Aw... you guuuuyyyyyssssss.....

Wow! You're all a bunch of saps! I am too.. here's some of the reponses I've gotten:

- The Notebook (in the boat, don'tcha know)
- Breakfast at Tiffany's (I have to admit, this one has MY vote)
- Sweet Home Alabama (amongst the lightning rods)

I totally forgot about Breakfast at Tiffany's... the rain, the taxi, Cat.... it's perfect!! *sigh*

Ok, enough sappy pappy crap for the day. I'm prepping to go on a whirlwind 4 day trip to Belgrade, Serbia and Zagreb, Croatia for the weekend. It's Orthodox Easter and Mayday so we've got a 4 day weekend. I am on my way home right now to get pictures ready to upload from my last two trips. Sorry it has taken me so long. I have been unbelievably busy (and a bit lazy too). And I promise when I get back to be more diligent in my blogging. I have been a bit lazy on that front as well. That's what I get for asking silly questions and inundating myself with work.

Last week I made the silly mistake of asking the head of the department I work for what the standards were for accepting TOEFL/IELTS (standardized English proficiency exams) for credit, and what the policy was for transferring English credits in from other departments.... MY MISTAKE. It seems there are no departmental standards or policies, and would I be so kind as to write them? Therein lies my hell at the moment. I have been researching like crazy to find out what other departments are doing, what other Universities are doing, how the TOEFL compares to the IELTS, etc. etc. etc. A couple of good things will come out of this - 1) the department will set standards and benchmarks that (hopefully) the rest of the University will follow eventually, and 2) on a more personal note... I am actually having some real impact here. Instead of just the handful of students that I have, these policies will affect every student that comes into the Political Science department from here on out. This will be my legacy at the University. It's a lot of reponsibility, and I want to do it right - setting realistic goals and structure to the program. YIKES! Wish me luck. Last year I was a student myself, and this year I'm writing departmental policies. Who'd a thunk it.

Rainy Daze

What is it about rain that changes people's moods so much? For me, a rainy day is a day to stay at home in your slippers and sweats, read a book, work on a project, do some filing, or better yet, crawl in bed and watch a movie. It's a day for being melancholy and introspective. One of my students today, however, had a completely different perspective on rain. He loves the rain and finds rainy days romantic. Being the cynic that I am, I responded that it's hard to be romantic with a party of one, but then I started to think about it. (about rain, not being romantic with a party of one - get your minds out of the gutter!) I started to think about the romance of rain. There is some truth to that. Some of the most romantic scenes in movies were in pouring down rain - look at the final scene of Casablanca (or was that just fog?). Anyway, i'm completely drawing a blank on romantic rainy scenes, but I'm sure there's lots. Let's take a poll.... drop a comment with your nomination for best romantic rainy scene in a film, and we'll see where we wind up. (see what happens when my creative juices stop flowing? I start begging for your input... help.)

Addicted to old episodes of CSI

Why?? Someone help me. Flying Dutchman, take your DVD's BACK! Seriously, my friend the Flying Dutchman left KO for Liberia for 5 weeks, and willed me all the TV series he's downloaded from the internet. I have every episode of CSI (Vegas AND Miami), Alias, Law & ORder (just the 1st 3 seasons) and god knows what else.. the cd case holds 150, and it ain't empty! I have been like a bad porn addict for the past three weeks - every night, 4-5 episodes. Ok ok, not EVERY night, but enough that people are starting to wonder if I'm a hermit. FD got back yesterday, so my beast of burden is soon to leave my hands (thank GOD) or I might develop calluses on my ass.

On a completely different note, went to Greece this past weekend. T'was phenomenal (do do de doo doo - that was for you, Lopez). The weather was perfect - not too hot, not too cold about 25 degrees celcius, so someone with a calculator tell me what that means in numbers... to me it means just right for being on the beach. The water was unbelievably cold - that phrase "once you're in, you'll get used to it" did not apply. Sure, you'll get used to it, about as quickly as you get used to dying from hypothermia. Only made it in up to my knees. And my feet began to scream in protest. I toughed it out for a few minutes of frisbee tossing, but then my feet actually started to flail about uncontrollably until I agreed to get them out of the water.

Brief recap of weekend: get call from 9 of my nearest and dearest friends in Kosovo "wanna go to Greece?", next day get in car hungover from yet another going away party serving jet fuel (aka Rakia), sleep for 2 hours, wake up half-way to greece, get to greece, hotel all screwed up - manager doesn't speak english - nor does the guy he calls to translate for him - manage to get a room anyway, have mini sandwiches and fruit salad and tequila shots at bar next door (i was attempting to not drink, but the waitress ruined that), go to bed early - leaving gang at bar, go to bed with patio door open to let the waves lull me to sleep, get up and have a breakfast of fried eggs and cold cuts, play frisbee, volleyball and paddle ball and read on beach all day, play Ultimate in the afternoon - made a one handed diving flying catch to win the game that had everyone cheering and left me in complete shock because i have no idea how it happened, napped, had a big dinner leaving everyone stuffed, went to the ugliest discotech i have ever seen (no, jess not the one we went to - this one was in Katerini), made a scene dancing with The Man (6' 3 big black American/South African/Canadian/French dude) - the only one in Greece, I'm sure, and got the party started, went home at 2am, leaving a good chunk of the gang behind, woke up and crawled to a beach chair, stayed there all day, came back to Kosovo. Sigh. Perfect weekend.

I miss the beach. sigh. i'm homesick. boo.

