Travel Stories >> Albania >> July 28 – August 1: Lovely Korça, and a GREAT business center

ALBANIA – Summer 1996
July 28 – August 1: Lovely Korça, and a GREAT business center

KORÇA - Sunday, July 28, 1996

Up early after NO sleep. I can’t really figure out why, either. The futon here is very comfortable, the temperature seems to be ok - a little warm, but basically ok. I have, at some point, been absolutely devoured by mosquitoes - although they are little (leftover) communist mosquitoes and make NO noise - so it isn’t like I have a fighting chance! I am usually not hit like this, but there is not one square inch of my body which has not been bitten (Earlobes! Bottom of the feet for chrissake!)

We get up and head out to the Qilim factory here to discover that it is closed - we’ll try again on Tuesday. Then we head through town, Mark and Susan pointing out things we should see. At one point, we stop into a newly opened art gallery - run by a family, all of them artists of some sort of medium or another - some neat stuff - particularly the water colors. We walk by the bazaar, just to check it out, and we head sort of south of town to a little village called Maboria. We have to climb in the warm sun, along this old road, but we chatter and laugh, and are enjoying ourselves completely - We have picked up a woman named Carla (about 65 years old), who is here for two weeks with her husband - some VOCA volunteer. Carla provides Gertie with a completely fresh ear into which Gertie can pour all five of her stories and opinions (yee hah! - we have a few liberated moments). We climb up to this charming little village, and into the churchyard of this tiny little brick church. It is circa 13th century, and although small, has some amazing frescos on the walls... we took our pictures, and I even got one of the village children on the front steps.

On our hike back down towards Korça (it had been a good steady uphill climb), we stopped by an old state run glass factory (apparently employed 1000 people before it was closed) which stopped producing about four years ago (when communism finally died here), and was just destroyed by people who looted the place for everything they could get their hands on. It was a fascinating set up, and I took a few pictures. The cool part was that a lot of the leftover glass had been dumped out back behind this place... It looked like big piles of obsidian or chunks of emeralds the size of granite boulders. We picked through this stuff, and in another pile found a bunch of neat old green bottles (looked medicinal) - you know the kind, Crate and Barrel sells ?em for $5 a pop!

Back down we trudge, and we weave our way through the city to the North side of town where there are what seem to be an endless flight of concrete stairs leading to a veterans memorial on the hill. Gertie, Mark and I climb it. I counted 409 stairs.... the view of the city from the top was awesome, and the commie statue was standard issue - one fist in air, one hand on the rifle, Mark got a picture of me posed likewise.

Back in town we buy a couple of badly needed cold drinks, fixings for dinner tonight, and sandwiches. We make it home to find the Johnmeister worshiping the sun in the front yard, reading some papers. It is a lazy afternoon, naps, walks, runs, Olympics on the tele.... and after late afternoon showers, we sort of jointly prepare a big pizza dinner (?cause little Gertie Sunshine has been whining about goddamned pizza since she threw her snit in Tirana). It was a great meal - spinach and veggie pizza - nice cold Albanian Riesling, and good music on the box. I told Mark and Susan that when my friends in DC ask me what part of Albania I liked the best, I’m going to tell them, "cooking with the Mark and Susan, and listening to Alanis Morrisette, Joan Osborne, and Tori Amos.

After dinner, John escaped to Paul’s to sleep (not enough beds here), and we sort of made it to bed early in prep for our first training day in Korça!

