A Brief Brief

Since returning from the Turkey/Bulgaria excursion, relative normalcy has ensued. The winter appears to be winding down, and a few beautiful days have appeared amidst a period of dreary and rainy weeks. On these beautiful days, I've taken some long jogs through areas surrounding campus; the runs have renewed my appreciation for life. As I sprint away from rabid, stray dogs and narrowly dodge the speeding vehicles of careless motorists, I realize that every instant on this earth is precious.

Life at AFS has been somewhat routine with one glaring exception. I assumed the strike movements that are sweeping public institutions in Greece would stay away from a private school, however yesterday proved me wrong: more than half of the AFS teachers chose not to work yesterday. Apparently there was a nationwide movement among educators, and most Greek schools shut down. Most places this simply means a day off for students and staff. At AFS, the only school in Greece where all students are boarders, it means 250 frisky con artists (a.k.a. students) with nothing to do and limited supervision. To add to the conundrum (yep, I just used the word conundrum), the dean of students is on vacation this week. Initially I intended to join the strikers by neglecting my daily duties; I love days off in the middle of the week. However I soon realized I was one of a handful of "adults" on campus and had to assume some supervisory duties. As with most movements in Greece, the strike accomplished nothing. At AFS, the only effects of the strike were a few more hickeys, a few more wrestling matches, and a few more cigarette butts on the ground. (Sidenote: I witness several foot chases and spontaneous wrestling matches per day - very entertaining).

In closing, I apologize for the financial struggles in my adopted home that are wreaking havoc on the world. If I could help out in some way, I would.

Istanbul Pics

With travelmates Agni and Emily in front of the Blue Mosque.

On top of our hostel - with the Hagia Sophia in the background.

One of my favorite mosaics at the Hagia Sophia. Justinian (left) is offering the Hagia Sophia to the Virgin Mary and little, tiny Baby Jesus. Constantine (right) is offering Constantinople.

Bosphorus Strait boat ride. Asia to my left, Europe to my right.

Multi-tasking: Sunset, Downtown Istanbul, Mosque, Bosphorus Bridge, Turkish Flag

Welcome to Istanbul. Do you want to buy a carpet?

Another three-day weekend. Another international adventure featuring spontaneous transportation decisions due to unexpected circumstances. So it goes. I love life.

The Greek version of Carnival (or Mardi Gras or Fat Tuesday or The-Period-of-Debauchery-Immediately-Preceding-Lent) lasts for two weeks. It starts with a grilled meat and alcohol-infused costume party on Tsikno-Pempti or "Smokey Thursday." At AFS, we threw a Tsikno-Pempti party for the students. Most of the boys opted to cross-dress and prance around the dance floor for two hours, while the chaperones (myself included) laughed and tried to avoid being lured in for a man-on-man boogie session; only in Europe.

Greek Carnival ends with Clean Monday: no meat, no more sins, no school. I planned a trip to Istanbul (or Constantinople to the Greeks) with two friends. The overnight train ride lasted twelve hours, but the time passed quickly because I had a deep conversation with the 70-year-old man with whom I shared a sleeper car. I spent the first three hours speaking to him in broken Greek only to find out later that he only spoke Turkish - not sure how I missed that one. Although we couldn't communicate, he tried to sell me socks. His attempted peddling set the tone for the weekend, during which every Turk we encountered tried to persuade us to buy their products which ranged from carpets (a popular commodity) to dishes to "Turkish viagra." I mastered the blank-stare-then-avert-eyes-and-simultaneously-sidestep technique and thus avoided most of the salesmen's attacks.

Istanbul was surprisingly clean and beautiful. One striking feature was the number of mosques; each city block featured several small mosques in addition to the massive, prominent ones. From the outside, the rounded buildings flanked by towering spires are stunning and somewhat intimidating. We toured the Blue Mosque, the most famous mosque in Istanbul, and the interior blew me away. The intricacy of the designs and attention to detail are phenomenal. I was left wondering how somebody could care enough about something to build such an elaborate structure. I suppose it's not too difficult to order a large group of artisans to carry out a task when you are an emperor or a king, but it was very humbling to stand inside (without shoes of course) such an impressive building.

