што и каде

Autumn in Macedonia (Matka to Vodno)

2009-10-12T05:41:00.000-07:00

How to Make Ajvar, Pt. 2

2009-10-01T03:57:00.001-07:00

After Pt. 1, we were left with these cooked and slimy peppers. We roasted some eggplants, not pictured, to add more bulk to the ajvar.

A bowl of the roasted peppers, de-seeded, skinless, and slimy.

We ran the peppers through a meat grinder. Back in the old days, one grinder would be shared amongst a number of families, and dozens of people - well, just women, honestly, would share in the ajvar cooking.

After grinding down all the peppers, and adding about two liters of oil and unhealthy levels of salt, the ajvar pot goes back on the ajvar stove. It bubbles and boils like lava as it cooks down, and needs to be stirred constantly.

After 3 or 4 hours - when it has that "special ajvar glow" according to one elderly Macedonian expert - it's ready for the jars. We got about 9 large jars out of the 25 kilos of peppers and 7 kilos of eggplant.

The best part, of course, is cleaning the pot with bread and cheese at the end.

How to Make Ajvar

2009-10-01T03:39:00.000-07:00

September and October are ajvar(pronounced ay-var)-making season. All across Macedonia, from inner-city Skopje balconies to mountain village yards, people break out the ajvar stove, purchase hundred-kilo sacks of red pepper, and get to roasting.

Ajvar is basically just red peppers (and often eggplant) cooked down into a paste, to be stored and eating with bread and white cheese during the winter. It's also very labor intensive, and is therefore usually cause to get dozens of people together to socialize, drink rakija, and keep the peppers turning.

We paid about $10 for 25 kilograms of red peppers. Try that in the US. After cleaning them, we arranged them on the traditional round ajvar stove.

The peppers roast until they are mostly black . This is just the thing, transparent skin that burns; the flesh of the pepper is only slightly cooked. The blackened peppers are removed, and placed in a closed jar. They are still steaming hot, and the steam further loosens the skin of the pepper.

I had to keep the peppers turning. I managed to develop a system called "The American Technique", which will probably increase ajvar production tenfold across Macedonia. Or something like that.

After steaming in the closed pot, the blackened peppers are rinsed. The remaining skin is removed, as well as the seeds and the stem.

Continued in Part Two. . . .

Ajvar and the Grape-Pickers

2009-09-27T01:00:00.000-07:00

. . . .at Justin's. I'll be making ajvar myself all day today.

Thessaloniki

2009-09-23T16:14:00.000-07:00

. . . looks like I'll be there for a few days.

Velestovo Cemetery

2009-09-19T04:03:00.000-07:00

During my time at the language seminar in Ohrid, I went on a little trip to a village in the mountains above the lake called Velestovo. There were a few more new vacations homes than most villages, and an interesting gallery for a local artist, but aside from those things, it was typical of any other village I had been to. There was a public spigot for water in the center, and cobblestone streets leading off through the hills. Newer houses were built alongside mud-brick dwellings from who-knows-when. Goats were far more abundant than people.

There's also an interesting old church. What really caught my eye, however, was the cemetery surrounding the church. Orthodox Christian graves almost always have an actual picture of the deceased on the tombstone - those who died in the earlier part of the century have glazed porcelain pictures, while the more recently buried have photographs laser-etched onto the stone. It's a portrait gallery, and you can walk around looking at what the people looked like in life.

And what long lives they were. Aside from the occasional tragic under-30 death, these villagers had all lived for 70, 80, 90 years. There were even several who made it just past 100. Imagine - born in 1900, this person had lived in the Ottoman Empire, the Kingdom of Serbs, Croats, and Slovenes, then Yugoslavia, and finally an independent Republic of Macedonia. . . and they never needed to leave Velestovo to do so. 100 years of carrying sacks of peppers and onions up the side of a mountain, of rakija and ajvar-making, of sheep-shearing and goat-milking. They seem like hard, hard lives at first - but how hard can a life be, when it lasts for most of a century?

Most of the Macedonian (as opposed to Albanian) villages in Macedonia are dying, in that there are no young people. The older generations remain, unable or unwilling to adapt to a new way of life, unwilling to leave their ancestral home. The younger generations, however, have no incentives to remain in the village. Near-subsistence farming and a social network of under 25 people are a tough sell these days. But the older generation - those 60 and 70 year old people - are still working. Go to a village in Macedonia, and you'll see ancient ment and women, still lugging 50 lb sacks of onions on their backs, chopping wood, slaughtering goats for a feast.

It's really amazing - after all, I have trouble imagining a good number of healthy 20-somethings, myself included, managing these activities. But these old villagers do. They just keep working until the end. And it sounds cliched, but they really do seem like relics from another time. It's not just that their lifestyles are so different, so integrated with the seasons, intertwined with the Old Church Calendar, with families and friends. I can understand that, at least in an academic sense.

But without fail, if you wander through a Macedonian village, there will be a shriveled old woman or man sitting on their steps, or under a tree. . . sitting. And if you say hello, they will respond with the warmest, most genuine "Good day, boy!" you could imagine. And maybe they'll invite you for coffee, or maybe you just continue wandering.

And that villager will continue to sit, slightly smiling, seeming wholly content - with what? Reflecting on life? Or are they simply content with their own contentedness? There's the gap that I just can't cross. Superficially, our lives are much more complicated, the village life 'simpler'. But that's really not true. Our lives are just more cluttered, not complicated. And the real complications of village life - the relationships, the legends, the church calendar, the best spot to find mushrooms, and how much ajvar to make for winter - just don't register with me anymore. I just can't understand them in any deep sense. It's too different.

So trying to figure out what's on that villager's mind as they sit, smiling, really is impossible. It's not just a matter of "I think of movies, they think of folk dances". I can't just translate my experience directly to theirs, unless I want a shallow, superficial understanding. Everything in their life, leading up to that thought underneath that tree at the age of 90, has been wholly strange to me.

It just leaves me at a total loss.

Etc.

2009-09-13T15:20:00.001-07:00

Yugoslav wheels near Trpejca, Ohrid

Beer on the beach at Kaneo, Ohrid

Up the canyon at Matka

Still water at Matka Canyon

Living abroad means . . .

2009-09-13T06:18:00.000-07:00

that you end up washing your hair with conditioner and clothes with fabric softener for months on end, until someone corrects your error.

Looks can be deceiving.

Our Ruins

2009-09-12T15:07:00.001-07:00

I came across this, reading an article about the decline of rural Indiana at the Daily Yonder:

"In Europe you often come upon castle ruins as you travel. Half of a stone archway will rise out of a hillside, hinting at long-gone glory. In Greentown, I pass a sad old Victorian home covered in fading aluminum siding. Its porch and sidewalk are gone, but the two concrete steps still rest alone and useless in the middle of the yard, leading to and from nowhere. In America’s compressed historical cycles, these are our ancient ruins."

That about sums it up.

Also:

Vevay, Indiana was voted one of the 10 coolest small towns in America. It's been awhile since I've been around those parts, but . . . well.

Kosovo Continued

2009-09-12T06:47:00.000-07:00

It really seems odd that I was just in a country which, only a few short years ago, was a complete war zone. Over 250,000 refugees spilled into Macedonia during the conflict - and keep in mind that Macedonia's population hovers just around 2 million. United States and NATO soldiers (not to mention the thousands of Serb and Albanian soldiers and civilians) were killed, and were killing each other. Even today, Kosovo isn't really a functioning nation. It's under the administration of EULEX, the successor "program" of the previous NATO administration of the country.

There are still no-go areas for travelers in the country. While the country is around 90% ethnic Albanian, the rest are mostly Serbs, and they still both deny the legitimacy of the new government, and with funding from Serbia, run their own parallel court systems and police forces. The city of Mitrovica, divided between Albanians on one side of the river and Serbs on the other, is a constant flash-point. There were fresh riots there just days before I visited. The country has almost no economy to speak of, minus international aid and diaspora money. A quarter of the vehicles on the two-lane highway to Pristina were KFOR or NATO military trucks.

And when I describe it that way. . . riots, barbed wire, military personel, no-go areas, it's easy to think, "Why on earth would anyone go there?!" Only a very few of my Macedonian friends have crossed the border, just ten miles away. They were all very eager to hear what my trip was like, what Pristina was like, what the people were like, as if it were some exotic nation far away . . . when you can probably see Kosovo from the top of some of the apartment complexes here in Skopje.

It's funny, really, because my Macedonian friends act in exactly the same way as my American friends when I speak to them about Macedonia. Earthquakes? Albanian insurgencies? Corrupt governments, black markets, gypsies, villagers?! How do I function here?! It must be so strange, so different. . . When I explain the bewilderment of Americans about Macedonia to Macedonians, they really don't understand. It's just home. There are cafes, hotels, schools, friends, and all the makings of a normal, pleasant life. And for the most part, the same goes for Kosovo. Pristina has cafes, English-themed pubs, schools and universities. There are bus services, even to Mitrovica. It's amazing what people can accept, get used to, or deal with in life.

There were two very surreal, very creepy moments during my short trip. The first was near that hideous library. It sits in a huge field, overgrown with weeds, next to the refurbished University of Pristina. Far behind it, in the corner of the field, next to piles of dirt from some sort of construction, stood what once was a Serbian Orthodox Church. It was stripped of its roof, the empty doorways filled with barbed wire. It looked more ruinous than any actual 14th century ruin I've seen in Macedonia. There were military helicopters flying overhead. Yet near this war casualty of a church, in this overgrown field, were the fashionable students of Pristina, wandering in and out of the university, chatting, with those helicopters overhead. Life continues.

The second moment was on Bill Clinton Boulevard, with that giant smiling picture looking down. I had just commented to my friend that the Albanians in Pristina - mostly Muslim, presumably - dressed much less conservatively than those in Macedonia. Just as I said this, we stopped and noticed roughly 100 people on the sidewalk, three rows deep, facing a building. As we walked closer, we noticed that they were Muslims preparing to pray. This seemed odd, because the building wasn't a mosque. . . until we noticed the green-and-white banners and Arabic signs. Saudia Arabia has funded a lot of new mosques and Islamic centers in Albania and Kosovo, which spread their ultra-conservative type of Islam. This was one. . . sitting just under old Slick Willy's American smile.

Life goes on.

A Day-Trip to Kosovo

2009-09-11T11:16:00.000-07:00

Kosovo - one of the newest states in the world, which just recently declared full independence from Serbia - is only 20 miles away from Skopje. A bus ride to its capital city, Pristina, only takes 1 1/2 hours . . . depending on how many wagons or tractors one gets stuck behind. Yet, until today, I'd never taken the opportunity to make a visit.

I was only in Pristina for a few hours, but I was able to see the three major sites that I was interested in. . .

Bill Clinton Boulevard: He initiated the 90's NATO campaign against Milosevic and the Serbs, which eventually led to Kosovo's independence. I probably saw more American flags in Pristina than in the average Midwestern town.

The Newborn Obelisk: Unveiled when Kosovo declared independence. Awww. The graffiti is actually supposed to be there.

The BATTLE LIBRARY: Seriously, this is the city library. It looks like they took the usual ugly, blocky, concrete Yugoslav architecture and wrapped it in razor-wire. It's not actually called the Battle Library. . . because the other buildings are too afraid to fight it.

Macedonian Dialects, Cont.

2009-09-07T04:44:00.000-07:00

Another interesting dialect I've just learned of comes from the region around Prespa Lake, the slightly-less picturesque body of water that feeds into Ohrid Lake in the southwest of the country. There are a series of really well-off villages in the region, although aside from endless apple and plum orchards, there's very little economic activity.

The wealth of the villages comes from abroad, as people from the Prespa region are known to have always travelled abroad to find work - even back to the 17th and 18th centuries. In the twentieth century, most travel to Canada, Australia, and the US to work, leading to an interesting dialect. Rather than use basic Macedonian words, English is randomly inserted. The Macedonian verb for "I am calling on the phone" is "se javuvam". . . but in Prespa, one can overhear "se call-uvam". Interesting stuff.

Another interesting bit about the region is that the names of the villages are hilarious. I'm sure that at one point, these village names had a different meaning, but in modern-day Macedonian slang, you can travel from "Adultery-town" to "People who pee in their pants" to "Toothless People Village" to a place that can be colloquially translated as "F***ed".

Winding down. . .

2009-09-06T03:47:00.000-07:00

Before I begin, Justin has some interesting thoughts after taking a "break" from Macedonia for awhile.

I woke up this morning, like most mornings since my return from Ohrid, around 8 AM, to the racket of the construction directly behind my house. Yet another concrete, modern-looking apartment complex is being constructed where an early Yugoslav-style apartment building once stood. I've started to train myself to sleep through all that, and this morning there was little light and a cool breeze coming through my open window, and I was able to drop easily back into a deep sleep.

When I woke back up, the sky was still cloudy and a cool, moist breeze was still blowing. I felt disoriented for a moment, but then realized - this is what the fall feels like. The moisture of the air, the gray skies, the smell of roasting peppers - this is what it felt like when I first arrived. It's not actually autumn here just yet, of course. The entire year has been random and strange in terms of weather, and this is an odd cold-front that will surely be followed by more warm days.

But that cold breeze punched me right in the face. I'm leaving on October 22.

I had always planned to stay an entire year, to catch all the festivals and weather and holidays through the whole year, to stop in at my institute for the opening of the new semester. What I didn't expect was this overwhelming strangeness, this feeling of deja vu. "Here I am, back again where I started. . . "

It's more than just the smell of roasting peppers, though. Just as when I first arrived, I'm full of a nervous sort of energy. Then, I had a whole year of Macedonia before me, and no idea what would happen. Now, I'm excited for my homecoming, but still anxious - I have no idea what the future is going to hold for me now. Then, I would walk around the city, observant, trying to take everything in. . . and now, I'll savour it all before I go.

