Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia, says this about the evil eye: The evil eye is a widely distributed element of folklore, in which it is believed that the envy elicited by the good luck of fortunate people may result in their misfortune, whether it is envy of material possessions including livestock, or of beauty, health, or offspring. In Albania many people believe in the evil eye, and the result is one of the stranger sights one sees—hanging Santas, Smurfs, Teddy Bears, and Disney characters on the corners of buildings.


The way it works is this: when a person has the good fortune of being able to build a new home, the jealousy which this fortune may invoke on others, and the evil eye which may follow, is a real concern. To counteract this the one constructing the home or office or store will hang a doll of some kind from an outer periphery of the construction. That doll is meant to draw the gaze of the onlooker away from the construction and, thereby divert their attention and avert the evil eye.

The net result is strange to me. When I first noticed it, I thought it was kind of cute--until on examination I found Mickey Mouse being hung by the neck until dead. Hardly something you would see in America… Then I learned what it was all about, and chuckled. But while seemingly harmless, this custom could be taken very seriously, and even if not it can make us stop and think about the superstitions we have, their origins, and whether or not they are harmless, and whether or not they are compatible with our faith in the God who is far beyond magic, supersition or the like.

Last time I focused on Korce, a town in the south of Albania. Today my focus is Kruya, a town just north of the capital and which Nancy and I have visited twice. This town’s importance is as the base of operations of Skanderbeg, the hero of Albania. George Kastrioti was born to a prominent family in a small district that included Kruya. His father resisted Ottoman advances but was overwhelmed, and to prove his loyalty allowed his four sons to be taken into the Sultan’s court where they converted to Islam. George proved himself a brave and brilliant warrior in the
Ottoman army, and was given the honorary name Arnavutlu Iskender Bey which means Lord Alexander the Albanian. This became his name—Skanderbeg.

When an opportunity presented itself he rallied the divided Albanian people against the Ottomans. He took control of his ancestral town of Kruya from the Turks and raised his family flag, which today is the national flag of Albania. From Kruya he led a resistance movement that was successful for twenty five years, a movement that defeated much larger Turkish armies and thwarted Ottoman expansion to the north.

At Kruya you can visit the castle from which Skanderbeg led his resistance and a museum to his accomplishments. You can also walk through a marvelous home built in the 1800s by a prominent family, in which you can see the way a wealthy family lived at that time—and it lived quite well…

Today was another nice day, so Nancy and I decided to walk the mile or so south of our apartment to the highest peak around Tirana, the site of a 12-meter statue that overlooks the city and the 28,000 graves comprising the National Martyrs Cemetery. The statue called Mother Albania figuratively represents the country as a mother guarding over those who gave their lives for her during World War II, mostly in the battle to liberate Albania from its German occupiers. The massive statue holds a wreath of laurels and a star.
The complexity of Albania today is reflected in this cemetery, as those buried in it were almost all partisans, which is the party that became the communist party and led the nation into disarray. Albanians want to honor their heroism in liberating the country, but distance themselves from what they did for the next forty years…

Another place where the complexity of Albanian history is represented is in the main city park of Albania. There you can see two small graves, separated only by a monument to three brothers whose writings and deeds formed an important force in the establishment of the Albanian nation in the early 1900s. Both cemeteries are dominated by crosses, but one is to British soldiers who perished liberating Albania from the Germans while the other is to the Germans who died fighting those British.

It is tragic that much of the history of almost every nation is in its wars and warriors. It is particularly tragic when one or even both sides claim that what they are doing is mandated by God. I have always appreciated Abraham Lincoln’s response to the question of whether he believed God was on his side in the civil war, The question is not is God on my side, but am I on God’s side…

All this has made me appreciate that just two days ago I was able to participate with approximately 200 others in a prayer for Albania rally and march down the main boulevard of Tirana. The march began at the statue of the Albanian warrior-hero Skanderbeg but it ended with prayer at the statue of the Albanian compassionate heroine, Mother Teresa. The movement of the march was symbolic to me, and reminded me of the words of Jesus, Blessed are the peacemakers…

Our days in Albania are numbered. In just two weeks we fly to London, then after visiting friends in N. Ireland we head back to our granddaughter and family. How quickly time passes! But in light of that, let me say a few things about scattered topics and places I have not covered.

