the international community here that don't have the space or time to keep their own pet. This is how I got to know the shelter. Good friends come here weekly with bags of food in order to walk the dogs through the surrounding village and mountains. It makes for the perfect spring afternoon.

SOOOOOOOOO, this is how I came to bring my two groups of Albanian and Serbian high school students to walk the dogs for the afternoon. A good number of them were terrified and unwilling to even let a dog get their noses close to their feet. That's at least when the walk started. Through the village and up the mountain the dogs played, ran and showed their true loyal doggie traits to those doubting students. By the end of the walk the fear had subsided if not vanished for most of them.

Ardite who has lost a lot of family in the past few years and often does not have much to smile about was one of the terrified at the begining of the day. By the time we were back at the shelter, she was calling me to take her picture with every dog that walked by her on their way back to the cages. Milica, a Serbian girl, and Faruk, an Albanian boy found themselves toward the end of the group walking a Lassie-looking dog. I fell back with them and we walked our way up the hill. Half way up we decided to have a seat and check out the view. We could see villages all the way to the opposite moutnain range. Blue skies and green pastures laid in front of us. We talked about dogs, nature and other random subjects that were easy to discuss in English. At one point Milica said, "A year ago I would never have guessed that I would be sitting on a hill with an American, an Albainian and a dog." I could not hold in the laughter and asked her how it felt. "It's pretty cool," was her simple answer.

If Ardite, Miica and Faruk are the only three reasons I'm here, that's is 100% worth it for me. Faruk and Milica are unique students that are curious, open minded and willing to find out more. This is not the case with most of them and that is okay. Teachers have to come to the conclusion that they will not get to all of their students, probably not even most of them. If we can get to just the two or three, we've done our job. If we are able to get to 5 or more, we've done our job well.

Albania . . . Albania . . .

You border on the Adriatic
Your land is mountainous
And your chief export is
Chrome

Thank you Coach for that geography lesson 20 years ago given from a famous pub in Boston. Everything I ever knew about Albania before coming here, I learned from you.

It was Easter weekend and five of us jumped in a rental 4x4 and headed to the southeast toward the Kosovo neighbor. They share a border, they share a flag and they share a language, but the calm, laid back feel of Albania was quite the contrast from the high energy, tense feel that pravails in Kosovo. We were lucky if we got a paved roads during our drive, but we were not lacking in beautiful scenery and friendly, helpful locals. They were often facinated by the idea of five women from 5 countries driving around their country. We went from lakes to mountains, countryside to seaside and entered back into Kosovo through a river valley that was quite unbelievable. Surprisingly we saw as many crosses as we saw minerettes. We watched a parade lead by a crucifix march up a mountain to a church on the night of Good Friday. Happy Easter signs were hung in virtually every town we drove through. That definitely wouldn't be something seen out in the open in Kosovo. The Kosovar Albanians like to think of themselves as one of them, but the Albanians from Albania feel little connection to the provence that is seeking independence. A bit strange, really, but obvious in conversations with Albanians about their neighboring Albanians. The generally seem to have little if any concern about what happens here. they don't see it as having much of an effect on their country. The irony of the fact that every Kosovar ALbanian that knew we were going to Albania acted as if we were going back to their home land . . . a place they share with their Albanian brothers and sisters.

The poverty and untouched spaces of Albania in addition to the relaxed atmosphere reminded me a lot of traveling around the Domonican Republic. Albania doesn't have the tourist draw of the DR yet, but given what Croatia and Montenegro have done for their tourist industries, I have a hunch Albania will figure it out soon.

Social Experiment

Driving around Kosovo there are some common sights that you see. Gas stations all over the place, random shopping centers in the middle of no where, and hotels that are all bright and shiny, but located where no normal tourist would want to go. Given the mob culture around here, it's pretty widely known that many of these are money-laundering cover-ups. Two girl friends of mine and I, all with enquiring minds, have been wondering lately about these hotels. Who actually stays in them? Are there even beds in there or is it just another smoky cafe? Last Saturday night became out night to see what we could find out.

