You may have read that deadly winter weather has swept Eastern Europe and put the rest of the Continent on alert. Ukraine alone has suffered over a hundred deaths in the past few weeks. Albania is quite cold, but we're also blanketed in a mercifully heavy layer of snow. I say "mercifully" because this snow insulates even as it slows us down.
Prime Minister Sali Berisha has declared a national state of emergency, and Peace Corps has us "standing fast" - also known as on lockdown. Transportation neither comes nor goes. Favorite brands and staples are beginning to dwindle on some shop shelves. But really, this unceremonious dumping of snow upon our heads constitutes a minor interruption in life, and FINALLY we are enjoying respite from the howling, bitter wind that preceeds an Albanian snowfall. While northern Albania, up in the Diber region, is reportedly smothered in three meters of snow, we've got a tolerable one and a half here in the southern mountains. Folks are resourceful and resilient. Our crankily bellowing and belching stoves work to keep us all warm. Occasionally curls of smoke sneak into our kitchens from cracks and yielding seams, but we must accept that stove pipes only go so many months unscraped of soot before leaking. And this is a long winter.
All the apartment doors in my building are flanked by gunny sacks stuffed with wood and banged-up tin pails full of ashes. I've already exceeded the amount of firewood I used last winter, and ten bucks says that I continue to rely upon wood heat through early April. Old timers have sagely pronounced this a year of dimer i ashper, vera nxehte. Harsh winter followed by a hot and productive summer, indeed. I belive we'll take it, though. At least it will be a wet as well as hot summer.
Last summer, after a decidedly half-hearted winter, we suffered a horrible drought that put Leskovik on a miserly hour-a-day water schedule (from 5:30 am to 6:30 am, no less) and shriveled up 70% of the grape crop. Extremely bad news, the latter. Many folks are economically dependent upon our famous grapes. Everyone who was in debt last spring after installing a new kitchen or sending a child to university is still in debt. And there were many unwashed heads and pungent armpits gracing this town for several months!
Now, yesterday was Valentine's Day. Though it is a new holiday in Albania, couples will typically recognize the occasion with a coffee out and a new outfit. Wonderful way to distract oneself from the relative monotony of winter. However, with Leskovik buried in a world of white and all the roads into and out of town blocked, all our big-city lovers, despite their most valiant efforts, couldn't penetrate the snow. It turned out to be a day sadly lacking in cordials and teddy bears, but full of other amusements and activities to alleviate slowly-building cabin fever.
Top Ten: Beat the White-Out Blues
#1 Take refuge next to our glowing stoves.
#2 Pull on our custom wool socks to ward off the chill rising from exposed cement floor.
#3 Cancel more school due to continually plunging temperatures, perpetual snowfall, and stubbornly disfunctional radiators.
#4 Resign ourselves to catching up on paperwork and actually getting ahead. Horrors!
#5 In periodic bursts of energy, extract ourselves from total slothdom and march up the hill to get the blood moving.
#6 Engage in domino tournaments of fierce proportions. When losing, we are obliged to throw about our opponents' dominoes and stomp mightily around the room. Domino etiquette commands loser's petulance.
#7 Have all the productive pleasure of planning a bakesale fundraiser for school, despite knowing that it will more than likely be pushed to March.
#8 Dig for the last of the paperbacks musting up the shelf behind the spider plant.
#9 Turn our emptied coffee cups upside down, smear the dregs, and divine our futures in winding paths, striking snakes, and eagles' heads. When the winking bulbs finally give out, talk long into the dark.
#10 Boil down sheep's head in a juice spiced with garlic, onion, and cracked black pepper so it might be ladeled over a bed of crumbled soda bread and oregano. This preparation of juice on crumbled bread is called pershesh. Tender head meat, it's been a while. We feast!
Never say that we don't enjoy ourselves here in snowy Leskovik. Saint Who? Keep your chocolates, we've got head meat.
