Post One, Day 3: Bad food, bad air
Thursday, January 19, 2006
I begin this diary on my 3rd full day in Macedonia. I arrived Monday night, about 5 pm, to an airport that reminded me of the old airport on Anguilla, the little Caribbean island that we have been visiting for the past 20 years…although the military helicopters that lined the tarmac certainly brought no memories of home or of the Caribbean, for that matter. Rather than the chickens and goats that I remembered from the early days on Anguilla, the Skopje airport was decorated with feral cats, running, walking, climbing over the radiators, sitting like decorations on chairs, counters and abandoned trunks and cases.
The airport had 2 passport lines – with computers, though, as technology is ahead of the rest of life here – one for locals and one for non-residents. The immigration agent stared at me intently, after examining my Macedonia visa, trying, no doubt, to decide whether the cropped head in the passport picture was, indeed, the same woman who stood before her with chin-length, plane trip-disheveled hair, glasses and puffy eyes. She either gave up or decided that no one would want to admit being either me or the picture on the passport and let me through.
I watched with held breath as luggage began to appear. And then, like clockwork, all of my suitcases appeared, having survived a trip from Portland Maine to Washington DC to Frankfurt, Germany to Skopje, Macedonia – all 5, 3 of which cost me in excess of $600 in excess luggage and weight charges. I loaded them onto a luggage cart, (and no back ache, can you believe it – me, with no back problems after loading luggage – strong Macedonian woman) pulling my carry on and one other rolling small case and tried to make my way to customs, pushing, pulling, dragging and moving my luggage along in shifts…with the entire staff of the airport watching me, but no one offering a hand. The customs officer took one look at what I was attempting to do on my own, smiled just a bit and waved me through…no way he was going to take up his evening looking through 5 gargantuan pieces of luggage. One of the same men who was watching me with some amusement at the baggage claim, rushed to my aid when I moved outside and located my name on a welcomed sign, decorated with the American flag in the upper right hand corner. There was the Embassy staff, waiting for me, right on time, with a classic American minivan, welcoming smiles, a hug from Jeanne, the Embassy APAO (that would be State Dept. lingo for Asst. Public Affairs Officer) and a welcomed hand from the Embassy driver. I gladly tipped the airport guy a couple of Euro and climbed into the front seat where I could actually stretch my legs while seated for the 1st time in about 18 hours. We were off to my new apartment in downtown Skopje.
After a 30 minute ride through, what seemed in the 6 pm dusk, to be a series of war-torn neighborhoods, we arrived at “my street”, Andon Dukov. Now, you need to know that I decided early on, when this apartment was offered to me and I was told it was on Andon Dukov St., that this housing would be perfect due to the name. My Albanian great Uncle was named Andon, a name that my oldest son, Bennett, has carried on as his middle name. OK, maybe I was really looking for assuring signs, but it worked for me.
My landlord’s daughter, Svetlana, greeted me with a hearty welcome in perfect English and a warm hug. We had been emailing for months and it already felt like a homecoming, with email relationships formed with the APAO and Svetlana. Before leaving, Jeanne handed to me a welcome packet from the Embassy, a bag filled with fruit, bread, cheese, bottled water and a bottle of Macedonia cabernet, and said good bye with a reminder of my security briefing at the Embassy the following morning at 10:30 am.
Svetlana showed me into her parents’ home and introduced me to her mother and father, neither of whom speak English (although both use “OK” and “No Problem” rather well). They were warm and kind, her mother, tiny and plump with short hair dyed a sort of brunette, henna red combination which has proved to be a common trait of women here in Skopje, wrapping her arms around me in a sincere hug and then rattling on in Macedonian about how tall I was… (Ok, so I’m used to that after 48 years of short people rattling on about my height). Svetlana the showed me to my apartment, on the 3rd floor of her parents’ building.
I’ll admit, I was a bit excited. You see, I’ve never had my own apartment and never lived on my own, as I went from home to college roommates to law school roommates to being married. The apartment was small, clean beyond description, and had crocheted covers on the sofa, bed, and chairs and table cloths on every other surface, reminding me of my Albanian grandmother’s house. A color TV with DVD and VCR sat ready, a small kitchen (we ARE talking small here, but with a ¾ size refrig which, I have learned, is quite a benefit here, with dorm style refrigerators being the standard in apartments.), small bathroom with the hot water boiler on the bathroom wall and a bedroom with only enough clothing storage for my underwear. The walls were all painted a fresh white, with hardwood-looking vinyl floors, natural wood beams and trim, and the living areas outfitted with simple, functioning furniture, dishes, pots and pans and the basics of Macedonia life in the frig – bottled water, Clementine’s from Greece, butter for my bread and a can of Turkish coffee. I looked out the windows (I should look out over rooftops, I thought, with a Parisian garret apartment image in my mind) but could see nothing but lights and hear cars in the distance. After having Turkish coffee with Svetlana and her parents in their 2nd floor apartment, during which visit I caused something of a commotion by not having sugar in my coffee, I received some basic instructions: on the door locks, the cable TV channels (CNN World News from Britain, the Hallmark Channel, BBC Prime and MTV all in English, along with some Macedonia channels that play US and British TV shows and movies with Macedonia subtitles), how to turn off the boiler before showering (“we have heard of people being dead from electricity and we don’t want that to happen to you”) and finally a last request to report to my landlord’s apartment in the morning for directions to the Embassy, I crawled upstairs at 20:00 (8 pm – I am trying to convert to standard time here, as well as temperatures in Centigrade which I am beginning to get thanks to the CNN weather woman, money in terms of denars – 50 denars to the US dollar - distance in kilometers and weight in kilo’s which I am not even close to understanding) and unpacked just enough to find my PJs and collapse into bed at 21:00.
The next morning, I awoke after about 9 hours of sleep. Now, I thought, the delightful Balkan garret view from my little apartment. WRONG. Oh, yes, a view of rooftops…terra cotta tile covered roofs that could be delightful, were they not accessorized by lots of ugly concrete and half-finished construction, tiny little smashed up cars that still manage to run, roaming feral cats, and trash lining the streets, everywhere. UGLY. I read somewhere that Skopje was the ugliest city in Eastern Europe. So far, I have seen nothing in 3 days to dissuade me from this depiction. Add to that a constant layer of smog. For those of you who have concerns about over-regulation in the US of air and water, think again. Live here for 2 days and come home every night with your hair and clothes smelling like car exhaust. You’ll change your mind.
But, I was here, and this was my home away from home, so soldier on. I had a banana and bread and butter for breakfast along with 3 cups of strong coffee (ok, I admit – and this will come as no surprise to those of you who know me best – I brought fresh ground coffee with me, along with some tea and a package of tea cookies…survival food), turned off the boiler (not good to die of electrocution on my first day), took a shower which fell OH, so good, dried my hair (YES, the travel dryer, appropriately switched to a European voltage worked!) changed into something non descript yet appropriate for an Embassy visit (black pants, dressy boots, nice white sweater, pearls in my ears…) and reported to my landlord’s apartment.