After the Blue Mosque, we went inside the Hagia Sophia and my awe-struck sensation quintupled. I recalled the Hagia Sophia from my Art History course at UGA (the one I took with Renee), but actually stepping inside was incomparable to looking at pictures on a photocopy (because I probably didn't buy the textbook but Renee did). The experience was unreal. Once Constantine took Christianity mainstream and founded Constantinople as the quintessential Christian city and capitol of the Roman Empire in the 4th Century, Hagia Sophia was built under Justinian as THE exemplary church. The interior walls of the immense church were almost entirely made of elaborate mosaics depicting both patterns and icons. Unfortunately, the majority of the walls were covered in plaster and Muslim symbols when the Ottoman Turks took over the Hagia Sophia and converted it into a mosque. Only recently have some of the mosaics been restored and preserved because the Hagia Sophia has been declared a museum and no longer has any religious attachment. The mosaics that are now visible are absolutely extraordinary, and the Hagia Sophia was definitely a highlight of the trip.

We also wandered through the Grand Bazaar, poked around the Spice Market, and took a boat trip up the Bosphorus Strait, which separates Europe and Asia. Istanbul was perfect, then it was time to leave.

We planned to take an overnight train to Greece and arrive back Monday morning to recuperate and enjoy the Clean Monday traditions, however Greece decided to go on strike. We showed up at the Istanbul train station ready to go, only to be informed by the apathetic ticket window employee that all of the trains and buses to Greece were canceled for at least the next two days. Apparently, the entire Greek public service industry decided not to show up for work. Perfect timing. Here comes Plan B: Let's hop on an overnight train to Sofia, Bulgaria then hopefully get on a train or bus to Thessaloniki from there. Off we went. The three-sleeper car was snug at best (not to mention musky), we had to exit the train at 4 AM in the freezing rain to cross the Bulgarian border, and the alleged twelve-hour trip took fifteen, but we made it to Sofia and subsequently caught a bus back to Thessaloniki without any major setbacks.

Great trip. Holler.

Skiing in Greece. Who knew?

Since returning from the Winter vacation, things have been relatively busy at AFS. In additional to my daily duties, I have organized a chess tournament, prepared another edition of the student newspaper, helped at a tree-planting, started volunteering with a group of Down syndrome teenagers, and resumed my coaching duties. All of the extra-curricular activities are enjoyable (some more than others) and as Mama Edlin always says, "It's better to be busy than bored." There was one other recent event worth mentioning:

A few weekends ago, I attended the annual AFS Ski Trip. More than fifty students sleep-walked onto the charter bus at the crack of dawn; I foolishly hoped their lethargy would ensure a smooth, quiet ride to the slopes, however the fatigue wore off within the first twenty minutes and bedlam ensued. For some reason, most AFS students were born with freakishly powerful vocal chords and choose to exercise them whenever they have the chance; the bus was no exception.

The roads were clear until we neared the foot of the mountain near the ski resort. The snow and traffic were heavy as vehicles rushed to the top of the mountain to indulge in the first weekend of good snow. The driver stopped to put snow chains on the tires, then we began our ascent. Psychotic Greek drivers sped around us as we climbed, but we kept a steady pace until we hit the bottleneck: five kilometers from the ski resort, a tour bus skidded on the ice and was blocking the entire road. We waited a few hours for a massive tractor to come and tow the bus out and arrived at the resort, Tria Pente Pigadia (Three Five Wells), three hours behind schedule.