Theresa works for the UN and asked some of her security guards about some of the hotels in the town of Ferizaj, a small municipality about 30 minutes away form Pristina. With a surprisingly straight face, they told her about two, saying that the Motel Europa 92 and Motel Man were all right. At about 8.30 that night, after spending the drive discussing what our story would be as to why were checking into this place, we drove by the Motel XXX. NOT the one for us. Europa 92 showed up next, so we pulled the white, clearly marked UN vehicle into the parking lot. If our inability to keep a straight face didn't blow our back-packer cover, the car did.

Walking in the front door brought us directly into the cafe/restaurant. Inside, like every other care, were only smoking men drinking coffee, and every one of their eyes turned to look at us . . . and kept looking at us as we tried to communicate with the waiter/host that we wanted a room. His English wasn't great and our Albanian isn't the best, yet it was surprisingly difficult to convey our request to him. "Room" and "3 beds" are not the most difficult words to communicate to a hotel proprietor. Not sure what he thought we wanted at first, but eventually he picked up some keys and lead us through a very inconspicuous door, turned on the light and walked us upstairs. On the way up we tried to find something strange, dirty or creepy about the place, but the truth was that it was quite clean and impressive. The first room he showed us had three single beds, a clean bathroom and a balcony overlooking the parking lot and mountains. A heck of a lot better than many rooms these three traveling women had slept in before.

We did it! This was a big deal! Right?! It was supposed to be, but once we were actually in and thinking the spare sheets we brought from home might not be necessary, it all seemed like no big deal anymore. By 9.00 we were ready to tour Ferizaj and have something to eat . . . destination being Benaf, the largest department store in the area and only thing open and worth gong to at 9.00 at night. Pizzas from the cafe and paper cups from the store were what we bought . . . needed nourishment and cups in order to drink the local liquor that was waiting for us back at the room. We figured we had to make the entire experience as "local" as possible. Before going back to the room, though, we figured we'd have a glass of wine in the hotel cafe, doing our best to handle the constant staring from the other patrons. What the hell were they looking at?! Never seen three foreign women before?!

The uneventful night continued with a drink, conversation and some music in the room. We all nestled in our beds and fell asleep. It seemed as though there was nothing to our social experiment. But then night continued, to morning and as we all woke up, we asked each other if anyone heard the knocking throughout the night? Nothing on our door, but several knocks from the hall. We didn't think much about it until we walked out into the hall and down the stairs. About 5 doors to rooms that were all closed the night before were now open at 8.30 and they had been used. Never once did we see any sign of life in the hotel other than our own, but clearly there were people around. So where were they coming from? We never saw anyone walk through the door from the cafe into the hotel. Was there another door? Sure enough, at the bottom of the stairs was a door I had not noticed before that went right into the hotel from a side parking lot. That was red flag to me. It then became clear that this was not a hotel that generally rented rooms for a full night. Knocking, used rooms, back door, no people in the hotel at normal evening hours . . . DAMN!!!!

It started out as an adventure, it became just another night in a hotel, it ended as a morning of Austrian, a Swedish and American women walking out of a questionable hotel without being trafficked back to their own countries in a sex trade.
Hehehehe, a lot of people say we were lucky. Don't think there was really that much danger in it. They wouldn't hurt internationals around here, but maybe our nationalities were all that kept us safe? Doesn't seem quite fair to the local women that might have found themselves in a Motel Europa 92 room that night, or any other night.

Symolism - Us and Them

March 7 is Teacher's Day in Kosovo. I began the day noticing dark clouds and feeling a bit chilly. Wasn't all that psyched to go to the class today, but then Paitim and Arber pulled out of their bags two roses and gave them to me. "Today is Teacher's Day and we want to give you a flower." Enough to make any cloud not so dark and to make the sunshine warm on your face. For the past three Wednesdays, the Serbian students from this class have not shown up for various reasons - protests, school obligations . . . whatever. Normally they arrive fifteen minutes before 1.00, but today, when the little blue van rolled up at five past one, I was ready to give them a hard time for making me worry. That was squelched by a pink potted plant and a bottle of some spray perfume. The sun became even warmer.

