comparing of cultures - sounds interesting, no?

much time in this blog has been spent in awe of the macedonian people, the country and it's dedicated volunteers. last week i got a chance to see a country not all that different from my own although six times it's size. ukraine: a giant mass of a country with two different languages on either side of the country (not all that different from the macedonian and albanian that represent my country). i traveled there for a training on how to educate teenagers from southeast europe on how to adjust to american culture in a year long exchange. but what ended up happening was a series of "deja vu" attacks pitching back to the time when i found myself adjusting to life in macedonia, comparing the two cultures and wishing i could change so many things by waving some kind of magical device. i have indeed come a long way. for the differences that were pointed out in the training were like smacks in the face to me for i had completely forgotten about the fact that we don't say, "please pass the butter." here...we say, "give me the butter." it's not rude. it's completely acceptable. or as we were trained to say: it's not better. not worse. just DIFFERENT. now, anyone could argue that some things are simply worse, but that is for another blog. i forgot about comparing cultures. i have been in the balkans for such a long time that i somehow forgot to compare, or even consider my surroundings. is it bad to continue the comparisons? is it acceptable to even consider? should i hang up my thinking cap and call this place home and stop the questioning? i have for about a half a year at this point. i don't think that makes me more "integrated" as my peace corps report form would say. i don't think it makes me a better volunteer. i think i forgot that. forgot that no matter how much we try to integrate and build relationships in our communities we will still be outsiders. and that's a GOOD THING. we're a wide angle lense, an objective observer for the most part. what a gift! what an incredible way to help macedonia.
i mentioned ukraine earlier...i did not forget about the land that created the easter egg. i did not forget about the dozens of strangers that pointed my friend and i in the right direction in our travels across the country. the country of ukraine reminded that observing a new culture, recognizing it's differences from our own, good or bad, is refreshing. i saw beautiful architecture, festivals of crafts, churches with history, ghettos with even more history and a population of unpaid senior citizens that broke my heart. i saw the capital, kyiv, the prague of ukraine, lviv, and a village in the south, pravel, that is to give me some kind of scope for the diversity and quality of life in ukraine. i'm sure i barely scratched the surface, but i talked to ukraine's volunteers and discovered that life in ukraine is not so different from life in my own peace country, although a lot of them have to take bucket baths and pee in outhouses, riddled with corruption, plagued by poor quality of english education, and constantly dogged by a nationalism that inspires hatred, not love. But then we got to talking about the things that they absolutely adored about their country, including the borsht, the dedication to family and the unfailing kindness and hospitality of it's people. And agian, i say REFRESHING. this doesn't just go for peace corps volunteers but for anyone willing to step outside their own cultural safety net and witness the customs and creations of another culture. i can't wait for my next adventure.

evidence of things not seen

second to the right and straight on till' morning.
for those unaware, those are the directions to the star where one may find neverland.
i find myself standing on my tiptoes looking out into the night sky looking for this star as i have done since i first heard the story of peter, his gang of lost boys, the fearsome captain hook, tink, and his beloved wendy. i look out not because i know peter will fly in and take me by the hand to lead me to his world of adventure but because i need to believe in a world where flying, pirates, mermaids, fairies and pretend are alive and well. i think looking into the night sky for a boy chasing his shadow or a ball of light chasing a shadow is believing in more than make believe; it's believing in the future. i wouldn't say i live in a world of gloom and despair but it seems to me that the people around me are looking less and less up into the skies. i have never been more acutely aware of my status as an optimist in a country full of very few comings and goings, where regular seems to be a constant. but as i continue to stare out my tiniest of windows i remember why it's so important to continue to hope for magical things to happen in life, to continue to expect the unexpected, and to know that fantastic events are just around the corner. keep looking to the skies.

a person can develop a cold

x-ray lab tech: take off all your clothes.
me: excuse me?
x-ray lab tech: take off all your clothes, please.
me: are you sure i need to take off ALL my clothes.
x-ray lab tech: yes, take them off.

