Scary Good Fun

Today it was frights and delights bringing America to Bitola with Capture the Flag and Halloween. The American Sports Club played Capture the Flag this morning in a new location, the city park, which seemed appropriately spooky filled with fog and autumn leaves. I learned to say Capture the Flag in Macedonian, which has a wonderfully fun-to-say rhythm: фати го знамето (fah-tee go znah-meh-toe). The realization came to me today that I enjoy playing these types of games much more now than I did as a kid and I think it comes down to the fact that I was so short as a child that it was almost impossible to play as well as everyone else, but now my 5'2" stature puts me squarely in the middle of the pack among kids and I can capture the flag now and again.


Halloween is not celebrated in Macedonia, but the American Corner held a Halloween party with a terrific turnout of ghosts, witches, and Arabs (seriously, these were the most popular costumes). I went as a pirate, proud of my homemade cardboard-and-aluminum-foil dagger and blue eyepatch (blue because, well, I don't have a black marker). Almost everyone there was celebrating Halloween for the first time, so we filled them in on the traditions and their origins, followed by playing games. Some more of the boo-tiful shots from the party and sports club are up on Picasa.

Don't Ask, Don't Tell

At least once a month I conduct English conversation hour at the American Corner, an opportunity for people in Bitola (locals, expats, visitors, anybody really) to discuss various topics in English. This week, I decided to raise the topic of ending (maybe? probably?) the U.S. military's "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" policy. I chose this subject because, to me, that is more or less the attitude towards homosexuality in Macedonia--people don't ask if someone is gay and gay people don't say that they are, in fact, gay. There is a huge stigma to being gay in Macedonia and acts of violence can result from being openly gay. Nobody from here has ever told me that they are gay. Some people deny that there are even homosexuals in Macedonia at all. As a straight person who feels everyone should be free to embrace whatever their sexuality is, I oftentimes feel uncomfortable about how homosexuality is treated here.

During Tuesday's conversation hour, the range of views here were represented, everything from being gay is a "disease" to it's "okay." On the disease end, being gay was considered in the same category as pedophilia. Some felt it was okay, as long as gay individuals kept their gayness to themselves. On the fully okay end were those who suspected they had gay friends. Overall I was happy we could have a frank discussion about a typically taboo subject. Also, it was a chance to relate how attitudes are evolving in America to where more and more states are legalizing gay marriage and adoption, not to mention the potential change to the military's policy.

Among Peace Corps volunteers, we have codeword for "gay." We use this codeword so we can discuss the topic without accidentally drawing negative attention to people who are, or may be, gay. As far as I know, no volunteer in Macedonia has been able to serve openly as a gay person. Such volunteers may have revealed the truth to select people, but I think it must be especially trying to hide such an important part of their identity.

A campaign has been launched in America by Dan Savage, a sex advice columnist, called "It Gets Better." He wanted a way to let LGBT teens know that even if their sexuality is resulting in abuse, loneliness, or other hardships now, it gets better when you reach adulthood. On the website he started, people can upload videos talking about their challenges growing up as a LGBT person but how life gets better. America is far from a perfect place, clearly evident from the teenage suicides that inspired this project, but there is some solace in knowing that in America, life for LGBTs can get better. I can only hope that as more people in Macedonia shift towards the "okay" end of the spectrum, the same will be true here too.

Bitola Goes Hollywood

I liken Bitola to the Los Angeles of Macedonia--the people are fashionable and they love to sit outdoors to see and be seen. Last week the city truly went Hollywood with the annual Manaki Bros. Film Festival. The Manaki brothers brought the first movie camera to Macedonia in the early 1900s, so the festival in their honor is dedicated to cinematography. For the first time as part of the festival, some Manaki films were shown. Black-and-white and silent, the films nevertheless were fascinating for the great architecture (of which I wish more remained) and style of dress remiscent of Turkey (lots of fezzes) because of the then-recent separation from the Ottoman Empire.

Actress Darryl Hannah was honored with an award at the festival and I wondered what the audience at her talk thought about her story about getting arrested for protesting coal mining when coal is the top employer in Bitola.


Every day I saw at least one movie, with the $1 ticket price nicely fitting my Peace Corps budget. My favorite was "Four Lions," a movie that takes what is seemingly totally unfunny--jihad--and makes it into a bittersweet British comedy. To close the festival, the U.S. Embassy held a reception and I got my picture taken with the U.S. Ambassador to Macedonia, Philip Reeker. Never did I envision dignitaries and cinema figuring into my Peace Corps service--I guess there's no denying that I'm in the Posh Corps.

A World Away from Great Clips

Most days now, the fact that I am living in the Balkans doesn't register high on my level of consciousness, but today I got my semi-annual haircut and it all seemed so very Balkan. First of all, the salon I go to is decked out entirely in harvest gold, from the countertops to the exterior, and it looks like it gets cleaned about once a year. Now I'm not very squeamish about cleanliness, which is good because the 3 or 4 times the hairdressers dropped hair clips on the floor and then picked them right back up to use in the clients' hair might have really bothered some folks. The guy who cut my hair was wearing a track suit, the Balkan man's uniform, and Stereo Love, the anthem of my arrival in Macedonia, played on the radio as he slowly and deliberately re-layered my hair. I happily paid $4 for this reminder that I'm so not in America anymore.

On a somewhat related note, I have a fascination with the local barbershops which to me look as though they haven't changed since the 1950s. See for yourselves...