The past couple of weeks have been really tough with the kids. Not for anything they did, but for the political and social situations that exist in Kosovo. I have made sure to stay away from discussing these during the class for fear of tensions getting too high and discussions turning into arguments. The problem is that the kids can't help but bring with them all of the events and emotions they have outside of the classroom, especially the Serbian kids. Politically, they are losing right now. All day long they are hearing parents, teachers and political representatives tell them that there will never be an independent Kosovo, Kosovo belongs to Serbia, Albanians are bad and the US/UN are the evil ones helping them. Generally they don't express these thoughts and feelings in the class, which is good. What they do, however, is wear symbols and flags that, to Albanians all over Kosovo, represent the blood, murder and rape that the Milosevic regime carried out during ethnic cleansing of Albanians in the 1990s. The Serbian cross is the quintessential example. It's meaning to the Albanians is the equivalent to a Nazi swastika and Serbian students are wearing it to class on t-shirts and scarves. The Albanian students expressed how bad this symbol makes them feel, but only to me. As the teacher, what can I do?

As I said, politically the Serbs are losing right now. They are on the defensive and the political message they are getting from their communities is Serbian pride, unity and nationalism. For me to refuse to allow these students to wear their symbols of pride to class would be refusing them the one thing their people are holding on to. Yet to allow them to wear them to class makes their classmates feel uncomfortable and insulted. My solution was a lesson on symbolism. I discussed the importance of symbols, non-political ones at first, and how they make us feel when we see them. From the golden arches to the black and white yin-yang we talked about what these symbols represent and the emotions they evoke. Then I showed them the confederate flag and explain the emotions this evokes for different ethnic groups in the US and how it can literally divide a community in half and make enemies out of friends.

At that point I had 6 national symbols very recognizable in Kosovo - two of them Albanian, two Serbian plus the US flag and the symbol of NATO. As I show each symbol, the kids are to write down three sentences:

When I see this symbol I feel . . . because . . .

This symbol makes me want to . . . because . . .

This symbol reminds me of . . . because . . .

At the beginning of every class I put students randomly into heterogeneous groups for the activities I plan because if I left it up their choice, it would be "them" and "us" every day. On this day during this activity I told them they could sit wherever they wanted so they could use their own language to figure out the right English words. Each student had their own cards to write their answers, I told them they were private and anonymous and they should be honest. Now, a week later, I am still trying to figure out the reason for the results.

The answers students gave were generally predictable. A lot of them wrote words like hate, proud, enemy, neighbor, killer and war. I could tell whether the answers were written by Albanians or Serbs simply by the words they used for the given symbol. The surprising part was how differently my two classes carried out the exercise. The class that I meet here in Pristina instantly divided themselves for the exercise - Serbians on one side, Albanians on the other. They collaborated with their friends, occasionally glancing over to the table of "others" to size them up. Their answers on a whole got quite extreme as well, with the Serbian kids being the harshest. Even the symbol of a white hat generally worn by older Albanian men reminded the Serbs of, "killers because people who wear them kill," When writing about the US flag, the Serbian students checked with me first to see if I would get offended if they were honest. It was clear the "them" and "us" divide ran deep with these kids. The Albanian students answered with honesty, but much less hate. Their words for the Serbian symbols were "ultranationalist" "death" and "war" but almost no references to hate for a greater, "them."

The results from the other class that I meet in a smaller community outside of Pristina were recognizably different. When I gave them the option to change seats, the answer was a very matter-of-fact look of, "there's no reason to change." So, in their heterogeneous groups they chose to sit in, they carried out the same exercise. There was talking and collaborating amongst friends of the same ethnicity, but in this class there was also collaboration between ethnicities, clarifying meanings and origins of the symbols of the "other." The overall tone was noticeably less "us and them" and much more curiosity and confusion. Yes, the words of hate, war and death came up as well, but equally so the words "confusion," "understanding," and "friends" came up with this group.

