The ACL Injury

This article i quite timely and strange to read. I mean, it's my story, sort of. When I first read the headline and the first couple of pages, I was a bit upset at the idea that women need to be taken care of more than men because of the injuries they suffer while playing sports. I mean, come on, the bench of the men's team has the same injuries, right? Well, as you read on the statistics show up saying that a larger percentage of the girls' bench suffers the knee injuries as the boys bench. Only the boys football team has similar percentages rates of knee injuries.

I think just about every team I played on from high school on has someone on the team that had the surgery. At St. Olaf we called one girl "blue-knees" because she wore the braces on both legs! I have been able to make it through 35 years without the injury. It was the injury I always feared most. The popping noise, the knee going out of whack, the surgery. In the back of my mind, though, I knew it was just a matter of time. And here it was in Kosovo with a Frisbee. The same jump I've made thousands of times and it just took one to make it happen. Nothing different than the previous thousands, as the article states. Just one.

So I've taken the business class flight back to The States in order to get it all taken care of. Although I had to leave Kosovo way too abruptly, I'm glad I'm here to deal with it all. I'll be recovered and back in action in no time!!

Is it getting any better?

One minute it seems as though the dust is settling and hands are reaching out. The next minute it appears as though those hands are holding rocks, grenades and Molotov cocktails. March 17th was the 4 year anniversary of riots carried out by Albanians on Serbian communities where 19 people died. It was also the 1 month anniversary of Kosovo's independence. There was bound to be some sort of excitement on that particular Monday. People were expecting something, anyway.

The prior Friday, a group of Serbian protesters entered a courthouse in North Mitrovica to symbolically take over the institution from the EU. The following the UN police and KFOR troops organized a operation to reclaim this courthouse. In the process of this at least one was killed and over a hundred sent to the hospital wounded. The link above is a good international news perspective. Mitrovica, the "flashpoint" for the majority of the newsworthy conflict due to its proximity to Serbia itself, is at least 50 miles away from Prishtina. As I may have mentioned in previous posts, the Serbs near hear, the Serbs that participate in my class, are geographically quite far from the country they claim as their own. they are in an isolated pocket surrounded by the majority Albanian population without a river and a bridge separating them. This could either make them easier targets to crazy Albanians around them, which many of them fear they are. For nearly four weeks, I prepared for my entire class to be there. The Albanian kids showed up, we waited, and decided to wait until next time. Maybe they'd come then. For nearly four weeks, I talked to the Serbian students who told me, "tomorrow, we'll be there." The Albanian kids, showed up . . . and we waited. It was discouraging for me and for the Albanian kids, who felt they had been given up on. As frustrated as I became every day, I saw hope in the fact that Serbian students were even entertaining the idea of coming. Even though they usually didn't show, they said that they would, which meant that they wanted to. So, eventually, maybe they would.

Well, the effect geography and isolation seems to be one of the many of the Serbs near Prishtina realizing that they have to face reality. They do and always will say that, "Kosovo is Serbia." However, in many cases, I think some are realizing that no matter how much they say it, it doesn't make their daily lives any easier. And so believe some of my Serbian students . . . maybe I should say a FEW of my Serbian students. Most of them have not returned, and I don't expect them to ever come back. There are quite a few reasons for it. Some may say fear of those crazy Albanians in Prishtina, but most of them would say that wasn't a major issue. For most of them I think it's pressure. Government, parents, teachers and friends, although probably not threatening them if they do come, are telling them that coming to Prishtina to be in a class with an American teacher and a bunch of Albanian teenagers is wrong and is contradictory to the Serbian cause they are fighting for. That could be a whole lot of pressure on a sixteen-year-old.

The beauty is that, despite any pressure, there are about seven of these kids that don't care. Seven of these kids still want to see their Albanian classmates, still want to come to the American Corner of the National Library, still want to see their American teacher and still want to work together and have a good time. And for about three classes we have done just that, almost like nothing had ever happened . . . almost. There is still some whispering, some looking over shoulders, small sighs of distrust. But that is all easily forgotten when they are facing each other with the task of telling each other what their "highs" and "lows" of the day were. We've all got them and very few of us don't want to talk about them, and to share them with each other once again puts everyone on the same level, on the same page, facing very similar daily ups and downs.

The Other Side

If February 17, 2008 was the best day in the lives of Kosovar Albanians, it was the worst day in the lives of Kosovar Serbs. The exact same flags that were waved in Prishtina with pride and gratitude were burnt in Belgrade in hatred and spite. Although Serbs are the minority here, they say it is their cultural and historical cradle. The battle of 1398 where the Serbs and other Balkan nationalities fought and lost to the Ottoman Empire is what they keep referring to. The beautiful Serbian Orthodox churches with deep cultural meaning here are also something they are holding on to. Right now, the biggest thing they are holding onto is their pride.