Odd feelings.

The American War

2009-08-21T03:28:00.000-07:00

I was with a group from the seminar in the lakeside city of Struga last night, for the opening of the popular Struga Poetry Festival. During the opening celebration, fireworks were launched and as they burst over head, one of my friends - a 20 year-old Serbian girl from Nis - covered her ears and said to me, "This is just like the American War. They bombed Nis, I remember it all, I was 10."

She was sort of joking with me, of course - she doesn't hold a grudge against me personally, nor really against America. It didn't seem like she had much of an opinion at all, it was just an event that happened during her lifetime.

But it's still strange for me to think that those images of American planes over Bosnia, American troops in Kosovo, and American bombs falling on the civilian centers of Nis and Belgrade in Serbia. . . well, those things happened just a few hundred kilometers away, to people that I eat dinner with every day.

Seminarot za Makedonski Jazik

2009-08-20T04:51:00.000-07:00

I've been at the Seminar for Macedonian Language for the past week, and will be here through the end of August. The above picture is the view from my hotel balcony, overlooking lake Ohrid.

It's been a really great time so far - there are students and professors from Russia, Poland, Belarus, Germany, Belgium, France, Ukraine, the Czech Republic, Romania, Hungary, Serbia, Croatia, Greece . . . and of course, America, studying at various levels of the Macedonian language.

Fish-cicles

2009-08-08T04:48:00.000-07:00

Macedonian grocery stores have frozen food sections. Normal frozen food sections, with boxes of chicken-patties and vacuum-sealed sterile shrimp and ice cream. This is fine, this does not bother me.

What does bother me is that, though 90% of all the food is prepackaged like any other frozen food, there is invariably one bin - maybe two - of unwrapped, unlabeled fish or chicken parts. Frozen solid. Really, next to the frozen pizzas, you'll see a big bin of just plain whole fish, frozen so hard that some of them have cracked in two or three parts. Or a giant bin of chicken legs and wings, unbreaded, unpackaged, frozen solid.

What do you do with this? I mean, most people shop at markets that are right next to their houses, but do some people drop an unwrapped frozen fish in their grocery bags and walk two blocks in the Skopje heat, praying it doesn't melt completely before they get back to their freezer?

I'm going to get a picture of this. I just don't think you could believe me otherwise.

The Wal-Mart Effect

2009-08-08T04:24:00.000-07:00

I've heard from my numerous Peace Corps acquaintances about the huge adjustments that one has to make when returning to the United States. Peace Corps volunteers are gone for two years, and aside from those lucky enough to be placed in crumbling Eastern European capitals - Skopje, Sofia, etc. - they live in extremely rural villages or collapsed industrial centers. The stores that exist are tiny - one room in a house converted into a a grocery, a one-room clothing "boutique", or a simple kiosk with the goods outside and the seller behind glass. Skopje, however, has several malls and shopping centers, as well as numerous supermarket chains. Most of the larger cities in Macedonia have some sort of open-air mall, and usually a small-but-recognizable chain grocery store. For the most part, however, the big-box retailers that Americans (and to an extent, some Western European countries) have come to love are almost nonexistent. So, when these Peace Corps volunteers return to America, they experience something which might be called "The Wal-Mart Effect", where one is completely overwhelmed by walking into a big-box retailer for the first time after returning home.

Earlier this summer, I had a mini-Wal-Mart-effect experience. Skopje is a fairly developed city, and a ring-road around the city was recently completed. I can't remember the occasion, but someone took me out to the edge of the city where all of the new development is taking place, to a store called "Huba-Mart". I really can't describe the feeling when I walked in, it was so. . . strange. It was a huge, over-air-conditioned pole barn, with the sound of shoppers echoing off the polished concrete floor. I was overwhelmed with the smell of various plastics, tinged with potting soil, paint and varnish.

It was the Macedonian "Home Depot". As I walked through the aisles, I experienced a strange mix of revulsion, nostalgia, and bewilderment. It was like a waking dream. I almost lost it when I turned a corner to see a row of drip-coffee machines and filters. I needed nothing, but my mind was reeling - "LOOK AT ALL THE THINGS YOU CAN BUY!"

The best approximation I can think of would be the scene in that David Bowie classic, "The Labyrinth", where the girl - that was Jennifer Connelly, right? - entered into what she thought was her own room, with that crazy hunchbacked lady trying to trick her. Everything looked the same, but it was just ever so slightly off. . . and then the girl breaks the mirror, and realizes it was all just an elaborate fantasy.

I walked outside, into the parking lot with the freshly mowed grass and the highway exit ramp, and I desperately wanted to break the illusion - "THIS CAN'T BE MACEDONIA! YOU ARE LYING TO ME!" I still get chills thinking about it. . . it was just so creepy. So out of place. And right afterward, we went to a giant Vero grocery store, which is attached to a gas station and a McDonald's. It didn't help my feeling of American consumerism-bizarreness, but it didn't make it much worse. . . at least the giant grocery store had racks of ajvar and Turkish coffee to remind me that I was just in globalized-Macedonia.

Now that I've booked my plane tickets home - I'll be back on October 22 - I think more and more about that Wal-Mart effect. That overwhelming air-conditioning. . . the sickly flourescent lighting. . .the rows and rows and rows of STUFF, all kinds of STUFF. . .

It just seems so foreign, so strange. It'll be impossible to avoid, I know. . . but I'll give it a shot.

Macedonian Dialects

2009-08-06T10:44:00.000-07:00

The diversity of dialects in Macedonia is really amazing. This is a country of 2 million people, yet there's a good chance that someone from Skopje won't really understand someone from Strumica, who won't really understand someone from Bitola because of accent, slang, and other differences. The formal, standardized Macedonian language is based on the dialect from the middle of the country - somewhere between Veles and Prilep. The Skopski dialect differs by including a great deal of Serbian, and dropping certain consonants - 'shto' (which means what) becomes 'sho'. Entire verb endings are dropped in the Strumica dialect, which is closer to Bulgarian. And no one outside of Bitola can hear people from Bitola without laughing. . . perhaps imagine a Boston accent.

By far my favorite dialect, however, is the one spoken in Macedonia's premier wine country, around Kavadarci and Negotino. It has the usual drop of consonants and different accenting of words . . . with the hilarious added bonus of nonstop profanity. Here is what Chris Deliso writes in the Macedonian section of the new Lonely Planet Western Balkans:

"Kavadarci's gregarious locals have one humorous peculiarity probably lost on outsiders: their good-natured profanity. Basic greetings are heavily soaked in swearing, apparently for its own sake - so don't blush when sommeone greets you by saying 'dojdi da t'ebam' (literally, come here so I can screw you)!"

He gives a rather more tame translation than the actual meaning. . . but you get the idea. Imagine a teenage girl's way of speaking - every other word is "like. . . ". Elderly, sun tanned, life-long grape pickers speak the same way, but with the Macedonian equivalents of the f-word, and various rude bits about your mother. A friend of a friend works in the Agricultural ministry, and had to travel down for an official government meeting with the head so-and-so's, foreign investors, and other important types, and came away shocked that the overwhelming profanity carried into the professional presentations. "And as you can see from these f**** graphs, if we don't improve our performance, then f*** your mother, we're in trouble." It's a rough translation, but without exagerration.

I crack up just thinking about it.

UPDATE

I forgot the funniest part of the government presentation story. Macedonian, like Spanish, has a polite or formal form of the verb, and an informal version. During this government presentation, the representatives from Kavadarci started cursing using the formal version of the verbs. Instead of "Come here so that I can screw you!", it would be "Please come here so that I can screw you, Sir." Now that's politeness.

It's just a fancy swimmin' hole.

2009-07-26T04:51:00.001-07:00

This is a popular swimming pool in the village of Dihovo, just a few kilometers from the city of Bitola. The water comes entirely from the mountains - they basically just divert a cool, clean river into a giant concrete tank, and then divert the runoff from the other end back into the river. The water is absolutely freezing, and it's my understanding that most people come just to sit at the cafe and stay cool near the water during the hot summer months.

Pretty neat, eh?

Food, etc. . . .Continued

2009-07-23T12:27:00.001-07:00

There's another aspect to Macedonian agriculture that I find really interesting. As you might be able to tell from all the pictures I've put up, this tiny country has an incredibly varied landscape. Every small region has its own micro-climate, and is therefore usually suited to a particular crop. In each of these regions, there are towns almost entirely dependent on one crop.

Resen, between Ohrid and Bitola, produces most of Macedonia's apples. Rosoman, outside of Bitola, produces the best peaches (it's where I purchased mine - everybody gets excited when I explain the peaches are directly od Rosoman). Prilep is a tobacco town. Sveti Nikole is known for the producing the best meat, while Bitola is famed for dairy and cheese. Kocani is surrounded by rice patties. Every raisin I've eaten in Macedonia has come from Strumica, while the grapes in Negotino and Kavadarci are made into the region's best wines. The few olives grown in Macedonia come from Gevgelija. And so on.

Knowing that most apples come from Resen, or peaches from Rosoman, is one thing. Actually visiting these towns in season is a completely different experience. Prilep is completely covered with tobacco. We drove through the city on the way to Pelister, and tobacco is hung to dry in every possible place - schoolyards, public parks, laundry lines, garages, churchyards, across alleyways, and next to cafes. Rosoman, a village of no more than a few thousand, had dozens of semi-trucks loaded with peaches to ship off to the rest of Macedonia, while dozens of stalls sold smaller quantities to individuals. The streets of Kavadarci and Negotina usually run with wine all year long anyway - I can't imagine what the grape harvest will look like.

I have yet to determine if the watermelons are specific to a region - I'm thinking maybe Tetovo - but I'll be sure to find out.

Food, etc.

2009-07-23T12:02:00.000-07:00

There's a giant crate of peaches sitting on my dining room table. I'm guessing that there's a little over three dozen left from who-knows-how-many. I've been eating peaches nonstop, giving them away to friends, to my landlord, to anyone I can before those delicious little fuzzballs start to rot. The problem is that no one really wants to take them, because just about everyone else has a giant crate of peaches on their dining room table as well. It's peach season, after all, and Macedonia - like much of southern Europe - is a seasonal country.

For the most part, I think seasons have disappeared in America. We have our strawberries, tomatoes, and iceberg lettuce available all year long, quality aside. Sure, the sweetcorn from the roadside stand only comes around in the late summer, and local groceries may only have watermelons for a few months of the year (although I imagine Kroger's has them year-round). But most Americans buy the the bulk of their food from supermarkets, and the American supermarket knows not the time of year.

This is not so in Macedonia. When I first arrived in October, fresh salads were already disappearing from restaurant menus, and were being replaced with turshija, pickled vegetables. The tomatoes available over the winter - grown in hothouses in the south of the country, and in Greece - were unnatural, plastic, tasteless, and expensive. Most people avoided them -winter is turshija time.

Then comes summer. The first watermelons, good tomatoes, chives, and cucumbers emerge early, from the halfway-opened hothouses. Things are green and fresh again. Prices drop to reasonable levels. I go to the market, I cook, and I am happy. That's not the end of it, though. The produce stalls start bursting with crops. There are actually dozens of semi-trucks full of watermelons parked all around the city, selling them for $.25 a kilo. Crates of peaches sell for $3, and the city is full of old men walking around with peach juice dribbling from their chin. People are practically giving away green peppers and onions. A month ago, during cherry season, my entire refridgerator and freezer were completely full.

The problem is that Macedonia is an agricultural state surrounded by other agricultural states, and mostly lacks large-scale canning facilities or refridgeration units. There's simply an overabundance of crops as they become ripe, and the price drops to the floor. And, since that crop is only available cheap and fresh for a limited period of time, Macedonians simply stuff themselves with whatever is in season. It sounds like a real treat, and in many ways, it is - I've never had produce that tasted so good.

But seriously - what am I going to do with three dozen peaches in the next two days?

Hiking in Pelister

2009-07-23T07:28:00.001-07:00

I was just on Pelister mountain, just outside Bitola, for a hiking trip. We made it up to a really spectacular mountain lake above the treeline.

(The view with the lake behind us - those streams are from a spring fed by the lake.)

(Mountain flowers near the lake)

(A view from a rest stop)

(Crystal clear and ice cold mountain lake)

(The Villa Dihovo, a renovated village house that is now an eco-tourism type B&B)

I may not be updating all that often. . .

2009-07-22T07:44:00.000-07:00

. . . but Justin is. He writes about the famous Galicnik Wedding and our trip out into Kratovo here.

There's even a picture of me in my 'traveling hat'.

Hiking in Eastern Macedonia, #2

2009-07-18T10:05:00.001-07:00

(Old stone bridge over the river in Kratovo)

(Turkish prison, now a museum, in Kratovo)

(Cocev Kamen)

(Kriva River)

Hiking in Eastern Macedonia

2009-07-18T09:55:00.000-07:00

(A view from the 6th century fortress at Konjuk)

(The Kriva River, as seen from the Konjuk fortress)

(A first for me: Pigs wallowing in a roadside mudpit near the Kriva River)

(Wheat fields near Konjuk)

(Kokino, an ancient observatory in an extinct volcano in Eastern Macedonia)

Summer Storms. . .

2009-07-15T10:30:00.001-07:00

. . . have knocked out my internet. It's been gone for a week now, and fixing it has been slow going. But, summer in Skopje is rather slow going. It hasn't been quite as hot as I've been told just yet, but it's getting there. Schools are out, and everyone is rushing off to Ohrid (or Greece, if they're lucky) for a few weeks of vacation.

I'll actually be heading to Ohrid in August for the Seminar on the Macedonian Language, three weeks of classes and lectures with other international students of Macedonian. I've been studying, practicing, and improving. . . so we'll see how it goes.