Bad Attitude

Have you ever found yourself sounding like that professor in college that you rolled your eyes at constantly? YEAH. That's been me this week. I decided to try and quit smoking again. In the three days I actually made it (yeah, I blew it on day 4), I turned into an absolute monster. I completely lost it on one of my classes. I don't have that unreasonable of expectations - come to class, be on time and be prepared. It's what they expect of me, therefore I expect the same from them. I didn't manage to get that point across to carefully though when I basically told them they were all acting like disrespectful 5 year olds and if they couldn't handle the responsibility of being a student they could pack up their books and go home for the day. YIKES. Not the best way to handle things and I still feel guilty about it. The worst part is that the students that really needed the lecture weren't there, as usual, thus the students that do come regularly and are prepared caught the brunt of my frustrations. There will be an apolgy on Tuesday. Part of it I will blame on agitation from nicotine withdrawals, the rest I will blame on my frustration in general.

I think I may have blurred the line a little much between the "cool laid back teacher who cares" and "teacher you can take complete advantage of". It's a very fine line to walk. I am understanding, I do get it that they all have full time jobs and support their families. It's not like I haven't been there. I've had two or three jobs for as long as I can remember, and I managed to get through school ok. Yes, I skipped a few classes (ok, maybe more than a few), but I managed to get the work done still. I hear the excuses I get from my students and hear echoes of my own words from not so long ago. I now understand how lame and unoriginal it all sounded. Blah blah blah... I want to be supportive and open, but at the same time, I know the bullshit game and it doesn't fly very well when the shoe is on the other foot.

God, I never thought I'd hear myself say that. It's like waking up one morning and realizing everything your parents ever told you was right, and that you foolishly tried to prove them wrong. (Mom, Dad, I'm sorry - go ahead, give me an "I told you so.")

Linguistic misunderstandings

So last week I asked my students to write about cross cultural misunderstandings and embarassing situation they have found themselves in. I have a couple of those stories myself, and just so happened that I found myself in the situation the very day I made the assignment.

My electricity for my apartment works like a rechargable telephone card - you go to the electric company, pay for electricity, they give you a receipt with a code on it, you punch the code into your meter and that's how much electricity you have to use. That's all fine and good, since part of the problem with the power plants not working and the electricity going out all the time is because people don't pay their bills. This way, you have to pay before you get lights. It works. However, because my landlord usually handles this sort of thing for me, I didn't have a clue I was about to run out. And run out I did - on a Sunday morning, when it was snowing and bitterly cold. No lights, no hot water, no heat. YIKES!

I went on a desperate search to find somewhere other than the power company to purchase some electricity. A friend suggested I go to the main grocery store and I figured it was worth a shot. I asked the cashier if they sold electricity, and she looked at me as if I was nuts. So I tried another route - I asked if they sold "KEK" (stands for Kosovo Elelctric Commission). Then she nodded in understanding and told me no, but there was a store inside the mall that did. I headed off to find me some electricity and heat. When I got to the store she said to go to, I realized my mistake. The Albanian word "kek" means cake in English. She had sent me to a pastry shop. I didn't stop giggling for 20 minutes, and I had a fantastic piece of chocolate kek.

(I couldn't get any electricity until Monday, so I packed up and spent the night at a friend's. Such is life. I will keep a close eye on my meter from now on!)

On a completely different note, my Fellowship has been renewed, and I will return to Kosovo to teach for another year. I was a little shaky on this point for a week or so, as we've had a couple of bombings since the PM was indicted. The first was on a Friday night a little over a week ago. A 15 year old kid tossed two homemade handgrenades into the UN parking lot. What looked to be an isolated incident, turned out to be a diversionary tactic while 3 snipers were trying to take out the UN communications satellite. (Didn't find that part out until yesterday.) The following Monday I got the renewal notice. Tuesday morning I was awakened by another bombing, this time close enough to make my windows rattle, and promptly got me out of bed. This time the target was the President of Kosovo. A few days later a new Albanian Liberation Army (or something like that) claimed responsibility for it. Still not sure what that was all about. Anyway, everything else has been so calm and normal. People are upset, but they don't want any violence like last year. They don't see the point in it. We all kind of expected all hell to break loose sometime in the past couple of weeks for many reasons - 1, the prime minister was incredibly popular, 2, the 1 year anniversary of the riots was March 17, and 3, the weather has finally decided to warm up a bit, which means more people on the streets. Today they had peaceful protests at the University, and all things are business as usual. I'm pretty confident that things will remain calm, and if they don't.. well, then they'll pull us out of here. I really hope they don't. I want to come back and continue the things I've started this year. Plus the Trav and Phil are coming back too. That's just icing on the kek.

Adventures in a Spanish Library

This may seem completely irrelevant, considering all else that's going on in my world right now, but I woke up in the middle of the night the other night, and this is what came pouring out. Just thought I'd share...

I miss libraries. Really big University libraries in particular. This may seem like an odd thing to miss, but there is definitely something to be said about being able to wander among thousands and thousands of books, touching the spines, pulling something that catches your eye off the shelf, sitting down between the stacks and taking a peek to see if it’s something you really want.

There’s a peculiar smell about libraries – a little musty, dusty, forgotten and old. But it never ceases to make me feel like I’ve found some secret treasure – a little giddy just to be there. I can spend hours and hours and hours in big libraries. There’s so much to look at – a never ending supply of things to open your eyes and your mind. And it’s all free and accessible to anyone who wants to spend the time looking.

Finding a book is relatively easy in the States. You have computers with special programs to find a book by title, author, subject, keyword, publisher, you name it, you can search for it. And not only will it tell you where in the library to go find it, but if it’s been checked out, when it is due to be back in, and how many copies they have. It’s brilliant really. Which brings me to the point of all of this – the library experience at a European University.

Granted, my only experience with the European University library system was in Spain at a University that shall remain nameless. However, it was so horrible, that I have sworn off them since. Here in Kosovo, I'm just plain too chicken. They are still on a paper card catalog system - the shock and horror to discover that, PLUS, it's all in Albanian, which I don't speak at all, even after 6 months of living here. I can order coffee, but ordering a book is beyond my grasp of the tongue.