this is the conversation that took place right before i had my chest x-rayed in the macedonian capital, skopje. it was quite the experience to be bare breasted facing a wall and then to be told by the x-ray lab tech: DON'T MOVE! DON'T BREATHE!
as the camera took the picture of the bones in my upper body i thought about the fleeting nature of life and how we can so quickly be naked, not breathing or moving facing a wall with our hands up. when i looked at my x-rays i saw the lungs of a young smoker which was not comfort when it normally feels like i'm the only non-smoker in this country. according to the chatty doctor, who thankfully did not ask me to take off all my clothes, i am in the early stages of bronchial pneumonia. essentially, a bad cough with a fancy name.
although, when i heard the term bronchial pneumonia i had an image of my grandfather in a white room. he was coughing terribly hard. the hallway outside echoed with it's tinny timbre. i remember vividly because it was the first time i was not allowed to see my grandfather. only my grandmother was allowed to go in to feed him soup and tea, which he barely touched. i remember, spying through the crack in the door to see the soup dribble down his chin so frequently it pained me to see him so weak. i took to pacing the upstairs hallway, peeking in from time to time from the outside to watch the white blanket on the bed rise up and down ever so slowly. it became clear to my grandmother she could not shake me from my vigil so after his soup one day she let me come in for five minutes. "Only five minutes, Marg or you'll be in the next bed and we don't want that." all i could think was, "don't we?" i sat next to my grandfather, who had put his head back down on the pillow to resume his slow and steady breathing, the kind with a rough wheeze. I sat down on the floor next to the bed and i picked up my grandfather's hand and began to examine every single inch. every pore, every vein, every freckle. no detail was too minute to escape my notice. as i stroked my grandfather's hand i took a picture. i don't think the brain controls the images that it collects for archiving. i don't know why i remember my grandfather's entire hand and not his face. i cannot say why that moment is etched on my brain forever, and what's more, i don't think i ever knew that memory was there at all. all i know is i want to be under the crisp white sheets of the twin bed in the last bedroom on the right on the top floor of 32 Wells Avenue right now. i want soup to trickle down my chin.
more than anything, i want to stroke that hand one more time. and as i breathe deeply and hear the thick wheeze emit from my mouth i can almost feel it.

the 2nd of january, the biggest day of the year

a friend of mine asked me what i was doing tomorrow, the second of january. i assumed she was going to ask me to coffee or something of that nature. on the contrary, she wanted to know because the saying in Macedonia is that what you do on the second of january defines the tone you set for the coming year. it is an indicator, if you will, about what the year ahead will be for you.
i pondered the saying, thinking it was strange that the second of january was the day to mark the tone and not the first. why not start the year off running? why not begin on the first second of the first day?
but isn't that just the problem most americans living in macedonia face? we question the slow pace of this country. it aggravates our aggressive, active and, to be frank, bull-like instincts. and so we spend countless months learning to slow ourselves down, and join the slower but ever continuing current of the river we've joined.
bringing in my second new year in macedonia makes me realize the beauty of what my friend asked me. she is asking me how i plan to make 2010 my own. AND. AND, she gave me a day, a whole day to answer that question. now, who knows if 1 day is enough. but i will say that i mean to cross off january first from every calendar in my life from this day hence. it is not a day for anything but rest, reflection, prayer and the renewal of spirit so that by the next day, after properly thinking on it, i can kick the coming year's ass by bringing my full convictions and purpose to it.
as for tomorrow i plan to wash a LOT of dirty laundry, walk in the park with my friends and begin writing my Macedonian cookie cookbook. how's that for PURPOSE?

snow, oh, to see a great man entirely made of snow.

there are some customs that cannot be explained. for example, i can't really rationalize why people here start partying at 1:30 am. nor can i say why my students dip their fingers in a bucket of water upon entering the school. no one really knows the effects of promaja (the disease that blights all macedonians who expose skin, wet hair or let a cross breeze in an enclosed space) as it has no scientific basis.
and so i am left to ponder these mysteries on a snowy saturday when i see nery a kavadarchanec or kavadarchanka (male or female from kavadarci) out enjoying the massive accumulation of perfect snowman making material. this kind of snow is also suitable for sledding and snow ball fighting. it does no good to the people just sitting there. sure it looks pretty. but what fun is life without dancing in the snow? i ask this question. and still, it goes unanswered. for those interested in activities and ways to enjoy snow, i refer you now to Irving Berlin's masterpiece: Snow.