I've been sharing these results with Serbs, Albanians, internationals, government officials and they are all equally fascinated and confused. The nationalistic views are not surprising to most. It's where the students showed glimpses compassion and understanding that was the most fascinating. It's there and it exists with some of them. What I need to figure out is how to tap into and focus on that. What makes it difficult are the few whose nationalist pride runs deep. A couple of them continue to wear the Serbian cross to class and even break out into nationalist songs. It's those provocations that could destroy the class. It's strong students willing to work through these things and myself figuring out what to focus on and how that will keep it all going.

The week after all of this "us vs. them" activity that accentuated their differences, both Serbian and Albanian students came to class on a dreary day and handed me flowers, plants and perfume. On one hand, these kids have their own cultural symbols with political weight that they value greatly, yet evoke feelings of hate and reminders of war. On the other hand they share cultural traditions with personal weight like teacher's day and mother's day that evoke feelings of love and reminders of good times. Will it ever be possible for the second hand to weigh more?!

The rain in Spain

As our bus entered the old city walls of Cadiz in the sunshine, Mom and I talked of the beach and how it was a bummer that we didn't bring any sunscrean. It was mid-afternoon and we were excited to have the sand between our toes. Juan Carlos is a good friend of a good friend of mine in Pristina. He is a police officer origionally from Caediz that lived and worked in Pristina for a year, well before I arrived. Hazel put me in contact with him and he offered us a two-bedroom flat he owns and rents out in Cadiz for a good price. From Budapest I sent him an email saying I was sick and that I might need to see a doctor while I was in Spain. It turned out that with his schedule, the only time he could take me was the afternoon we arrived. No problem. Mom and I could head to the beach later. Juan Carlos and I went to the hospital and mom walked the streets around the flat.

What we thought would be a quick trip to a clinic that ended with a perscription for whatever I had, ended up being a three-hour wait in an emergency room line that ended with nothing but the echoing words of the doctor. "Oh, esta normal. Esta normal tener estes para dos semenas." My Spanish isn't that great, but I knew "normal" and the more she said it the more frustrated I got. It was day seven of sick and the symptoms I had were NOT NORMAL!!! Thankfully Juan Carlos and I were a able to laugh about the wasted hours and unfavorable diagnosis. By the time we got back to the flat, it was almost dark and I was exhausted. Mom and I went to the supermarket to stock up for the week and get something for dinner. I decided to take the doctor's advice and make a plane chicken breast and white rice. One night of that and I knew it would be the only night of that. If the doc said I was normal, then I was going to eat normal in Spain, dammit!

The rain started to fall a bit that night. When we woke the next morning it was light, but mom and I were hopeful the sun would come out. We took public transport into the old city of Cadiz and began some exploring. During the 5 minute bus ride the light rain turned into a downpour that didn't stop all day. As we walked the old city streets, our feet got soaked, we were cold and after a couple of hours all we really wanted was a hot fire and hot cocoa. We found a great little restaurant, sat down and ordered some sopa de mariscos. Perfect for a late lunch on a cold day by the sea. And, hopefully, by the time we were finished, the rain will have stopped and the sun will be out. Well, we waited two hours and the weather did not change, We wanted so badly to explore more of the old city streets and shops, but our cold feet couldn't handle it. Juan Carlos wanted to meet up that night, so we decided to head back to the flat and practice the local custom of having a siesta. That night the torrential rains did not stop, and the threat stuck around for the rest of the week.