KORÇA - Monday, July 29, 1996

Up early today to get to the RBA in time to get ourselves comfortable in the new surroundings. We arrive and it is John, Dimitri, Mark, and Aurel Grabocka, the RBA Manager here in Korça. Aurel has one of those faces which, when smiling, makes the world grin with him. Mark and Aurel take off to run an errand, and Gertie decides to take over. The room we have available to train in is rather long and narrow, and one of the long walls are a bank of windows. It is a difficult shape to set up to accommodate 15+ participants, and Mark and the RBA staff had it set in the only way they found it to work - in a very long narrow "V" (with the trainers working at the open end). Gertie decides this is a bad idea because the folks at the end of the "V" will have to crane their necks 90? to see the trainer. John and I look at each other, shrug, and Gertie proceeds to spend 45 (count ?em) minutes re-arranging the table - much to John’s chagrin (since he’s the lackey she hollers at to "move this one here", or, "no, no, that one should go here"). I don’t say a word. I stand there praying that Mark will show up and in his kind diplomatic way get Gertie to see the error of her ways. It is at this point that I openly note that my mother would have been so proud of me. This entire three weeks has been just one long, agonizing exercise in restraint on my part.

Finally, I say quietly, "Gertie, I think that Mark and the RBA staff set it up in the "V" because it was the only way they found they could fit everyone in the room." Incredibly, she sort of instantly conceded, "ok." says she. After all that fluster she just pooped right out at the end.

You have to try and imagine the physical arrangements we have here. If you have never been in the Peace Corps or lived in a developing country, it can be tough to understand the feel. What we might consider thoroughly unacceptable at home we find to be fine elsewhere because conditions are so relative. We have become such an air-conditioned, wall-to-wall carpeted, open 24 hours a day, sort of society that we simply cannot appreciate what the rest of world deals with on a daily basis. I suspect that if I brought many of my friends here they would see the dust, feel the heat, eschew the warm soda pop at lunch, turn their noses up at the lack of running water for the toilet, and complain about the difficulty finding simple office supplies. They would be unable to look past all these little inconveniences and see and feel and hear the more basic positives. It is not a bad place. And the good people and the positive atmosphere make every minute worthwhile.

Anyway, the students arrive, and we greet and there is much smiling. God bless Mark, he has done another splendid job of arranging and organizing this group. He has, once again, managed to pull together a really nice mix of people.

Aurel Grabocka and his wife Lindita, Angelo and Lida, Elda - a pharmacist (who is a complete twin to Isabel Bully and old friend and work colleague), Vasil, Elsa, Mariana. As in each site, I have a favorite, and this time it’s definitely Adrian. A young one who works for a sausage/meat packing plant. His English is very good, and he is bright (and knows most of this materials already). Not just all of this, but he’s a real cutie-pie when he smiles!

It is impossible to tell people’s ages here. These classes are full of what seem to be 30-40 year olds. They are usually much younger. I have a really hard time pinning down an accurate age. They seem to age more quickly, but they do it all along the lifeline... at 15 they look 20, at 20 they look 27, at 27 they look 36, and 36 they look 42, at 42 they look 60!

Class if pretty uneventful. I try not to listen to Gertie’s pieces because I get disturbed when she embarrasses students in front of their peers, and since she usually has one good hit a day, I’m never sure when it’s coming. She usually does the morning sessions, and I get ?em after lunch (when they are really paying attention. Not.) It’s funny, Dimitri, our translator is now doing his second week with us, and so he’s getting to know some of this stuff pretty well. There are key words or expressions that we might use to introduce a session or get a discussion started, and Dimitri will smile and give that look that says, "yeah, yeah, I know what comes next". He likes my Confucius story. When I give the trainers their training, I discuss all kinds of things about teaching adult learners. I tell them that Confucius once said, "What I hear I forget, what I see I remember, but what I DO, I understand" That’s why, I explain, we have them work together and complete exercises, and build advertisements, etc. etc.... because if they are doing it - they’ll understand it.

After class we meander home over the cobblestones of Korça. Korça is the largest city in the region - and probably one of the most progressive. Apparently lots of Albanians from this area went to the US (Philly, Boston) and Greece. Back when the Turks ruled these lands, Korça was a major trading center and is still Albania’s primary rug producing area. In the late 1800s vast numbers left Albania from this area.