In other news, I've learned how to play Bridge, and I'm a fiend at it.

A Macedonian Wedding

2009-06-26T09:39:00.000-07:00

My good friend (and fellow Hoosier) Justin was married to his makedonka a few weeks ago. He has pictures, and a summary of all the traditions and such, here.

Albanian Medicine = Macedonian Medicine

2009-06-24T09:22:00.001-07:00

I laughed out loud at Chelsi's discovery of yet another use for rakija. Read it.

Osoj

2009-06-22T13:05:00.000-07:00

I spent the weekend in a village called Osoj, which means something like 'a place in the shade'. It's mostly full of vikendici - basically, weekend houses - both those of families from the village who live and work elsewhere, or those who built cottage there for the view.

This is the nearby Torbashi (or Macedonian Muslim) village.

The pointy peak on the left is the highest mountain in Macedonia, Mt. Korab. Just beyond it is the Albanian border.The baba - grandmother - of my friend at the vikendica stuffed us with cheese pie and homemade rakija.
An old tree in the mountains above Osoj, which we passed while on a mushroom hunt.

Small World

2009-06-19T17:24:00.000-07:00

The kid who works at the stationary store/photocopy place one block from my apartment went to Cincinnati Country Day School and was a manager at Steak'n'Shake. He gambled at Argosy Casino.

What does he miss most?

Mountain Dew. Completely unavailable in Europe.

World's Best Coca Cola?

2009-06-18T04:40:00.001-07:00

It's made in Macedonia - here's the proof.

The Simple Pleasures of Macedonia

2009-06-18T04:33:00.000-07:00

Macedonia has a lot of problems - there's no denying that. But there are some things at which this small country really succeeds, and one of them is the haircut. I'm confident that I will never, ever get a haircut in the States that is as enjoyable as one in Macedonia. What makes the experience so special?

Scalp massage.

I don't know why they do it. Maybe it stimulates the hair follicles. Maybe it's some traditional practice lost to the ages. But for about $3-4 dollars, at any barbershop or salon in the country, you get your hair washed and massages for 10 minutes before the haircut, and another 10 minutes afterward. Is the haircut itself any good? Sometimes yes, sometimes no.

But after the massage, who really cares?

Solunska Glava #3 (Mountain Hike)

2009-06-08T09:46:00.000-07:00

Solunska Glava #2 (Mountain Hike)

2009-06-08T09:30:00.001-07:00

Solunska Glava #1 (Mountain Hike)

2009-06-08T09:21:00.000-07:00

Seriously?

2009-06-04T05:13:00.000-07:00

The big news in Macedonia today (and maybe on a leftist, student run Greek TV station. . . somewhere) is that a fringe neo-fascist group of Greek nationalist thugs interrupted the promotion of a Greek-Macedonian dictionary in Athens. The famous Dr. Friedman was there, and had a motorcycle helmet swung at his head by one of these goons.

The whole thing came about, of course, because Greece refuses to recognize the Macedonian name, language, or identity. Greece has been the bully throughout this entire name issue - not that Macedonia hasn't provoked Greece at all, but really. I never really imagined that the Greeks would literally become large, gorilla-like bullies and attack a mild-mannered academic conference. High school never ends, eh?

Eric has translations and comments. Here's the original news item that I saw, with a video.

Summertime

2009-06-02T05:47:00.000-07:00

It's been a rather lazy past few weeks - it's the rainy season in Macedonia, and thunderstorms have kept me inside the apartment most every other day. I'm working on those aforementioned articles, for the most part. But when it's not raining . . .

(A fish restaurant on a lake outside of Kriva Palanka, in Eastern Macedonia)

(Beer cooler with fresh mountain spring water at a friend's cottage in Skopsko Crna Gora)

(Somewhere between Stip and Sv. Nikole in Eastern Macedonia)

(The view from my new apartment in the Aerodrom neighborhood of Skopje)

Archaeology, Etc.

2009-05-27T08:06:00.000-07:00

I'm working on two articles right now that will summarize a lot of what I've been doing here. They'll go up on Balkanalysis.com in the next few weeks.

Until then, Chris Deliso has written an article about an interesting archaeological site in Macedonia, and he was kind enough to quote me - and include a picture. Please check it out.

Rafting through the Balkans

2009-05-21T08:23:00.000-07:00

My apologies for not posting in so long; I've been transitioning into a new apartment. And sometimes there's so much going on, I just get overwhelmed by the sheer amount I ought to write about.

On the May Day holiday - that oh-so-socialistic day for The Workers - I travelled to Bosnia with fifteen other Macedonians to whitewater raft on the Tara River. The entire experience played like a 'Balkan Greatest Hits', in that I found myself muttering under my breath "Only in the Balkans" or "This is so Balkan" or "I might die this very moment" on numerous occasions.

We left Friday morning at 4 in the morning. The minibus was stocked with roughly four gallons of alcohol per person for a weekend-long trip, and a specially made series of turbo-folk mix tapes which would allow for 24 hours of non-interrupted arm waving and karaoke. Somebody had also thoughtfully brought along a drum. It was a long, long ride. We passed through Kosovo relatively quickly, but entered Montenegro in a snowstorm. It's often jokes that Montenegro - country of about 500,000 people sandwiched between Croatia, Bosnia, and Albania on the Adriatic coast - would be the largest country in Europe if somebody flattened it out. It took us around 9 hours to travel through a country smaller than Macedonia.

It was spectacularly beautiful, however - unbelievable mountains, isolated lakes, hidden monasteries and the like. We arrived at the border with Bosnia in the mid-afternoon. Well, sort of.

Bosnia (officially Bosnia and Herzegovinia, 'BiH') isn't really a functioning country in any sense. It was the site of fighting and attrocities following the breakup of Yugoslavia, and has been administered by international bodies ever since. The area where we stayed was actually the 'Republika Srbska', a de facto autonomous state within Bosnia populated by ethnic Serbs. It's complicated, trust me. Lots of passport stamps.

(On the Montenegro / Bosnia-Republika Srbska Border)

(At the Rafting Camp in Bosnia, on the Tara River)

We made it through the border checkpoints, and when we arrived at the rafting camp, we were greeted with Turkish coffee and slivovitz, the Serbian variety of rakija made from plums. Since we weren't rafting until Saturday, there was nothing left to do but TURBOFOLK.

(TURBOFOLK-ing)

Saturday morning, it was time for rafting. I really can't express how ice-blue the water was, because I've never seen anything like it. The picture doesn't do the water justice.

(The Tara River)

This was the first weekend of the season, so the rapids were great, and the water was ice cold - 8 degrees Celsius, which I think is close to absolute zero in our reckoning. We had to cross the border back into Montenegro every morning, and then we would raft back in to Bosnia. This sounds kind of cool, but it actually meant we had to wait for 2 hours at the Montenegrin border, as tried to determine exactly what we might be smuggling in our wetsuits.

Now, I'm not an avid whitewater rafter, so maybe the following are actually normal or expected. Please let me know if I'm mistaken in assuming the following are unusual/amusing/dangerous:

1. Each boat has a waterproof container in the middle, where everyone keeps their cameras. . . and cigarettes and plastic bottles of rakija. We stopped about every half hour for a smoke break. The bottles of rakija were continually being passed around, compared, and traded with other passing boats.

2. At one point, as we were approaching some mighty rapids, a Serbian woman started opening this camera bucket, endangering our expensive electronics. She said she wanted to "really enjoy the rapids", which meant lighting a cigarette right beforehand, holding it above her head as we crashed through the waves, and whooping.

3. During a quiet spell, a Serbian man who looked like Liam Neeson dove into the 8 degree C water and started backstroking along the side of the raft. His friend then threw him a plastic two liter bottle of rakija, which he casually sipped as he floated in this liquid ice.

4. Every mountain stream that flows into the river is safe for drinking. Unfortunately, I find this unusual.

(The Piva River - over 7 feet deep, yet crystal clear)

It was a really specatcular experience. The water and the mountains were beautiful, the food was delicious and fresh from the village, and there was great company all around.

Let the summer begin, I suppose.

Around the Balkans. . .

2009-05-05T08:10:00.000-07:00

Eric has a heartfelt post about the Roma and mainstream society in Macedonia:

It suddenly clicked for me that I had never once seen a group of dark-skinned men in any of the modern bars in the center. Moreover, without anyone telling me explicitly, I had already internalized that as normal, trivial. The cultural expectation was so strong that it had been transmitted to me wordlessly: Of course a group of Roma friends would be turned away from a bar in the center. Of course. This is the way it is.

Justin has interesting May Day reflections:

Anyhow, back to my thoughts on life here. It’s as one diplomat I was speaking to recently said to me “it’s as if people here are stuck in the ‘60s, aren’t thinking at all about tomorrow, and are milking what they’ve got for everything it’s worth.” Maybe a bit harsh, but in contrast to the industrious, Midwestern urban America that I grew up in, life and people’s perceptions of what they can do to improve their own and others around them stands in stark contrast to the US.

Chelsi takes a trip to Kosovo:

Whenever I would talk with locals in the street or that the parks and they learned I was an American, some of them would put their hand to their heart or kiss it and say, "yes, we love America and Bill Clinton."

The Vodno Cross

2009-04-26T13:46:00.000-07:00

The Millennium Cross, set atop Mount Vodno, overlooks the city of Skopje. It is illuminated at night, and can be seen from almost everywhere in the city.

Mountain Picnic

2009-04-26T06:10:00.001-07:00

. . . at a meadow near Sv. Spas Church, above Matka Valley, just outside of Skopje.

Orthodox Easter

2009-04-24T02:42:00.001-07:00

This past weekend was Orthodox Easter (they work on a different liturgical calendar). Justin wrote about the traditions here, so I'll just mention a few things that interested me.

Easter Eggs- Justin explains, they also make Easter Eggs here, and they can be quite elaborately decorated. The interesting part is what they do with them. At midnight, after the priest finishes reading the Gospels, everybody pulls out their decorated egg and cracks it - bottom to bottom, and top to top - with their friend or family member. The egg that does crack 'wins', and moves on to challenge the next egg. This is apparently the highlight for Macedonian children, and brings them great honor at school the next day. There's a lot of cheating, unfortunately - some children purchase and decorate carved wooden eggs in order to decimate the competition.

Candles - I went to the main downtown church, which always draws a big crowd. The Roma were selling candles at the street corners near the church. You pick up a candle, and either light it from the main candle inside the church, or from another person who has done the same. There's a legend that, if you put the leftover stub of wax underneath your pillow that night, you will dream of the person you will marry. Also, Macedonians don't know the words to "This Little Light of Mine", and don't seem to appreciate a little gospel in their Gospel.

MEAT - The most amusing part of the whole evening is the rush to break the Lenten Fast. A great majority of people don't fast at all; some will cut out all meat, dairy, oil and alcohol, others just one of the above. And they may only fast for a shorter period within Lent. Nonetheless, Macedonians refuse to let an opportunity for grilled meat go to waste, and just after cracking the eggs, everyone rushes off to get that first delicious plate of sharska or kebap. The restaurants are open until 3 or 4am, and mobile meat vans set up around the city as well. And, of course, some people overdo it:

A 47 year-old male ended up in hospital on early Monday morning after a long night of festivities, overindulging in three kilos of meat and ten eggs to mark the end of Orthodox Easter fasting.

Happy Easter.

Tirana

2009-04-15T01:25:00.001-07:00

(The parliament building sits George W. Bush street)

Eric and I took this past weekend to visit Chelsi in Tirana, Albania. The city was very surprising (Eric's thoughts are here). It went from an Italianate backwater in the 1930's to the headquarters of a North Korea-like paranoia state during the Cold War to lawless, anarchic gangland in the mid-ninetiess to . . . well, now it is very much a modern, cosmopolitan, very European city.

It's also full of candy-striped pink buildings, fortress-like apartment buildings, Mercedes-driving fruit vendors, and the most chaotic public square I have ever scurried across. Welcome to Albania.

The most striking thing about the city is easily that all of the buildings are painted in bright pastels. The mayor, a former professor of art, thought the city needed a little brightening up, and . . . well, see above. Communist block apartments, Italianate mansions, brand new construction - all of it is bright pink, green, purple or blue, and it's actually really beautiful.

Taking inspiration from Tirana, I suppose, there are a lot of these bright, gaudy buildings scattered around ethnic Albanian areas in Macedonia. They seem very much out of place among the gray, drab Yugoslav apartment blocks. But when the entire city is painted like an Easter Egg, it works. Who would have thought?

Albania also just recently joined NATO, which has been really important for this incredibly pro-American country. Before visiting, going only from news reports, I had no idea how they had reached that point. Just over ten years ago, the entire country collapsed into anarchy as a giant investment scheme wiped out virtually the entire GDP. The United Nations had to send in a stabilization force to restore public order. Now, the city is full of well-kept parks, clean streets, and modern steel-and-glass buildings. The area surrounding former Communist dicator Enver Hoxja's home is a hip bar/club/cafe district. There are some really fantastic restaurants. I could have been wandering around a pleasant downtown area in almost any European city. NATO accension made much more sense.

On the other hand, a good 100 kilometers of the road leading to Tirana was more or less a one-and-a-half lane village road. The electrical grid is prone to frequent collapse, as every pole has a spiderweb of illegal lines draining power from the main powerlines. The river flowing through the city is little better than a sewage drainage ditch, and the sewer system overall is in desperate need of upgrades. The water isn't all that safe to drink. Albania has the highest rate of traffic fatalities in Europe, and believe me, I now know why - and I think it deserves a separate post.