So back to Spain - When I first walked in I waited for that library smell to hit me – years of books that had gone undiscovered, just waiting for my wandering hands to draw a finger across their spines and ease them from the shelf. Instead, it smelled of antiseptic floor cleaner and furniture polish. I looked around me, but all I saw were rows and rows of study cubicles full of students diligently pouring over stacks of papers, and the occasional book. Where were the book stacks? Where were the volumes and volumes in great rows that needed step-ladders to get to the higher shelves? Dismayed, I walked to the information desk and in my broken Spanish asked innocently “Where are all the books?” The librarian looked at me as if I had three heads, and said “In the reserves of course. What book are you looking for?”

Now if that isn’t the greatest question of all time. Therein lies the problem with the European system. If I knew what I was looking for, I wouldn’t be doing research in the first place. I wanted to browse, see if anything caught my interest, find something new to pour over for the next week. Uh-uh. Not there.You had to have already done extensive research to find a title you were interested in, a specific journal, with article name, author and date of publication before you ever even considered speaking with a librarian.

Now, at this University, they did have sort of a catalog system, but the depth of the information was elementary. Say for example I was looking for a comparative grammar of English and Spanish – keywords English and Spanish grammar. Unless the book or article had those specific words in the TITLE, you would come up with a blank page asking you to broaden your search and try again. Poop. How does anyone do research like this??? If you got lucky and you actually came across something that may have a glimmer of something you’re interested in in it, you then had to fill out a tiny slip of paper with every ounce of personal information you have – birth date, professor, name of course the books are for, your bank account number and your mother’s mother’s maiden name. You then took this little slip of highly confidential information to the retrieval desk, where some 18-year-old smirky student studied it very carefully and finally granted you persmission to see the book. If you had expected to get this book anytime in the near future, you would have been sorely disappointed. She would then tell you (seriously smirking, of course) to come back in 20 minutes to 2 hours. Where was this book? Siberia?

Mind you, this is the procedure if you were even in the right library. You see, there wasn’t just one library, there were at least 10 – one for each faculty, and little to no crossover between the content of each. Many times I took my little slip of paper to the desk only to find out that the book actually was in the branch of the library in Siberia and that’s where I would have to go to request it. Then I could sit there and wait 20 minutes to 2 hours while they retrieved the book from South America. This is really fun, isn’t it?

So you wait and wait and wait. When the book finally arrives, you check the index quickly to see if your needed topic is covered, scan a few pages, decide it’s completely irrelevant and start the whole miserable process over again. You are also limited to viewing three books at a time. So if you do actually find something relevant, you have to give it back to look at more useless materials.

It gets better. The really fun part is requesting something that’s in a special collection. When Smirky Smirkerton takes your slip of paper, she will then cautiously peer at you over the top of her glasses with one eyebrow raised, and quietly whisper, “follow me”. She will then escort you through a maze of hallways and corridors to a room with shelves of books (yes, real books!) in locked glass cases (rats, you still can’t smell them). She will then whisper quietly to the attendant there who will again look you up and down, and when she has apparently deemed you worthy, puts on a pair of white cotton gloves, unlocks a case, and removes the book in question. She then will proceed to open the book and hold it out in front of you and ask you what you would like to see. Once, I made the sorry mistake of reaching out to flip through the index. The book was quickly yanked from my reach, and if she had been quicker, I’m sure she would have slapped my hand. I wasn’t quite sure what to do with all this. Let me get this right - so I could look at the book, but I couldn’t touch it? That was correct. I couldn’t even turn the page, she had to do it for me. For all of this precaution, you would think that I was looking at an original manuscript of the Bible. But honestly, it was just a book on linguistic theory. Who could possibly want to be so protective of linguistic theory?? I wasn’t sure what I was looking for, but I was sure that I wouldn’t find it with someone else holding the book. This system was obviously just not going to work with me. In utter exasperation I left the library and went home and read some trash novel in two hours instead. It was a book I could touch, dog-ear the pages, spill salsa on, and not get arrested for it. I sniffed at it just for fun, smelled like book. Good.

Peace and quiet

Well, we made it through the night... no protests, no violence, not a peep. Some are saying it's the calm before the storm. Personally, I think they're overreacting because of what happened last year. That's not saying that I won't be taking extra cautions today, you never know when a demonstration is going to pop up around here, but the level of anxiety that was present last night when I went to bed has dissapated. Besides, no panicked phone calls in the middle of the night, so all must be ok.

The Wicked Brit and I were talking last night about how sick it is that some people are going to be a little sad that there hasn't been any violence, for the sole reason that they want their little "story" to tell. I've heard people's stories from last year, and I can guarantee that's the last story I want in my repertoire.

And so it stands... peace, quiet and calm. It is only 8:00 am, so let's hope it stays that way.

Waiting for all hell to break loose

And so it has happened. The Prime Minister of Kosovo has officially been indicted by the Hague for war crimes and has resigned so that he can turn himself over to authorities tomorrow (click on the title of this entry if you want to read the CNN article about it). The consular office has issued a warning to Americans to be well aware of the situation and the possiblility of impending violence. As a result and on an unofficial recommendatoin, I have cancelled my classes for the rest of the day. There's an eerie sense of calm over the city right now. Sunny skies and freezing cold temperatures add to the surrealness of it all. If predictions are right, there could be serious riots, reminiscent of those in March of last year. My few Albanian friends are nervous - they don't want to see a repeat of last years insanity, others are angry. For the next few hours, I will keep a close eye on the climate (not just the weather), pack an emergency bag, and will probably go stay with a friend tonight, just to make sure I'm not somewhere by myself if the shit hits the fan. I don't want to freak anyone out (especially my parents), but this is a reality of living here. Although tensions don't surface as much as they once did, a significant event like this could trigger anger that has been bubbling just under the surface. I truly hope that people will remember that the events of last March undid about 4 years of work in two days, will remember the destruction and aftermath, and will avoid anything similar, but you never know. So if anything exciting happens, I'll let you know. Hopefully I just stocked up on Spaghetti-O's and ramen noodles for no reason, but better to be prepared.

