I have an on-and-off relationship with exercise, usually dictated by the seasons and the amount of work waiting for me at home (read: my lack of self-discipline). I go through spurts of running, usually up the mountain road leading out of town. The road winds up along our side of the Vjosa River Valley wall. There's serious drop to the valley floor below, occasionally broken by narrowly terraced vineyards. Many kilometers away on the opposite face of the valley, the Nemercke Mountains soar sheer and high, impassive and impenetrable. Best view in Albania. Even better when the sun sets or rises. Even better when the wind whips, and the mountains barely breathe through the frozen stillness. Even better when I'm dodging through jangling herds of sheep, goats, and cows on their way to pasture. S'up, homies? Enjoying that brisk morning air?
Sometimes I go with Visa, which is great - we "motivate" (egg on, cajole, insult) one another all the way to the mountain spring marking the rise where we then double back. We talk the whole time and pick beat-you-there landmarks. I bought her a pair of Asics last Christmas after she spent Summer 2010 running in flats! Flats, I tell you!
Other times I go by myself, especially when we're experiencing rain, snow, or a prevailing north-eastern wind. Everyone in Albania knows that both willful and accidental exposure to the cold and wet will cast one into the throes of miserable infection. When I brave the weather, I look like a tipsy, bedraggled sparrow weaving through gusting wind and rain. I risk the ill health and get scolded, happily. Who doesn't want an Albanian mama clucking over you, smoothing back your wet hair and brewing tea to warm your insides?
Visa and I were disappointed this last October when we discovered that a particular gnarled olive tree, once a beacon of hope at the top of an otherwise most discouraging uphill stretch, had been hacked down. Maybe by a hunter. Adios, our dear friend.
Since I moved to Albania in 2010, I twice attempted to found run/walk groups for female friends and colleagues, the first composed of twenty-somethings and the second of thirty-somethings. Both sputtered and then woefully putted to a stop after about two months each. The major barrier proved to be small-town society.
Since the collapse of Communism, it is uncommon for women to publically exercise in Albania. This is changing, especially in the capital city, but rural communities such as Leskovik aren't universally tolerant. There are always a handful of bored housewives who gleefully cackle and speculate about others when they have nothing exciting going on in their own lives. Mind you, these women are a precious few amongst many good-natured souls, but their speculation still spreads like wildfire and does plenty of damage.
My second exercise group gave rise to malicious gossip. Folks wondered why my fellow runners weren't dutifully spending their time at home, how they found the time to abandon responsibilities. For whom were they exercising? Why did they want to look good? Because surely a woman only exercises to acquire a svelte body, not to improve her cardiovascular health and spirits. Is she hitting the pavement for a man outside of her marriage? A particularly nasty rumor became associated with one of my friends, and we were forced to abandon the pursuit. I started thinking about what to do next.
Remember how I was writing last year about our odyssey to secure a health volunteer for Leskovik? We were granted a Health PCV named Emily last June! She's a sweetheart and a half. In September 2011, she and I founded a women's aerobics class with the help of Emily's counterpart and my friend, Bruna. Bruna lobbied hard with the health clinic. The formidable female doctor heading the clinic in turn secured us free use of public space and electricity for one hour four times a week. The municipality gave us permission to use the tiny, high-ceilinged dormitory dining hall. Jani Vreto's female physical education teacher, a friend of mine, donated the school's four gymnastics mats. My director permitted us to use the school projector. We rig up my laptop with an extension cord threaded through the kitchen window, and the projector is angled and balanced on a pile of books. With it, we cast video up onto a white-washed wall.
Jane Fonda circa 1980 is the feather-haired star of the class, leading us gently, yet firmly, through lots of leg lifting and counts of eight. Our group quickly swelled in size and now has both regulars and occasional attendees. We exceeded our mat space as we grew in number, so new members began to bring frayed carpet squares to keep themselves off the chilly floor. We bob, bend, lunge, stretch, lift, and punch (sometimes) in rhythm. You can probably imagine that there's much laughing at ourselves and whooping. Little boys tried to peer into the high hall windows in the beginning, but now we aren't such a novelty as we link arms and march down the middle of Main Street in sweats and sneakers.
We've seen some toning and some weight loss. Results are SO important when we need to argue the value of our class. Mostly, we've observed an eagerness to escape the house or the family shop, to revv those endorphines, to exercise freedom, to enjoy one another's company. Winter really shuts people inside. Sometimes we descend upon a lokal for a coffee after class just to prolong the high and the companionship.
We're on a month and a half hiatus (yikes!). It's been a truly merciless winter. Just ask a neighboring PCV whose house experienced such low temperatures (down to -25 Celsius) that her glass jars shattered, her water reserve froze, her pipes burst, and her kitchen became a veritable skating rink. Leskovik is settled in a crook where Greek winds raging across the open valley furiously claw at our homes, intent upon dragging us down the slope. A darkly passionate, awesome (!!!) experience if you're at home under a blanket with a roaring wood fire, listening to the windows tremble then frantically rattle then subside again. Not so awesome once you leave the house. Again, you couldn't get an Albanian woman in her right mind to spend an exercise class on a cement floor in an unheated, uninsulated building. You couldn't get me to do it, either.