Overall, though, Eric and I were both incredibly impressed with Tirana. I plan on returning as soon as possible to Albania - beyond Tirana, there are some really spectacular beaches, archaeological sites, mountain villages, and all that great Balkan stuff. A few more pictures:
\Kolonat: I think Tirana is the only major European capital without a McDonald's - Skopje has three, plus another in Tetovo. Instead, they have 'Kolonat' which, as you can see from the 'broken arches', is a Bizarro-McDonald's. The setup, the advertisements, the Happy Meals, and the decor all stand in blatant copyright infringement. And they serve pizza and beer.

UFO University: This is a major Albanian university on the main square. It's pronounced "Yoofoe", and is an acronym for something in Albanian. Unfortunately, they don't have a paranormal studies department.

Book Review. . . Again

2009-04-07T08:42:00.000-07:00

My book review for "A Brief History of the Late Ottoman Empire", originally featured here on Balkanalysis.com, has been re-. . . re-whatever the digital equivalent of 'reprinted' - here on BalkanTravellers.com.

I'd appreciate it if you would visit the sites to build up the traffic.

I should mention. . .

2009-04-07T07:13:00.001-07:00

. . . that Gjorge Ivanov won the second-round presidential elections. There was no violence, low turnout, and most people expected him to win anyway. I think the strawberry-scented air-fresheners pushed him over that critical threshold of support.

Macedonian Drivers and the Social Contract

2009-04-07T05:12:00.000-07:00

After numerous near-death experiences on the roads, highways, and sidewalks of Macedonia, I was inclined to believe that Macedonian drivers were the most dangerous and reckless people I had ever seen behind the wheel. Cars park and drive on sidewalks, form extra lanes on highways where there shouldn't be, and regard stop lights, signs, and other traffic signals as vague suggestions, at best. Traffic police on the highway are a rather pathetic sight; they wave a sign at you to pull over for random checks, but most cars tend to blow right past them.

But lately, as I've grown used to Skopje traffic, I've developed a new respect for Macedonian drivers. It's my Ameri-centrism acting up again. Our country was built for cars. Our spaces are clearly defined: ROADS ARE FOR CARS. NO PEOPLE ALLOWED. We happily buzz along at 60, 70, 80 miles an hour, fairly secure in the knowledge that there's probably not going to be a herd of cattle or a family of seven wandering across I-75. We just throw the transmission into 'drive', put on the cruise control, and attempt to stay awake in the air-conditioned bliss. Let's face it - in our strip-malled, box store and gas station suburbs, if there actually is a pedestrian at a cross walk, and we are forced to wait two seconds longer to make that right turn, we get angry. Why are you walking here? This is a road! Get a car!

European countries - especially urban areas - were not built for cars. Most interstate highways in Eastern Europe are relatively recent affairs - Skopje's ring road isn't even complete yet, while Belgrade's was finished only recently. Roads are constructed on a human scale, and the spaces aren't clearly defined. Cars park all over the sidewalks, people walk down the middle of the road. Cars share the highways with scooters, motorcycles, donkeys, wagons, tractors, and other Road Warrior-style contraptions cobbled together by the Roma. The cars are much smaller - a decent size car here would be a Honda Civic hatchback, and there are older Zastavas, Yugos, and Fiats that are so tiny they could be featured in a Shriner parade in America, should a portly older gentlemen be able to fit inside.

The benefit of all this - and the hardest thing for an American to grasp, I think - is that this personalizes traffic. At 60 miles an hour in a tinted-window SUV, you are completely isolated, oblivious. If you run over something smaller than a beagle, you won't notice it. And other drivers? You might see them at stoplights. But when you're at a light-less intersection in an oversized Hot Wheels car, you interact. You wave to the driver on the left to go on, and the driver on the right sees this and uses the opportunity to turn himself. You ask for a cigarette from the passenger in the next car at a stop light. You can talk, wave, point, and other drivers acknowledge and react. It's like pushing a shopping cart through the aisles of a grocery store.

We view cars as giant speeding metal death boxes, with which you can only interact if you are in your own giant speeding metal death box. That's just how it is in the States. I carried this mentality with me to a traffic culture that is vastly different, which is why it all seemed so chaotic and frightening. And, honestly, it still is pretty chaotic and frightening, and it would take a lot for me to drive here. But at least I can acknowledge my own bias.

Macedonian Dogs

2009-04-04T10:33:00.000-07:00

An embarrassing admission:

When I met my first trained Macedonian dog, responding to commands of "Sedni!" or "Zdravo!" or "Chekaj!", a part of me thought, "My God. This must be the smartest dog in the world, to understand these Macedonian commands!"

When I actually put thought into it, I realized that the dog probably wasn't bilingual in English and Macedonian, as I had originally thought.

This is the subconscious rot of English linguistic imperialism.

Monastery of Sv. Naum

2009-04-02T04:36:00.001-07:00

Spring?

2009-04-02T02:16:00.000-07:00

I now understand why the Macedonian word for 'Spring' basically translates to "pre-Summer". Four days ago, it was sunny and clear and crisp. Three days ago, it was warm and muggy and cloudy. Today, I woke up, and my apartment was just hot.

Not much has bloomed yet, so most of the city looks gray and dead. The sky is gray and oppressive as well, and has swallowed back up those beautiful mountains. And since the city heating system is still running, my apartment is hot. Very hot.

I think this is just a taste of the infamous Skopje summer. To that I say: I spent a summer in Tempe, Arizona. Bring it on.

Protests #2

2009-03-31T05:10:00.000-07:00

If you're interested in the aftermath of the protests/counterprotests, the website http://skopje2803.blogspot.com is compiling reactions to the events in English. They also refer to me as "Skopje resident and blogger S. Elder", which has a nice ring to it. Maybe I'll get new business cards.

Eric has another excellent post up, detailing the logical inversions being used to prosecute the protesters that were injured for causing the events which led to their injuries.

And here is the Balkan Insight story.

Six Months in. . . #5

2009-03-31T04:30:00.000-07:00

TURKISH COFFEE FLOWS THROUGH MY VEINS

The font used above is supposed to approximate the level of caffeine in my body at all times. Between roaming packs of street dogs, scooters, traffic madness, and Roma children, living in Macedonia requires an extremely high degree of awareness of your surroundings. Survival in Skopje means that you need to be able to walk arm-in-arm with someone down a sidewalk, dodging potholes, parked cars, and moving cars, smoking a cigarette with one hand, texting on the phone with the other, and hissing at street dogs while still holding a conversation. This is only possible with Turkish coffee.

Turkish coffee is common throughout the Balkans, Turkey, and the Middle East (although in Greece, it's known as Greek coffee - kafe hellenikos - but don't let them fool you), spread by the Ottoman Empire. It's somewhat similar to 'cowboy coffee', in that you boil the the grounds directly in the water, as seen in the disastrous picture above. Unlike American filter coffee, though, the coffee is ground down to a powder. After bringing the water to a boil, the coffee foams up at the top and spills all over the stove, which after six months leaves a light dusting of coffee over all the surfaces of your apartment. That's not necessarily the traditional way to prepare it, but such things happen. After pouring the coffee, the grounds settle at the bottom in a sort of sludge, and you drink the delicious, delicious liquid energy off the top.

Whenever Macedonians have guests - especially in the villages - they always prepare Turkish coffee. It's a very social drink, and Macedonians can sit on a cup for hours, smoking and gossiping. As an American, I drink it like a weak cup of Folger's, and buzz right through two or three cups in the same amount of time. It's often difficult to find Turkish coffee in the trendier, "European" cafes on the square or the pedestrian street. They serve the typical run of espressos and capuccinos, and view Turkish coffee as a sort of backwards, village drink - despite the fact that everyone drinks it anyway.

Needless to say, it's very, very strong. And if you take it without sugar, you'll impress all the older folks. My best advice, though, would be not to even start down that road. Ask for tea instead, becuase once you start drinking Turkish coffee, it's impossible to function without it.

Six Months In. . . #4

2009-03-31T04:15:00.000-07:00

If a liquid looks or smells disgusting, but people drink it, I assume it has some health benefit.

Macedonia is full of folk remedies for various ailments, and most of the 'medicine' prescribed by grandmothers is some sort of rakija. Two popular, traditional, and non-alcoholic 'health drinks' are juva and boza.

Juva is, basically, rotting cabbage juice. 'Kisela zelka' is Macedonian sauerkraut, and rather than purchase it from stores, most people have a barrel in the backyard where they ferment their own cabbage. After fermenting and removing the cabbage, they are left with a salty, pinkish-colored brine that smells like the trashcan at a farmer's market. This is juva. Drink a glass every morning to prevent illness; drink a big glass to cure a hangover. Juva cures all.

And actually, it is very healthy. Cabbage is a great source of vitamin C in areas where citrus fruits are not traditionally grown, and the juva is full of it. Also, in the dry, warm climate of Macedonia, the high concentration of salt replenishes what you lose while sweating. And to be honest, it doesn't actually taste bad - it's just like drinking sauerkraut. But the smell. . . it takes some getting used to.

Boza basically a rotten wheat drink. It is sold in bottles at sweets shops, for some reason. It's non-alcoholic, though I'm not sure how, because it tastes exactly like the mash used in the first stage of making whiskey. Imagine pouring Pabst Blue Ribbon on a bowl of cornflakes and letting it sit out for awhile. I have to assume that it actually is slightly alcoholic, as the traditional benefit of this sort of drink is that water-borne bacteria can't survive the mild alcohol. Aside from that, I have no clue.

These are the 'cultural' things that people talk about, I guess.

Update:

The Wikipedia articles for boza is here. Here's something I did not know:

"Boza allegedly has the ability to enlarge women's breasts."

Perspective

2009-03-30T03:02:00.000-07:00

I think most Americans are cheap at the margins - that's not to say we don't spend a good deal on clothes, electronics, and other consumer items, because we obviously do. But being frugal at the margins means that, looking at the menu in Olive Garden, we're more likely to pick the giant plate of fake-Italian pasta for $12.95 over the slightly better looking plate of fake-Italian pasta for $14.99. We're already spending more than $10 on a meal better made at home for $2, but if we can save $2 somewhere else. . . we do. It's irrational, but it's a habit.

And in a place like Macedonia, it becomes a very bad habit. Looking at a menu in a restaurant here in Skopje, you might see that a huge basket of grilled bread is 50 denari, while bread-with-cheese comes in at a whopping 90 denari. The marginal frugality kicks in unconsciously, and you go without cheese. You have saved less than a dollar on an appetizer that could be split between five people.

When traveling through the country, I'll often grumble about 'Skopje Prices'. An espresso in, say, Strumica will be about 40 denari, while the average price in Skopje is 70 denari. The 30 denari price difference is about $.60 (give or take), and I dare you to find a $1.40 Italian espresso anywhere in America. The same rule holds for most other food and drink prices.

So, rather than complain, I've been trying to keep things in perspective. And here's some perspective: In Macedonia, 10 dollars = about 450 denarii =

1. about 3 gallons of good beer

2. about 4 or 5 gallons of decent wine

3. A light dinner for two at a kafana, including appetizers, wine or beer, and Turkish coffee for desert

4. A train ticket from one end of the country to the other (Skopje-Gevgelija)

5. A long night out anywhere but Skopje

6. Basic groceries for a week (giant loaf of bread = $.50, potatoes and onions might as well be free, see above for beverages)

7. Two espressos after I walk to the center and pay my monthly water bill.

8. A taxi ride from one end of Skopje to the other - and back.

9. Eight packs of cheap cigarettes.

10. Ten hours online at the Internet cafe in the basement of my apartment building.

It also equals 40 frozen pizza crusts, 25 bunches of fresh parsley, and a block of cheese the size of my head. And so on . . .

Protests

2009-03-30T01:43:00.000-07:00

When I woke up on Saturday morning, the alley behind my apartment was filled with poorly-designed flyers. They were in support of the building of a Macedonian Orthodox Church on the main public square in Skopje, giving such compelling arguments as "The Square is an unfinished area of the City" and "Every European square has a Church. We should too." On the back was a picture of Jesus, and the quote, "Forgive them father, they know not what they do."

This flyer was meant to rally people to the square that morning in support of the building of the church, as opponents of a church-on-the-square were holding their own rally. From what I understand, the opponents were students from the Faculty of Architecture, and opposed to the location, rather than the church itself.

A little background information: The Macedonian government pays to build Orthodox churches and giant crosses on top of mountains. This is naturally irritating to the Muslim Albanians, who I doubt recieve any money from the government to build their mosques (most of the money comes from abroad) and to those people who would prefer money be spent on things like education and health care. This new church is being built on an already-crowded square, in a location where both mosques and churches have previously existed. And, on an aesthetic note, the construction wall blocks the main cafe-bar area from views of the river.

So, a handful of students from the Faculty of Architecture show up for a peaceful protest, and somebody trucks in several hundred counter-protesters from outside of Skopje. Violence ensued, of course. Eric has an excellent post about it. Balkan Insight's editorial is here. Justin recently wrote about the interesting identity issues in Macedonia, which most definitely come into play here. And Balkanalysis.com has an article up about the image problems of the current government.

The first round of elections were peaceful, by the way, so that's great news. The second round is coming up soon.

Lake Matka

2009-03-30T01:34:00.001-07:00

A Few Notes on Music

2009-03-24T07:01:00.000-07:00

Earlier, I wrote about the unnerving popularity of Elvis' "Suspicious Minds" on Macedonian radio. As an American, my music is neatly categorized into "New" and "Old". "New" music is on the radio, unless you're listening to an "Oldies" station. "Old" can never be "New". So that an old Elvis song could be popular now, well, it's just plain disturbing.

To add to this phenomenon, two anecdotes:

I have heard live bands or DJ's in popular Skopje discos play these songs on the weekend:

"Love Shack" by the B-52's
The Friends theme song (!)
"Dancing Queen" by Abba
That song from Grease where they sing back and forth

And I should stress that they are playing these songs entirely without irony. Sure, we'll have an '80's Party' in college, but the whole point of that is to wear ugly sweaters and laugh at ourselves. This stuff is popular here.