Snow
It won't be long before we'll all be there with snow
Snow
I want to wash my hands, my face and hair with snow
Snow
I long to clear a path and lift a spade of snow
Snow
Oh, to see a great big man entirely made of snow

Where it's snowing all winter through
That's where I want to be
Snowball throwing that's what I'll do
How I'm longing to ski through the snow-oh-oh-oh-oh

Those glist'ning houses that seem to be built of snow
Snow
Oh, to see a mountain covered with a quilt of snow

What is Christmas with no snow
No white Christmas with no snow
Snow

I'll soon be there with snow
I'll wash my hair with snow
And with a spade of snow
I'll build a man that's made of snow
I'd love to stay up with you but I recommend a little shuteye
Go to sleep
And dream
Of snow

very vermonty this time of year, all that snow.

it snowed today. the excitement and joy on the street was palpable in the faces of everyone i passed on the sidewalk. nothing like a fresh coat of white to change the face of a dirty city in a pictoresque holiday scene. of course, it's days like these when i wish i was a wizard and i could aparate to new york city, if only for an hour, and see my favorite holiday hot spots. every city season has a season and christmas has to be it for new york. my neighbors are always anxious to hear about new york at christmas and the strange thing is i can describe it till i'm blue in the face but nothing captures new york at christmas like being there: ice-skating in bryant park, walking by the tree in rockefeller center, sitting on santa's lap at Macy's...yeah, i can still do that...not really, but i'm gonna do it anyway.

Anyway, the magical effect of snow is enough to put a smile on anyone's face. huzzah for snow!

the art of add

i remember a time when the children in my neighborhood were all getting diagnosed with add. i felt so terrible. they had to go to special doctors. take special medicine. it was indeed an epidemic that was sweeping the suburbs and i thanked my lucky stars every day i wasn't cursed with what was plaguing concerned families all over my town.
here i am, more than a decade later and guess what's happened. the wonderful world of attention deficit disorder has come to me. i'm not saying i've been clinically diagnosed. nothing of the sort. in fact, i'm guessing when i return to the land of my native language this magical disorder will slowly leave me. at least, i hope it will not stick around for i'm positive it could get me into a lot of trouble.
i started to develop this attention deficit skill on the first day i arrived at my host family's house. as we sat down to eat and visit with all the neighbors and relatives i began to realize that there was no way i could understand what was happening. no matter how hard i focused at this point, the language was simply a mystery. so i began to drift away. i'd never been able to leave the earth before in my mind. it was never a skill i acquired in school, as most students learn how to drift off when they're bored in class. if i was tired of a class i would simply postulate on how the professor thought any of this information was valid or interesting in my life. truly, i was never one for vacating my body and drifting off to never never land (though it has been my dream for as long as i can remember).
so as my eyes began to glaze over i thought, well, just for tonight. however, that night became the gateway drug to a whole manner of out of body experiences. i became a present but absent body in most seminars i attended, school functions, school plays, concerts, art shows, feasts, local culture festivals, even simple visits with my neighbors and colleagues. 5 or 10 minutes and i am gone. hopeless. i only began musing on this topic as i again vacated my chair mentally at a multimedia event at the house of culture tonight. around the third speech i came across a thought: when did i become so good at this? when did i become a champion glazer? how did this happen?!!
and i suppose the answer is terribly obvious: try focusing on this...Пратка од 80 илјади вакцини Х1Н1 произведени од Глаксо Смит Клајн, од Холандија утре ќе пристигнат во Македонија, соопшти вечерва Амбасадата на Кралството Холандија во Македонија Како што се наведува во соопштението, вакцините се дел...
yeah, that's what i thought.