On February 21, the Thursday after the declaration of independence, there was a massive protest in Belgrade. The Serbian government declared all public transportation to Belgrade on that day to be free of charge in order to encourage people from all over the country to come and show how important it was for them to hold onto Kosovo. Official totals range from 200,000 to over 500,000 people that gathered. The government insisted the protests be peaceful and without violence, but they obviously insisted that it be loud as well. However, apparently the government didn't insist that the embassies of independence supporting countries be protected by police. A crowd of about 1,000 people broke away from the larger group and headed straight for the US Embassy and others. They were able to break in, ransack it and start it on fire because there was no one to stop them. It took police 45 minutes to arrive and do something to stop the mob.

On the same day I had every intention to go to see my Serbian students in Gracanica. They have not been coming to Prishtina and probably won't be coming soon. In order to connect with them, to show them that I want to know how they are doing, I worked out with the US Office here to get a ride there in order to spend some time with them. At 10.00 that morning it was all set. At 12.00 I got a phone all from my contact there who said that, for reasons she couldn't explain, US Office security was saying that I could not go. She said she tried to fight for me, but security section would not allow it. I asked my UN friends to see what their security was saying about Gracanica that day, and they got nothing. I have no idea what happened that made the US office decide this, but I had to call the students there and tell them the change in plans.

I called Milica and told her that for reasons I didn't understand, I couldn't go to see them. She didn't understand. "Did someone tell you it wasn't safe? No one knows you're coming. It's quiet and safe for you here." I had nothing to give her other than, "I'll try again next week." When we said good-bye she said, "Will I ever see you again?" All I could say was YES and hang up. That 's when I broke down. This girl is barely 10 miles away from me and there is a real chance that I will never see her again. Maybe her family will move to Belgrade. If they don't, there is a good chance that none of the students will ever come to class again. As I write this, it sounds to me to be a bit extreme. If I get a chance to go and talk with them, I know I can get them to come back to class. I know that I can convince them that, among us, nothing has changed from one week ago.

In my mind, if there is to be any chance for these people to ever live together, it will be in these kids. I have been telling them that from the beginning. I want to keep telling them that. But I don't know. Maybe their hate and fear is too deep. Maybe it's over.

A New Country is Born

For the past few weeks everyone was talking about it, but no one knew for sure when the dates would be. They had narrowed it down to a Sunday. That way, those opposing Kosovo's independence in the UN Security Council couldn't call an emergency meeting on the international day off. Then, on around the 8th of February, people were quite seriously talking about it being the following weekend. By Valentine's Day the talk was that it would be that Sunday and the schedule of Independence Day celebration events for Sunday the 17th was unofficially set.

The tapestry of national flags was apparent everywhere from Friday on. The red and black Albanian flag was the background and the flags of any country that showed support for Kosovo were scattered throughout. No doubt the red white and blue US and British flags were the most abundant. Kosovar Albanians are fully aware that none of this would have happened if it hadn't been for the support they have received from their allies. I can't begin to count the number of times that I have been thanked for supporting Kosovo and its independence. "We would be dead if it wasn't for the USA. None of this would have happened if it wasn't for the USA." At one point during the celebrations I felt like I was witnessing the 1980 US Hockey Team win the gold medal. Chants of, "USA USA USA USA," were echoing louder than the traditional Albanian music at moments.

One corner of town was dedicated to the idea of Kosovo being reborn. A giant structure spelling out NEWBORN in yellow letters standing about 8 feet tall was unveiled on Sunday night. I watched from above as the crowds surrounded a big blue blanket. The event was choreographed perfectly with a motorcade of police, diplomatic and government cars driving down the hill with their blue lights flashing. They stopped in front of the blue blanket and the crowds split like they were making room for Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie to come out of their limo onto the red carpet. Just as the crowd split, the blanket was removed releasing hundreds of yellow and blue balloons and the sunshine yellow letters. The president and prime minister were lead by their posse through the crowd up to the structure, and with black sharpie in hand, they signed the giant B. Just as quickly as they arrived, they were swept away and the crowds were released with their own black sharpies to make their mark on their new status.


Thousands of people from all over the Balkan region showed up for the party in Prishtina and in major cities around the world. As we watched the declaration live here, we also saw online that in Skopje, Tiranna, Stockholm, Vienna and New York City all had thousands of people gathering to recognize and celebrate the historic event. Although there were some signs of showing spite towards Serbia that included words starting with F and Y, there were no obvious incidents of hate or revenge. Not a flag was burned and not a person was nor has yet been intentionally hurt. The feeling is pure joy and hope.