Also, I was talking to someone about the soundtrack to Animal House (why? I can't recall) and I asked her if she had ever heard the Sam Cooke song "Wonderful World", which is featured in the movie. "Yeah, of course," she said, "It was a big hit here two years ago."

This is fascinating because people here have always had access to Western music. It's not like the wall came down, and a flood of Zeppelin and the Beatles swept over, and people are still digging around and discovering the 1950's. But, nonetheless, Sam Cooke is still making waves.

Good for him.

Six Months in . . . #3

2009-03-24T06:09:00.000-07:00

I will, on occasion, defend Tito and Yugoslav Socialism.

Those who know me are aware that my politics amount to the 'leave me the hell alone!' cranky sentiments of rural populism. And those same people would probably be very surprised to hear my occasional defense of a federation of socialist republics. This defense, though, is usually limited to Macedonia's position within Yugoslavia. And it's usually brought about while trying to explain to someone that Yugoslavia was not in the Soviet Union.

Almost everyone over 30 that has spoken to me about Yugoslavia is exceptionally nostalgic for it - think the Golden Era of 1950's Leave It to Beaver America for which some people in the States long. There's a great deal of Communist nostalgia in Russia, too, but this is tempered by the Gulag, commodity shortages, bread lines, paranoia, and a brutal state apparatus. Yugoslavia was a much kinder sort of state. Sure, there were political prisoners, religious suppression, and a powerful state apparatus here, too. But Yugoslav citizens were far freer in their words and actions. People could travel abroad in Europe without trouble. Consumer items were plentiful compared with other nearby states, while food, alcohol, and cigarettes were always in abundance. Most people who lived under Yugoslavia, when asked, would say they considered themselves 'free'.

And Macedonia itself experienced a sort of cultural renaissance. For numerous reasons (to erode Serbia's influence in the Federation, to strengthen claims against Greece, as a political show for neighboring Albania, Bulgaria, and Greece) Yugoslavia invested heavily in Macedonian culture. The language was codified, institutes were created for preserving folk heritage, and resources were made available for archaeology and historical preservation. As a traditionally poor region, Macedonia benefited a great deal from the Yugoslav federal structure.

So, take a hypothetical case. If I were, say, an electrician in Yugoslav Macedonia, I would probably belong to some sort of state-sponsored guild, and would be guaranteed a job for life. This 'job for life' opens up the opportunity for credit (hey, a job-for-life is a safe bet for bank) and I'd be able to get an apartment, maybe a car, and all the trappings of a relatively comfortable life pretty quickly. Every company or guild or union 'owned' its own vacation resort (from government resorts on the Croatian coast to municipal garbage-men unions on small lakes here in Macedonia), and I would be able to take a month-long vacation every year at my company's place. Other, once-in-a-decade or so trips might be organized for Greece, or something like that. My passport gives me visa-free access to all of Western Europe, no travel restrictions. And, compared to neighboring Albania, Bulgaria, and yes, pre-EU northern Greece, I've got a spectacular standard of living.

If I were that same electrician today, I would be facing 30% official unemployment and a maze of tax regulations. My passport isn't all that great anywhere but the former Yugoslavia, because now I need an expensive and time-consuming visa for the UK, Western Europe, and Greece. The economy isn't all that great, because instead of Macedonian goods competing in the Yugoslav common market, they have to compete against the EU and all other former Communist nations. And odds are, I'm still living with my parents, because real estate is in short supply in Skopje and I just couldn't afford it. The future looks uncertain with regards to EU membership. And while a lot of people have made a lot of money since splitting with Yugoslavia, things may not be looking up for me.

This is an imaginary situation, of course. But I hope it illustrates the relative decline of some people's standard of living after the fall of Yugoslavia, and helps make clear why anyone would be nostalgic for socialism.

Of course, if you talk to young professionals, there's a whole different outlook: they often decry the "Yugoslav" mentality of the older generation as a very negative, anti-progress, anti-growth sort of thing. But that's for another post.

Six Months in . . . #2

2009-03-21T06:06:00.000-07:00

Hello, my name is Set.

That's not a typo. For the past six months, to all non-Americans, I am known as Set. There is no Macedonian equivalent for the English 'th' sound. This is actually pretty common - just think back to any movies you've seen with stereotypical foreign accents. Usually they'll pronounce "the" as "dee", or something like that.

Also, in the Macedonian language, you pronounce every letter. There's none of this silent letter stuff we have in English. If a Macedonian reads my name (I hand them my card, or something like that) oftentimes they'll pronounce my name as "Set-kha", since the 'H' in Macedonian is a sort of aspirated k-sound in the back of the throat. It sounds like a short hacking cough.

It's really difficult to make a sound that isn't native to your language, and only Macedonians who are especially fluent in English, or have lived in the West for a long period of time, are able to do it naturally. Our equivalent would be the rolling r-sound in Spanish. Some people just can't do it.

So, to make things easier, I have become Set. This is also the name of the Egyptian god of Chaos and Death, which a surprising number of people seem to know. It also has the same meaning as a 'set' in English - like a dinner set, or a bedroom set. This often confuses people as well, so I usually have to explain myself anyway. And it usually doesn't help.

Six Months in . . . #1

2009-03-20T12:31:00.000-07:00

I've realized that I've been here in Macedonia for more than half a year. As with my other experience living abroad, it both feels like I've been here far longer than six months, and that my friends, my graduation from DePauw, are all only a few months back. It's odd, to say the least.

So, in the interests of innumerable, meaningless, pop-psychology buzzwords, I thought I'd write about how I've changed since moving to Macedonia. I'll start out with a big one:

My lungs are probably as black as coal.

Almost everyone here smokes. I've spent a good deal of time around smokers, in numerous bars where such a barbaric practice is still allowed, and I thought I could handle it. Honestly, though, I don't think anybody born after the Surgeon General went crazy on smokers understands how much of a non-smoking nation the United States really is. When people smoke, you tend to notice it. You can smell the tobacco.

It didn't take me long to adapt here, mostly because I was saturated with cigarette smoke from the moment I arrived. Cheap cigarettes cost about a dollar a pack, and if anyone runs out, there's no problem bumming on off anyone nearby. 'Non-smoking' sections in restaurants - even the university - are only for show, because people smoke right next to the signs. Non-smoking areas in cafes or bars are nonexistent. I don't notice it, it doesn't bother me, and I can't usually smell tobacco smoke. There are times, usually at clubs, where there's so much smoke that the smokers themselves complain, in between puffs, and I go to sleep hacking and coughing afterwards.

And the most interesting thing is that, despite my being in the tiny minority here, everyone is incredibly gracious. I can be sitting in a smoke-filled bar, the only non-smoker at a table, and without fail everyone asks me whether I mind if they smoke. Guests in my apartment always ask to smoke on the balcony. It's a small courtesy, but it's appreciated.

Add to that the really terrible, hazy pollution that rests over Skopje for most of the year,and the creaking, exhaust spewing 70's Zastava cars, I'm probably cutting off a few years just by going outside.

But I'll be damned if I don't enjoy it.

The Macedonian Elections

2009-03-20T08:26:00.000-07:00

Sunday, March 22, is Election Day for Macedonia. President (a largely ceremonial post in this parliamentary system), Skopje Mayor, and municipal mayors and councils all around the country will be picked today. Or not, because low voter turnout and numerous candidates usually necessitate a second round of elections after the first. That's the best I can do. As much as I am interested in politics, as an American, I absolutely refuse to attempt to understand how a parliamentary democracy functions. One-issue party platforms? Coalitions?! It's all very disturbing and, frankly, nonsensical.

The ruling party, VMRO, is expected to maintain and most likely increase in power, as the main opposition Social Democrats have collapsed lately. If you're actually interested in the internal politics of Macedonia, here is BalkanInsight's Macedonian Election Center. An even better read would be Justin's summary, which I really, really suggest you read.

The last major elections were marred by violence, and there is a worry that new incidents could occur, although most people don't seem to be too worried about it. The violent incidents really harmed Macedonia's progress towards the European Union, so it's important to keep things civil this time around.

Two personal observations:

1.Billboards for candidates are everywhere in Skopje, and elections here are pretty complicated - a Skopje resident has five pages of ballots to fill out. For this reason, the candidates are numbered, and this number appears on the campaign advertisements. This makes them look exactly like advertisements for local news programs to those who speak little or no Macedonian, with the candidate number as the channel. Take this example for Gjorge Ivanov, the presidential candidate for the ruling Macedonian party, VMRO:

Tell me that doesn't look like a morning show on your local NBC affiliate. His slogan in the corner, 'Eden za site' = 'One for All'.

2. I have been getting lots of free stuff. In the past months, groups of supporters for candidates have come to my door. These groups seem pretty targeted: one composed of elderly pensioners, one of blue-collar looking middle-age guys, and one group of attractive 20-something women. They shove notebooks, pens, flyers, etc., in my face and start trying to sell me on their candidate (or gauge my support for someone else). I just tell them I'm a foreigner and collect my prizes. I'm not sure, but I think this sort of thing would be a pretty huge violation of election law in the States. VMRO's people stopped at my door last night, and I got a neon-orange hat for Vladimir Todorovik (Skopje Mayor), a strawberry-scented Gjorge Ivanov (President) air freshener, and a flyer for Ivanov. Neither my wearing of this neon orange hat, nor my freshly strawberry-scented bathroom, constitute an endorsement of any candidate.

Here's to you, Lady Democracy. I hope you have one hell of a weekend.

The Macedonian Economic Situation

2009-03-04T11:04:00.000-08:00

I spend an inordinate amount of time online, reading about all the terrible things that are happening to the economy back in the United States, and also in the UK, Ireland, Greece, the rest of the EU, Asia. . . etc. Banks collapse, loans are defaulted on, and all sorts of rotten domino-effects are knocking down innocent bystanders. Several people have asked me how the Macedonian economy is weathering this long-term storm, so I'll attempt to sum it up here. Please keep in mind that an attempt at economic analysis on my part is like a blind man writing a novel with alphabet magnets on a refrigerator.

It's really difficult to get an overall sense of the Macedonian economy. Accurate statistics are very, very hard to come by because a good deal of trade and employment is done in a less-than-legal fashion. Officially, there is 30% unemployment, and there has been for quite awhile, but a good chunk of those 'unemployed' are just skirting around tax laws. Macedonia has always been relatively poor, which probably helps a bit in this particular crisis, because Stopanska Bank wasn't playing the international market on sub-prime mortgages. The Government has thrown out a stimulus package, mostly of infrastructure spending, of 8 billion euro. I haven't heard any chatter about banks defaulting, and all the news stories about "Eastern Europe going bankrupt" or the EU denying emergency loans to 'Eastern Europe' pertain mostly to places like Hungary or Poland. Aside from the riots in Greece (and smaller-scale unrest in Sofia, Bulgaria) there hasn't been much trouble in the Balkans so far.

That being said, there are problems on the horizon. Most of Macedonia's exports are meant for the construction sector - metals, minerals, rock, etc. As the European economy slows, construction slows, and therefore orders for Macedonian exports dwindle. The Macedonian denar is pegged to the Euro, so if the Euro currency runs into trouble, it could take the denar with it. Finally, a great deal of income here consists of remittances from abroad - Macedonians working elsewhere and sending money home - so as Western European economies suffer, so will Macedonia.

That's my best shot at short-term economic analysis, using all my training as a part-time mechanic and Classical Studies major. Take it for what you will.

The Via Egnatia Project

2009-03-04T10:22:00.000-08:00

(A View from Hotel Molika)

Two weekends ago, I found myself in a mountaintop hotel, with a snowstorm raging outside. A Turkish woman was shoving candied pistachios at me while two Dutch women and a Greek danced to a traditional Balkan folk tune. The air was full of cigarette smoke - cheap Galoises for the Macedonians, and crooked, tiny hand-rolled tobacco for the Dutch. Everyone was engaged in English conversation, though at that point I was the only native speaker among thirty or so Dutch, Albanians, Turks, Macedonians, and Greeks. These nationalities were further split between various disciplines. There were historians, ethnomusicologists, ethnologists, anthropologists, cultural heritage experts, archaeologists, marketing and business professionals, and a good number of other vague academic fields. Why? T he Via Egnatia Project, of course.

(Ancient Heraclea - Theatre)

The Via Egnatia is an ancient Roman road that ran from Istanbul to the port of Durres on the Albanian coast (wikipedia article here) by way of Thessaloniki, and the ancient towns of Heraclea, near Bitola, and Lychnidos, near Ohrid, in the Republic of Macedonia. It was a major highway, and really the best link between Rome and Constantinople. It fell into disuse sometime during the Ottoman period, and in many places has disappeared.

The Via Egnatia project is directed toward restoring this road, both in abstract and concrete terms, as a general link between the cultures of Albania, Greece, Macedonia, and Turkey. The Dutch Embassy sponsored all of the aformentioned academics and professionals to spend a weekend brainstorming at the Hotel Molika on Pelister Mountain near Bitola, and I was lucky enough to attend. I sat in on the 'Archaeology and Monuments' conference section, though I doubt I was of much help.

The next big project of the foundation is a caravan along the presumed route of the Via Egnatia, beginning in the spring. I'll keep my eye on it.

Side Projects

2009-03-02T02:12:00.001-08:00

I wrote a book review of "A Brief History of the Late Ottoman Empire" for Balkanalysis.com.

American Birthdays

2009-03-01T12:22:00.000-08:00

I spent this past Saturday with some friends at a really spectacular new winery, Popova Kula, just outside of Demir Kapija in the heart of the Macedonian wine country. The building is brand new, but built with traditional aesthetics in mind. Everything was extremely tasteful. We were celebrating an American birthday with wine and appetizers in the tower.