Svetlana was not there (she said she lives all over the place, often spending the night at her parent’s downstairs??) but her mother insisted on coming outside with me and showing me how to get to the Embassy. Now, she speaks no English…none. However, I figured out exactly what she was saying. I was about a 2 minute walk from the US Embassy, so I strolled past the entrance and continued down the street. More ugly, more trashed little cars screaming by, more smog and trash along the streets…and everybody walking past me sported a cigarette in one hand and a cell phone in the other. At 10:20, I reported to the guards at the front gate of the Embassy. They took my passport, decided I was who I said I was, found my name on the approved lsit and invited me into the guard station. They searched through my small backpack (I found a great black leather backpack at Marshall’s for about $30 that I imagined looked very chic, European and functional all at the same time. So far, I seem to have been right…). The guard had me pass through the metal detector, finding metal in my boots and began searching through my bag.
Palm pilot, digital camera…both had to stay locked up at the guard station. He asked, in somewhat halting English (these were Macedonia nationals) about my breath mints and rewetting drops for my contact lenses, and then held up something with a very confused look. “What this?” he asked, as I was putting my boots back on. I looked up and there was this stunningly handsome guard…dark hair, tanned, tall…kind of an Antonia Banderas-look with some decent height…holding up a Tampax Super tampon. “That is a tampon” I responded, trying oh so hard to stifle a hearty laugh. “Huh?” he responded, looking at the tampon closely, turning it around and trying to look through the paper wrapping. He showed it to his male colleague, who shrugged. I stood there, trying to think of how to explain to him what a tampon was without embarrassing him (me, I was already embarrassed…) and couldn’t for the life of me think anything other than he must not be married or that tampons hadn’t yet come to Macedonia. He finally said “Never mind, it stay here” and he locked it up with the Palm Pilot and Digital camera. Tampax super tampons - weapons against US interests around the world.
My Embassy briefing couldn’t be half as fun as the security experience, but it was informative, with the security attaché talking about staying aware of the Roma (Gypsy) population and how they pickpocket in gangs, usually targeting men and never seeming to grab handbags. The Public Affairs Officer, Michael, offered interesting insight into the growth of the Macedonian economy which was interesting to me, as everyone at the Embassy and the University here that I talk to seems to think that instruction in HR Management techniques will assure Macedonia’s destiny as a robust economy (ok, I’m good, but that’s pushing it a bit…).
The young woman who was also at the briefing, Melissa, an English Language Fellow through a Fulbright program for recent college grads who go abroad to help with English language instruction, had numerous questions about human Rights, religious discrimination, media ethics and the like, all directed at allowing her to save the world. She obviously hadn’t become jaded yet, like old me, and had the security and public affairs folks a bit concerned by the end of the morning when she admitted that although her contact at the Media Institute did not want her to teach an Ethics in Media course, she was determined to do so to help the Macedonian people overcome the communist effects on the media. Good God. She needs to get a life and experience a massage or a glass of wine once in a while.
I was reminded of my contact with the former US Ambassador to Maceodnia, Lawrence Butler (Waterville, Maine native, Bowdoin ’75, Ambassador to Macedonia from 2002-2005) by most everyone I talked with, being told that Ambassador Butler had exclamation points all over my application because I was from his home state and alma mater (who ever doesn’t believe that its all in who you know needs to rethink that, quickly). Butler is now working in Bosnia on the Dayton Accords as the number 2 person in the something, something High Command under the British which is, I believe, the international body that is overseeing Bosnia/Herzegovina right now. Regardless, he’s a very big international deal and will be coming to Macedonia in the next couple of months for a visit – the new ambassador from the US is a woman who I am supposed to meet in the next couple of weeks. During the welcome back visit for Butler, I was told I would be invited to a formal dinner with him. Need to make sure that the long black dress I brought fits!
OK, there’s another topic. As many of you know I love to eat and exercise. Eating doesn’t seem to be too big of a deal here. Food here, for me, is very cheap – I bought a week’s worth of groceries for just me, including paper towels, toilet paper, for about $25.And, surprise, I bought NO SUGAR at all, in any form. Fruit is from either Greece or southern Italy and wonderful and vegetables are only sold if they can be grown south of here – spinach, Brussels sprouts and broccoli are for sale in the market now, along with fresh cabbage which is a Macedonia staple. The yogurt from Greece tastes like sour cream and is so thick that I diluted it with milk to have with my muesli (not fresh milk but all in aseptic packages from Germany) and the cheese made here is wonderful – feta that doesn’t taste like it came from between your toes (salty, rich tasting, light and delicious), gouda that is creamy and delicious and local Romano that I tasted last night and will use everyday if I can figure out how. Eggs are all local, as is chicken, but most meat people eat is used as a condiment or flavoring and are preserved – salami, pepperoni and other cured or dried meats made here – or used sparingly in sandwiches with cheese. There is some fresh lamb and beef at the butcher shops. The red wine – I bought a bottle last night for a dinner at the home of another US Fulbright professor who has been here since September– for 339 denar – about $6.75 – one of the finest red wines sold, I was told, which was dry, nicely tanic and delicious once it had some air.
There are a couple of gyms, but exercise isn’t really organized and formal here. So, am I destined for weight gain? I don’t think so. The lifestyle here has to be very active. You see, I have no car, buses take for ever and I haven’t tried the taxi’s yet, which are cheap (about 1 dollar for a trip across town)…so I’ve been walking. Everywhere. Just like everyone else does. My apartment is in a good section of the city, relatively close to stores, the Embassy and the City library where there is the American Corner. Regardless, its more than a bit of a walk everywhere I need and want to go.
The American Corner is a place set up by the Embassy to encourage greater understanding of the US – there are 3 fulltime women who speak perfect English, 10 computers with high speed internet (I have none in my apartment yet), day old US newspapers, weekly US magazines (Time, Newsweek, etc.), a lending library with US fiction and non-fiction and talks by visiting US professionals (I am on for a March talk on Managing people and another one on business ethics issues in the US) and another floor dedicated to helping Macedonia students go to school in the US – the GRE’s and TOFFEL tests are given, college advice handed out and application assistance given. The people at the American Corner faun all over Fulbrighter’s (as we are called), taking our coats to hang them up, letting us use the computers for anything (email checking is prohibited to the public here – the computers are to be only for research- unless you are a visiting Fulbright Scholar – then you could almost produce porn on these computers, I think, and the staff ask how they could help you – its wonderful!).
The long and short of it, I have walked, I bet, about 5 miles for each of the past 2 days and will again today, as well. When you have dinner somewhere else - as I did last night, when I joined the Fulbright English professor and her husband for dinner at their apartment - you then walk home - 1½ miles home after dinner last night.