A day trip to Gibraltar gave us the best weather with partly cloudy skies and realtive warmth. Because of that, it might have been our favorite day in Spain as well, even though technically we weren't in Spain anymore. As we approached the border between Spain and the little chunk of the UK, we could see the familiar figure of The Rock looming up into the sky. The trip required crossing an internationl border across an airport runway. All of a sudden Spanish became English and Euros became pounds. We found the cable car up the rock to a 360 degree view that was Spain to the North, Africa to the South, The Atlantic to the West, the Mediterranian to the East and England to the bottom. For some reason the Rock is inhabited by loads of monkeys that roam free and jump right on the tourists when you least expect it. The Spaniards of Andalucia say that the day the last monkey on Gibraltar dies will be the day the area wil be Spanish again. We topped the day off with fish and chips and a glass of Guinness in order to complete the English afternoon.

The exploring continued for the rest of the week. The streets of Cadiz decorated for the big Carnival festival that would take place a couple weeks after mom and I would be gone. We were able to get a walk in by the beach, but it was never warm enough to actually take the shoes off and feel the sand. On another rainy day, we took a bus to a mountain town, Arcos de la Frontera where a cathedral and castle capped a mountain community. The days of sun and nights of salsa dancing didn't happen like we expected. I think think this really disappointed mom. She was packed and ready for a week in her sandals on the beach. What she really got was early spring chill and rain in the only pair of closed shoes in her suitcase. My hope is that she will remember her first trip to Europe fondly with the rain being a minor detail and the sights, sounds, smells and tastes of Espana leaving positive thoughts and feelings.

We headed back to Sevilla the day before mom was to fly out and spent the day exploring the winding streets. A glass of wine and plate of Paella topped off our week together in Spain. After sending mom on her way home, I stuck around Seviilla and continued for the next three days to wander around on my own. I was lucky enough to get invinted into the Cathedral's Sunday mass that is for locals only. A treat I wish mom could have shared with me. I hadn't been to church in ages. I considered myself lucky to say a prayer and be splashed with holy water in a place as amazing as that.

Although dampened by rain and infected with illness, the 2007 holiday in Spain was one worth having. To have the chance to take my mom through a foreign country was a good opportunity for me and hopefully a positive experience for her. I've traveled alone before and am always able to have a good time and meet good people. This time in Spain wasn't much different, but it did make me realize that having a close companion exploring with you adds a dynamic to a trip that is hard to beat with anyone else. Thank you, mom, for coming and meeting me to explore an amazing country.

Another Perspective

The link gives the perspective of those that clearly do not support Kosovo Albanian independence. There is no doubt that the Albanians are Muslims with a history of terrorism, which naturally brings all sorts of questions and skepticism to the idea of granting them independence.

It's been declared that three have died now due to the events that happened at the protest on Saturday. It is also being said that the deaths were caused by rubber bullets shot by the international police here. Apparently the Self-Determination movement has multiplied since Saturday increasing the number of Albanians that will now be active and vocal in their desire to get the international community - UN/EU - out of here and start running things on their own.

None of my Serbian kids came to class yesterday. They were afraid to come into the area where all of this is happening, which is understandable. The Albanian kids in the class were very concerned. I sat down and discussed the situation with them and the position of their classmates. The maturity and concern in them amazed me. After Fitim confessed his crush for Milica and how badly he wanted to see her again, they not only sat down and wrote a letter to their classmates ensuring that our class was a safe place for them and that they missed them, but they even suggested themselves going to the Serbian community to hold the class if it made their friends feel safer. "We are the future of Kosovo," they said with a bit of sarcasm mixed into their sincerity. Sarcastic or not, it is the absolute truth. Myself and my colleagues in the US Office have to now go to the Serbian school and find out what we can do to save these classes of mine. Let's hope these kids can rub off on the adults involved!