Homework

This week's blog assignment for my advanced class was to write about writing - how they felt aobut it, what they liked, disliked, why it was important (or unimportant) to them. I figured the least I could do was attempt to write something like that myself.

So why is writing important? Aside form the obvious communication gap with the outside world that develops if you can't express yourself on paper, there are a number of things that make writing important, at least to me. First, writing well gives you a new way of expressing yourself and talking about the world around you. When you are chatting about something with friends, you don't have to be terribly precise in your descriptions, for most of them are familiar with the place or the topic of discussion. When you write, every word carries with it a specific feeling or emotion, a color or smell, a sensation or realization, a sense of purpose. You choose carefully what you say so that it conveys exactly the right meaning, and invokes a carefully constructed mental image. Secondly, writing holds a sense of honesty and truth that isn't always present in speaking. People are naturally pleasers. They like to be liked and for this reason, tend to say things that people like to hear. When you write, there is a level of detachment, a buffer layer, between you and your audience. There's no need to fear immediate rebuttal or argument. You don't have to please anyone else with your thoughts. You can express yourself clearly and consicely, and explain thoroughly your point of view without some idiot interrupting you or some close-minded freak telling you your ideas are evil and you must be destroyed. Lastly, the written word has a lasting effect on people. When you speak, the moment is fleeting and the person you are talking to could easily forget what you started a sentence with by the time you finish it. When you write, the words linger. They are recorded for posterity to do with what they please. Review it, revise it, take it to heart, spit on it... whatever, it's still there. It hasn't disappeared in a breath or with a fickle mind that changes topics the minute something else catches it's attention. (oooh... look at the bees)

For all the reasons I think writing is important, they are also the reasons that I love writing. I write a lot. But I haven't always. I wrote a play in 5th grade that was performed in front of the whole school. I wrote a teen-romance novel that circulated chapter by chapter throughout the entire female population of the 7th grade (which I still have in a box in my father's attic - it's always good for a giggle when I go home). In high school I won a scholarship off a short story contest. I really wanted to be a writer. Then for many years, I wrote nothing. Not a word that wasn't assigned by a professor. I was forced into it, and it made me hate it (temporarily). It wasn't until I started travelling a lot, and living overseas that I reconnected with writing. I keep this blog, which is open to who ever chooses to read it. I keep a private journal for things I don't really want to ponder out in the open. (Usually things that are too stupid to talk about with anyone else, but it helps me work through them.) I love to write about people and things I care about and things that strike me as odd. I don't write poetry, I don't write short stories, at least I haven't in a very long time, and I don't write novels (even though some of these blog entries may qualify as novellas). I do like to reflect on my world, and tell silly stories about my friends, and record things that have happened to me, so that 10 years from now I can look back and get a good laugh at myself. Writing has given me a way to connect to my surroundings that nothing else could have. Trying to explain to someone on the other side of the world what an accumulator is, or an inverter, or how little lack of electricity really affects your life here gives me the opportunity to really think about things in a way that I wouldn't if I was just letting life happen to me.

Research papers and the like, I find difficult. It's not actually the writing I find difficult, but starting to write. It's the whole gathering information phase and narrowing the focus that drives me crazy. However, once I am engaged, have all my research done, and get moving, it comes easily. Once I am organized, and have my thoughts together, it's like I've already written this thing in my head and all I have to do is get it out! But putting that first sentence down - getting the thesis statement exactly right, writing the introduction... horror for me. I generally begin with freewriting and then edit like crazy. (This is why all of these exercises on narrowing and focusing your topics are important exercises, my dears! I could learn from them myself.)

Editing used to be something I hated to do. Who wants to admit they're not perfect the first time out of the gate? Not me! Certainly not me. Proofreading was a crime, rearranging ideas a sin, and surely I would never remove an idea from a paper because all of my ideas were brilliant!! I eventually got over myself, and now value editing more than any other step in the writing process. Something can always be better, more clear, funnier or supported more strongly. Granted, I don't always edit these blog entries so on occassion you are privvy to my off-the-top-of-my-head brilliance. But the beauty of word processing and computers is that you can edit as you go. Cutting and pasting, deleting entire paragraphs with the touch of a button... i love it! Some people can't write on a computer. For me, I can't write without one anymore. I love the instantaneousness of it all. Watching the words appear on screen almost as fast as I can think them (ok, I'm really not that good of a typist, but I'm pretty fast), rearranging them, rethinking them, all of it is terribly exciting to me. Yes, I'm a geek - I know.

So in conclusion, what I hope for my students, is that they find some connection between the written word and themselves. It isn't for everyone, and I don't expect everyone to fall in love with it. I do hope that they understand it, know how to do it, and can eke out a paper in whatever language necessary that is coherent and well-thought out. That's it. If somewhere along the line someone does fall in love with writing, well then that would be something special indeed.

Bliss!!

Today I went grocery shopping. Today I found cheddar cheese. Today I am happy. It is the little things. :D

The virtues (and pitfalls) of sharing your Twinkies

I had Twinkies for breakfast the other day. Or more realistically, I had 1/4 of a Twinkie for breakfast the other day. I really wanted to just shove both of them in my mouth at the same time and revel in the utter chemical sweetness of it all, but I felt guilty. So I shared them with my class to give everyone a taste of some classic American junk food. They fell in love! I am now on a mission to get a case of Twinkies for the kiddies.