Brajchino and Dihovo

This post is woefully out of order and I tried to come up with a valid excuse but I can't. At the same time, I didn't want to skip it altogether, especially lest you miss the pictures. Sans car, it is not the easiest thing to explore the villages of Macedonia although at least it can be done, which I don't think I could say about rural America. And the villages are not to be missed, whether reached by foot or by taxi. In September I did both to see the villages of Brajchino and Dihovo.

Visiting Brajchino was part of a hiking weekend. I joined 4 other volunteers (I was the baby of the group, having only been here a year and they are nearly out the door), first hiking 3.5 hours uphill to the Golemo Ezero (Big Lake) mountain hut in my national park, Pelister. This was slightly easier than in the winter but not much because it's still all uphill. Then for some crazy reason we decided to try and get to the actual peak, which would have been another 4 hours of hiking but turned into 3 after we wandered off trail. It turned out to be a fortunate mistake, though, because we took in the full effect of the sunset over Lake Prespa. Having worked up an appetite, we chowed down back at the mountain hut on some special sausage prepared by our friend and mountain hut proprietor, Pepo.

Setting a new personal record for most hiking in 48 hours, we set off the next day for another 6 hours of walking to the village of Brajchino. The time passed quickly though because the terrain was diverse, the scenery wonderful, and we were kept company by Dum-dum (as we dubbed him), a dog that followed another group up to the mountain hut and we were tasked with escorting back home. Dum-dum didn't always want to stay on the path or partake of the refreshments we offered him, hence his new name, but overall he was a welcome addition to the group. Once in Brajchino, we feasted on Macedonian food served up a wonderful woman named Milka who previously worked with a Peace Corps volunteer. We slept at a monastery called St. Petka and compared to the mountain hut it was like a 5 star hotel but for about $8 apiece. Then, through the magic of Macedonia's van and bus networks, we all made it home without any more walking on our aching legs.

A few days later, I went to the village of Dihovo, only a 15 minute cab ride from Bitola and bordering Pelister National Park. A former Bitola volunteer, Patrice, has been visiting with a group of American tourists and Dihovo was one of the places she focused on during her Peace Corps stint. She helped open two guesthouses in Dihovo, one of which is actually named after her. She also got them listed in Lonely Planet and they've since been shocked by the waves of guests from around the world. I should also mention my former neighbor Heather helped start one of the guesthouses in making microbrews that I look forward to sampling sometime. The day I visited, a local TV crew taped Patrice, the guesthouse owners, and the American guests for a segment on village tourism. Afterwards we were treated to a wonderful dinner of all the local specialties. Like many places around the world, Macedonia's villages are shrinking as more people gravitate towards the cities but I hope they somehow survive, charming and engaging as they are.

K-k-k-kickball!

Explaining a baseball-like sport to people who have never played the game--this was the task before Ashley and me as we participated in the Bitola American Sports Club's second event, kickball. For the uninitiated, kickball is essentially baseball but you kick a bouncy ball instead of batting. However, as I said, none of the kids had ever played baseball so we needed to explain everything--what is a base, what are the bases called, which order do you run them, what's a foul, what's an out, etc--and do it before we lost everyone's attention.

The game actually started well although we did realize in the course of our play that we forgot a few key points, such as you can't actually pass the person in front of you as you run the bases, even if you are faster than him or her. Also the batting order is not to be renegotiated every inning, and players on the bench cannot kick the ball away from the catcher in an attempt to help their runner reach home plate. We had to move the second base, aka egg carton, about halfway through because it was getting lost in a mud pit. A few shoes (and one pair of glasses) came off in early innings until everyone got their kicking techniques perfected. All-in-all though, the match-up between Ashley's Wild Dogs and my Wildcats was a rousing success.


More pics are up on Picasa and I think you'll agree, we have one of the most scenic fields in all of sports. Our baseball equipment donation was approved and everything is in the mail, so next time we play kickball the kids will get to really run the bases and not egg cartons!

Golden Gostivar

The last sporting contest I won was in hula hooping and as for running, I have always just been in competition against myself. Then came Saturday, the inaugural Gostivar Harvest Festival and 5K race. Volunteers Candy and Kerry from Gostivar worked with the local sheep breeders association and many other sponsors to celebrate the community's healthy agricultural bounty and also threw in a fitness aspect with a running race. They did a tremendous job promoting this first-time event and got 130 people, mostly teens, to run the 5K.

At 10:30 AM, we all lined up at the start and then took off through the streets of Gostivar. The kids galloped for the first kilometer and then started to drop back until I was left racing a handful of boys. The spectators seemed to have mixed feelings about this, with some cheering me on and others egging on the boys about letting a girl beat them. In a bit over 21 minutes, I crossed the finish line in first place for the women and 10th overall. Surely this is the one and only time I will ever win a running race but it was great, especially when some of the little girls came up to me after I got my medal (yes, there really was a medal) and congratulated me. The Americans also swept the silver medals, so kudos to Natty and Jane for their excellent runs, along with the other volunteers who ran.

Other than running, I helped with race registration and did the 3 things everyone must do in Gostivar: go to the gourmet cheese shop, eat baklava, and drink salep. Salep is a hot drink made from orchid root and it is served in a lair-like Turkish cafe that I love. Between getting the gold, seeing many friends, and treating myself to delicious eats, the weekend was a winner all around.