Unfortunate Beginning

Well, after a whole lot of drama and illness and not the best weather, I can say that a trip to Andalucia - southern Spain - with my mother wasa time worth having! My holiday was meant to start with a trip to Budapest for an English teacher conference. Would be a good opportunity to explore a city I've heard a lot of wonderful things about with some good people. Well, The day before I was meant to leave I got what I thought had to be food poisoning. Could not allow myself to get too far away from the toilet, so I got on the airplane a day later than I was supposed to. On day three of sick, I wasn't 100% but figured I was good enough to fly, so I did. Got to Budapest that night and participated in the conference events for the evening, not eating or drinking anything, but able to socialize. This bug I got was wearing itself off.

Day four I got up, had some toast for breakfast and got ready for the conference sessions for the day. I felt good, could be attentive, participate and ask questions like any normal healthy person would, undil about an hour before lunch when I started to sweat, my head began to pound and a dull ache worked its way into every muscle of my body. I told the presenter that I was so sorry and needed to go to my room. Okay, so the bug hadn't completely left me quite yet. Bummer, but a little more rest would do the trick. Days five and six of sick were days two and three in Budapest and absolutely nothing changed. My hotel room in bed was the only place my body wanted to go, although my head was dying to explore Buda and Pest - walking across the Danube River to the hot fresh spring baths. Having a bowl of goulash and a glass of local red wine. Experiencing the incredible night life I've heard so much about from friends that love this city. Nothing, I couldn't do any of it. The hotel room was nice, but didn't make for blog-worthy pictures.

The real concern came up the day before I was supposed to leave for Sevilla to meet my mom. Months ago my mom and I planned to meet up in Sevilla for her first excurion into Europe. She had been planning, packing and talking about it with friends for months. She had her Euros, she had her passport, she had maps, books and plant tickets ready to go back in St. Paul. Meanwhile, back in Europe Molly was miserable thinking about getting on an airplane to travel to another foreign country when all she wanted was to be taken care of and made better. But there was no choice. I was going to Spain and explore a new country with my mother, sick or not.

In Spain the sick continued to a certain extent, but I think the sheer fact that I was too distracted by the tasks and experiences of travel and exploration that it got pushed to the back of my mind and body. Mom and I met up at our pension in Sevilla a bit worse for ware, but still wanting to get out and explore. Navigating the airport transpers, especially in Madrid after hours on a plane and no sleep, mom was a bit shaken but still a trooper that wanted to get out there and check things out. I was still being cautious with food, but mom enjoyed some tapas and a glass of good wine - definitely the right start. The next morning we woke and explored the city a bit before getting on a bus to Cadiz where a friend's friend was meeting us and setting us up with an apartment for the week. The Sevilla Cathedral was absolutely stunning in the sunrise. The bells were ringing at 10am while locals were walking through the Cathedral Plaza on their way to work. All I could think about was how amazing it would be to have this walk be a part of your every morning routine!

With bus tickets in hand, sun in the sky and a desire for the beach in our hearts, mom and I and my little bug boarded the bus in search of Juan Carlos, our home for the week and a bit of sand.

New Events Unfolding

Wow, go away for two weeks and all sorts of things start to happen. There are so many news links that I wish I would have been posting to keep up on things that have been happening that I am only getting now that I'm back in Pristina. This place is not on the top of the CNN news desk as it once was, so you have to do a bit of digging to find Kosovo in the headlines. With what is going on here, though, there is a good chance some of the blows might catch some international attention,

Last week, the UN Special Envoy here in Kosovo, Martti Ahtisaari, presented a "plan" for the future status of Kosovo that people around here have been waiting for. In classic diplomatic fashion, he unvelied a plan that moves Kosovo closer to independence, yet nowhere uses the word "independence" and includes more delays and postpnements of any real decision being made.

And, of course, even this watered-down decision sets off both the Albanians and the Serbs into demonstrating and protesting. For the latter it's too close to independence and they openly refuse at all costs to allow a Kosovo independence. For the former, there is a group of extremests that will settle for nothing less. An Albanian independence movement called "Self-Determination" had the entire city of Pristina under lock-down yesterday because of a protest rally they were holding. In the past, when this group gathers, UN cars and HQ buildings become targets of rock and paint ball battering (Photo is from a rally held in November, 2006). A couple of us that live in the city center went up the hill to a friend's house to get ourselves away from the action. Just like every UN employee around here, she had a special radio that periodically announced updates in street closings and advisories of no movement in the center of town. Blood was shed, tear gas was used and ambulances were called throughout the day that ended in two deaths. This hard-line movement is small, but definitely loud with their view of NO NEGOTIATION which they graffiti on buildings, traffic lights and bill boards all over the city.