More and more I'm finding it's not just my Twinkies I'm sharing. It's my life. Every aspect, every angle, every minute is an open book to my students. They have my phone number, my chat, my blog address - everything. My goal right now is to convince the reluctant ones that I really do have an open door policy - they can call me any time day or night for any reason. Those that I had last semester know this already, and have used it when necessary, but have never abused the access. Mostly it has just kept an open line of communication, and has built a level of mutual respect and trust. At least I think it has. It truly saddens me to hear stories of professors whose goal seems to be keeping students in their "place". Forgive me for being the idealistic one here, but aren't your teachers supposed to help you find the way to success? Aren't we supposed to be guiding these young people to their talents and finding the areas in which they excel, not trying to prove that they're failures or that they've still got a lot to learn? Someone actually said that to me, "I just want to show them that they don't know everything." EVERYone still has a lot to learn, and 99% of the population is well aware of that. You don't have to prove it to them. For all the faults in the system, these students still manage to get an education, more on their own perseverance than on the effectiveness of teaching practices. It's a world reluctant to try new things - things have been the same for so long, and trying to convince someone there's a better way is challenging, to say the least. I won't change the world while I'm here, but I hope that maybe, just maybe, I can change one or two people's minds about educators and education.

Ok, it's way too early in the morning to be waxing philosophical on the merits of education. I'll leave you all now to have your coffee, and I'll go have mine. Toodles.

White white snow and red tape

It snowed all last night and the world is covered in a blanket of white. Even the sky is white today, it’s hard to tell where the earth ends and the air begins. The tops of houses melt seamlessly into the sky, leaving me with a feeling that I’m living in a Guadi painting. Another perfect day for staying home and smoking a million cigarettes to occupy the empty spot in my gut. But that is not to be... someone scheduled a frisbee game for this afternoon. It's going to be sooooooooo cold, but it's better than sitting at home feeling sorry for myself for not being on a tropical island somewhere.

In other news, the American Scottish Swede, the laughable Bitter Jew (who I promptly deleted out of my address book the day after we met - within five minutes of meeting him, I'd learned he was fiercely proud of being Jewish and had a love hate relationship with Prishtina, and generally everything else in the world - leaning heavily on the hate side) and I went out to Bondsteel yesterday for Burger King, Cinnabon and shopping at the PX. Camp Bondsteel is one of the largest Army bases in the world. It's like a little American city, with fast food, shopping, just a nice piece of home. Everything was all set to go, we were in an OSCE vehicle, all had proper credentials to get me on base (or so we thought) It seems even with the high-up you still need 5 other types of special passes to gain entry. No one had a Yellow KFOR badge to sign me in, so they wouldn't let me on the base. Booooo! Guess what I got to do while everyone else was inside enjoying a little taste of Americana? I sat in the guard shack at the gate chatting it up with Mr. Jones, head of security. I didn’t have a book, magazine, or even a pamphlet on the dangers of crossing the street in Prishtina with me to read. I got everyone’s life story who popped through the door, and just made the best of the situation. What else can you do?

None of the guards are Army (at least not anymore), and yet they choose to live on an Army base where they have to follow the same rules as the soldiers. Most places that wouldn’t be such a big deal, but on Bondsteel, the soldiers are not allowed to leave without a lot of Red Tape, nor are they allowed to drink alcohol in any way form or fashion. And these people were there by choice. Most of them were Army brats, or had served and retired already (like Mr. Jones). I still have a hard time understanding the military attitude. Some of the soldiers I’ve met are just the nicest sweetest things, and you can’t imagine them ever feeling the need to harm another human being. They look so out of place with an M-16 hanging over their shoulder – the kind of boys (and I say boys because they are 18, 19 20 years old – my brother’s age) you can’t imagine in combat, because you’re afraid the minute the bullets started flying, they’d start to cry. Then on the other side of the coin, you find people that are so freakin’ gun and combat crazy, you can’t imagine them being anything but military - and you’re awfully glad they’re on your side, and not the other. It’s a strange world, the military.

Anyway, and hour and a half later Sven and Andy reappeared with a bag full of guilt-goodies for me: Lucky Charms, Burger King, candy, and the real winner – TWINKIES! I put them in the freezer for true enjoyment this evening. That'll be NICE after an afternoon of hardcore Ultimate. :D

Just a funny story

Another funny story to tell – last weekend the Trav came up on Saturday instead of Sunday, just to socialize and get out of his small little one-horse town. So I rounded up a couple of Frisbee folks for a couple of beers and some dancing. Somewhere in the mix, the Wicked Brit started in with the Rakia. (For those of you not in the “know” Rakia is a local liquor made from the skin of grapes, like grappa but really more like jet fuel.) Shortly after that, the Trav made the wise move to go home. If I had been smart, I would have gone with him. I gave him my keys and sent him on his merry way. About an hour later, the rest of us decided to do the same. The Wicked Brit walked me to my building, and headed on to his house a little ways up the hill. I rang my doorbell. I rang my doorbell again. Let me just say that when I say doorbell, I don’t mean a wimpy little “ding-dong”, it’s a full-on screaming buzzer. I sat on the doorbell for a full minute. No response from the Trav. I called him. I called him again. NOTHING. Little shit passed out and wouldn’t let me in!! I called the WB back and made him walk back and get me so I could sleep on his couch. So while I’m freezing in WB’s unheated living room, the Trav is sleeping in my snug little apartment. Bastard. The next morning when I arrived home, not only did I find a sheepish looking Trav in my house, but he had decided that since I wasn’t home by 5 am, that he would just crawl in my flannel-sheeted, cozy bed and sleep there instead of the sofa. Grrrrrrr. I’m not going to let him live that one down for a while.