So, as you can tell, I am hoofing it all over the place – yesterday for about 2 hours with Svetlana to find an ATM that worked with my debit card and her new credit card (found it!), an adapter for my converter so I could charge my computer (found that also, for about 60 cents, at an open market thanks to translation by Svetlana) and to get my cell phone de-coded so I could use it here (had that done also, for $16 after going to about 5 places).I keep hoping I’ll be model thin when I return, at least not fat. Now, before I ventured out with Svetlana, I was invited for breakfast with Svetlana’s family, which I felt I should accept, even though I had already had my muesli.
OK, now this was an experience. They eat a big breakfast here at about 10 or 10:30. When they arise, they have coffee and perhaps bread and cheese or a boiled egg. The menu for this particular morning? Oh, dear. Polenta (home made corn meal mush) with pan fried chucks of pork which smelled either just a bit off or more gamey than I was used to, garnished with a dollop of sour cream and finished with tomato juice to drink. I ate it, had stomach distress for the rest of the day (unusual for me, as I traveled all over Asia on business for a couple of years, eating 20 kinds of seaweed, dog soup in So. Korea, fried chicken feet in Hong Kong, sea urchin in Singapore and lord knows what in Japan - as I chose not to ask what I was putting in my mouth - never getting even a stomach twinge once)…I ate toast and coffee today, in my little apartment, watching the sky clear to a sunny, cool day, thank goodness…yesterday’s smog made worse by an overcast day just about did me in.
During brunch, lets call it, Svetlana’s family asked about my family and I told them of my mother’s family being from Albania, Korce, specifically. After hearing my family’s names (grandmother Kaliopi, Aunt Vanthi, Uncle Andon Grigor and that we called my Aunt Teta), the family decided that my mother’s family was probably Macedonian Albanians with some Greek mixed in, as most Albanians are Muslim, unless they have Greek or Macedonia roots (my mother’s family were all Christian Orthodox). So, Svetlana began trying to find my Albanian relatives, she said, as she knows Albanian Christians here in Skopje (most, again here, are Muslim) who come from Korce. We’ll see – maybe I am an Albanian Princess and just didn’t know it yet!
But, despite stomach distress, I was successful at getting an operational phone. My telephone number? Here you go – if you feel like spending some time and money chatting or, decide after reading this that you just HAVE to visit Macedonia, give me a call: 389-71-730-109. I think you’ll need to dial 011 first. Give it a try if you’d like. I have some instruction from the Embassy that says if you call a cell phone here from the US, you need to dial 00 before the number but that makes no sense to anyone else here. Try both.
Well, today I am walking around town, trying to find the rest of the City and also trying to figure out where I’ll be teaching. I haven’t met the professor I am teaching with yet, but that should happen soon. I just got her cell phone number yesterday, so I’ll give her a call today. I’ll also see if I can get this email out to all of you. Let me know if you get it!
Friday, January 20, 2006
Yesterday, Thursday, absolutely exhausted me, but in a good way. You know, there is a certain freedom in not having a car, especially in a city such as Skopje where driving is an extreme sport. You can go anywhere you choose without worrying about parking, gas, insurance and directions, not to mentioned killing yourself in some awful accident. You just grab a map, plot out generally where you want to go, knowing you can stop and figure out additional detail as you walk, put on decent shoes and head out.
Thursday, I met Mary Ellen, the Fulbright English professor, in the City Center – Makidonija Square – to watch the Epiphany celebration when a blessed cross is thrown from the old Stone Bridge (we are talking old, built in the 15th century with its original stone work still standing, surviving a devastating earthquake in 1963 that wiped out most of the rest of Skopje). Once the cross was thrown, men dove into the water (it was about 4 or 5 centigrade - 40 degrees – yesterday) to retrieve the cross. While this was going on, the clergy from the Orthodox Church were chanting beautifully from the high point of the bridge. We watched this from the square, and then had lunch in a small Turkish restaurant, where we enjoyed a Greek salad, mint tea served in a small Turkish glass, falafel, eggplant spread and just-made pita bread, all of which cost me 220 denar, about $4.50.
Following lunch, we walked across the stone bridge to the old part of town and suddenly, I entered another century. The “Old City” is the Albanian section, which is the Muslim part of the city. Spires of mosques rise above the squat skyline, which is low because it is hundreds of years old, the only part of Skopje that survived the earthquake. The roads are all stone, resembling large cobblestones, uneven in color and level, winding throughout the area. Well above the roads sits the remains of the fortress Kale that has guarded Skopje for over two thousand years, first built in 200 BC.
We walked through the shopping area, which has the distinction of being the largest Turkish market outside of Turkey, where everything is sold, including much gold and silver jewelry, shoes, clothing, food, tea, coffee, you name it. I also saw many Roma, the type of people we would call gypsies, walking the street and selling bits of goods from squat tables along the streets and bridge. Many of the Roma sellers are men or old women, looking dirty, some disabled with only one leg or arm, hawking candles, icons, light bulbs, anything they can sell. The Turkish bazaar was absolutely beautiful in a distressed way, mostly because there was no late 1960’s early 70’s concrete anywhere – just old stone, tile roofs, Roma driving donkeys carts used to collect wood or cardboard for evening heat.
In the distance, twice during the couple of hours I was in the Old City, I heard the call to prayers coming from the mosques…a melodic, haunting chant that I had heard on the news but never experienced first hand. The men immediately moved from their tables, which then were watched by women who appeared suddenly, and headed toward one of the many mosques that dotted the area. The women always have their heads covered, and some are in full, black borqua, covered head to toe. I have found out which mosques will allow female visitors and will visit one in the next few days, using my scarf to cover my head when I enter. Exposed legs, arms and midriffs are not allowed in the mosques, which, due to the temperature and my never-will-be-exposed-to anyone-but-my-doctor-and-husband midriff, will not be a problem. There is only one mosque in the center of the city where I live, but literally close to 50 on the other side of the river, in the Carsija area where the bazaar is found.
There is true division here in populations. If you are Albanian, you are assumed to be Muslim. If you are Muslim, you are assumed to live in the Carsija area. There is concern by the Christian population here in Skopje that, unless there is unity between the Judeo Christian populations of the world that the Muslims, with their gender specific rules and ties to terrorism, will gain worldwide power and control. It is fascinating to engage in this conversation, as I did yesterday with my friend Svetlana. This concern is one of the reasons for enthusiastic support by the Macedonian people of potential European Union membership. Macedonia was officially given EU candidate status just 3 weeks ago, much to the delight of the people here. They see EU membership as a solution to many of this country’s challenges, both economic and political, as well as giving the population freedom to travel without first obtaining a visa.
Mary Ellen led me to the University of Sts. Cyril and Methodius, which also sits on the south side of the City over the River Vardar, just adjacent to the Old City. The buildings are all concrete, having been built in the early 1970’s with no updating since. From the outside, from a distance, there is a certain majestic beauty to the modern buildings, built in a bit of a campus concept. Up close, they are a shame – graffiti, crumbling concrete on the outside, torn up tiles, peeling institutional green paint and cigarette permeated walls on the inside. The class rooms have chairs that date from the 70’s, chalk boards (no dry erase boards and OPU’s here) and virtually no books or supplies. Depressing, but function here is what is important, not frills or ascetics. That’s for sure.