Prime Minister Sali Berisha has declared a national state of emergency, and Peace Corps has us "standing fast" - also known as on lockdown. Transportation neither comes nor goes. Favorite brands and staples are beginning to dwindle on some shop shelves. But really, this unceremonious dumping of snow upon our heads constitutes a minor interruption in life, and FINALLY we are enjoying respite from the howling, bitter wind that preceeds an Albanian snowfall. While northern Albania, up in the Diber region, is reportedly smothered in three meters of snow, we've got a tolerable one and a half here in the southern mountains. Folks are resourceful and resilient. Our crankily bellowing and belching stoves work to keep us all warm. Occasionally curls of smoke sneak into our kitchens from cracks and yielding seams, but we must accept that stove pipes only go so many months unscraped of soot before leaking. And this is a long winter.
All the apartment doors in my building are flanked by gunny sacks stuffed with wood and banged-up tin pails full of ashes. I've already exceeded the amount of firewood I used last winter, and ten bucks says that I continue to rely upon wood heat through early April. Old timers have sagely pronounced this a year of dimer i ashper, vera nxehte. Harsh winter followed by a hot and productive summer, indeed. I belive we'll take it, though. At least it will be a wet as well as hot summer.
Last summer, after a decidedly half-hearted winter, we suffered a horrible drought that put Leskovik on a miserly hour-a-day water schedule (from 5:30 am to 6:30 am, no less) and shriveled up 70% of the grape crop. Extremely bad news, the latter. Many folks are economically dependent upon our famous grapes. Everyone who was in debt last spring after installing a new kitchen or sending a child to university is still in debt. And there were many unwashed heads and pungent armpits gracing this town for several months!
Now, yesterday was Valentine's Day. Though it is a new holiday in Albania, couples will typically recognize the occasion with a coffee out and a new outfit. Wonderful way to distract oneself from the relative monotony of winter. However, with Leskovik buried in a world of white and all the roads into and out of town blocked, all our big-city lovers, despite their most valiant efforts, couldn't penetrate the snow. It turned out to be a day sadly lacking in cordials and teddy bears, but full of other amusements and activities to alleviate slowly-building cabin fever.
Top Ten: Beat the White-Out Blues
#1 Take refuge next to our glowing stoves.
#2 Pull on our custom wool socks to ward off the chill rising from exposed cement floor.
#3 Cancel more school due to continually plunging temperatures, perpetual snowfall, and stubbornly disfunctional radiators.
#4 Resign ourselves to catching up on paperwork and actually getting ahead. Horrors!
#5 In periodic bursts of energy, extract ourselves from total slothdom and march up the hill to get the blood moving.
#6 Engage in domino tournaments of fierce proportions. When losing, we are obliged to throw about our opponents' dominoes and stomp mightily around the room. Domino etiquette commands loser's petulance.
#7 Have all the productive pleasure of planning a bakesale fundraiser for school, despite knowing that it will more than likely be pushed to March.
#8 Dig for the last of the paperbacks musting up the shelf behind the spider plant.
#9 Turn our emptied coffee cups upside down, smear the dregs, and divine our futures in winding paths, striking snakes, and eagles' heads. When the winking bulbs finally give out, talk long into the dark.
#10 Boil down sheep's head in a juice spiced with garlic, onion, and cracked black pepper so it might be ladeled over a bed of crumbled soda bread and oregano. This preparation of juice on crumbled bread is called pershesh. Tender head meat, it's been a while. We feast!
Never say that we don't enjoy ourselves here in snowy Leskovik. Saint Who? Keep your chocolates, we've got head meat.
MOLLY!!!! BEAUTIFUL PICTURES!!! *as always* and you really do have a way with words! I can't wait to see you at COS!!!!! Also, this could be a great submission to the Hajde Hajde Winter Edtion ; )) just sayin' MISSSS YOU!!!!!
ReplyDeleteManipulative, shameless journalist!!! ;) Looking forward to seeing you soon, too!
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