Mark and Susan tell us fascinating stories of Albanians who have come to the Business Center (or to them directly) with copies of old American death certificates or deeds or wills that they’ve been hiding for years - full of information about long lost family in the US, and about houses or businesses, or property left to family members still in Albania. Of course much of this was years ago, and they are just now able to begin to seek closure on family matters like these. They usually need help tracking down the lawyers who oversaw the estate, or the will, or whatever. As they say, it’s not so much that they are looking to "hit the lottery", although I’m sure it’s in the back of many minds. What they want is a picture, some information, some closure (what really happened). Can you imagine just being completely closed off from extended family after so many years. So sad!

Anyway, home we go, and Susan makes a wonderful, as always, spinach pie/quiche. She has a garden here which is overflowing with swiss chard and we put some on the pizzas last night, and more tonight for the quiche... and boy, is it good. It is such a delight to just sit around, eat, and bullshit. John left this afternoon for Elbasan and then Tirana for Paula’s goodbye party... and it’s a little weird without him. There are a couple of great Peace Corps volunteers in Albania, Deborah we met in Elbasan, and here in Korça they have our buddy, Paul, and a young man named Matt (from Boston), who left Shawmut Bank to come to Albania. Matt is a dead ringer for T. Coraghessen Boyle (my favorite author) - fair skinned, thick black hair, dramatic goatee, green/light eyes - funky, funny, and bright.

KORÇA - Tuesday, July 30, 1996

Up early so we can get to the rug factory before class this morning. It is located very close to the house, so we whip over there for a look-see. A very pleasant, quiet little woman lets us into the storeroom to look over her wares. Gertie is not sure what she wants and takes down many of them to look at. The colors are more muted here in Korça than they were in Elbasan. There are more pine greens, bricks, maroons, darker purples, etc. Gertie picks a very large one and begins to look for smaller ones. I see an unusual light blue based pattern which I very much like when opened - it will be very nice in my bedroom! As I look at it for a minute and we all comment on it’s colors and pretty pattern, Gertie barks, "If you don’t buy it, I’m going to." Fine Gertie, back the hell off. I wonder if "overbearing" is a gene. Whew! So I do buy it, and a number of other really pretty smaller pieces for gifts.

I carry my purchases home, Gertie heads right for class (she has no way to transport her purchases, nor does she have the money, and so has worked out some complicated scenario inconveniencing most of the people she knows in Albania - so that somehow the rugs will be paid for and someone will bring them to her in the US - someday).

I go by class a little later and Mark and I go off looking to buy some lined paper. Classes run pretty much rote for us now. I think we are both pretty sick of this stuff at this point - Jesus, can you imagine doing this over and over - no wonder Gertie is a little boggy on cash flow! But we get through it without incident. We have pizza for lunch between sessions this afternoon, and it is very, very good.

After class we head back to Mark and Susan’s for a little independent activity. Susan shows me some of her purchases from the "bazare" (local market). Besides the lamp cord with which she was told to use to fix the phone line, she has picked up machine pieces, and other items with interesting forms. She is an artist and does great stuff. Her palate is heavily black, but she has a really great eye and balances the dark with other color and forms. Besides the straight oil paintings, she has produced a couple of wonderful pieces which sort of capture her tenure in Korça... unusual sets of objects found or collected which mean something to the two of them.

Mark and Susan spend much of the late afternoon putting up their phone line which has been out since the last large truck came through the alley and ripped it down. It was funny to listen to them sort of tape and test, and tape and test... and I’ll be damned if they didn’t get it all set up again - after something like ten days without a phone. It was a gas! I told them that they were going to get back to the US to discover it was just too, too boring! They are the most resourceful people! In fact, that is what I wish there were a test for, for potential international development specialists. I’m convinced that if you are happy being resourceful and trying anything - even unconventional means - to accomplish your goals, then you’d be happy in a developing country. Otherwise, forget it!

