Nancy, JJ and I are in a town on the Italian coast, just north of Cinque Terra. Today we took a train to the southern most Cinque Terra town and walked and trained back. An amazingly beautiful part of this country, and a very nice way to spend a day during our Christmas break. But more about this at another time, possibly. Because today I want to describe a uniquely Albanian Christmas tradition. It involves turkeys...


Actually it is simple--the turkey is the food of choice for all Albanians for New Year's dinner. And New Years is the biggest celebration of the year. Mothers cook all day, and in the late afternoon people gather as families to eat the products. At the center of the meal is the turkey.

The average pensioner in Albania receives the equivalent of $100 per month from the state as a "social security" payment. This is all many have to live on--and it is not easy. But the government also traditionally grants a New Year's Bonus--$50 per pensioner. And that just happens to be the average price of a turkey. So the pensioner can celebrate with everyone else...

Because of this tradition there has developed quite an industry of turkey raising in Albania, but unlike in many countries where such an industry would be mechanized and pursued on a grand scale, the industry is a home industry. Which gives rise to the profession of turkey-herding.

For several months before the New Year celebration, outside the capital one can see elderly men and women, young children, and others, in the fields or on the mountain slopes herding turkeys. With a stick in hand and perhaps a dozen birds in front, the herder watches his charge carefully. As evening comes the herder leads the turkeys into some kind of pen, only to lead them out in the morning. This ritual is repeated daily until a day or two after Christmas, when the turkeys are brought into the city, displayed in careful lines the market place, and sold.



New Years is celebrated around the world in different ways, and it is interesting to be in a new part of the world to see it celebrated here. But whatever the way it is celebrated there is a similarity. People look back on what is past--sometimes with joy, sometimes with sadness, and sometimes with regret. And people look forward to the future--sometimes with anticipation and sometimes with fear. And many people resolve to try to make what is coming better than what is past, they hope for new possibilities and new beginnings.

But accompanying all this, for those who believe in Christ, there should be another perspective on time, namely a recognition that the past, the present and the future are all gifts from God, to be reviewed and anticipated with that in mind as the New Year arrives. The challenge in this is to recognize the gift of time and to look backwards and forwards with our eyes on how we have used and can use it to the glory of God. That is really what time is for--and eternity for that matter! It is to be filled with the joy of serving the one who gives it to us.

My hope for all is that the New Year will be a time of serving, growing and coming to know better the one who gives us each moment of every day of every week of every month of every year. That is what will really make the year to come a Happy New Year!

NOTE: Christmas is a busy time for all, and reading a blog is probably not a priority for many. SO, I will not be adding new pieces until the end of next week when I do want to mention Albanian turkey-wrangling, tho, as it is an important part of the culture... In the meantime--Merry Christmas to all!


Today Nancy and I went to Elbasan, a town about 30 miles over the mountains south of Tirana. From the capital you can go west fifteen miles to the Adriatic coast and then south or north and the road is level for a while. Any other direction means driving over narrow roads that wind through and over mountains—experiences that are both beautiful and harrowing.

In Elbasan while Nancy led a seminar at the University I wandered the nearby streets taking photos. As time passed I realized I was creating a montage of the life of ordinary people in Albania. The picture was interesting to me. It may be to you.

First transportation. In the United States this mean cars, but in Albania while Mercedes crowd the streets, they are not alone. I also saw:

Bicycles…

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Bus

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Three wheeled carry-alls…

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Horse drawn carts…

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Motorcycles…


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Three-wheeled bicycles…


Among the people on the streets I saw:

Friends walking arm in arm—a common custom among all ages and both sexes.



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Widows. You can tell who they are because a woman will dress in black from the time her husband (or young child) dies until she herself dies.

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People using cell phones—this is a nation of cell phones and text-messaging.


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And a few people using the public phones.

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I passed street sellers, probably Roma who move their sales from town to town.


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And the meat merchant.

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Down several streets were the apartments the people live in. Old apartments built during communist days. The day was cold and overcast, but the laundry was hanging out to dry.


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Coffee in means coffee out. A Turkish style toilet.

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And back to where I started—the University.