But before that, a brief comment on the last entry in this blog. There I talked about the lack of electricity in Albania, due partially to unusual drought conditions, partly to long-term infrastructure problems, and partly to politics. I noted that we have come to adjust to electrical outages and the darkness that we are plunged into nightly. On Sundays Nancy and I attend The International Church, a church that is related to the Assemblies of God, where the services are translated into English, and where I now teach a mid-week class on Philippians. Some Saturday evenings we have also attended a church that is perhaps the largest evangelical church in Tirana, and we attended the Orthodox Student Center service one week. But the day after I wrote about light, the International Church’s pastor preached on the topic of light, and focused on the ease with which we become accustomed to darkness. That is what I had said, but he added how true that is in our spiritual life as well—and how disastrous. The darkness of our surroundings, our culture, our communities—how easily we adjust, how easily we fit in, how acceptable it becomes… It was a challenge to me!

Anyway, about Albania. Albania is an ancient land. Settled history begins with the Illyrians, pre-Roman contemporaries of the Etruscans in Italy, and continues on from then. The country has a history of being impacted by foreigners, often as invaders, a history that partly explains the paranoia of its former communist dictator. Each foreign influx, Greek and Roman and Byzantine and Ottoman and Italian and German and French and American, both added something to the land and encountered a civilization that was already developed and defined. In Romans 15:19, Paul notes the extent of his preaching as all the way around to Illyricum, and in Acts 20:2 and 2 Timothy 4:10, reference is made to the area around Macedonia, sometimes called Dalmatia. That is Albania today—a land with a long history and many places to visit that contain reminders of this history.

Nancy and I have made it a point to see some of these places, and some will have to wait until another visit. Among the places we have seen is Korce. Set in a valley on the border with Macedonia and Greece, Korce is dominated on one side by Lake Ohrid, and on the other by rugged Balkan mountains. I visited the town with people from the Torchbearers’ Bible School in Erseke, primarily to watch one of their young men who
plays on one of the professional Erseke teams, play football (soccer). The town retains vestiges of the beauty it once had, before suffering the neglect which the whole country experienced under communism. There is a clear French influence in some
of its old buildings, and it is considered a cultural center.

As early as the 4th century AD Eastern Orthodoxy had a strong presence in the area of Korce, that is present southern Albania, and in the 8th century the Byzantine Emperor Leo III placed the area under the authority of the patriarchate of Constantinople. This Orthodox/Byzantine influence is reflected today in what to me was the most impressive site in the city, the Orthodox Cathedral that dominates the main intersection in town. In stark contrast with the plain church we attend in Tirana, the exterior is striking and the interior beautiful. Of particular note is the interior woodwork, dominated by the stunning front screen and several amazing carved wood chandelier. What happens inside the church I do not know, but
the priest who showed our little party from Erseke around was most gracious and the outside Christmas lights saying Merry Christmas clearly reflected the season.

Today it has been raining. Before we came to Albania we were told that the weather from November or December through February would be terribly uncomfortable--cold and wet. Well, it has not been that way--it has been warm and sunny (unlike Seattle...). The locals say that there has not been a winter season like this for a century, and for us that has been good. But for the country it has been bad. The reason is that most of the power supply for Albania comes from hydroelectric plants, and the reservoirs are almost empty. This means that there is a crisis--not just of crops but of all aspects of life, including the power.
Every day now the power is shut off to most of the city at around 9 am, and it may or may not come back on at noon for a while or late afternoon or early evening. Businesses compensate by having individual generators, which makes quite a racket along the streets, and individuals compensate as well. Our apartment has great sunny windows, which makes it bright and warm, so the lack of power much of the day has little effect on us. But when we leave our apartment we have to remember to take a flashlight so we can maneuver the enclosed stairwell, which is plunged into pitch darkness. And with the power off the water is off and the appliances don't work--so you better make your toast before the toaster dies and your coffee before the stove goes cold. It also means that you need to plan clothes washing, as the machine may stop mid-cycle.
All in all, though, the inconveniences are very tolerable and life goes on. It is a bit odd to be walking down the street and hear a collective gasp from every building that is occupied as at the same moment the lights go out and the machines stop running. But that is just part of life in Tirana... The light of the world will never go out, but the lights of the city do!
And so we are grateful for rain. And we hope much more comes...but maybe most of it could hold off until after we leave--or is that just too selfish?