Well, it seems that Aurel and Lindita have invited us all to visit them in the early evening for a drink. They are too busy, they say, to do dinner, but they’d like to have us over for drinks. Susan smiles and says, yeah, wait ?til you see what Lindita puts out to eat with the drinks! We decide that we’d like to do the "giro" on our way over, since the Korça is supposed to be one of the best giros in the country. The city is very pretty - downtown - and the streets are lined with large, aspen trees. Because there are few cars, the crowd sort of wanders down through the streets. Adrian and I had a funny conversation this afternoon after the morning session. I asked him about Korça and his life here. I told him how much the Albanian giro reminded me of the Spanish vuelta, and we mused on that for a moment. He told that he and his friends never do the giro. I asked why not, and he said because you only walk the giro is you are desperate or, "need help to find a girl"! He may look like he’s 35, but he exhibited very 22 year old traits!

Toward the end of our giro we run into Matt and a fellow Peace Corp volunteer. It seems that another of the PCVs has been planning and is running a large artisan and crafts fair here in Korça this coming weekend. I am so sorry that I’ll be missing it. Apparently many of the PCVs in country are coming down to support her, and see the fair. When we were in Tirana in the AID Mission we saw her advertisements for it!

So all of us head off to Aurel and Lindita’s apartment. We arrive, and like most apartment complexes in the country - the outside and the surroundings look like a ghetto, but the inside is carefully (if somewhat tackily) decorated. The Albanians don’t keep houseplants, but their homes are filled with these nasty plastic flower arrangements - it’s baffling. They don’t look like they are real, and although they are colorful, they’re pretty hideous. Of course, Lindita is the consummate hostess and has all kind of beers and wines out for us to drink, as well as plates full of cheese doodles (!), boxed cookies, pretzels, and cut cantaloupe and watermelon (which is SO good). We are sort of squished in this little living room, and the tv is on, and we chat and laugh, and sweat (it is powerfully hot), and after stuffing our faces with junk food, finally make our way out to eat (??) dinner.

We head to the center of town again and stop at the Alfa Restaurant. It is not just Italian food which is certainly a nice change of pace. None of us is particularly hungry, but I think the idea that here we are - we better order something, pushes everyone. I order a sort of sliced roast beef with goat cheese, fries, and some tomatoes which is all very good. Most of the others order meat dishes as well, and they are seemed to be of good quality. The meal begins to drag, and we get to the point where Gertie has completely taken over all conversation - oblivious to the looks, and glazed eyes around her. I think it was Matt who had had enough and jumped up to say, well, he should really get going.

We get home in short order (the city being rather small) and get off to bed without incident. Tomorrow is Gertie’s last day - she’ll leave after noon to get back to Elbasan for the evening (lucky John), then up to Tirana on Thursday morning to catch her flight to Istanbul. We sure will miss her. cough cough.

KORÇA - Wednesday, July 31, 1996

The morning training is rather uneventful, although this is just fine. This is a very bright bunch. We break for lunch, and at some point some friend of Aurel’s comes by and brings him three bottles of Russian vodka (one is pepper vodka). Since it is there, of course, everyone has to try some. I declined a couple of times before I figured, what the hell! It was GOOD! Nothing like a healthy shot of pepper vodka at noon. Whew!

Well, after lunch we give out the evaluations, then do our little graduation ceremony and hand out the certificates - everyone seems very appreciative, and we are thanked profusely. I take some group pictures outside in the shade under the RBA roof overhang (I hope they come out).

• Fatmir Ceci
• Ada Demo
• Aurel Grabocka
• Lindita Grabocka
• Elsa Ikonomi
• Spartak Kaso
• Hulusi Kokalari
• Angelo Kondili
• Lida Kondili
• Mirjana Lika
• Adrian Petrollari
• Katerina Shore
• Vasillaq Tasho
• Elda Zavalani
• Mikaela Zisi

We say good bye to those people who will not be doing the real business training tomorrow, and we separate into our two groups, Cash Flow and Marketing. We are ready after about an hour - and I am convinced that this team is ready to train tomorrow. We discuss timing and we prep the room for the smaller group.