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A couple hours strolling. A couple hours looking. A couple hours getting to know the people who make up the country of Albania--some of the people for whom Christ came to earth that Christmas day long ago...

First, a correction. When one has been married to a linguist for 39 years (yesterday was Nancy and my wedding anniversary), one has to be careful when describing words. And it turns out that when I explained the usages of the two spellings that place names in Albania have I was not completely accurate. However, I am not alone in this inaccuracy. One standard Albanian guide book tries to attribute the distinction to a difference between definite and indefinite forms, and this made sense to a native Albanian teacher. However, it raises the question of how a place name could ever be indefinite. The best distinction seems to be that when following a preposition one form is used, when not the other form is used. This means that I may go to Erseka, but when I get there Erseke will be where I have arrived…It means also that the capital of the country as printed on a map will be Tirane, but when I fly into the country and get a taxi from the airport to the capital I will ask to go to Tirana. All clear???

Meanwhile, last night Nancy and I flew back from Italy to Albania (that is Albanie on maps, or on Albanian maps Shqiperia). We had spent two delightful days in Bologna, a city well worth visiting when traveling in Italy. Then we had driven to Desenzano de Garda, on the shores of Lake Garda, one of the northern Italian lakes. I had cycled through this area several years ago, and wanted both to see it again myself and to have Nancy see it. Trips of return are fraught with potential for disappointment, as it may seem that the way it was, or imagined to be, had changed for the worse. Or the other person may not see the charm you brought them to experience for themselves. On this occasion neither happened, and the visit was wonderful.
On arrival we found that a Christmas bazaar was set up in the main square, and schools and scout troops and other locals had booths selling the kind of things you would find in a similar sale in America. The Christmas lights were up in the streets, Christmas trees decorated all around, and even a floating manger scene was anchored in the small marina that filled much of the city center. We noticed a poster advertising a Christmas concert by a local school, and after wandering a bit found it—in the Community Center. While all the music was in Italian (which is appropriate for a town in Italy), we could recognize some of it, appreciate the spirit of all of it, and even add our voices and our English to the closing song, as all were invited to join in singing Silent Night. It would have been sad to have gone a Christmas season without joining in a group singing Silent Night—but now I have.


As if this were not enough, the next morning after breakfast we took a stroll along the waterfront. We had not gone far before we stopped and spent the better part of the next hour watching one of the more curious activities I have seen. In the water were four divers, working with a metal frame which they had helped put in place. On land was a crowd of people and a truck with a crane which was off-loading a manger scene.
A fire boat was nearby periodically spraying water on the divers and playfully threatening the onlookers. It took some time to get the electrical connection to the manger properly functioning, during which time the divers dredged up an old chair, a large old pan, and other sundry sunken treasures. But the electricity was needed for both the lights in the manger scene and the movement of the shepherds, who were on an oval track set to perpetually circle around the baby Jesus. This was a
fascinating project to watch, involving divers and many others on land, but it became particularly intriguing as I watched Mary, Joseph, Jesus, sheep, shepherds, wise men, palm trees and rocks, being lowered into the water and then sinking under the water. Then, with the help of a local, I realized that it was destined to become something I had never heard of before, something that adds a dimension to my understanding of Jesus’ descent to earth—an underwater crèche. The star was partly above water, but the rest was completely submerged, attached to a frame beneath the water’s surface, as per design. Placed annually in the water by the diving association of the area it is a tradition that has to be unique.

My only regret is that we had to leave Desenzano soon after the scene’s installation, and that we never got to see it in action. But in my imagination I can see it at night, with the lights gleaming and the shepherds gliding silently through the dark waters until they come to the place where they face the Christ child. It makes me happy to see a community that gathers around such a tradition…and it makes me hope that just perhaps some evening someone may stop and look and see a strange sight, something glowing in the water, and as they recognize what rests there, it may cause them to ponder something from heaven itself…

OK--some times it is too hard to avoid the obvious. And last night was one of those times... While I was not certain what I was ordering for dinner, the antipasto I decided on was cheese and bologna...And Nancy and I are in Bologna...What else can I say?

