From: Cdcphotog@aol.com
Date: Sat, 8 Jan 2000 17:18:11 EST
Subject: Albania Addendum #2
To: undisclosed-recipients:;
Albania Addendum #2 January 8, 2000
Thanks to all of you for your responses to the Albania adventures. I’m saving
them for possible publishing or just good memories. By the way, one of my
friends is going to name her new kitten Kosi.
If you’re curious about Albania-in-depth, read Scott Anderson’s article in
last Sunday’s NYT magazine (Dec. 26): "The Curse of Blood and Vengeance,"
p.
29.
Some questions asked by friends:
Did this trip make any difference? Change you?
Why not volunteer closer to home, i.e., Appalachia, Am Indians, or East
Palo Alto?
Do we impose our American values on other countries ? (Heard that the
French organization, Doctors Without Borders, which just won the Nobel Peace
Prize, does try to impose its standards, but didn’t hear what those standards
are)
Is it wrong to encourage our views in other countries?
How does the Peace Corps handle this?
How can a society with such a high literacy rate remain so impoverished?
Teen-age giggles: I thought this is something we outgrow, like blushing, but
in Albania I got silly. Not Kathy. She maintained her composure no matter
what. But Albania brought it out of me 2x. It felt like the time my stern hi
school algebra teacher kept saying "a-ree" for "area" or like
the times
freshman yr. at Rice some of us did our all-night study sessions & became
totally crazy.
The first spasms started the night Kathy & I set out to have supper around
the corner from our apt. across the st from the semi-destroyed school at the
Paradise Cafe. Kathy ordered another one of her heavy-duty meals.
Waiter: Yes?
Kathy (after looking at translated menu): Is this beef grown cow or baby cow?
W: Cow.
K: Cow?
W: Cow!
K: Baby cow? (Under her breath: "I’m not eating a baby cow!")
W: COW!
K: Grown cow?
W: COW!
K: Cow?
W: COW!
K: Thank you. I’ll take the fish and fries. And double the order. Please.
The other time was the day after Kathy nearly got herself killed first by the
Mafia Mercedes Madman followed an hour later by the Kicking Mule. We’d been
looking for THE PERFECT STONE HOUSE that "announced hospitality" for the
brochure cover. We spent hours looking & photographing while our driver
sulked about how much time this all took. The next day on our way to another
village, now looking for WATER, we drove past a perfect stone house. Kathy
said not a word, but her eyes followed that house until it was out of sight.
Her face fell longer & longer. I thought she was going to cry because we’d
missed another chance to photograph yet another cover-page house. Poor Kathy.
I felt so sorry for her I laughed out loud. And do you know what? After all
that, the cover is not a stone house with a family & donkey standing out
front. It’s going to be faces, faces of Albanians. That’s not funny, and
houses weren’t my strong suit anyway, but to chase all over a country the
size of Maryland looking for the perfect stone house is funny & it nearly
undid (I say NEARLY) Kathy, my favorite triathalonner. It absolutely did undo
her sidekick or should I say, her Sancho Panza?