Fulbrighter’s are given a $1500 stipend by the Fulbright Commission to buy books for shipment to our destination – stretched by publishers willing to donate books as done by my rep at Thomson Southwestern Publishing and my friends at the Institute for Global Ethics – and with good reason. Students can’t afford textbooks. All come from either the US or Great Britain and many of us know what textbooks cost. A text for one of my courses last semester was $132 new, $99 used. $132 is equal to 6700 denar which is a month’s rent here and half of a month’s salary…if the student is lucky enough to have a job (35% unemployment here). So, visiting professors bring books, the school photocopies parts of them for the students and then they are donated to the library for general use. Libraries here are one of the few well-funded institutions and revered by students. I now know why. Amazing the things we take for granted.
Education is seen here as a ticket to a better life, so everyone wants a college degree and professors, as I have experienced, are worshipped – I’m getting a kick out of that! There are as many women as men in college – probably even more - and the women actually run most of the University. This seems to have happened because it is acceptable for women to live at home for a while, work part time in office jobs, to support the college bills while many men grab jobs as taxi drivers or laborers so they can buy a car or get married or leave the country. Therefore, more women seem to have Ph.D.’s and therefore positions as professors or administrators. As more educational and political ventures come to Macedonia, which is happening more and more as EU membership gets closer, it’s the women, not the men that are offered the visible positions with new colleges and expanded Embassy, UN and other international programs. During my visit to the University yesterday, the men were the greeters at the check-in desks, sporting very limited English and the women that I met were the program heads with Ph.D.’s, having had Fulbright grants for US study and speaking perfect English. Fascinating.
I ended the day by checking email at the American Corner, as the wireless internet that has supposedly been extended to the area in which I live is only available if I stand in the street with my laptop (which I did to see if it was out there) and then I couldn’t get it to authenticate. I picked up a loaf of wheat bread from a little bakery along the way (50 cents) and a treat of 2 wonderful meringue cookies for 20 cents (there goes the sugar thing), then stopped at my little local store to get bottled water, ground coffee and some tomatoes from Turkey that are actually red, not pink ($2.50 was my entire bill). I carry my string shopping bag in my backpack which at home, unless at the farmer’s market, would label me nerd, but here labels me as a savvy local and helps me fit right in and do my shopping as I need to.
I reached home at about 17:30, aching from walking half of the City, but refreshed from the freedom of movement and general activity and eager to catch up on the news about the Bid Laden tape and the weather. CNN World, out of London, is absolutely fabulous and not having to suffer through the stupid local stories we are tortured with all day on our local broadcasts gives a whole new perspective to news. Instead, CNN covers all of the European, African and American economic and political stories in fascinating detail. Then, the BBC was showing a fun series called Doctors (like ER without the dramatic surgeries or more like General Hospital with charming accents). My landlord friend Svetlana visited later, adamant that we find the wireless connection, hence our standing in the cold in the street in the dark finding what connections we could grab from the neighborhood. We found three, none of which my laptop would completely accept. She wants to install the internet, but is hesitant due to a contract that would continue after I leave. She knows I need it, so she is on the trail of a good deal that she can afford after I leave.
Friday, today, I’ll venture out to find #4 cone coffee filters and see if I can find a tea kettle and perhaps a tea pot for cheap, which shouldn’t be hard to do here. I’ll call my supervising professor, finally, after getting her correct cell phone number…I think…and attend a lecture by Carl, my friend Mary Ellen’s professor husband, who is talking about the work of e.e.cummings tonight at 18:00 at The American Corner. Am I attending because I am fascinated by e.e.cummings?? No, I know nothing about him other than he had a thing about capital letters. But, I have been invited, Mary Ellen and Carl are friends, it’s free, it’s what the US expats do here and it’s an event, with an invitation to dinner with real people almost guaranteed afterwards! Speaking of free, the Macedonian Philharmonic gives concerts every Thursday evening for $4 a ticket. I didn’t go last night because I am not over jet lag yet and falling asleep by 20:00 when the concert starts, but I shall go with Mary Ellen and Carl next week.
Its 3 pm Friday, Jan 20th.
Today, I successfully navigated a chunk of Skopje that I had never visited, including the City Center Shopping area where I bought a 128 MB flash drive for 890 denar or $17.50. Someone tell me if this is a good price!!??!! If you are reading this, it’s because it worked.
I found the Turkey-based supermarket RamStore, a huge, modern, incredibly well stocked supermarket that rivals any of Hannaford’s biggest stores in design, product and services. There I found the coffee filters I needed and the tea kettle I wanted (on which I blew about $12), as well as Greek olives, some breakfast yogurt (like Dannon with strawberries but not so sweet), oatmeal, pasta sauce, water, local Brussels sprouts, a bottle of Macedonian sauvignon blanc, tea biscuits (I’m out, heaven forbid) and other staples – for $32 – my biggest and last shopping trip for a while. Why the last for a while? Well, money is one thing, but my shoulders are killing me from walking all the way home (about 2 miles) with the groceries. I need a break and I’d rather spend money on wine and tea biscuits than taxis!
The City Center and the pedestrian-only streets that run off it gave me my first, very sad look at the Roma children begging. Wow, our children are so very lucky. These kids are maybe 7 or 8 and are expected to contribute to the family by bringing home a certain amount of money each day; I am told that they do not come home until they earn it, anyway they can, including stealing, which is why the pick-pocketing happens mostly at night with the cover of darkness and the family deadline looming.
The other phenomenon, which wasn’t a surprise, but is something I am reminded of every time I travel abroad, is the language capability of Europeans. Anyone who ever thinks that language classes in US schools are expendable needs to be in a city like this – not a sophisticated global Mecca like Paris or Frankfurt or Geneva, but the capital of a very small, economically suffering country. Everyone I have spoken to in shops, restaurants, malls, can speak English enough to communicate perfectly well. If they can’t handle the level of English needed, they will readily offer to switch to German or French. Their language training starts in their 1st year of public school at age 4 and continues through high school and usually into college. Demonstrated fluency in English is required for the business school where I will be teaching… in order just to apply. And English is just one of the languages these folks know. I know only some very basic stuff in Macedonian and don’t know my numbers yet, so I have used French twice, which I seem to be able to pull out from somewhere in the recesses of my brain, and that has helped. Basically, to survive in this world where, I am convinced, doing some sort of activity or business outside the US will be required of everyone in the next 10 or 20 years, our kids absolutely need to be conversationally fluent in at least one other language. We are nuts to over look this in their education.
OK, no more soapbox. I am off to the American Corner to try to send this to all of my friends, and then to attend a lecture there. Tomorrow is Saturday, the primary shopping day, but I am shopped out (well, my shoulders are) so I am going to climb up to the Kale Fortress and see the 15th century Orthodox church nearby, as well as the national Macedonian museum located in an 11th century monastery.