Christ in the Manger--with Pasta for Hay
Except to explain why yesterday we took an Albania Airlines flight from Tirana to Bologna, and we will take it back to Tirana on Sunday. The reason is that visas to Albania are only good for 21 days, after which you have to leave the country or pay a fine. In our case the embassy took us to the police station where we applied for, and received, an extended visa. The extension cost a little, but not that much--but the longer the extension the more the cost. While there the police officer we were dealing with strongly urged us to take a 3 month extension and save the money it would have cost for a 6 month one. Not knowing any better, we took that suggestion and saved $30, not realizing that it would necessitate leaving the country by December 15, the 3 month anniversary of our arrival. So, when we received our extended visas and saw the dates, we saw the problem. We will be leaving Tirana for Christmas in Rome on the 24th, but we had now to leave by the 15th as well.
The solution was 2 tickets to Bologna, one of the closest and one of the least expensive places outside of Albania that we could figure out. Plus 3 nites hotels plus a rental car plus plus plus. In other words, to save $30 we are spending a lot more than that!


But Bologna is wonderful... The weather is cold but clear, and we walked around most of the day--in the old center and out to the San Lucca Chapel. And in the process we experienced something unique in the world--covered walkways extending mile after mile. The Bolognese are smart people, and have been for centuries. Knowing that rain is common in the area, they built more covered sidewalks than any other place in the world--then and now. To get to San Lucca Chapel we followed a walkway built centuries ago and extending 4.4 km (just under 3 miles). It goes up over 1,000 feet to a chapel on a hill overlooking the city, and in the process includes 666 arches, countless steps, and many small chapels built into the niches in the wall. Nothing like it exists anywhere else. Then there are miles more of such walkways throughout the city--someone said over 20 miles worth. Add to this one of the largest (and to me most impressive, built 14th-17th centuries) cathedrals in the world, a wonderful central plaza, countless other churches and museums, small coffee and pastry shops, two towers built in 1119, and a famous statue of Neptune (a nude statue created in 1566. When its plan was submitted to the Pope who usually would not allow such statues, his reply was to approve it with these words 'only in Bologna') and the trip has been wonderful.


Isn't it interesting how necessary detours turn into wonderful adventures--by the grace of God!

I had a perfect opening line for this blog, but just as I sat down to write the line it was ruined. That line was going to be, It is nearly 5 p.m., and it is dark outside. It is also dark inside, because, once again, the power is off. But the power just came on and that line has been lost.
For the past month the power has gone off in our apartment building at random times and for random lengths of time probably every day. At first that must sound like a terrible problem or at least a great inconvenience, but after a few days and a little creativity, you get used to it and just accept it as a fact of life. Years ago I was in the capital of Honduras and it had problems with power. But those problems were systemic and predictable, to the point that in the newspaper every week a schedule was printed that indicated at what time of day the power would be shut off to what part of the city. That made sense. You could plan ahead. But in Tirana that is not the case, it is unpredictable, and that demands a different kind of preparedness.

The unpredictability surprises me sometimes. Yesterday, for example, the power in our building was off much of the afternoon, while the buildings all around us were brightly lit. Then in the late afternoon our power went back on. A couple hours later, darkness had fallen and I was in our main room reading when I heard a bevy of cries of surprise from the high school across the street. Their power had gone out and hundreds of students were plunged into blackness. Today our power has been off most of the afternoon, and the power across the street in some shops has also. But the school has remained lit and students have been dutifully taking notes by the miracle of electric lighting. We were told that since we are right next to the American Embassy our outages would be rare. That may be true for our area, but it is not true for our building. In total darkness I can often look out of our window to the well lit embassy buildings and grounds. Maybe I should be comforted that the machinery of the US government is going on unhindered. Maybe…