Seeing my students on the Tuesday after was pretty cool. They walked in the room with the biggest smiles on their faces, of course thanking me and my country for our help. It was of course obvious that our Serbian classmates weren't there, and they wanted to know why. I told them that I couldn't speak for their classmates, but I told them that the feelings of their friends was most likely the exact opposite of what they were feeling. Emotions like fear, anger and humiliation were very likely to be in the minds of the Serbian kids. Form the point of view of the Albanians, this independence is their reward for living through hell. Living through Serbian attacks, living through ethnic cleansing and horrific crimes that were committed by Serbs. For most of them, it's a relief to have come out on top. What they would like is for the Serbs that live 10 miles away to feel welcome in this new country of theirs. They want it to be a place where they can all live together. They don't understand the fear and don't know why things have to be different this week from what they were last week. I'm not sure I can answer that either.

Excellent weekend!!!

I don't have pictures and I don't have a link, but I do have the memories of one of the best weekends in Kosovo that I've had in a long while!!! Started with a Friday night dinner with my favorite ladies here at one of our favorite restaurants, which is nothing new. But it nice to be able to have that group of great women to spend a Friday night with. That night, Gail had the inspiration to try the local ski resort, Brezovica, out on Saturday morning. After a couple of bottles of wine and a long week, we were all less than ambitious about the venture and went home giving Gail unenthusiastic maybes.

At 7.30 the next morning I had just woken up and Gail called looking out the window at a blue sky and doing what she could to convince me. Sofia had said no and I was the last chance at a ski partner for her. My bed, book and a cup of coffee were just too attractive of an option at the time. We hung up and I went to my reading only to get bored after about 20 minutes. I went to my closet to pull my skiing gear out and the thought of hitting the slopes for the first time this year became much more appealing. I called Gail back and we were on our way in 30 minutes.

Brez is a socially owned Serbian run ski resort that hasn't been updated since Tito, I'm sure. Gail and I arrived by 11.00 to a small amount of eager skiers waiting for a chair lift to start running. We went to a cozy little restaurant, had a coffee and some eggs and asked when the lift would get going. We were assured that it would be running by noon and sure enough, we were heading up the mountain by 12.30. When the lines at Brez are long, they are deadly. Proper queing techniques do NOT exist here. Instead the often get into line, take their skis off and PUSH their way to the front. But not on Saturday. There was no need because there was no waiting. Just a massive white mountain with almost a food of fresh powder to ski on. Skiing can bore me after a while, but this was like learning all over again. I felt like an absolute clutz, but I was skiing like I had never skied before. AMAZING!!!

Saturday night brought another great dinner to celebrate a friend's 30th birthday. A day of fresh air, tiring skiing and a few drinks had me sleeping like a baby. Sunday morning I was invited by a Swedish friend to the Swedish KFOR camp where they serve waffles on Sunday afternoons. He got me in and when we walked in, the MESS was packed with soldiers eating their waffles, drinking fresh brewed coffee and listening to an incredible live military band singing U2 and Van Morrison classics. Young blonde, buff military men were every where so my senses will delighted by music, men and waffles! Then it was off to the Sunday ultimate game and a dinner out after with the team. The power was out when I got home, but who can complain about a candle lit shower?

I complain a lot about this place. More often than not I feel like there is something seriously missing and blame it on the Kosovo and the people here. After the past couple of months I have felt like it's even gotten worse with being sick and dealing with the deaths of people I love. But the months of blah that I've recently seem to have forced me to really recognize the positive things that I have. This weekend wasn't really unusual or special. These are all things that I have had here for the past year and-a-half. The difference is that I'm realizing that, despite power cuts and bad drivers, there is very little to really complain about here and truthfully quite a lot to be grateful for. I don't write like this in the blog too often, but I want to remember this weekend and felt it was worth sharing it as well.

THOR!!!

A small world brought these two Oles together in a place far far away from The Hill. Their St. Olaf ties made the only three months of them being in Kosovo together seem like a lifetime of friendship. Just over a year after their first meeting, it was a big ugly world that ended the life of Thor Hesla.

I've talked to most of you about this big Scandinavian man I met when I got here. I wish I had done more than just talk about him though. I'm sorry most of you will never know who Thor was. Those of us that did know him are better people because of it, honestly. We play Ultimate Frisbee because of him. We go eat forbidden pork because of him. We are surrounded by more and better people because of him. We love American politics because of him. We spent 5 days standing in pee mud listening to the Red Hot Chili Peppers and The Who because of him. But Taliban terrorists in Kabul, Afghanistan won't allow any of you to meet him.

I promise you, though, I'll tell you all about him!

I love you Thor!

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.