More after the weekend!
Love to all
Beth
I begin this diary on my 3rd full day in Macedonia. I arrived Monday night, about 5 pm, to an airport that reminded me of the old airport on Anguilla, the little Caribbean island that we have been visiting for the past 20 years…although the military helicopters that lined the tarmac certainly brought no memories of home or of the Caribbean, for that matter. Rather than the chickens and goats that I remembered from the early days on Anguilla, the Skopje airport was decorated with feral cats, running, walking, climbing over the radiators, sitting like decorations on chairs, counters and abandoned trunks and cases.
The airport had 2 passport lines – with computers, though, as technology is ahead of the rest of life here – one for locals and one for non-residents. The immigration agent stared at me intently, after examining my Macedonia visa, trying, no doubt, to decide whether the cropped head in the passport picture was, indeed, the same woman who stood before her with chin-length, plane trip-disheveled hair, glasses and puffy eyes. She either gave up or decided that no one would want to admit being either me or the picture on the passport and let me through.
I watched with held breath as luggage began to appear. And then, like clockwork, all of my suitcases appeared, having survived a trip from Portland Maine to Washington DC to Frankfurt, Germany to Skopje, Macedonia – all 5, 3 of which cost me in excess of $600 in excess luggage and weight charges. I loaded them onto a luggage cart, (and no back ache, can you believe it – me, with no back problems after loading luggage – strong Macedonian woman) pulling my carry on and one other rolling small case and tried to make my way to customs, pushing, pulling, dragging and moving my luggage along in shifts…with the entire staff of the airport watching me, but no one offering a hand. The customs officer took one look at what I was attempting to do on my own, smiled just a bit and waved me through…no way he was going to take up his evening looking through 5 gargantuan pieces of luggage. One of the same men who was watching me with some amusement at the baggage claim, rushed to my aid when I moved outside and located my name on a welcomed sign, decorated with the American flag in the upper right hand corner. There was the Embassy staff, waiting for me, right on time, with a classic American minivan, welcoming smiles, a hug from Jeanne, the Embassy APAO (that would be State Dept. lingo for Asst. Public Affairs Officer) and a welcomed hand from the Embassy driver. I gladly tipped the airport guy a couple of Euro and climbed into the front seat where I could actually stretch my legs while seated for the 1st time in about 18 hours. We were off to my new apartment in downtown Skopje.
After a 30 minute ride through, what seemed in the 6 pm dusk, to be a series of war-torn neighborhoods, we arrived at “my street”, Andon Dukov. Now, you need to know that I decided early on, when this apartment was offered to me and I was told it was on Andon Dukov St., that this housing would be perfect due to the name. My Albanian great Uncle was named Andon, a name that my oldest son, Bennett, has carried on as his middle name. OK, maybe I was really looking for assuring signs, but it worked for me.
My landlord’s daughter, Svetlana, greeted me with a hearty welcome in perfect English and a warm hug. We had been emailing for months and it already felt like a homecoming, with email relationships formed with the APAO and Svetlana. Before leaving, Jeanne handed to me a welcome packet from the Embassy, a bag filled with fruit, bread, cheese, bottled water and a bottle of Macedonia cabernet, and said good bye with a reminder of my security briefing at the Embassy the following morning at 10:30 am.
Svetlana showed me into her parents’ home and introduced me to her mother and father, neither of whom speak English (although both use “OK” and “No Problem” rather well). They were warm and kind, her mother, tiny and plump with short hair dyed a sort of brunette, henna red combination which has proved to be a common trait of women here in Skopje, wrapping her arms around me in a sincere hug and then rattling on in Macedonian about how tall I was… (Ok, so I’m used to that after 48 years of short people rattling on about my height). Svetlana the showed me to my apartment, on the 3rd floor of her parents’ building.
I’ll admit, I was a bit excited. You see, I’ve never had my own apartment and never lived on my own, as I went from home to college roommates to law school roommates to being married. The apartment was small, clean beyond description, and had crocheted covers on the sofa, bed, and chairs and table cloths on every other surface, reminding me of my Albanian grandmother’s house. A color TV with DVD and VCR sat ready, a small kitchen (we ARE talking small here, but with a ¾ size refrig which, I have learned, is quite a benefit here, with dorm style refrigerators being the standard in apartments.), small bathroom with the hot water boiler on the bathroom wall and a bedroom with only enough clothing storage for my underwear. The walls were all painted a fresh white, with hardwood-looking vinyl floors, natural wood beams and trim, and the living areas outfitted with simple, functioning furniture, dishes, pots and pans and the basics of Macedonia life in the frig – bottled water, Clementine’s from Greece, butter for my bread and a can of Turkish coffee. I looked out the windows (I should look out over rooftops, I thought, with a Parisian garret apartment image in my mind) but could see nothing but lights and hear cars in the distance. After having Turkish coffee with Svetlana and her parents in their 2nd floor apartment, during which visit I caused something of a commotion by not having sugar in my coffee, I received some basic instructions: on the door locks, the cable TV channels (CNN World News from Britain, the Hallmark Channel, BBC Prime and MTV all in English, along with some Macedonia channels that play US and British TV shows and movies with Macedonia subtitles), how to turn off the boiler before showering (“we have heard of people being dead from electricity and we don’t want that to happen to you”) and finally a last request to report to my landlord’s apartment in the morning for directions to the Embassy, I crawled upstairs at 20:00 (8 pm – I am trying to convert to standard time here, as well as temperatures in Centigrade which I am beginning to get thanks to the CNN weather woman, money in terms of denars – 50 denars to the US dollar - distance in kilometers and weight in kilo’s which I am not even close to understanding) and unpacked just enough to find my PJs and collapse into bed at 21:00.
The next morning, I awoke after about 9 hours of sleep. Now, I thought, the delightful Balkan garret view from my little apartment. WRONG. Oh, yes, a view of rooftops…terra cotta tile covered roofs that could be delightful, were they not accessorized by lots of ugly concrete and half-finished construction, tiny little smashed up cars that still manage to run, roaming feral cats, and trash lining the streets, everywhere. UGLY. I read somewhere that Skopje was the ugliest city in Eastern Europe. So far, I have seen nothing in 3 days to dissuade me from this depiction. Add to that a constant layer of smog. For those of you who have concerns about over-regulation in the US of air and water, think again. Live here for 2 days and come home every night with your hair and clothes smelling like car exhaust. You’ll change your mind.
But, I was here, and this was my home away from home, so soldier on. I had a banana and bread and butter for breakfast along with 3 cups of strong coffee (ok, I admit – and this will come as no surprise to those of you who know me best – I brought fresh ground coffee with me, along with some tea and a package of tea cookies…survival food), turned off the boiler (not good to die of electrocution on my first day), took a shower which fell OH, so good, dried my hair (YES, the travel dryer, appropriately switched to a European voltage worked!) changed into something non descript yet appropriate for an Embassy visit (black pants, dressy boots, nice white sweater, pearls in my ears…) and reported to my landlord’s apartment.