As I said, the unpredictability does foster creativity. For one thing most kitchen ranges in the country have both electric and gas burners, and everyone has a tank of gas in their kitchen to run the gas burners. That means that you can still cook if there is no electricity. Clever idea, I guess, but when we turn our gas on it begins to smell up the room so we do not use it. I could probably get a wrench or take the range apart and figure out where a leak is, but the other option is what Nancy and I take—when the power goes out we go out too. Places to eat abound in our area, and there is always an internet café that still has electricity, and between them we have most of our needs met and enough time can usually be passed for the electricity to find its way back to our building.
Another creative piece of adaptation that we have learned is how to cope with the fact that when the power goes out the toilets do not flush. That is no problem for a short time, but over an extended period this is an obvious negative. The reason the water does not work is that it is pumped up to the top of our building every day and then its way down is regulated by some electronic means that I do not understand. In any case the net effect is that when the power is off the water is also off, and by the way this arrangement also means the water is off every day for a time while it is being pumped up. We drink bottled water, so the lack of water is not a big problem that way. And we could use the bottled water for cooking. But the toilet is something else. So we have a good size bucket filled with water standing in reserve—ready to provide what a toilet needs to operate as it should—with or without electricity.

What else? Well, we always carry a small flashlight to get to our apartment via our interior and windowless stairwell. Some light comes in from the front door that is left open when the power is out, but by the first floor that is lost in the turns and pitch darkness rules. Some people forget their flashlight, which explains why we sometimes find a trail of burnt matches littering the stairwell after an outage. Then there is the heat. Our rooms are heated by individual electric heaters, and obviously they stop when the power stopsr. We have great windows through which sunlight pours all day--when there is sunlight--, and since most days have been sunny we have not had a serious heating problem. But I guess we will face that when the time comes, and add another sweater or two.
And, of course, there is the elevator. Nancy and I early on decided not to use the elevator so we could get a bit of exercise walking up the three floors to our apartment. But then one day when the power went out I could hear someone knocking from inside the elevator, which was stalled between floors. I wanted to help, but there was nothing I could do and my inability to speak any Albanian would render my words of comfort completely incomprehensible and probably disconcerting to those inside the elevator. So I did nothing and said nothing, but I did note another reason not to ever use the elevator…

Now when I approach our building I listen for the sound of gas-powered generators. The clubs, cafes and stores all have them. Some are small and need to be started manually while others are very large and just kick in automatically when the power goes off. But if they are humming away then I know to get my flashlight out—or to head into one of the cafes for a cup of coffee and wait. Eventually, as was the case when I began this blog, the power does go back on. Then the things you really need power for, like flushing the toilet or charging your cell phone or laptop, can be accomplished. But those things can always wait. They do wait. They have to wait. And that is not all that bad. After all, Ecclesiastes reminds us that, There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven… Ecclesiastes 3:1.

APPROACHING ERSEKE

It has been a week since I posted anything on this blog. That is not because there has been nothing to share, there has been much. But I have been teaching a class on the Parables of Jesus in a rather remote part of Albania and internet connectivity that would allow sharing of photos has been non-existent. Now I am back in Tirana and have that access, so here we go again—back on the blog!
Udhekryq means Crosssroads in Albanian, and it is the name of the school at which I was teaching. The school is one of several Torchbearers centers scattered around the world. The mission of Torchbearers is to create an environment in which people, mostly young people, can be part of a community for six to nine months and learn about the Bible and how to apply it in their lives. Founding one in Erseke, with the hope of training and equipping Albanian young people, was the dream of one of the missionaries there—and it has come true.
FRONT VIEW OF THE SCHOOL
The main building of Udhekryq was built during the communist era and used as a store-house. When the Balkan War erupted many Kosovars (who are most commonly ethnic Albanians) fled to Albania and the British began to convert the store house into housing for these refugees. However, the war ended before the work was done, and the Kosovars returned to their homeland, never occupying the housing. Through hard work and by the grace of God the property and building were purchased, radically renovated, and made into the comfortable and utilitarian center the school is now.

SCHOOL FROM THE BACK

The class I taught was attended by the nine full-time students at the school and other part-timers. The regular regimen for students is five hours of class daily, Monday-Friday, then outreach on Saturday and worship at the local church on Sunday. Other activities are part of the schedule for students, community life is a daily reality, and there is lots of fun on the way!
Among the students at the school are two Belgians, two Canadians, one American, one Dutch and three Albanians. The staff is Albanian, German, American and English. The first week I was there the other instructor was Irish. The second week a Canadian-American who lived and worked in Germany was the other teacher… In other words, the school is wonderfully multi-national! Different ages, languages, cultures and places in life were present—and all bound together by a single factor, a commitment to Jesus Christ and a desire to know and serve him more.