The Serbs here in Kosovo aren't ofetn heard. There aren't enough of them and they are surrounded by too many Albanians that will knowk their dorrs down if they say too much. But those in northern Kosovo and Belgrade make it known that the word "independence" is the match to light the fuse. There is NO WAY they will accept a copletely independent state of Kosovo. Ahtisaari's latest decision gives Kosovo "statehood" allowing them seats in international communities, a constitution, a flag and some other symbols of "independence" yet refused to use the word. Under this statehood, the Serb communities in Kosovo - ammounding to about 30% of the territory's area - will still be under the finger of Serbia. This is a compromise that might appease Belgrade, but also one that seems to not help these people much at all. Just seems to almost imprison them in a government that refuses to allow them to integrate in any way so as to continue to isolate them from their Albanian neighbors which could potentially welcome them, if I dare say that.

Then there is the issue of what implications independence might have on the rest of the region. Russia in particular is very much against the UN declaring any sort of kosovo independence,
http://www.tiraspoltimes.com/node/565
Putin, who has been the one voice among the "Big Six" involved in Kosovo negociations that does not support independence for the reasons of the precidence is will give for other territories in the state of flux in Europe/Euroasia, believes that no decision can be imposed, on either side. He feels if either Albanians or Serbs aren't happy with decisions made by the UN/EU communities, they should not be inforced. He sees it as playing God in the lives of the people here and that they should come to a conclusion on their own Well, good luck with that Mr. Putin. These people haven't been able to agree on the refreshment tray during their meetings for at least the past 8 years. We will all be long gone to greener pastures before any agreement is made between Serbia and Albanian Kosovo. No one is going to be happy at the end of these negotiations finally arrives, which means the reality of an end is not in sight.

On Monday I'm going to see my students for the first time in a month. After the holidays and all of these status commotion going on, do I dare ask them, "So what's been going on since I saw you last?" The US Office fears that status negotiations could rock the boat too much with these classes and we might lose some students. It's going to be a touchy point for quite a whiel actually. This is not going to go away and I'm not sure how long they will go without having words to say about it.

One more link of many recent news articles about what is happening here. Two have died now, which I fear is a taste of what is to come.
http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2007/02/11/AR2007021100283.html

Giving Grades

Giving grades in this place is an absolutely unbelievable experience. Any procedure or rule or policy you ever had at whatever university you went to would be broken here. There is absolutely nothing consistent or normal or morally right about giving or receiving grades at the University of Prishtina. I actually felt bad for being fair, if that's possible. And after pissing off a few students and having to say NO more times than anyone should be asked to, a few of them took me out for a coffee to thank me for a great semester. Does this make any sense at all?!

Normal to me - Classes end on a given date. For the following week students take final exams for all classes with one or two exams each day. Exam schedule of dates and times are determined by the administration and recognized institution-wide.
Normal for the University of Prishtina - Teachers stop giving lectures on a given date. The next month is reserved for final exams. Dates and time of exams are determined by consensus of teacher and students during the last lecture of the semester. Location often has to be determined at exam time depending on room availability.

Normal to me - Final grades are determined by calculating criteria set at the beginning of the semester by the professor, often including attendance, homework, projects and tests and the final exam being an additional percentage of the total grade.
Normal for the University of Prishtina - The above is true with an added percentage seemingly considered for how hard the student pleads or how good the student's sob story is for why they need or deserve a higher grade. "I live in Skopje (a town 90 minutes away that is in another country) and it was too hard for me to get here for the lectures." Or literally 10 minutes of a student staring at you saying, "This C isn't good enough, I need a B. You'll be nice and give me that, right?"