Svetlana was not there (she said she lives all over the place, often spending the night at her parent’s downstairs??) but her mother insisted on coming outside with me and showing me how to get to the Embassy. Now, she speaks no English…none. However, I figured out exactly what she was saying. I was about a 2 minute walk from the US Embassy, so I strolled past the entrance and continued down the street. More ugly, more trashed little cars screaming by, more smog and trash along the streets…and everybody walking past me sported a cigarette in one hand and a cell phone in the other. At 10:20, I reported to the guards at the front gate of the Embassy. They took my passport, decided I was who I said I was, found my name on the approved lsit and invited me into the guard station. They searched through my small backpack (I found a great black leather backpack at Marshall’s for about $30 that I imagined looked very chic, European and functional all at the same time. So far, I seem to have been right…). The guard had me pass through the metal detector, finding metal in my boots and began searching through my bag.
Palm pilot, digital camera…both had to stay locked up at the guard station. He asked, in somewhat halting English (these were Macedonia nationals) about my breath mints and rewetting drops for my contact lenses, and then held up something with a very confused look. “What this?” he asked, as I was putting my boots back on. I looked up and there was this stunningly handsome guard…dark hair, tanned, tall…kind of an Antonia Banderas-look with some decent height…holding up a Tampax Super tampon. “That is a tampon” I responded, trying oh so hard to stifle a hearty laugh. “Huh?” he responded, looking at the tampon closely, turning it around and trying to look through the paper wrapping. He showed it to his male colleague, who shrugged. I stood there, trying to think of how to explain to him what a tampon was without embarrassing him (me, I was already embarrassed…) and couldn’t for the life of me think anything other than he must not be married or that tampons hadn’t yet come to Macedonia. He finally said “Never mind, it stay here” and he locked it up with the Palm Pilot and Digital camera. Tampax super tampons - weapons against US interests around the world.
My Embassy briefing couldn’t be half as fun as the security experience, but it was informative, with the security attaché talking about staying aware of the Roma (Gypsy) population and how they pickpocket in gangs, usually targeting men and never seeming to grab handbags. The Public Affairs Officer, Michael, offered interesting insight into the growth of the Macedonian economy which was interesting to me, as everyone at the Embassy and the University here that I talk to seems to think that instruction in HR Management techniques will assure Macedonia’s destiny as a robust economy (ok, I’m good, but that’s pushing it a bit…).
The young woman who was also at the briefing, Melissa, an English Language Fellow through a Fulbright program for recent college grads who go abroad to help with English language instruction, had numerous questions about human Rights, religious discrimination, media ethics and the like, all directed at allowing her to save the world. She obviously hadn’t become jaded yet, like old me, and had the security and public affairs folks a bit concerned by the end of the morning when she admitted that although her contact at the Media Institute did not want her to teach an Ethics in Media course, she was determined to do so to help the Macedonian people overcome the communist effects on the media. Good God. She needs to get a life and experience a massage or a glass of wine once in a while.
I was reminded of my contact with the former US Ambassador to Maceodnia, Lawrence Butler (Waterville, Maine native, Bowdoin ’75, Ambassador to Macedonia from 2002-2005) by most everyone I talked with, being told that Ambassador Butler had exclamation points all over my application because I was from his home state and alma mater (who ever doesn’t believe that its all in who you know needs to rethink that, quickly). Butler is now working in Bosnia on the Dayton Accords as the number 2 person in the something, something High Command under the British which is, I believe, the international body that is overseeing Bosnia/Herzegovina right now. Regardless, he’s a very big international deal and will be coming to Macedonia in the next couple of months for a visit – the new ambassador from the US is a woman who I am supposed to meet in the next couple of weeks. During the welcome back visit for Butler, I was told I would be invited to a formal dinner with him. Need to make sure that the long black dress I brought fits!
OK, there’s another topic. As many of you know I love to eat and exercise. Eating doesn’t seem to be too big of a deal here. Food here, for me, is very cheap – I bought a week’s worth of groceries for just me, including paper towels, toilet paper, for about $25.And, surprise, I bought NO SUGAR at all, in any form. Fruit is from either Greece or southern Italy and wonderful and vegetables are only sold if they can be grown south of here – spinach, Brussels sprouts and broccoli are for sale in the market now, along with fresh cabbage which is a Macedonia staple. The yogurt from Greece tastes like sour cream and is so thick that I diluted it with milk to have with my muesli (not fresh milk but all in aseptic packages from Germany) and the cheese made here is wonderful – feta that doesn’t taste like it came from between your toes (salty, rich tasting, light and delicious), gouda that is creamy and delicious and local Romano that I tasted last night and will use everyday if I can figure out how. Eggs are all local, as is chicken, but most meat people eat is used as a condiment or flavoring and are preserved – salami, pepperoni and other cured or dried meats made here – or used sparingly in sandwiches with cheese. There is some fresh lamb and beef at the butcher shops. The red wine – I bought a bottle last night for a dinner at the home of another US Fulbright professor who has been here since September– for 339 denar – about $6.75 – one of the finest red wines sold, I was told, which was dry, nicely tanic and delicious once it had some air.
There are a couple of gyms, but exercise isn’t really organized and formal here. So, am I destined for weight gain? I don’t think so. The lifestyle here has to be very active. You see, I have no car, buses take for ever and I haven’t tried the taxi’s yet, which are cheap (about 1 dollar for a trip across town)…so I’ve been walking. Everywhere. Just like everyone else does. My apartment is in a good section of the city, relatively close to stores, the Embassy and the City library where there is the American Corner. Regardless, its more than a bit of a walk everywhere I need and want to go.
The American Corner is a place set up by the Embassy to encourage greater understanding of the US – there are 3 fulltime women who speak perfect English, 10 computers with high speed internet (I have none in my apartment yet), day old US newspapers, weekly US magazines (Time, Newsweek, etc.), a lending library with US fiction and non-fiction and talks by visiting US professionals (I am on for a March talk on Managing people and another one on business ethics issues in the US) and another floor dedicated to helping Macedonia students go to school in the US – the GRE’s and TOFFEL tests are given, college advice handed out and application assistance given. The people at the American Corner faun all over Fulbrighter’s (as we are called), taking our coats to hang them up, letting us use the computers for anything (email checking is prohibited to the public here – the computers are to be only for research- unless you are a visiting Fulbright Scholar – then you could almost produce porn on these computers, I think, and the staff ask how they could help you – its wonderful!).
The long and short of it, I have walked, I bet, about 5 miles for each of the past 2 days and will again today, as well. When you have dinner somewhere else - as I did last night, when I joined the Fulbright English professor and her husband for dinner at their apartment - you then walk home - 1½ miles home after dinner last night.