ERSEKE VISTA

In the next couple days I will add more about Erseke and a note on a trip we made to the closest town, Korce. But for today I will stop with just one point, a point made long ago by the apostle Paul in his letter to the believers in Ephesus, Consequently, you are no longer foreigners and aliens, but fellow citizens with God's people and members of God's household. (Ephesians 2:19). The message is simply that we are part of an amazing family, one made up of people from every tribe and language under heaven, a family that includes all ages and races, a family that in a deep sense does not belong to any nation or state but belongs to each other. The family of God transcends boundaries and ethnic differences, it brings people together from the far corners of the earth and makes them one in him—and that unity within diversity is its wonder and its witness. There is nothing like it, and never has been. And it is an amazing privilege to experience it first-hand!
ALBANIAN LINE DANCING

Today is Saturday, a day when the students at the Bible School have no classes. Breakfast is later than usual, 9 a.m., then, after cleaning up, there is free time until mid-afternoon. At that time the schedule calls for door to door village outreach and a children’s program in the local church that birthed the school. This morning, though, the students and some of the staff rented the local football (i.e. soccer) field and spent an hour running back and forth, scoring goals, and thoroughly enjoying each other.

Soccer is big in Albania. That is an understatement. Two years ago when I made my first sojourn into this country to visit the friends who are house-parents at the school, the country had come to a halt for a big game in the capital. Albania’s national team was playing Greece’s national team in a return match after Albania had beat Greece in their last encounter. The capital was basically gridlocked, as cars streamed in from all over the country—each with a red Albanian flag prominently displayed. The pastor/missionary of the church here in Erseke had been asked by the mayor to put up a large screen (two sheets sewn together) and use his video projector to show the game in the town square. It was quite an experience to gather that evening with 2,000 others and stand and watch the drama unfold—and it was a good drama as Albania scored two goals in the first sixty seconds and in the end left the field as 2-1 conquerors. I went back to the house I was staying in when the guns started firing into the air in celebration, and all night long honking car horns could be heard as young men drove up and down the streets expressing their jubilation.


A local measure of the popularity of football is that Erseke has three city teams, one in each of three leagues. And they have a nice stadium for them to play in. The teams in the two highest of the three leagues have players that are paid, although not much, and two of the players, Marcus and Leo, live at the Bible school. Marcus is here because when the only housing he could afford was an unheated room in the recesses of the city stadium, the mayor asked the school if they would take him in. Leo is here because he was released from his contract in Tirana to come here, but the Erseke team could not pay him, so he had nowhere else to go. Both of these players were recruited from Brazil, and both may go back there to stay at Christmas. And both are believers…

Tomorrow the school is going to Korce, a larger city about an hour’s drive from here, to watch Markus play. I am not sure if this game is considered a home game or not, because despite the existence of Erseke’s very nice stadium no home games are played in it. The reason is that in the last game that was played here the fans were so frustrated and angered by what they felt was biased refereeing that they stormed the field and the officials had to flee. But that was after some of the players had also made their displeasure known, and in a physical way. The league suspended a number of players, some for a year or more, and dictated that no more Erseke home games would be played in Erseke, at least this season. Like I said, football is a big thing here…

I guess a lesson in this is a prayer—a prayer that somehow the enthusiastic loyalty to a football team would be surpassed, in the lives of more people in this town, with an enthusiastic loyalty to Jesus Christ. Some of the believers in Erseke show that this is the case for them, but a prayer would be that it would be for more. Sometimes I have felt the same about our country when we get more excited about a sports team than about our faith. Local spirit is good (even when the Mariners lose…and when the Seahawks or Sonics win), but as I was reminded in the first parable I am taught here, our greatest enthusiasm ought to be for our greatest gift, the grace of God…That parable was spoken by a women from the street who invaded a dinner party Jesus was attending. She made a fool out of herself and roused the anger of the hosts with her unbridled enthusiasm for Jesus, but she did not care. Tears of gratitude, kisses of joy and an expensive ointment were her way of thanking him for the grace she had received from him. She was a great fan—and of something more important than a sport--and a great model for us...