Normal to me - a low passing grade is better than an incomplete.
Normal to the University of Prishtina - A student would rather have no grade for a class than receive a C. This way, they can come back the next semester, take the exam again and hopefully earn a higher grade.
(to be explained further down . . .)

Normal to me - Transcripts
Normal to the University of Prishtina - Indexes which are small blue books that look like passports with pages on which professors write final grades and give signatures. One signature is given for the fact that the student actually sat for the class and another is given for the final grade.

Normal to me - The final exam is given once at the end of the semester with a grade and credit given and placed permanently on the student's transcript before the next semester begins.
Normal to the University of Prishtina - If a professor determines that a student earned a C based on grading criteria, the student can choose to pass on that grade, as stated above, and take a final exam for the same course at the end of the next semester. The student then has the right to take the second exam grade as their final grade for the course if it is higher than the grade determined the previous semester. Yes, the professor is obligated to offer the exam the next semester even if he/she did not teach the course during the second semester.

Normal to me - It is not possible for a professor to give you a grade for a course that overrides a lower grade given by another professor for the same course in an earlier semester.
Normal to the University of Prishtina - After sitting and participating in a course and earning an A, a student can go to the professor and ask him/her to record the A, allowing the student to cross out the B a different professor gave for the same course during a previous semester.

Normal for me - You must actually receive a grade/credit in order to pass from one level of a course to the next.
Normal for the University of Prishtina - As long as you receive the signature stating you sat for the class you can progress to the next level. The signature for the final grade can be acquired at a later date.

I'm still trying to make sense of it all. Even though I will most likely never teach a class there again, I know I have not heard the last of the University of Prishtina. You can guarantee that come April when the next semester ends, I will have students stopping me in the street asking me to sign their index or give them another final exam so they can get the credit for a course they never even took. Makes the New York school system look like they've got their shit together!

The end of 2006

It was the last sunset of 2006 and I was in Tel Aviv, Israel. "Don't ride the buses," and "Are you Jewish," were most of the responses I got when I told people I was going to spend the New Year in the always conflicted Holy Land. I had been to Jerusalem over 10 years ago on my abroad trip through St. Olaf. An old city where the three converging religions all have an obvious historical presence. From the wailing wall to the moaning mosks and sacred churches marking the steps of Jesus Christ, Jerusalem holds a story for three faiths with a history of disagreement and violence. Tel Aviv, on the other hand, represents the Israel of today with its modern buildings, buses and stores.

Then it was off to Bansko, Bulgaria for a ski weekend with 4 other friends. Along with Romania, Bulgaria has been a member of the EU now for 11 days! Quite the exciting event for all of them and it showed. Crossing the boarder, the blue EU banner with yellow stars - didn't actually count to see if 2 new stars were depicted - were waving everywhere. The signs of communism were still apparent, especially with the 6000 Russian touring skiers being bussed in. But the freshness of a new beginning with the EU could be felt.

And now it's Kosovo's turn . . . or so think some. The status of this place that was supposed to be determined by the end of 2006 has been postponed until after elections to be held in Serbia this month. And then there are proposals, presentations, votes and more talks that have to happen. The native Albanians are getting restless and I can't blame them. I knew politics was always a bunch of rhetoric, but now I'm having beers with some of those doing the talking and realizing that it is literally all talk and diplomacy. As long as you sound good saying what everyone wants to hear, your actual actions aren't all that important. The native Serbians, on the other hand, are beginning to admit defeat. There are so few of them and this problem has been going on for so long that you'd think those left would just say, "here, take it. we'll just move to Serbia." More difficult things have been done. But for some reason it's not that easy. The history of claiming an area as belonging to an ethnic group - that's the Balkans, and it won't change easily.

2006 brought the change I needed. Let's hope it brings to Kosovo the change these people need.