Work work work

I have been back a week, and I have done basically nothing but work. I am quickly learning that the beginning of the semester is the hardest part. There's a ton of organizational work, testing and planning, planning, planning. Plus, this semester, I am experimenting on my students again. One of the things I want to do while I am here is improve the computer literacy skills of my students. SO, I set up a Yahoo! Group for all of my classes. Everyone is required to join, I've put all of their homework assignments on the site, and added links to helpful language learning tools. I hope they decided to use it. Maybe I'll set up some special workshops if students are interested. MORE work!!! yeah! There's a never ending supply of stuff to do here... at least I don't get bored.

It's an absolutely gorgeous day here today - sunny, warm enough to walk around with just a light jacket, and everyone is in a good mood. It makes me feel a little better about being back. I still can't help wishing I was still on an island somewhere. Oh well - spring is coming, spring is coming - that's my mantra today.

Home again, home again - boooooooo!

Well, 56 hours and just about as many nervous breakdowns later, I arrived in Kosovo. I left 85 degree weather and sun to come to freezing temps and snow and ice. Someone please tell me what is wrong with me???? I have never not wanted to be somewhere so badly in my entire life. BUT, I have a job to do. I jumped right in and started teaching at 10 am the day after I got home. It was really nice to see my students again. I've got a thousand and one ideas for classes and I'm pretty jazzed about this semester, but GOD I wish I was somewhere warm!!!

Anyway.... does anyone have a copy of the movie "Guess Who's Coming to Dinner" that they would like to ship me immediately? I want to use it for one of my classes but can't find it here. I can send you an address in the States that will get to me in about 10 days..... let me know.

P.S. I've posted all the pics from Indonesia. Go make yourselves jealous!

Just trying to go home...

Ok, so I owe you lots of stuff about my trip to Indonesia, but right now I feel a great need to winge and whine about my trip home to Kosovo (so far, anyway- I've been at it 36 hours and I'm only half way there). It all started in Semarang Saturday evening. Mr. M's* neighbor drove us to the airport where I was to catch a flight to Jakarta, connect to Dubai, connect to Istanbul then connect to Prishtina. Well THAT didn't happen. It seems a little rainstorm caused a plane to slide off the runway and into a concrete embankment, closing the Semarang airport for two days. UH OH. Garuda (the airline I was on to Jakarta) said the best they could tell me was re-book to Jakarta the next morning, and speak with the customer service office in Jakarta when I arrived. The good news, I got to spend another night in Indonesida, the bad news - I missed all of my connecting flights, and things went downhill from there. SO I booked a 6:30 am flight to Jakarta, figuring that might give me enough time to catch another flight to Dubai (I had an 18 hour layover there) and hit the rest of my connections. About an hour later they called and cancelled that flight without offering to rebook squat. I called them back about an hour later and cried until they booked me business class at 8 am. :D Hell of a lot of good that did me, they bumped me back down to Economy when I got to the airport the next morning. At least I was on a plane.

When I arrived in Jakarta, I was under the assumption the airline would put me on any flight available to get me where I needed to go - NOT the case. It seems they will only work with the route you are scheduled and the airlines you are scheduled with so that it really doesn't cost them anything. It just gives me one big FAT headache. Finally after two hours of haggling, we managed to arrange something that wasn't terribly unacceptable - I would get back to Skopje instead of Prishtina, but I would get there Tuesday instead of Thursday that way. Mind you, I was supposed to be home on Monday. In the mean time, I was stuck in Jakarta for 8 hours, but they put me up at the transit hotel to pass the time. Took a nap, watched a movie, did some shopping and packed up and left.

So I got to Dubai finally at 5:45 this morning (Monday). My flight out is at 3:30 am on Tuesday, so I needed somewhere to hang out for 22 hours. I had hoped to just go into the airport and check into the lounge that I stayed at on the way to Indonesia. BUT, since I was changing airlines in Dubai, I had to collect my baggage and go back through customs. And since I'm not flying out on Emirates, I am flying on Turkish, I can't get back into the airport until midnight tonight. So here I am, stuck outside the Dubai airport in the rain with all of my baggage and no where to go, thanks to some festival that has every hotel in town booked up. Cried again. Someone took pity on me and hunted up a room at a 5 star hotel (NICE) for the day, at the mere cost of $165. Greeeeaaaat. As they were giving me my voucher for the hotel at the Emirates counter, they also proceeded to inform me that my flight from Dubai to Istanbul wasn't confirmed, that I was on Stand-by. Just so you know, if I don't make this connection, there's not another one for two days, which leaves me stranded here - with no hotel room in sight, and no one to pick up the tab - thank you Garuda! I marched my irritated, and exhausted ass to the Turkish Airlines office this morning and cried for the third time in 36 hours (when did I turn into such a baby?) as they proceeded to tell me that not only am I on stand-by, but that I also have to pay $75 for all of the changes to my route, although I had absolutely NOTHING to do with them. Garuda should have taken care of all of this, but since tehre is no Garuda office here, I am in a bit of a fix. It would cost me as much for the phone call to get them to straighten everything out as it would to just pay for the ticket. The woman at the Turkish office said she would do all she can to try to fix this, but I won't know anything until after 5 pm tonight. Great. Again.

Needless to say, I'm stressed out, tired, and just want to go home. On the upside, I AM in a 5-star hotel with the most comfortable bed I've ever slept in - big fat down pillows and comforters, wireless internet in the room, and a lovely view of the parking lot. Too bad I can't sleep. I was going to go lay out by the pool all afternoon, but lucky me... it's raining. *sigh* I just can't win. Anyway, wish me luck... I hopefully will be home in a few days. Since I'm stuck here, and have good internet, I'm going to try to post some of my pics. Check them out when you have some time. :)


* I've decided to not use anyone's real names anymore in my blog, just in case I want to bad mouth you (just kidding)... however, you should be able to figure out who you are. :P

Private Islands

I love vacations. I haven't been this relaxed in ages. I have so much to write about, I don't even know where to begin. I'll save the stories of my wanderings through back-alleys in Semarang for another day and jump straight to our island adventures.