In Macedonia, whenever an American is holding a birthday party, the invitations specifically say that it will be an American-style birthday. While I wish this meant that every American's birthday celebrated over here is full of barbecue, fireworks, and Lynyrd Skynyrd, it actually means "I'm not paying for you."

In Macedonian culture, the birthday boy/girl is expected to take their friends out for drinks, pay for dinner, or even give small gifts to their guests. This isn't restricted to birthdays. In most any celebration for something gained - say, a promotion, a new house, an award - whomever is being celebrated is expected to treat everyone else. This doesn't necessarily hold true across the board, as each celebration has separate rules, but generally this is the case.

For me, at least, this was very difficult to grasp. It just doesn't make any sense. Friends are supposed to celebrate a birthday by pitching in, giving gifts. We have housewarming parties. If a buddy gets a new job, or graduates from a program, I feel like I ought to buy him a beer. This is American cultural context, and it can lead to some "Who's on First" type discussions when a bill is delivered:

Macedonian: Thanks for coming to my party.
American: No, it was great, here, how much are we chipping in for you?
Macedonian: What? No, it's my celebration. I'm paying.
American: Right. It's a celebration . . .for you. You don't pay.
Macedonian: No, that's why I do pay.

And so on.

I was talking to Eric about this sort of thing, wondering aloud why this is completely inverted. He suggested that, since Macedonia is a traditional society, community and family based, you don't want to get too far ahead of people. You've got the honor of a birthday celebration, or some other event, but you don't want to seem too high and mighty. So you pay, spread the wealth, to make sure that nobody begins to resent you for your success.

America, on the other hand, is more or less meritocratic. In general, we celebrate someone else's success not only because we're proud of the person, but also because we expect to be successful ourselves. We don't resent John Doe's promotion, because gosh darnit, we're just as hard working as him, so we'll be celebrating our own promotions some day.

I'm not sure if this is actually the case, but it sounds good to me, at least in theory. I'd welcome anyone to correct me if I'm wrong.

It's interesting, nonetheless.

Valentine's Day / Sv. Trifun

2009-02-16T04:35:00.001-08:00

Justin explains this past weekend.

Last Word on Balkan Insight . . . for now

2009-02-12T01:44:00.000-08:00

You may have noticed that the last half-dozen entries have referred you to a Balkan Insight article containing something utterly ridiculous about Macedonia. The frequency of 'utterly ridiculous' articles has intensified in the past month - hell, the past week - to the point where I have to step back and wonder: what is going on?

Macedonia is really a wonderful place. And yes, there are a lot of ridiculous things going on, but to read Balkan Insight, one would think that the circus came to town and never left. I've read Balkan Insight since my arrival here, and barring the occasional flare-up between Greece and Macedonia on the name issue, the number of articles concerning Macedonia corresponded with the country's size. Balkan Insight also covers Serbia, Albania, Bulgaria, Romania, Montenegro, Kosovo, and Croatia; the front page headlines for Macedonia were relatively few compared to the rest.

Yet in the past month, I would say that over half the stories I have seen on the main page have been about Macedonia, despite some very interesting things going on in Albania at the moment. Macedonia has an upcoming election, which might explain this disparity, but Albania also has an election and hasn't received nearly as much coverage. Moreover, all these articles on Macedonia are written by the same person. The same reporter has been giving us the Alexander/Tose fountain-statue, folk singers healed by war criminals, VMRO's presidential homophobia, etc., etc.
It's a grab bag of Balkan absurdity, all in a few weeks.

I don't mean to say that these articles are not true. But, since I receive most of my English-language news from one source (Balkan Insight) which receives Macedonian stories from one source (this single reporter) I have to wonder about the editorial thought process.

Suspicious minds. . .

Beyond Parody

2009-02-11T10:33:00.000-08:00

If a Macedonian mayor has her way, the landmark gracing Skopje's main square would in a novel way bring together two men seen as among the nation's greateast sons: Alexander the Great mounted on a horse, floating in a fountain to tunes of revered late pop star Tose Proeski.

Maybe I'm wrong - maybe Balkan Insight is really just a Balkan version of 'The Onion'.

Genocide does kind of sound like a mouthwash . . .

2009-02-10T12:13:00.000-08:00

I read the English-language news website Balkan Insight daily. I would say about 50% of the stories on Macedonia cause me to sigh, shake my head, and mumble "Seriously? Seriously?" to myself. The other 49% percent of the stories usually inspire me to curse Greece.

Then there's that 1% that I just have to share:

"While visiting her husband in the Hague war crimes detention facility, Macedonian folk singer Sonja Tarculovska had her toothache cured with a simple touch from genocide suspect Radovan Karadzic, she told a Macedonian daily."

Do read the whole thing.

Mumps in Macedonia

2009-02-09T05:07:00.000-08:00

There has been a mumps outbreak in Macedonia, due to the complete lack of vaccinations for an entire generation of children in the mid-90's, who are now in high school.

This has caused all of my twenty-something American friends to look at each other curiously and engage in the following conversation:

"Mumps? Do people still get that?"
"I think it's like the Chicken Pox?"
"Did we get vaccinated for that? How long does that last?"
"I don't remember, man."
"Me either. I should probably call my mom."

So, how 'bout it, Ma? Can I go outside without a surgical mask over my face, Japanese-style?

Eric and Justin have nice write-ups of the events. Here's a news item about it.

Chuck Norris Jokes, and the Art of the Impossible

2009-02-09T04:25:00.000-08:00

I'm going to assume that most everyone reading this has heard quite a few "Chuck Norris Jokes", i.e., 'Chuck Norris counted to infinity - twice' or 'Chuck Norris can sneeze with his eyes open'. The general idea is to attribute some ridiculous, impossible, or ironic ability to the earnest, B-list celebrity that is Chuck. I had thought that, aside from the occasional ironic T-shirt or Facebook wall quote, I had forever left Chuck Norris back at college.

But no - like numerous other aspects of American pop culture, Chuck Norris jokes have traveled to Macedonia, once again stripped of their former context. The ironic, ridiculous nature of the jokes in America has become a sort of Balkan-fatalistic way of expressing hopelessness and frustration at the bogged-down, post-communist, semi-free bureaucratic government. Two Macedonian-Chuck jokes I have heard:

'Chuck Norris got his paycheck for January' = The government recently tried to change their revenue gathering system, or something like that - whatever happened, the new software completely crashed the computer system, meaning that a whole lot of people in Macedonia didn't get paid at all for the month of January. Read about it here.

'Chuck Norris can buy alcohol after 7' = Just before I arrived, the government started passing a lot of piddling nanny-state type regulations. One of the first was banning the purchase of alcohol from shops after 7 p.m. It's irritating, believe me.

It's the hip, humorous equivalent of shrugging and saying, 'Oh well.' Chuck just enhances the futility of it all. Can Chuck solve the Greek-Macedonian name dispute? Only time will tell.

According to Jim

2009-02-07T12:18:00.000-08:00

Small countries have big heroes. I should write an entire post about the pop star / quasi-saint / national hero of Macedonia, Tose Proeski - actually, I should write a book. But for the moment, I'll just direct you to Chelsi's post on Jim Belushi.

Jim (and his late brother) are ethnic Albanians, born to immigrant parents in Chicago. Albanians, in general, really really really love America anyway, and that a reasonably popular American sitcom star is part of the big Albanian family, well - it's a huge deal.

To be honest, if I turned on the TV at any given point in the day, every day, and 'According to Jim' was on I would throw my television out the window. It sounds like some sort of bizarre, ironic Twilight Zone concept.

For that reason, I would like to express my intention to start "The Better Belushi Foundation", dedicated to bringing varied and quality Belushi media to Albanian television. Yes, that just means 'Animal House' and old Saturday Night Live clips, but to a Belushi-starved nation, it can make all the difference.

I'll be accepting donations from the Albanian diaspora community. Cash.

The Holidays. . . .

2009-02-04T09:46:00.000-08:00

In an effort to recap the past month or so, my holiday season went roughly like this:

December 24/25: Western Christmas

Despite the western commercial trappings that have crept in to Macedonian Christmas culture, as a predominately Orthodox country, Christmas falls on January 7th. I spent Western Christmas (referred to as 'Catholic Christmas' by the Macedonians) with Americans, mostly current Peace Corps members or alumni. While it's difficult to be away from family and friends during the holidays, there is an instant camaraderie that forms when you are with others experiencing the exact same thing. We drank a good deal of rakija, and watched almost every Christmas movie imaginable online. Good times.

December 31st/January 1st: New Years

This is the real kickoff of the Macedonian holiday season. Given the already short, cloudy days of late December and early January, if one chooses to engage fully in this interminable, rakija-fueled, culturally-sanctioned bender, one may not see the sun until early February. Communist Yugoslavia worked really hard on lowering the importance of Christmas, and correspondingly made the secular New Year celebration a much bigger deal. I spent the Eve with Macedonians at a dinner party, followed by reservations at a music club that clearly ignored the notion of 'capacity'. On New Year's Day, there was yet another celebration, this time at a 'kafana'. A kafana is comparable to a combination of the country/western bar in 'Blues Brothers' and an Applebee's in America. They serve traditional Macedonian food, gallons of rakija, and have live 'turbo-folk' performances. Turbo-folk is traditional folk music, set to a disco beat. The singers (usually a greasy, hairy-chested man and a greasy, large-chested woman) trade off songs, work up a disgusting sweat. The audience then takes out money and sticks it to the singer, by means of that sweat.

The audience is also sweaty, dancing, and singing at this point.

January 6/7: Orthodox Christmas

Orthodox Christmas in Macedonia is marked by - I'll give you a second to guess - rakija and fire. On the 6th, giant bonfires spring up around the city, traditionally meant to give the sun energy and stop the loss of daylight. Now, they serve as focal points to more turbo-folk singing and dancing, and more rakija. Christmas day, I assume, is either spent recovering, or at mass. Or both.

January 14: 'Old' New Year / Vevcani Carnival

This is the liturgical New Year, and is marked by traditional village festivals all across the Balkans. Traditionally, villagers dress up in outrageous costumes to scare away the evil spirits who are allowed to roam the earth at this time, ensuring good luck for the next year. As you can guess, most of these festivals have turned into something more like holding a Halloween party at a fraternity on Super Bowl Sunday, where everyone invites their extended family. And all those people bring rakija. I attended the Vevcani Carnival, which deserves its own later post.

January 19: Celebration of John the Baptist

All across the Orthodox world, local priests use this occasion to bless the nearest large body of water by throwing in a cross. Numerous Orthodox faithful (or local Polar Bear club members) then dive into the water to retrieve it. The fellow who gets hold of the cross then wanders around the city and receives money from well-wishers. Swimmers prepare for this feat by drinking lots of hot rakija. They recover afterwards by drinking lots of hot rakija. I spent the 19th in Ohrid, where every cafe, restaurant, and random old man on the street were all handing out free hot rakija. Rakija rakija rakija.

January 20:Sv. Jovan, Day of the Fishermen

See above, but only the fishermen jump in the lake. Rakija.

February 2: SUPER BOWL MONDAY MORNING

I was able to drink beer this time. A friend of mine set up a late night, after-hours party at a nearby English pub. I had no idea there were so many Americans in Skopje, but I was gratified to know that, of this group, there were relatively few Steelers fans. At 4:30 am, the game ended, and thankfully so did my holiday season.

There was a trip to Greece thrown in somewhere along the way, but I'll get to all that later.

Okay, I'm back for real this time.

2009-02-03T13:46:00.000-08:00

(Rakija barrel, suspended from the ceiling above the dinner table. Not Pictured: Me lying on the table)

After two abortive attempts at a restart, I think I can get things rolling this time. I'm back in Skopje after a month of holidays, festivals, and traveling around Macedonia and Greece. And lest you think the festivals are over: a wild carnival is taking place right now in Strumica, Sv. Trifun day soaks all of Negotino in wine and rakija, and the pre-pre-Easter session is getting started. It never ends here.

My own personal holiday season ended at 4:30 am Monday, Skopje time. A Peace Corps friend of mine had organized a secret, after-the-legal-closing-time Super Bowl party at the local English pub. Good times were had by all.

But now, back to work.

I forgot to pay my internet bill.

2009-01-24T03:37:00.000-08:00

And I've been traveling. . . but man, there will be a lot of stuff coming up when that internet gets turned back on in my apartment . . .

Life Must Resume

2009-01-15T06:10:00.000-08:00

I now return to the blog after a long, rakija-and-holiday-cheer fueled series of celebrations that would have no doubt destroyed a lesser man. Expect an update soon about the Vevcani Carnival, along with every other celebration that I should have written about the day after, but just couldn't bring myself to do so. I can't really blame the snow, either, though there has been a lot of it. It kept me inside. There are no excuses.

And pictures - there will be more pictures.

Holiday Festivities without End

2009-01-01T10:06:00.000-08:00

My lack of posting is due to an interminable holiday season, beginning with American Christmas with my Peace Corps friends and extending through New Year's, Orthodox Christmas (January 7th) and 'Old' New Year's (based on the old calendar) on the 13th.

Midway through, and I am already exhausted. Wish me luck.

Amazon, Set Thy House in Order

2008-12-22T04:01:00.000-08:00

A recently recieved email:

Dear Amazon.com Customer,

We've noticed that customers who have purchased or rated Dust have also purchased MACEDONIA IS GREECE on DVD. For this reason, you might like to know that MACEDONIA IS GREECE is now available. You can order yours for just $33.00 by following the link below.

MACEDONIA IS GREECE
Prof. Paul A. Kapetanopoulos

Price:

$33.00

No, Amazon. I would not be interested in your Greek propaganda. Good lord, I've become a Macedonian partisan. . . .