After class we need to get back to the house and get Gertie ready by 4pm when the taxi comes to get her. Dimitri, who has some business in Tirana will be traveling with her tomorrow, and they figure that since the drive to Elbasan is only about 2.5 hours, that leaving at 4 will give them lots of time.

As we leave the RBA, Gertie asks Mark if we could go see the Mosque which is very close to the RBA. The Mirahorit Mosque in Korça is a pretty little thing, and we have spent the last couple of days listening to the muezzin a couple of times a day. It isn’t like the Moroccan muezzin who roust you out of a dead sleep at 4am, this is a lot less noticeable. It is closed and we walk around it taking pictures, and suddenly, like at so many places in Albania, a man shows up and tells us to wait, that he has the key. Mark and Susan have regular stories about being somewhere closed only to have someone sort of appear out of nowhere and announce they can go get the key.

Wow, so we wait and he shows, and we slip off our shoes and we go inside. It is a little room, and on the walls there are murals of Mecca and of the great blue Mosque in Istanbul (designed/built by an Albanian, apparently), there are also hooked rugs hanging on the walls of Mecca. Susan later tells me that this is a very recent renovation because she’d been there only a month or so ago with family and it was still in disrepair. The Communists had closed, destroyed, or converted most places of worship (the large Catholic church in Shkodra was converted into a large sports center), and the ones like this one which were destroyed inside and them abandoned are only just starting to come back.

So we head back to the house after thanking our man with the key. Gertie finishes packing and at 4 o’clock on the nose the taxi driver appears as does Dimitri. They are off and we sort of settle back into the house again, feeling somewhat liberated - just the tension has left the air. At about 5pm, the sky got dark and the thundershowers came though, ionizing the air, and cleaning the streets - it was wonderful, I got some neat shots from the house windows upstairs. We nap, read, work, hang out... and get a little dinner ready, listening to music, enjoying each other’s company. At 9:00 or so, we received a phone call from John, in Elbasan. When did Gertie and Dimitri leave he asks. 4 o’clock, we answer. Five hours have passed and they are not yet in Elbasan. Low grade panic sets in. There is nothing to be done except guess, maybe the road (there is only ONE between the two cities) was blocked with an accident, maybe the rains brought a tree down or a small avalanche. Mark and Susan describe what it would be like waiting hours for the Albanians to stand around and look at something before it got moved, whatever the obstruction. We all try not to think about anything as bad as an accident. They verbalize their confidence in their driver - a taxi they always use.

Matt and Paul come by, and we all sit around and listen to CDs and chat. A really nice evening except for the little nagging mounting concern about the taxi. Leave it to Gertie to ruin a perfectly delightful evening EVEN IN HER ABSENCE! John calls again at 10:30, still no Gertie and Dimitri. Now we are more than concerned. Paul suddenly mentions that he knows a Korçan road policeman. He offers to run off and see if the guy has heard anything, or knows anything. Matt goes with him. At 11:30pm the boys return with the news that there have been bad mudslides, and traffic is horribly back up, but no apparent accidents. Just as the words leave their mouths, the phone rings and John announces that they’ve arrived. Gertie is punchy, and Dimitri can barely speak. Dimitri tells John that Gertie bitched and hollered at him the whole route, "but I tell her, what can I do?". We thank John for the news and go out to the front patio where we’ve been sitting, to finish our beers. It is at this point that Susan, who has been the very model of restraint and diplomacy for two weeks, grasps her head in her hands like Edvard Munch’s "The Scream", and she wails, "Oh, my God, 7.5 hours in a taxi with Gertie, oh my God, poor, poor Dimitri!" We are all SO thankful it wasn’t any of us!

We head to bed, tired, happy, Gertieless, and with a buzz on. Life is good.

Copyright © 1996 by Rachel Peterson

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