Mr. M planned this incredible trip for us the second weekend I was in Indonesia. He chartered a plane to take us to this little island 80 km north of Semarang in the Karimunjawa Archipelago - a string of 29 tiny islands in the middle of the Java Sea. We were going to spend 4 days on the only resort in the area on a tiny island, Menyawakan, a 30-minute boat ride away from the main island in the chain. As we got to the airport and checked into the tiny little counter for Kura Kura Resort , I really had no idea what to expect. We sat in the main airport lobby, which isn't much bigger than that of Prishtina airport (read as TINY), and watched the jets pull away. On the far side of the tarmac sat three small planes - two that sat about 6 people, not including the pilot, that we were comfortable enough with. Neither of us are great fliers. Then there was the other plane. The kind you see torn into a thousand tiny pieces when some inexperienced pilot hits a power line or something... it was a 4 seater Cessna (that included the pilot and co-pilot seats). We were certain that was not our plane. In the mean time, we had to fill out the release forms for the resort. It had the usual "we are not responsible for injury or death resulting from activities on the island... blah blah blah" stuff that most release forms have, and as this was a diver's paradise, it was to be expected. However, the clause that caught me off-guard was the bit about not being responsible for injuries from falling coconuts. Would they be issuing some sort of hard-hat to us as we got off the plane? How do you guard yourself from falling coconuts? I just kept picturing Yosemite Sam marooned on the island and getting beaned on a regular basis with coconuts from nowhere. It could happen. Especially to me. (Pops, I think that would be worse than 10 tree branches from my youth!!)

The resort's personal hostess came to get us in the lobby and escort us to our chariot of the skies shortly after we sat finished filling out our forms. She walked us towards the two beautiful, slightly larger planes... but then, began to lead us to the teeny, tiny, single-prop, mosquito of an airplane. Destiny. My stomach began to knot up and my palms started to sweat. Mr. M gave my hand a squeeze and it gave me a short-lived sense of reassurance that his palms were wet too. I wasn't the only one freaking out. Mr. M cracked a couple of cool jokes about the size of the plane, the pilot laughed and told us to climb in. With a nervous glance behind me, I stepped on the wing brace and squeezed into the back seat. Honestly, I've seen Volkswagen Bugs with bigger back seats. Five minutes later we were airborne over the Java Sea, swearing and praying and trying to relax. Thankfully the skies were clear, and we had stunning views of the sea around us. About 40 minutes later, the islands were in view and I was struck into utter silence. The water was so crystal clear that you could see the reefs even from our cruising altitude of 3,000 feet. As we descended into the airport (if you can call a one room cabin with runway shorter than most people's driveways an airport - however, it did bear a sign that said "Karimunjawa International Airport), all we could see were tiny fishing boats and coconut trees. We descended from the plane and headed to our third mode of transportation in 2 hours. It was on to the boat. A two minute drive around the airport building took us to the dock where a speed boat awaited our arrival. They whisked us away, dodging coral reefs and diving spear-fishermen along the way.

When we finally arrived at the resort, we were greeted by the smiling staff holding cool drinks served in, what else, coconuts. Again, Yosemite Sam entered my brain - coconut soup, coconut fricasee, coconut a la king "I HATE COCONUTS!!!".... what would the menu entail??? In fact, the menu was pretty extensive, the food was good, and the service excellent. It ought to have been - we were the only guests in the entire resort that weekend. Our own private island for 4 days - unbelievable!! After a long walk around the island, exploring the little nooks and crannies and finding hidden beaches, we settled into our beachside bungalow, had some lunch and relaxed.

That night we dined on a sumtuous seafood feast by the light of tiki torches - a table for two set on the beach, with the sound of the waves caressing the reef that surrounded the island and the smell of salt thick in the air. It was perfect. So perfect I didn't think I'd ever want to leave.

TO BE CONTINUED....

Travels...

I barely got out of Kosovo on Wednesday. I've been planning this trip to Indonesia for I dunno how long, and the day before I'm supposed to leave, Winter decides to move into Pristina in full force. It snowed all day Monday (closing the airport) and all day Tuesday (about half the flights left). By Wednesday morning i was starting to freak out. NOOOOOOOO!!! It stopped snowing abuot noon and warmed up enough for the snow to start to melt. All flights leaving as scheduled!!! HOOORAY! So off I went on one hell of a journey to get here. First to Istanbul, then to Dubai (where I spent 5 hours sleeping in a chair in a lounge), then to Bangkok, then to Jakarta. 5 countries in on 24 hour period. Holy geez, was I tired when i got here.

So here I am in beautiful Indonesia, sweating my a** off, and loving every second of it! Matt met me at the airport and we went straight back to the hotel, talked for a bit until I just about passed out in the middle of a sentence (28 hours straight of traveling will do that to a girl). We got up the next day (Friday) and walked all over Jakarta. I had no idea it was so huge. Evidently it's the 3rd largest city in the world. It's scooter city there, as expected, but in addition you have rickshaws, bicycle rickshaws, these scary looking 3-wheeled motor taxi things, and motorcycle taxis. Nobody stays in their lanes and traffic is NUTS (at least in Jakarta). That night we found a little backpacker's alley with tons of little pubs and met a couple of Indonesian fellas to hang out with. They ended up taking us to another place with live music - a helluva good blues band - and we boogied the night away. When we got back to the hotel, Matt noticed a dead bird that had been hung by a string from the corner of the balcony above us so it hung just above our balcony... not really sure what that was all about, but it seemed awfully ritualistic. Anybody know anything about that kinda stuff??