So, as you can tell, I am hoofing it all over the place – yesterday for about 2 hours with Svetlana to find an ATM that worked with my debit card and her new credit card (found it!), an adapter for my converter so I could charge my computer (found that also, for about 60 cents, at an open market thanks to translation by Svetlana) and to get my cell phone de-coded so I could use it here (had that done also, for $16 after going to about 5 places).I keep hoping I’ll be model thin when I return, at least not fat. Now, before I ventured out with Svetlana, I was invited for breakfast with Svetlana’s family, which I felt I should accept, even though I had already had my muesli.
OK, now this was an experience. They eat a big breakfast here at about 10 or 10:30. When they arise, they have coffee and perhaps bread and cheese or a boiled egg. The menu for this particular morning? Oh, dear. Polenta (home made corn meal mush) with pan fried chucks of pork which smelled either just a bit off or more gamey than I was used to, garnished with a dollop of sour cream and finished with tomato juice to drink. I ate it, had stomach distress for the rest of the day (unusual for me, as I traveled all over Asia on business for a couple of years, eating 20 kinds of seaweed, dog soup in So. Korea, fried chicken feet in Hong Kong, sea urchin in Singapore and lord knows what in Japan - as I chose not to ask what I was putting in my mouth - never getting even a stomach twinge once)…I ate toast and coffee today, in my little apartment, watching the sky clear to a sunny, cool day, thank goodness…yesterday’s smog made worse by an overcast day just about did me in.
During brunch, lets call it, Svetlana’s family asked about my family and I told them of my mother’s family being from Albania, Korce, specifically. After hearing my family’s names (grandmother Kaliopi, Aunt Vanthi, Uncle Andon Grigor and that we called my Aunt Teta), the family decided that my mother’s family was probably Macedonian Albanians with some Greek mixed in, as most Albanians are Muslim, unless they have Greek or Macedonia roots (my mother’s family were all Christian Orthodox). So, Svetlana began trying to find my Albanian relatives, she said, as she knows Albanian Christians here in Skopje (most, again here, are Muslim) who come from Korce. We’ll see – maybe I am an Albanian Princess and just didn’t know it yet!
But, despite stomach distress, I was successful at getting an operational phone. My telephone number? Here you go – if you feel like spending some time and money chatting or, decide after reading this that you just HAVE to visit Macedonia, give me a call: 389-71-730-109. I think you’ll need to dial 011 first. Give it a try if you’d like. I have some instruction from the Embassy that says if you call a cell phone here from the US, you need to dial 00 before the number but that makes no sense to anyone else here. Try both.
Well, today I am walking around town, trying to find the rest of the City and also trying to figure out where I’ll be teaching. I haven’t met the professor I am teaching with yet, but that should happen soon. I just got her cell phone number yesterday, so I’ll give her a call today. I’ll also see if I can get this email out to all of you. Let me know if you get it!
Friday, January 20, 2006
Yesterday, Thursday, absolutely exhausted me, but in a good way. You know, there is a certain freedom in not having a car, especially in a city such as Skopje where driving is an extreme sport. You can go anywhere you choose without worrying about parking, gas, insurance and directions, not to mentioned killing yourself in some awful accident. You just grab a map, plot out generally where you want to go, knowing you can stop and figure out additional detail as you walk, put on decent shoes and head out.
Thursday, I met Mary Ellen, the Fulbright English professor, in the City Center – Makidonija Square – to watch the Epiphany celebration when a blessed cross is thrown from the old Stone Bridge (we are talking old, built in the 15th century with its original stone work still standing, surviving a devastating earthquake in 1963 that wiped out most of the rest of Skopje). Once the cross was thrown, men dove into the water (it was about 4 or 5 centigrade - 40 degrees – yesterday) to retrieve the cross. While this was going on, the clergy from the Orthodox Church were chanting beautifully from the high point of the bridge. We watched this from the square, and then had lunch in a small Turkish restaurant, where we enjoyed a Greek salad, mint tea served in a small Turkish glass, falafel, eggplant spread and just-made pita bread, all of which cost me 220 denar, about $4.50.
Following lunch, we walked across the stone bridge to the old part of town and suddenly, I entered another century. The “Old City” is the Albanian section, which is the Muslim part of the city. Spires of mosques rise above the squat skyline, which is low because it is hundreds of years old, the only part of Skopje that survived the earthquake. The roads are all stone, resembling large cobblestones, uneven in color and level, winding throughout the area. Well above the roads sits the remains of the fortress Kale that has guarded Skopje for over two thousand years, first built in 200 BC.
We walked through the shopping area, which has the distinction of being the largest Turkish market outside of Turkey, where everything is sold, including much gold and silver jewelry, shoes, clothing, food, tea, coffee, you name it. I also saw many Roma, the type of people we would call gypsies, walking the street and selling bits of goods from squat tables along the streets and bridge. Many of the Roma sellers are men or old women, looking dirty, some disabled with only one leg or arm, hawking candles, icons, light bulbs, anything they can sell. The Turkish bazaar was absolutely beautiful in a distressed way, mostly because there was no late 1960’s early 70’s concrete anywhere – just old stone, tile roofs, Roma driving donkeys carts used to collect wood or cardboard for evening heat.
In the distance, twice during the couple of hours I was in the Old City, I heard the call to prayers coming from the mosques…a melodic, haunting chant that I had heard on the news but never experienced first hand. The men immediately moved from their tables, which then were watched by women who appeared suddenly, and headed toward one of the many mosques that dotted the area. The women always have their heads covered, and some are in full, black borqua, covered head to toe. I have found out which mosques will allow female visitors and will visit one in the next few days, using my scarf to cover my head when I enter. Exposed legs, arms and midriffs are not allowed in the mosques, which, due to the temperature and my never-will-be-exposed-to anyone-but-my-doctor-and-husband midriff, will not be a problem. There is only one mosque in the center of the city where I live, but literally close to 50 on the other side of the river, in the Carsija area where the bazaar is found.
There is true division here in populations. If you are Albanian, you are assumed to be Muslim. If you are Muslim, you are assumed to live in the Carsija area. There is concern by the Christian population here in Skopje that, unless there is unity between the Judeo Christian populations of the world that the Muslims, with their gender specific rules and ties to terrorism, will gain worldwide power and control. It is fascinating to engage in this conversation, as I did yesterday with my friend Svetlana. This concern is one of the reasons for enthusiastic support by the Macedonian people of potential European Union membership. Macedonia was officially given EU candidate status just 3 weeks ago, much to the delight of the people here. They see EU membership as a solution to many of this country’s challenges, both economic and political, as well as giving the population freedom to travel without first obtaining a visa.
Mary Ellen led me to the University of Sts. Cyril and Methodius, which also sits on the south side of the City over the River Vardar, just adjacent to the Old City. The buildings are all concrete, having been built in the early 1970’s with no updating since. From the outside, from a distance, there is a certain majestic beauty to the modern buildings, built in a bit of a campus concept. Up close, they are a shame – graffiti, crumbling concrete on the outside, torn up tiles, peeling institutional green paint and cigarette permeated walls on the inside. The class rooms have chairs that date from the 70’s, chalk boards (no dry erase boards and OPU’s here) and virtually no books or supplies. Depressing, but function here is what is important, not frills or ascetics. That’s for sure.