Everyone took a copy of our video home; they're all supposedly plugging away on their living room carpets until we meet again in the spring. Maybe we'll be on the advanced video! We keep on talking about adding a once-a-week yoga component. I'll let you know.
Sometimes I go with Visa, which is great - we "motivate" (egg on, cajole, insult) one another all the way to the mountain spring marking the rise where we then double back. We talk the whole time and pick beat-you-there landmarks. I bought her a pair of Asics last Christmas after she spent Summer 2010 running in flats! Flats, I tell you!
Other times I go by myself, especially when we're experiencing rain, snow, or a prevailing north-eastern wind. Everyone in Albania knows that both willful and accidental exposure to the cold and wet will cast one into the throes of miserable infection. When I brave the weather, I look like a tipsy, bedraggled sparrow weaving through gusting wind and rain. I risk the ill health and get scolded, happily. Who doesn't want an Albanian mama clucking over you, smoothing back your wet hair and brewing tea to warm your insides?
Visa and I were disappointed this last October when we discovered that a particular gnarled olive tree, once a beacon of hope at the top of an otherwise most discouraging uphill stretch, had been hacked down. Maybe by a hunter. Adios, our dear friend.
Since I moved to Albania in 2010, I twice attempted to found run/walk groups for female friends and colleagues, the first composed of twenty-somethings and the second of thirty-somethings. Both sputtered and then woefully putted to a stop after about two months each. The major barrier proved to be small-town society.
Since the collapse of Communism, it is uncommon for women to publically exercise in Albania. This is changing, especially in the capital city, but rural communities such as Leskovik aren't universally tolerant. There are always a handful of bored housewives who gleefully cackle and speculate about others when they have nothing exciting going on in their own lives. Mind you, these women are a precious few amongst many good-natured souls, but their speculation still spreads like wildfire and does plenty of damage.
My second exercise group gave rise to malicious gossip. Folks wondered why my fellow runners weren't dutifully spending their time at home, how they found the time to abandon responsibilities. For whom were they exercising? Why did they want to look good? Because surely a woman only exercises to acquire a svelte body, not to improve her cardiovascular health and spirits. Is she hitting the pavement for a man outside of her marriage? A particularly nasty rumor became associated with one of my friends, and we were forced to abandon the pursuit. I started thinking about what to do next.
Remember how I was writing last year about our odyssey to secure a health volunteer for Leskovik? We were granted a Health PCV named Emily last June! She's a sweetheart and a half. In September 2011, she and I founded a women's aerobics class with the help of Emily's counterpart and my friend, Bruna. Bruna lobbied hard with the health clinic. The formidable female doctor heading the clinic in turn secured us free use of public space and electricity for one hour four times a week. The municipality gave us permission to use the tiny, high-ceilinged dormitory dining hall. Jani Vreto's female physical education teacher, a friend of mine, donated the school's four gymnastics mats. My director permitted us to use the school projector. We rig up my laptop with an extension cord threaded through the kitchen window, and the projector is angled and balanced on a pile of books. With it, we cast video up onto a white-washed wall.
Jane Fonda circa 1980 is the feather-haired star of the class, leading us gently, yet firmly, through lots of leg lifting and counts of eight. Our group quickly swelled in size and now has both regulars and occasional attendees. We exceeded our mat space as we grew in number, so new members began to bring frayed carpet squares to keep themselves off the chilly floor. We bob, bend, lunge, stretch, lift, and punch (sometimes) in rhythm. You can probably imagine that there's much laughing at ourselves and whooping. Little boys tried to peer into the high hall windows in the beginning, but now we aren't such a novelty as we link arms and march down the middle of Main Street in sweats and sneakers.
We've seen some toning and some weight loss. Results are SO important when we need to argue the value of our class. Mostly, we've observed an eagerness to escape the house or the family shop, to revv those endorphines, to exercise freedom, to enjoy one another's company. Winter really shuts people inside. Sometimes we descend upon a lokal for a coffee after class just to prolong the high and the companionship.
We're on a month and a half hiatus (yikes!). It's been a truly merciless winter. Just ask a neighboring PCV whose house experienced such low temperatures (down to -25 Celsius) that her glass jars shattered, her water reserve froze, her pipes burst, and her kitchen became a veritable skating rink. Leskovik is settled in a crook where Greek winds raging across the open valley furiously claw at our homes, intent upon dragging us down the slope. A darkly passionate, awesome (!!!) experience if you're at home under a blanket with a roaring wood fire, listening to the windows tremble then frantically rattle then subside again. Not so awesome once you leave the house. Again, you couldn't get an Albanian woman in her right mind to spend an exercise class on a cement floor in an unheated, uninsulated building. You couldn't get me to do it, either.
Everyone took a copy of our video home; they're all supposedly plugging away on their living room carpets until we meet again in the spring. Maybe we'll be on the advanced video! We keep on talking about adding a once-a-week yoga component. I'll let you know.
THIS IS AWESOME!!! SERIOUSLY.
ReplyDeleteThaaaaank you!!! xx :)
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