Highly Recommended

2008-12-17T06:59:00.000-08:00

Christopher Deliso, often referred to as 'the Lonely Planet Guy' in my various adventures in archaeology, has a really terrific interview here with Prof. Viktor Friedman on various Macedonian issues.

Prof. Friedman, of the University of Chicago, is the towering figure of Balkan linguistics, the adviser and mentor of Eric, and an all-around wonderful human being. He's spent the better part of his professional life studying the languages of Macedonia, and touches on almost every major political and cultural issue being thrown around today. Excerpt:

CD: From what I understand from different stories, this is because it is not helpful to advancement in Greek society, and can even be a strongly negative factor-

VF: Yes. The Greek government is effectively carrying out ‘linguicide’ on the Macedonians of Greece. And it has been a long-running policy. For another example, I have a photo of a sign in Greek, from the 1950s, printed up in blue-on-white, urging people to forbid anyone from speaking in ‘Vlahika, Makedonika etc.’ There used to be many such signs in Greek Macedonia.

CD: Really! That is quite compelling. Do people know about this?

VF: I don’t know-a friend sent the photo to me, I am finally getting around to publishing it in a review article in the journal Balkanistika next year.

But the Greek policy was always trying to kill the language. It was especially horrible in the 1930s. Macedonian kids would go to school, and if they spoke their language, the language they learned at home, numerous ‘corrective’ methods were used: teachers beat them, or stuck their tongues with needles, or rubbed a hot pepper on their tongues; anything to make them stop speaking Macedonian.

I really suggest you read the whole thing . . .

How Tito Killed Christmas . . . with Santa

2008-12-16T05:12:00.000-08:00

When winter first rolled around, I noticed that the McDonald's in downtown Skopje began to put up a large, American-style Christmas tree. I just assumed that, since McDonald's is the unofficial American cultural embassy, they were just following the corporate line.

Since that time, Christmas shops - Western, Santa-and-sleigh, Rudolph and all - have been popping up all over Skopje. There is now a Christmas tree in the main square, and one in the main shopping center. People are selling Christmas cards (which say Mary Christmas - close enough) for charity.

This is all extremely unsettling - our American-style Santa isn't even that prevalent in Western European countries, as they generally have their own Santa-like traditions (or, in his place, a frightening goblin-demon that eats terrible children). So how did our over-commercialized, Holiday TV-special, Bing Crosby Christmas transplant itself wholesale to the Balkans? A professor at my institute was able to provide the answer:

The communists did it.

Communism is, of course, a materialist, atheist sort of philosophy that stomps out religion wherever it can. Yugoslavia was no exception. So imagine you are the communist dictator of a country full of deeply-ingrained religious and folk beliefs. Christmas, with all its traditional neo-pagan folk connotations and overt Christian meaning, is going to be tough to take down. You could pull a Stalin and just start shooting people out behind the barn, but that isn't your style. You need some help. Has anybody else successfully undercut the religious aspects of Christmas, and turned it into a completely secular, materialist holiday?

Can you see where I'm going with this?

The Yugoslav government adopted our secular Santa, our materialist 'X-mas', to help knock the Christ out of Christmas. Traditional Orthodox practices and folk celebrations were discouraged, subverted, or absorbed entirely into a new set of holiday 'traditions' in which good old Kris Kringle played a large part. He's known as Grandpa Frost here, by the way, since the real St. Nicholas was martyred in Turkey - a little too close for comfort.

Obviously, I find this absolutely hilarious, and not just because a nominally communist nation adopted the symbol of the most commercialized, capitalistic time of year in America. I find it very amusing that, in doing so, they were able to strip our Santa tradition down to the most fundamental elements - secularism and materialism - and use him to undercut a real religious tradition.

Because, after all, this is something that was put upon the people here by the communist government. We created and adopted this sort of Santa ourselves . . .

How does that reflect on us?

(Full disclosure: I'll be spending the evening at the British Ambassador's Residence, eating mincemeat pies, drinking port and mulled wine, and enjoying some Victorian Christmas caroling . . . the perfect start to the expatriate holiday season.)

Greece, again

2008-12-11T01:06:00.000-08:00

I was reading this extremely interesting commentary on the Greek riots in the Telegraph today. In it, Ambrose Evans-Pritchard suggests that while the rioting may have been initially triggered by the shooting death of the teenager, it is being fueled by the tremendous debt pressures that most of Greece is under, due to the Euro. To summarize: Greece has the highest proportion of public debt in the Euro-zone, and while this was ignored for awhile due to the housing bubble, now that the bubble has popped everything is going to hell.

This confirms most of what Prof. John Younger told me during my time in Greece. The country hadn't been on the Euro for very long, the housing bubble was in full swing, and there were as many new Mercedes on the street as there were day-laborers waiting on the corner, desperate for work. It didn't seem to match up. Turns out that everybody was doing the whole 'mortgage + hope' equation, sinking themselves into debt, and expecting the rest of Europe to help fix things if they went badly. There are a lot of economic conditions a nation has to meet before it joins the Euro, and it's generally acknowledged that Greece fudged their numbers to join the currency before they were ready.

It's going to be interesting.

In case you're interested. . .

2008-12-09T07:54:00.001-08:00

. . . in reading an excellent article providing an overview of "greater" ethnic areas spilling over national borders, here it is.

And Eric has yet another interesting post up, this time on the relative value of money.

Greece

2008-12-09T05:49:00.000-08:00

Greece is rioting, again. The details seem rather sketchy, but apparently two police officers shot and killed a teenager in the Exarchia neighborhood in Athens, which set off Greece's very large anarchist community. Now, there are molotov cocktails being thrown about, the Christmas Tree on Athen's main Syntagma Square has been burned down, and there are pitched battles with police in Larissa and Thessaloniki.

I don't want to downplay the violence, or the death that sparked it. It's all terrible. But since it is getting play on CNN, perhaps American is getting just a glimpse of our not-so-friendly southern neighbors, beyond the beaches and feta. I'm always irked by the idea that Greece is a sunny bit of Western Europe, and across the northern border is the Slavic 'Dark Heart of Europe'. Greece is a Balkan country. It may have escaped communism, but at the expense of a bloody civil war and subsequent military dictatorship. Of course, this was during the Cold War, so the USA - and specifically, the CIA - was extremely supportive of those uniformed clowns. Combine that with a few hundred years of overly-romanticized Hellenism, and most people have an image of Greece that is very far removed from reality.

I should also say that the Greeks tend to riot and protest quite a bit. Greece has a very, very long political tradition of communism/leftism/anti-establishmentarians/anarchy, which eventually helped to bring down the military government in the 70's, after several bloody protests. These groups didn't fade away, though; there were terrorist attacks throughout the 80's and 90's by small leftist cells, usually without much injury. Every now and then they would torch a diplomatic vehicle, or launch a rocket at the US Embassy. No biggie, right?

Even during my brief stay in Athens, students staged a bloody riot on Syntagma, and lobbed a molotov cocktail at a bank building near the Polytechnic University. An interesting note on this Polytechnic University - the riots that eventually brought down the military government started here, after a few students were gunned down. When the Greeks brought about their new government, a law was passed that no police officer could ever enter the grounds of the Technical University, as a sort of token protection for that revolutionary spirit. Therefore, during these riotous times, students or other protesters tend to occupy buildings on campus, without fear of arrest. It also means that quite a lot of drugs are peddled on campus . . . more so than a normal university, anyway.

Greece is a beautiful country with an amazing history. I'm happy to be in Macedonia, partially because I can take an easy vacation to Greece. And these riots are really terrible, and I hope they settle down soon, with minimum damage. But the media coverage - the English language coverage, that is - has an underlying premise of - "Riots? Christmas trees burned? How could this happen in sunny, white-marbled Greece?!"

Well, there are riots in Greece because there are always riots in Greece, because it is a complicated country of 10 million people, where there is a long history of violent protest against any and all types of authority. Hotels, package tour operators, and the Greek tourism industry are pretty careful to ignore that part of the country, for obvious reasons. Greece tries very hard to separate itself from the idea that it is 'Balkan'; it wants to project itself as just another EU country. This can make problems like political instability or riots seem like unexpected, surprising, unprecedented events, especially when reported piecemeal by the Western press. They puncture through a false - or, at least partially false - image, and that understandably makes people nervous.

Context, though, is key.

Stalked by the Ghost of Elvis

2008-12-08T09:08:00.000-08:00

I have heard the Elvis song "Suspicious Minds" more in my two months here in Macedonia than in the rest of my 23 years combined. To be honest, I don't think I had actually heard the song at all until I arrived.

I have heard this played by cover bands, on Euro MTV and Euro Vh1, on the radio in taxis and grocery stores, on bar playlists, and most recently sung by an overweight Northern Irishman in a British pantomime play. I think it also made an appearance on the playlist for the after-party for that same play.

Of all the songs - no, just of all Elvis songs - why "Suspicious Minds"? Why is this song following me around the country?

It's like a disturbing recurring dream, that must have some greater significance. Time will tell.

All I know is, I can't go on forever with such a suspicious mind.

These tiny pieces of paper confirm me as an adult.

2008-12-02T09:53:00.001-08:00

I've been very busy over the past few days with actual work - meeting with archaeologists, traveling around Macedonia, assisting in drafting grant proposals - which is the reason for a lack of posts.

I'm off tomorrow to a conference of Macedonian archaeologists in Kicevo, and may be out of communication for a few days because of this. This is the reason I finally got around to making business cards, as you can see above, as it is far more professional than the little pieces of notebook paper with my email address that I previously handed out.

And there'll be a new Adventure in Archaeology when I get back . . .

A Belated Happy Thanksgiving

2008-12-02T09:40:00.000-08:00

As may have mentioned before, as a Fulbrighter, I get treated really, really well by the staff of the American Embassy - including an invitation to Thanksgiving Dinner at the residence of Ambassador Phil Reeker and his wife. It was difficult to find the place, because I told the taxi driver to look for a house, and he refused to believe that anybody could live in the fortress-like mansion that the Ambassador calls home.

Dinner was traditional and delicious. The only confusing point was the dessert list; nobody at my table could figure out what exactly "Maple Pie" could be. When I asked the Macedonian guests, thinking it to be a mistranslation of a local specialty, they shrugged and said, "It must be like apple pie, but made with maples." Explaining the difference between a fruit (the apple) and a tree (the maple) seemed like too much effort. Luckily, the pumpkin pie was spectacular.

In case you're interested . . .

2008-11-24T13:47:00.000-08:00

Balkan Insight has a lot of excellent, English-language coverage of Balkan politics, etc. The link is for the Macedonian page, and believe me, there are a lot of interesting things going on.

For instance, Macedonia is taking Greece to court.

Snow Day

2008-11-23T06:29:00.001-08:00

It's wintertime in Skopje. Temperatures have dropped, and hover around 35-40F during the day. Lately there has been an icy wind sweeping through the valley.

It's nothing like Indiana in January, of course, but it'll take a bit of adjusting since it happened so quickly. We even got a bit of snow this weekend; it melted down here in the city because the ground is still very warm. But for the first time in my life, I have a view of snow covered mountains from my window, and I can't really complain about that.

Speaking of riding donkeys . . .

2008-11-21T13:30:00.000-08:00

The last Yugo has finally rolled off the line.

Of course, if anyone in the US is desperately nostalgic for a Yugo, send them my way. I'm nearly hit by one or two of these rusting hulks on a daily basis, not that it would do much damage.

To take a picture

2008-11-21T01:32:00.000-08:00

Everybody hates tourists, I think, but no one hates them more than an expatriate, long-term foreign resident. Stumbling through the city with their nose in a map, getting swindled by every street-seller around (and enjoying it), desperately seeking anyone who speaks their language, finding respite at McDonald's, and ending most nights drunkenly stumbling through the streets back to whatever overly-expensive room they've booked . . .

Alright, I can't say that I haven't been there. I've been that tourist, through multiple countries, and I enjoyed it a great deal. There's something to be said for that stereotypical study-abroad Euro-trip, swapping blandly similar travel stories with other obvious Americans on the train from Brussels to Paris, hoping that your next hostel-mate will be British or Australian- you know, something different - and not just another kid from Ohio on a weekend excursion from his "totally cultural pottery-making course" in Florence. Passport stamps, bottle caps, and Irish pubs in every damn city on the planet . . . I'm happy it happened, and even happier it's over.

And now I am that cranky expatriate (having skipped a step from 'tourist' to 'traveler'), and a significant part of becoming that expatriate is rejecting everything about being a tourist. The biggest problem with this rejection, so far, is photography. When I was a tourist roaming through Greece, I probably took 2,0000 pictures of everything from temple ruins to villagers drinking ouzo. It was expected, I think, andＩfelt no shame doing so. I was protected by a dozen other Americans doing the exact same thing. I was there for five weeks, had no idea if I would be back, and wanted to capture absolutely everything.

Living in a place changed my perspective. Macedonia really lacks tourism, especially in the late fall, so anyone snapping photographs stands out. Moreover, people quit becoming just part of the scenery. When I was a tourist, my goal was to find as many "authentic" pictures as possible:

Look, an old man in a cap and sweater drinking a Guinness in a pub! That is sooo Ireland! *click* An old Greek woman in a shawl in front of the church! *click* People sitting at a French cafe! *click*

And so on, and so on, until now. There are a lot of things that I would love to take pictures of here, and I haven't. Old villagers riding side-saddle on a donkey down a mountain trail, shopkeepers in the Old Town selling their wares . . . but I don't. It feels wrong. Maybe I'll move past this, into a more analytical, journalistic, documentary way of thinking that allows me to take pictures of everything once again. For now, though, I can't.