After a two week break in Italy, Nancy and I are back in Tirana for our final three weeks of this great adventure. In those two weeks we drove almost 2,000 miles and saw much that we had not seen before, plus some we had known and wanted to revisit. Nancy and I first spent December 24 and 25 in Rome, joining the crowds in St. Peter’s Square to see the Pope on Christmas Eve and then again on Christmas day. JJ joined us the day after Christmas and we toured the hill country of Tuscany, stayed in Orvieto , walked part of the Cinque Terra coast, had lunch in San Gimigano, dinner in Volterra, coffee in Lucca, and saw the leaning tower of Pisa. A highlight was our final day strolling the streets of Milan and finding Muji, just the right quirky little store for a bit of Christmas-in-Italy shopping.


On New Year’s Day we said goodbye to JJ at the Milan aiport and drove to Florence to connect with our good Fresno and Erseke friends, Bob and Linda Osborne. Together we went back to Pisa, where we delivered them to the airport, after stopping at Lucca for the night. Then Nancy and I drove on and on—south and east past innumerable hill towns, castles and churches to the spur of the heel of Italy, Gargano National Park, and south beyond that to Alberobello, famous as the home town of Rose Falseni and the unusual Trulli houses. Finally, we drove past Vesuvius, through Naples, and back to Rome and now we are “home” once again in Tirana.


Italy is one of the favorite countries for people from America to visit, and for good reason. The varied scenery, friendly people, historical sites, works of art, and exquisite food make it a traveler’s wonderland. Walking past the coliseum, sharing in the pomp of Christmas at the Vatican, winding through twisting passages in the alleyways of walled cities, gazing at the wonder of centuries of Christian architecture and paintings and statues, sitting down to a long and elegant meal in a room that had served as a cellar for generations, or strolling along paths in places of natural splendor, Italy has it all. It is not cheap, and driving it is not easy, but it is an adventure worth having.

Having said that, however, there comes a time when the adventure of looking reaches a limit—a time when the adventure of learning kicks in. As one wonder gives way to another eventually you reach a saturation point, the antidote to which is to travel with a purpose or a theme. That theme may be a focus on great statues or great cathedrals or geography or cuisine or the spread of the Christian faith or whatever, but to try to get everything is just to much. Travel becomes richer and deeper when the purpose does not end with just being able to say I was there, but being able to add I learned this.


At the same time travel becomes even richer as we intentionally live out our role as followers of Christ wherever we go. At the very least this involves a commitment to leaving behind us a trail of good will and positive impressions, but it can mean more. It can mean paying attention to the people who make our travel pleasant, and even those who make it unpleasant, and it certainly means appreciating the gift which travel is and thanking the Giver. When Paul went anywhere he went with a purpose—to preach the gospel. That may not be the primary way we define our travel, but it certainly should be a part of it because we go as ambassadors of Christ wherever we are. In the way we enjoy our experiences, in the way we interact with
the people we travel with and those we encounter along the journey, in the way we marvel at the artistic creations of the centuries, we are ambassadors of the One who is Lord of all times and all places. While as travelers we are paying good money to be given services, followers of Christ know that wherever they are they are not just receivers but givers as well—hosts as well as guests—people responsible to make good happen not just recipients of the efforts of others. Knowing that, appreciating that, and living that adds to the adventure of travel and makes it more than just one big building after another…