Fulbrighter’s are given a $1500 stipend by the Fulbright Commission to buy books for shipment to our destination – stretched by publishers willing to donate books as done by my rep at Thomson Southwestern Publishing and my friends at the Institute for Global Ethics – and with good reason. Students can’t afford textbooks. All come from either the US or Great Britain and many of us know what textbooks cost. A text for one of my courses last semester was $132 new, $99 used. $132 is equal to 6700 denar which is a month’s rent here and half of a month’s salary…if the student is lucky enough to have a job (35% unemployment here). So, visiting professors bring books, the school photocopies parts of them for the students and then they are donated to the library for general use. Libraries here are one of the few well-funded institutions and revered by students. I now know why. Amazing the things we take for granted.
Education is seen here as a ticket to a better life, so everyone wants a college degree and professors, as I have experienced, are worshipped – I’m getting a kick out of that! There are as many women as men in college – probably even more - and the women actually run most of the University. This seems to have happened because it is acceptable for women to live at home for a while, work part time in office jobs, to support the college bills while many men grab jobs as taxi drivers or laborers so they can buy a car or get married or leave the country. Therefore, more women seem to have Ph.D.’s and therefore positions as professors or administrators. As more educational and political ventures come to Macedonia, which is happening more and more as EU membership gets closer, it’s the women, not the men that are offered the visible positions with new colleges and expanded Embassy, UN and other international programs. During my visit to the University yesterday, the men were the greeters at the check-in desks, sporting very limited English and the women that I met were the program heads with Ph.D.’s, having had Fulbright grants for US study and speaking perfect English. Fascinating.
I ended the day by checking email at the American Corner, as the wireless internet that has supposedly been extended to the area in which I live is only available if I stand in the street with my laptop (which I did to see if it was out there) and then I couldn’t get it to authenticate. I picked up a loaf of wheat bread from a little bakery along the way (50 cents) and a treat of 2 wonderful meringue cookies for 20 cents (there goes the sugar thing), then stopped at my little local store to get bottled water, ground coffee and some tomatoes from Turkey that are actually red, not pink ($2.50 was my entire bill). I carry my string shopping bag in my backpack which at home, unless at the farmer’s market, would label me nerd, but here labels me as a savvy local and helps me fit right in and do my shopping as I need to.
I reached home at about 17:30, aching from walking half of the City, but refreshed from the freedom of movement and general activity and eager to catch up on the news about the Bid Laden tape and the weather. CNN World, out of London, is absolutely fabulous and not having to suffer through the stupid local stories we are tortured with all day on our local broadcasts gives a whole new perspective to news. Instead, CNN covers all of the European, African and American economic and political stories in fascinating detail. Then, the BBC was showing a fun series called Doctors (like ER without the dramatic surgeries or more like General Hospital with charming accents). My landlord friend Svetlana visited later, adamant that we find the wireless connection, hence our standing in the cold in the street in the dark finding what connections we could grab from the neighborhood. We found three, none of which my laptop would completely accept. She wants to install the internet, but is hesitant due to a contract that would continue after I leave. She knows I need it, so she is on the trail of a good deal that she can afford after I leave.
Friday, today, I’ll venture out to find #4 cone coffee filters and see if I can find a tea kettle and perhaps a tea pot for cheap, which shouldn’t be hard to do here. I’ll call my supervising professor, finally, after getting her correct cell phone number…I think…and attend a lecture by Carl, my friend Mary Ellen’s professor husband, who is talking about the work of e.e.cummings tonight at 18:00 at The American Corner. Am I attending because I am fascinated by e.e.cummings?? No, I know nothing about him other than he had a thing about capital letters. But, I have been invited, Mary Ellen and Carl are friends, it’s free, it’s what the US expats do here and it’s an event, with an invitation to dinner with real people almost guaranteed afterwards! Speaking of free, the Macedonian Philharmonic gives concerts every Thursday evening for $4 a ticket. I didn’t go last night because I am not over jet lag yet and falling asleep by 20:00 when the concert starts, but I shall go with Mary Ellen and Carl next week.
Its 3 pm Friday, Jan 20th.
Today, I successfully navigated a chunk of Skopje that I had never visited, including the City Center Shopping area where I bought a 128 MB flash drive for 890 denar or $17.50. Someone tell me if this is a good price!!??!! If you are reading this, it’s because it worked.
I found the Turkey-based supermarket RamStore, a huge, modern, incredibly well stocked supermarket that rivals any of Hannaford’s biggest stores in design, product and services. There I found the coffee filters I needed and the tea kettle I wanted (on which I blew about $12), as well as Greek olives, some breakfast yogurt (like Dannon with strawberries but not so sweet), oatmeal, pasta sauce, water, local Brussels sprouts, a bottle of Macedonian sauvignon blanc, tea biscuits (I’m out, heaven forbid) and other staples – for $32 – my biggest and last shopping trip for a while. Why the last for a while? Well, money is one thing, but my shoulders are killing me from walking all the way home (about 2 miles) with the groceries. I need a break and I’d rather spend money on wine and tea biscuits than taxis!
The City Center and the pedestrian-only streets that run off it gave me my first, very sad look at the Roma children begging. Wow, our children are so very lucky. These kids are maybe 7 or 8 and are expected to contribute to the family by bringing home a certain amount of money each day; I am told that they do not come home until they earn it, anyway they can, including stealing, which is why the pick-pocketing happens mostly at night with the cover of darkness and the family deadline looming.
The other phenomenon, which wasn’t a surprise, but is something I am reminded of every time I travel abroad, is the language capability of Europeans. Anyone who ever thinks that language classes in US schools are expendable needs to be in a city like this – not a sophisticated global Mecca like Paris or Frankfurt or Geneva, but the capital of a very small, economically suffering country. Everyone I have spoken to in shops, restaurants, malls, can speak English enough to communicate perfectly well. If they can’t handle the level of English needed, they will readily offer to switch to German or French. Their language training starts in their 1st year of public school at age 4 and continues through high school and usually into college. Demonstrated fluency in English is required for the business school where I will be teaching… in order just to apply. And English is just one of the languages these folks know. I know only some very basic stuff in Macedonian and don’t know my numbers yet, so I have used French twice, which I seem to be able to pull out from somewhere in the recesses of my brain, and that has helped. Basically, to survive in this world where, I am convinced, doing some sort of activity or business outside the US will be required of everyone in the next 10 or 20 years, our kids absolutely need to be conversationally fluent in at least one other language. We are nuts to over look this in their education.
OK, no more soapbox. I am off to the American Corner to try to send this to all of my friends, and then to attend a lecture there. Tomorrow is Saturday, the primary shopping day, but I am shopped out (well, my shoulders are) so I am going to climb up to the Kale Fortress and see the 15th century Orthodox church nearby, as well as the national Macedonian museum located in an 11th century monastery.
More after the weekend!
Love to all
Beth
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