We woke up the next morning full of ambitions to hit up a couple of museums and such, but it was pouring (and I mean tropical storm, ain't never seen rain like this before, pouring). It didn't take much convincing for either of us to call it a lazy day and do a whole bunch o' nuthin'. We napped and did some responsible ELF stuff (like wrote our mid-year reports), and napped some more. That night I made him take me to Tony Roma's for dinner. I know I know, I'm in Indonesia - get some Indonesian food. I got two more weeks to do that, I wanted some RIBS. After stuffing ourselves sick, we went to a part of town called Blok M. There was supposed to be a million and one bars and clubs and stuff there, but I think our taxi driver was a little confused. He dropped us off outside a totally deserted bus station, and after walking around through dark alleys and spooky, deserted market stalls, we came out the other side where we wanted to be. So I've heard stories about prostitution in this part of the world, but I got a serious glimpse of it. We walked into this one club to dance a little, and you could tell right away what the deal was. First, I was the ONLY white girl in the room. Two, there was nothing but white DUDES in the room. Lastly, there was about a 10 to one ratio girls to guys. We kinda stood off to one side and took bets on which fat old rich guy was going to take home which girl. (I know, a little sketchy, but ya gotta go with the flow sometimes). After the "Shake that Booty" contest at midnight, we decided it was time to make a run for it before one of us got sold off without our knowledge.

Sunday we flew back to Semarang, where Matt lives and works. It's a pretty good sized city (2 million or so - roughly the population of Kosovo), although it has the feel of a smaller village. Maybe that's just becuase he doesn't live right in the center, he lives on top of a hill on the edge of town. From the campus of his school you can get a great view of the whole city, as well as a glimpse of the ocean.

Ok, so get this, I've been on an island for 4 days and have yet to see the ocean. WHAT?? That's ok, that will be remedied on Wednesday. We (he) chartered a little plane to take us to this little resort on a tiny little island off the coast. White sand beaches and bamboo huts on the water for 4 days. I can't wait... sun, snorkelling, being lazy.... FAB. Pray for good weather... they are in the middle of the rainy season here, but I hope to get just a little bit of a tan before i have to go hang out in the snow again.

Anyway, that's about it for now. I'll write more later, probably when we get back from Kura Kura. :D

Budapest unvisited

Well, I went to Budapest, and it seemed to be a beautiful place. However, with our busy schedule I only had about 4 hours to actually see the city. I don't even feel like I've been there at all. I did manage to take some lovely photos which I have posted. And YES, Jose, Pisser made the trip as well. He makes a command performance in several photos. I haven't had time to title them all yet, but I did want to get them up there before I head off for my next adventure on Wednesday. That is if it stops freakin' snowing.

Winter has finally hit Prishtina. After unexpected months of chilly, but relatively nice weather, it is here in full force. Gale winds, and blizzard conditions. It has been snowing all day today (Yak-trax in full use, thanks MOM!) and the whole city is blanketed in white, except for the streets and walkways which are now a combination of mud and ice. Lovely. Brikena, Gerard and I got into a snowball fight (well, actually just Brikena and Gerard - I hid around the corner) that resulted in Brikena ripping her coat in two places. She looked like a teddy bear with all the stuffing coming out. Even though I gave her one of my coats as a replacement, we still managed to have feathers floating all over the table when we went to dinner. I corrupted Sven yet again. He was on his way tot he gym when I called and told him we were going out to dinner at a really great restaurant... now which choice would you make?? He came with us of course (cursed me a couple of times, but still came with us instead). I'm such a bad influence. Hee hee.

So here's the cool part about my trip to Indonesia (aside from Indonesia itself...). On my way back, I have an 18 hour layover in Dubai, UAE. Sven has a contact there, so hopefully I'll have a bit of a tour guide, but if not... I'll check myself into the nearest hotel and head straight to swim in the Persian Gulf. Wow. Now that's a part of the world I never thought I'd see. The shopping is supposed to be amazing, as it is an entirely duty free zone, and the city itself is also supposed to be beautiful, and on top of that... it's on the ocean. How cool. Pisser is going to be one well-traveled bear. Jose, you'll hardly recognize him anymore when he returns from his adventures. :)

Touching Lives

"hi michi
i am very happy for you that you could go out of Kosovo for vacations because i know that you hate the stinking air of Prishtina and the ocean will be the right place to go and get some fresh air,and i am also happy that you are getting used how things work here in our universitys because i think that this could help you to stay for another year in Kosovo because you are a very good teacher and also it is our pleasure to have a talented teacher as you are and also a good opurtunity to learn good english and also the reason that we were fantastic this semester is becaus you learned us good and also we are very proud of you too.
you are a fantastic teacher
i wish you very good vacations"

This is a comment on my blog from a student... this is what makes this job worthwhile... they DO care as much as I do. I can't tell you what this makes me feel other than wanting to jump up and down. If nothing else, I've touched one person's life a little.

And as a public response to your comment... I don't hate the stinking air as much as it hates me, Jetmir. It makes my alergies act up, but other than that, Pristina is fine. After all, it is where my fantastic students live!! I hope you have a good vacation too, I'll see you in February, when classes get "serious"... as serious as my classes get anyway. I already miss seeing you all, and it's only been a week. Oh no! I think you have gotten under my skin. Actually, I don't think so, I KNOW so. Thank you for your enthusiasm, for you willingness to learn, and for being a part of my life in Kosovo.

I am in Budapest right now, at the end of an incredible conference that gave me more work ideas than I can possibly handle, but it at least makes my project sustainable and valuable for another year. I'll write more about it later, I'm still too keyed up about it now. Anyway, love you all. Miss you still. Somebody write me an email...I've been lacking in that lately...

:)