The tardy arrival left us with three hours of skiing before returning to campus, so we hurried from the bus, arranged the ski rentals and lift tickets, and "hit the slopes." By "hit the slopes," I literally mean "hit the slopes." The students (and some staff members) were dropping like flies, as if an irresistible underground magnet was sweeping them off their feet and onto the ground. The vast majority of students were novice skiers; watching them wipe out was well-worth the four hours of plugging my ears on the bus - in a kind, nurturing, non-sadistic kind of way. I started on the kiddie-slope because many of the students asked me to teach them how to ski. My ski-teaching pedagogy is simple; I watch the fledgling fall, then I laugh and help them up. Very effective.

The lift on the kiddie-slope was a challenge for the newcomers. It was a large, plastic hook (picture an elongated boomerang) attached to a fast-moving, waist-high cord. The skier had to move into position, grab the hook, and hold on for dear life as the cord jerked him or her up the hill. It proved a daunting task for many, and the hill was littered with humans who lost their grip, tripped on their skis, or simply fell. At one point, Shimosh (trying a snowboard for the first time) was directly in front of me on the lift. About 5 meters up, he started breathing heavily, teetered, then toppled over. Instead of scurrying out of the way, he lay motionless in the middle of the liftpath. I was forced to try to navigate around him while gripping the lurching oversized boomerang - not possible. At the last minute, I was forced to let go, veer left and, tumble to the snow alongside my favorite Freshman. We both got a big laugh out of it, as I pulled him out of harm's way before the next liftee cruised past.

My skiing abilities are decent; I feel comfortable and enjoy the mid-level "blue" slopes, a bit out-of-my-league on expert "blacks". I hadn't skied since Okemo, Vermont in 2005, and the rust was thick. At first, I felt totally unnatural but caught my stride before ascending the big-boy chairlift to the top of the mountain with my co-worker Emily. Emily speculated that our levels would be about even, but that wasn't the case. I would ski down about 30 meters then turn to see Emily tumble, roll, skid, slide, and "body sled" down the slopes. This pattern continued for the duration of hour-long trip down the mountain. When we finally reached the bottom, Emily was caked in frost and ready to call it a day. I caught another lift up the mountain with a group of six students.

One of the AFSers, Suzy, displayed a similar ability-level to Emily. However, upon realizing she was outmatched by the slope, Suzy chose a different technique to reach the bottom. She laid on her back with her skis flat on the ground - using her back to limit speed. She then used her arms to steer. The result was a snail's pace descent and copious amounts of snow inside of her clothes. At one point, she was encrusted with snow and looked hypothermic. I asked her how she was doing. She optimistically replied in a thick Greek accent," Fifty-fifty."

What a day.

Albania Pics

The worthy border-crossing vessel.

Cruisin'

Downtown Tirana

Brikena and Olsi posing in front of a subterranean sharpshooting outpost.

18 Vacation Days, 6 Countries, 1 Mangy Beard, and A Partridge in a Pear Tree (Part 4)

Albania

The bus from Pristina, Kosovo to Tirana, Albania only takes two hours...when the road is open. As my visit in Kosovo came to an end, I discovered that the main road linking Kosovo to Albania was closed and had to devise an impromptu plan to arrive in Tirana, the next stop on the Balkan Backpacking Bonanza. My options were to take the bus on the 10-hour roundabout route or shell out five times the kwan and miss the scenery by flying. Neither choice sounded ideal, but, after hours of deliberation, Shpend (my Kosovar host) nonchalantly suggested a third alternative: a boat. The boat option immediately intrigued me, and the more I heard, the more I liked it. The only tricky issue was the foot-and-a-half of snow that was covering the ground. Would the road be too icy? Would the river be too icy? What is a horseshoe? Are there horse socks? Is anybody listening to me? It turned out to be a life-threatening, awe-inspiring adventure of massive proportions.