That villager isn't a postcard, he's a person. I could speak to him in his own language (a little), perhaps be invited into his home to share a little rakija. I'm living in this country, not hopping on a tour bus to move along to the next stop. That shopkeeper isn't just a bit of quaintness in his run-down shop. He's someone with a family to support, with a job to do, whom I'll probably pass numerous times as I walk around that part of the city. And I am not trying to say that they would be angry to be the subjects of a photograph; far from it, they would probably appreciate the novelty: "Why on earth is this silly foreigner taking my picture? Odd". Like I said, there aren't many tourists in Macedonia.

I just can't bring myself to it. It's like saying "You are foreign, curious, completely alien from my way of life." And that's probably really more of a comment on me, than anything else - I want to integrate, I want it all to be so normal that I don't feel the need to take a picture of it. It's all very conscious on my part, and probably all a foolish way of thinking that I'll come to regret. I usually have to waffle between two extremes before I settle in that happy middle.

So, to summarize:

I apologize for the lack of villagers riding donkeys. They'll be coming soon, I hope.

"What is it that you do here?"

2008-11-16T05:31:00.000-08:00

Whenever people ask me what it is that I am actually doing here in Macedonia, I either default to saying "archaeology", or explain that it's complicated, and leave it at that. More and more, however, this scene from Office Space starts playing in the back of my head, although with slightly different dialogue:

Bob&Bob: So you physically dig the archaeological site?

Me: No. . . no the archaeologists do that.

Bob&Bob: So you much physically examine the sites and report on the data.

Me: Well, not exactly.

Bob&Bob: So what is it, would you say, that you actually do here?

Me: (nervous breakdown)

I don't even think my own family has any clue what I'm doing over here. So, lest anyone think that this is strictly a US State Department funded vacation, I will attempt to explain what I have been doing and what I hope to accomplish.

I am no archaeologist - let me make that clear. I have an undergraduate degree in Classics, and absolutely no formal training in archaeological method. Through my studies, however, I have always wandered about on the periphery of the archaeological world, and that is where I remain. I know a bit about archaeological ethics, the international art market, and looting; my Honor Scholar thesis dealt with these topics. I worked as the assistant to the Book Review Editors of the American Journal of Archaeology, and I absorbed quite a bit of information about archaeological publishing efforts during that time. But I have never picked up a shovel, dusted off a pot sherd, or broken down an ancient booby-trapped tomb door to rescue glittering treasures from Nazis, Communists, or any other existential threat to American liberty. Yet.

My original proposal was, as I said in my introductory blog post, necessarily vague. I had no idea what I would find once I arrived in Macedonia. Now that I have been here for a month and a half, I have a much better idea of the state of archaeological affairs, and therefore, what I might be able to accomplish. Right now, my activities can be grouped into Research, Networking, and Academic Aid. Allow me to explain:

1. Research: I am affiliated with the Institute for Ethnology and Anthropology at Ss. Kiril and Methodius University, and I also spend time with the Faculty of Archaeology. At the Institute, I am giving myself a crash-course in anthropology, while reading as much as I am able about Macedonian ethnography and history. My main project here, however, is trying to figure out what sort of sociological factors affect views of archaeology and archaeological looting here in Macedonia. Do folk stories of cursed Turkish gold keep villagers from digging around sites? Alternatively, are stories of wild treasures too enticing to keep them away? Macedonia has a problem with archaeology fading into nationalism (through Alexander the Great, etc.) and affecting present-day political issues. I'm interested in how all this came about, and in where it may be going.

2. Networking: I've been spending a great deal of time traveling around Macedonia, meeting with archaeologists at their dig sites. Despite being a tiny country, many archaeologists really don't know or talk to each other. There isn't much ongoing conversation between state archaeologists working for the Ministry of Cultural Heritage and archaeologists on the University faculty; neither of these groups has much communication with the archaeological community outside of Macedonia. Political, professional, and personal problems have all combined to keep Macedonia insulated from the wider academic world. I'm doing my best to connect people, share information, and pass along contacts.

3. Academic Aid: This is fairly broad, and mostly just involves the skills that come with being a reasonably competent American university graduate. I'm helping professors and students with their English conversation abilities. Later in the semester, I will be editing, proofreading, and correcting the English translations of academic papers. In America, we really take for granted our access to resources like JSTOR. Everyone in my generation just knows how to use Google to find other resources (NGO's, academic information, etc.).

Things are obviously a lot different here. Some archaeologists have never heard of the American School at Athens; none have access to the most common academic journals in the West. They don't know how to write grant proposals, or have absolutely no idea how to find out what grants are available for their research in the first place. I feel odd, as a 23-year old recent graduate, showing professors some of the basic research methods that we use in America to locate these sort of resources.

And additionally: In conjunction with all of these activities, I am working as best I can with a few other Americans who are interested in promoting cultural heritage tourism in Macedonia. I am trying to get a privately-published Macedonian academic journal as wide of an audience as I can. And I am meeting some wonderful people and some bizarre characters along the way.

And, having written all that, I'm afraid I actually can't say precisely where all this is leading. The bigger picture is still forming in my mind, so for now, I just need to stay focused on the details. Next week, I'll be meeting with the Director for the Institute of Folklore, visiting a young archaeologist who's doing some great work in a village to the east of Skopje, and trying out a village home-stay. I'll also be helping students with English conversation, pouring over outdated anthropology text books, and working on my Macedonian. If I'm lucky, I'll get to see the photographic archive of over 500 Macedonian fortresses that a professor has on an Apple G5 in his basement.

Something ought to come of all that, right?

Ohrid #1

2008-11-16T04:31:00.000-08:00

Normally, I would provide a little bit of the history of each place that I visit. I'll just leave it to Wikipedia to explain Ohrid, because there's really just too much to say. And this trip to Ohrid was really more of a vacation than an "adventure in archaeology”, so I really don't have too much to say beyond what I've read on Wikipedia. I know, I know. Shame on me.

It's really just a beautiful little city, packed during the summer with Serbs, Macedonians, and the Dutch swimming in the lake during the day and clubbing all night long. It's the off-season now, and very quiet. I prefer it that way.

Sunrise breaking between the mountains and the clouds over the lake, with a view from the Old Town (where the hotel was located) towards the quay and newer part of Ohrid:

A view from the hotel balcony, overlooking the lake and the Old Town:

St. Jovan Kaneo, one of the more famous churches in Ohrid:

Walking around the walls of Tsar Samoil's fortress, which rings the hill above the Old Town:

It's been awhile

2008-11-14T03:59:00.000-08:00

A good friend from back in my university days has been visiting for the past week, and I apologize to anyone who thought that I had disappeared into the Albanian border country. I was mostly aware of my location throughout the week, and was probably never in any danger.

I have a camera full of pictures - mostly the same scenes of Ohrid in varying stages of sunset - and little time to put them all up until the weekend. We've been roaming around the Old Town, climbing to monasteries, playing with 4th century AD gold coins in the archaeological vaults of the university, baking stuffed butternut squash, relaxing in Ohrid, and rubbing elbows with the idle elite at the Macedonian Wine Club. Things have been busy.

So, expect a number of upcoming posts and more pictures (per my mother's request).

Until then, I'll share this wonderful, purely Macedonian anecdote:

My friend and I were visiting another beautiful old monastic church in Ohrid, and the ticket-taker/frustrated academic offered to show us around the church. In truth, she wanted to evangelize a little for the Orthodox church. Our guide, on the topic of Christian love and tolerance:

"Real Christians must love and be tolerant of everything - even dogs, snakes, even Greeks and Muslims. Everybody."

Ah, Macedonia.

Ohrid

2008-11-11T00:12:00.000-08:00

I'm off to Ohrid for a few days, so I'll probably be out of regular communication.

But there'll be some great pictures when I return.

The Pride of Macedonia: Women

2008-11-07T05:42:00.001-08:00

(Macedonian folk dancing at the Skopje Wine Festival . . . I have no clue what's going on.)

I wandered down to the post office to pay my utilities bill today, aided by a man named Bratislav. I had told him that I needed to pay my utilities bill in Macedonian, though I'm sure what he heard was "bill to me is needed I pay where water electricity". As gave him my thanks, he slapped me on the back and said, "What are you doing here? You must find a beautiful woman, to teach you Macedonian!" This is the most recent in a long string of conversations that all center around the theme "Macedonia has the most beautiful women in the world".

This is very interesting, because in many respects, it is the only consistent source of national pride. People will go on and on about how the government is corrupt, only the mafia gets rich, no one has a job, they are oppressed by everyone, Albanian issues, etc. Casual conversation often brings out a terrible series of complaints that make Macedonia sound like the worst place in the world. Perhaps I hear this more than most, because nobody in Macedonia understands why I would ever want to come here. "What, you study here? Why did you come from America to study here?" This is usually followed by a suspicious glance, because I must have more sinister motives. No one could ever possibly want to come to Macedonia to study. But I think they would nod approvingly and give me the names of villages and families if I said I were "bride-shopping" or some equivalent.

Because at the end of every tirade, they will say, "Yes, but we do have beautiful women. The most beautiful." The most professional, official people I know have made statements like, "My got, Set. Have you a woman yet? What? You must! Deese Macedonian women, my got, Set." Cab drivers tend to only know the English for "American Good!" and "Here Women Beautiful!".

I need to clarify that this is not the same as talking about beautiful women in America. I'm not trying to convey some sort of lewd, high-fiving frat-boy sentiment about, say, a bar where the hottest chics hang out. When a Macedonian tells me that the women are beautiful, it's like an Indiana University fan talking about having the best basketball team. The Greeks have the Parthenon, Italians have pizza, the French have wine . . . and, according to the locals, Macedonia has women. It's a national pride type of thing.

I'm sure there are numerous anthropological and sociological reasons behind this relating to all sorts of horrendous practices like bride-theft and such. I'll leave that to the feminist scholars at my Institute. But with the convoluted politics of this tiny patch of Europe, it is nice to know that there's one thing that everyone agrees on.

Post-Election

2008-11-06T01:28:00.001-08:00

Nearly everyone who communicates with me on a regular basis has asked me about the Macedonian reaction to the American election. I have been begging off answering this for two related reasons. Firstly, despite being an avid politics-watcher, I didn't support either major candidate this year and am generally a cranky, cynical old man when it comes to national politics. I can hold a reasonable conversation, but more often I deliver a crusty, sarcastic, and sometimes incoherent rant of epic proportions, and I've been trying to avoid that. Secondly, I am still very American-centric in my observations. I've only been here a month, my language skills are lacking, and conversations with most Macedonians don't stray too far outside of archaeology, Albanians, and "we have beautiful women, yes?". This is a pretty big failure on my part, I think. It's incredibly interesting to be in another country during our national election, and I haven't been nearly as curious as I should. As long as there aren't any riots in the streets, I stay tuned to my CNN portal-to-America.

That being said, other Americans here have done a much better job at explaining the rather curious Macedonian position. I would suggest that you read Justin and Eric to understand the basic issues here. And elsewhere in the region, Chelsi has had some interesting experiences.

In summary, however, the Macedonians were supportive of John McCain for two reasons:

1. The Bush years, as bad as they may have been for everyone else, have actually been pretty good for Macedonia and for the Balkans. The Albanians love Bush for NATO efforts in Kosovo, while the Macedonians appreciate that he has recognized them under their constitutional name, The Republic of Macedonia. The US has also poured quite a bit of aid into the country.

2. Barack Obama has expressed support for the Greek position in the hilarious-if-it-wasn't-hurting-Macedonia Name Dispute.

Regarding #2, however, the Macedonians are fairly realistic. As Justin and Eric both noted, most of Obama's support for the Greek position probably arises from the large Greek population in Chicago, and their position as a traditional Democratic constituency. It's not as if Obama ran on a platform of health care, Iraq, and FYROM, and in terms of importance this is a minor issue at best. The Macedonians understand this. And that, as far as I can tell, is that.

Update:

In lieu of a cranky rant on my part, I'll just recommend Will Wilkinson. I won't say that am as content as he sounds with the results (not that I would be any happier with McCain), but the second half strikes of his post sounds about right to me.

Today was very pleasant.

2008-11-03T06:41:00.001-08:00

Sure, they have beaches, but . . .

2008-11-02T04:13:00.000-08:00

Alright, alright. Skopje isn't Dubrovnik, but I haven't seen anything blow up while I've been here.

Halloween Party

2008-11-01T11:51:00.000-07:00

On numerous occasions here in Macedonia, I've remarked to Eric that with globalization and all that, I feel like I've never left home. He corrects me each time, and rightfully so, because what I'm experiencing is actually just American cultural imperialism. If I were from Botswana or Indonesia, I wouldn't be able to find my music or food in a pub around the corner. So for everyone who might hear "Macedonia" and think of peasants carrying bundles of sticks, funny-costumed folk dancing, and the gypsy fight scene from James Bond . . . well, most of that is fairly apt.

But there's also an English pub behind my apartment where I can watch the Colts play on British satellite television and listen to an Eric Clapton cover band. American television, movies, and music are everywhere - I can watch Frasier subtitled in Macedonian. And I can also spend Halloween at an Irish pub, eating onion rings, and listening to a Macedonian band covering the likes of Eagle Eye Cherry.

It was a hell of a good time, and I recommend you stop by if you ever find yourself in Kumanovo.

(Me with the obviously Irish owner)

This can't just be a coincidence.

2008-10-31T03:32:00.000-07:00

Eric has a lovely series of shots of Ss. Kiril i Metodij, the main university here in Macedonia. This sort of brutal, concrete, communist-modern wretchedness is all over Skopje, because the socialist dreamers had a wonderful opportunity to rebuild an entire city after the destructive 1963 earthquake. Take the post office building on the main square, for instance:

And every time I see one of these aesthetically unpleasing structures, I hear the echoes of my youth . . . .

Go Go Power Rangers . . . . Whoa!

I'm contemplating readjusting my research proposal to determine the links between Power Ranger Command Center architecture and Tito's utopian Yugoslav vision.