The voyage had three segments: a van to the river, a boat down the river, then another van from the river to Tirana. The van to the river left at 4:45 on the morning, so I was up around 4:00. To my absolute delight, Mother Nature had plopped 6 additional inches of snow overnight onto the already-dangerous amount of snow then decided to ease back on the snow and replace it with a steady flow of freezing rain. On our way to the van meeting point, we hadn't even made it off of Shpend's street before the car got stuck and I had to hop out and push. There really is nothing like pushing a station wagon out of a pile of snow in the dark at 4:15 in the morning in the freezing rain; it really got the blood flowing, the biceps pumping, and the shoes nice and soggy before a day full of traveling in sub-zero temperatures. We arrived at the meeting place right on time, which put us there 30 minutes before the tardy van. As Shpend and I stood in the freezing rain, he introduced me to an acquaintance, Besmir, who coincidentally would be making the voyage with me. Once the van finally arrived, we departed for a crazy ride.

We were the only vehicle on the road, which may be comforting in some situations, however after a heavy snowfall it was treacherous. As we exited Gjakove and drove through rural Kosovo, the roads became pure ice, and it felt like we were ice skating. The van would skid/slide/drift to the left and right. The farther we got from the city, the more mountainous the terrain became. After about 30 minutes, we were "driving" with a steep mountain on our right and a deep ravine that led to the river on our left. The road was narrow and didn't feature any sort of guardrail on either side. Under normal weather conditions, this ride would have been frightening - with the threat of avalanche on one side and plummeting to a frigid demise on the other, it was simply surreal. I was reminded of the Jerry Seinfeld standup routine where he describes a feeling of total calm while riding with a maniac NYC cabdriver. The ride to the river was supposed to be about an hour and a half, but it took three and felt like an eternity.

Once we arrived at the river, we were ushered into a small boat. Due to the rain, all of the passengers were huddled below in an open room with benches. There were about 50 people crowded into the space, and we departed moments after our arrival. Besmir, who speaks no English, motioned for me to join him on deck and I complied. Although the rain was falling, the view was amazing - totally worth the dangerous van ride. We sailed between two snow-covered mountains. To my surprise, the boat made several stops along the way to pick up passengers. People were literally standing on small cliffs that overlook the river and we would cruise over so they could hop on - bizarre. The river stint lasted around two hours and was great - definitely the coolest experience that I've had to cross an international border.

Once we docked in Albania, a dozen vans were crammed into a small dirt lot. The drivers screamed their destinations, grabbed people by the arms, and tried to coerce passengers onto their vans. I followed Besmir onto a Tirana-bound van and we were off. The scenery was great but I noticed that much of the terrain was flooded. It wasn't until I arrived in Tirana that I discovered that a serious flood was seriously effecting the area near where we docked - it was a national crisis that grew more severe and dominated headlines throughout my stay in Albania. If we had been a few hours later, we may not have made it safely to our destination.

As it was, we made it safely to Tirana where I met up with Olsi, a good friend/chess competitor/soccer and basketball teammate (have I mentioned that I play intercollegiate basketball in Greece?) from Perrotis College. His hospitality was amazing and the stay in Tirana, Albania's capital, was very educational. Olsi is well-versed in Albanian history, and he served as the perfect tour guide during our nighttime strolls around Tirana.

After three days in Tirana, we took a van to Korce, a small town near the Albania-Greece border, where many of the Perrotis College students live. We spent the night there with Brikena, Olsi's girlfriend, and her family. The next morning, we got up and hopped a bus back to Thessaloniki. On the way home, we passed hundreds of bomb shelter / subterranean sharpshooting outposts that were built during the reign of the communist dictator, Enver Hoga; they were fascinating structures and Olsi explained that hundreds of thousands of them existed all over Albania, mostly near the borders. When we arrived at the border, there was an epic traffic jam so we waited four hours to get through. It wasn't too bad, and it have us time to explore the bomb shelters and have a small Albanian lunch.

Once we cleared the border, the ride to Thessaloniki was smooth. The entire Eastern European/ Balkan adventure was legendary, and I will never forget it.