I have received, and turned down, my first job offer. The position was a 30-day consultancy with the U.N. Development Program's Security Sector Reform project, to write a "how-to" manual on how to form and run a Community Problem Solving Group. A CPSG is a citizens' group that works with its local police force to identify and solve problems. These groups are the building blocks of community policing.
Since I had worked on a community policing project when I was with Booz-Allen, I was interested in the job, until I learned that the 30-day project had to be done in exactly 30 days, from 23 October through to 23 November. When I asked for clarification on this point, the project leader told me "Well, if you work, say, 10 hours on Fridays, you could take a Sunday off." And there'd be no room for a five-day trip to Egypt in the middle of it, as we have planned. I declined.
Saturday, October 20, 2007
Thursday, October 18, 2007
MONTENEGRO: The Mini-Series. Part 1: Will they make it?
Friday the 12th was Big Bajram, the last day of Ramadan, and Abby's office was closed, so we decided to go to Montenegro for the long weekend. Because our car has a mylar back windscreen and gaps around the rear door, we decided to rent a car, and Friday morning we went to the local Avis, which is located in the Hotel Rognor. The office was closed because it was Big Bajram, the last day of Ramadan. However, the hotel clerk called the Avis assistant manager, and she came within 10 minutes and agreed to rent us a car. However, we'd need to have a notarized letter stating that we weren't taking the car out of the country without Avis' permission. (Apparently, a rental contract isn't enough.) An obstacle, but within a few minutes the Assistant Manager found a notary who could come in - "within hour and a half or so." At this point, it was 9.00 AM and we'd already been waiting for an hour. Mylar be damned, we decided to take our own car.
We then needed to get a short-term international drivers' insurance policy. The "green card" is available at any Western Union office, so we zipped down to the Western Union office at the corner of the entrance to our neighborhood - but it was closed because it was Big Bajram. We then drove back uptown to the Western Union office by the Embassy, which was open. However, their internet connection was down, so they couldn't sell us the policy. We then went to the third Western Union office down the street, which also was open. However, their electricity was out and their generator was locked in the store next door for safe-keeping.
The clerk told us that we probably could buy insurance at the border, but that if we waited ten minutes, the storekeeper next door would come in, they could get their generator, and sell us the policy. Figuring that we'd want to have this bird in the hand, we agreed to wait, but while we were waiting for the store to open, we received a telephone call that somehow our garage door gate had opened electronically on its own, and we needed to come home to close it with the clicker. Abby went home while I waited for the generator to arrive, and I was still waiting when she came back. It was now well after 10.00 AM.
Finally, the storekeeper arrived, the Western Union guys hooked up their generator, and turned on their computer. It was then that they learned that the insurance company had closed for the holiday and had shut down its server, so they couldn't sell us a green card. At this point it was 11.00 AM and I was ready to call it quits. However, Abby was sensible and drove us up to the border where, without any trouble whatsoever, we bought our policy and crossed the border.
We then needed to get a short-term international drivers' insurance policy. The "green card" is available at any Western Union office, so we zipped down to the Western Union office at the corner of the entrance to our neighborhood - but it was closed because it was Big Bajram. We then drove back uptown to the Western Union office by the Embassy, which was open. However, their internet connection was down, so they couldn't sell us the policy. We then went to the third Western Union office down the street, which also was open. However, their electricity was out and their generator was locked in the store next door for safe-keeping.
The clerk told us that we probably could buy insurance at the border, but that if we waited ten minutes, the storekeeper next door would come in, they could get their generator, and sell us the policy. Figuring that we'd want to have this bird in the hand, we agreed to wait, but while we were waiting for the store to open, we received a telephone call that somehow our garage door gate had opened electronically on its own, and we needed to come home to close it with the clicker. Abby went home while I waited for the generator to arrive, and I was still waiting when she came back. It was now well after 10.00 AM.
Finally, the storekeeper arrived, the Western Union guys hooked up their generator, and turned on their computer. It was then that they learned that the insurance company had closed for the holiday and had shut down its server, so they couldn't sell us a green card. At this point it was 11.00 AM and I was ready to call it quits. However, Abby was sensible and drove us up to the border where, without any trouble whatsoever, we bought our policy and crossed the border.
Dogs, Dogs, Dogs, and Maybe Work
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Gimpy | Rōlli | Scruffy |
I've been taking Cooper to the Park every morning after I drop Abby off at work. (The car is drivable, but very air-conditioned right now because of the accident.) I've been able to observe dog pack dynamics, and it's quite interesting. We've also been adopted by some of the park dogs and shunned by others. The "dog friends" include Gimpy, as I named him because he limps when he runs. Then we met Rōlli, a puppy whose sister is owned by a friend of ours; Abby named her Rōlli because she used to roll over submissively when she started to play, but who now outweighs Cooper and knows it. She is comfortable enough with us that she will come over to Cooper to play, unless the leader of her pack is around. Neither the alpha dog nor the puppies' mother, who seems to be the beta dog, will tolerate Cooper. The alpha barks at him and the beta has snapped at him a few times when he gets too close.
Finally we have Scruffy, who occasionally hangs with the pack and who came over to me last week when I called for Cooper. I said hello and he jumped up on me to have his ears scratched. My guess is that he had been domesticated at one point and then let go; either that, or he's the most preternaturally friendly wild dog in Tirana. (I haven't included a photo of Mangy, who no one will play with for the obvious reason.) I'm very tempted to adopt Scruffy after we come back from Egypt next month - Abby has a conference, I'm going to look at pyramid - except that one dog hogging the bed or trying to steal food off the table already constitutes a lot of dogs. As each of you come to visit us in Albania, be prepared to go home with a complimentary dog.
The other complicating factor is that work possibilities loom. I've been short-listed for a one-month local consultant position with the U.N. Development Program; the interview is tomorrow. I also expect to meet with the Chief of Party for a USAID-funded local governance contract after he arrives in Tirana next week. And the duties with the Special Friends of the National Gallery continue. I seem to have been drafted into the position of vice-chair, membership, and secretary. We had our first event of the season last night - a tasting of Albanian wines in one of the Gallery's exhibit halls, complete with chamber music (if you can call renditions of "Making Whoopie" and "O Solo Mio" played on strings "chamber music") and raised over $400 for the Gallery as well as nearly $500 for ourselves. I'm hoping to open a second career in arts development, but that's a bit of a way off ...
P.S. Cooper now has lost his milk teeth and has real dog teeth, which are stronger but hurt less when he chews your arm to get you to start playing - which he has been doing to me for about two hours now while I'm trying to blog and do Gallery business. He's also the worst ball-fetcher ever. At least Bill Buckner saw the ball go between his legs; Cooper doesn't see it if it's even three inches from his nose.
Monday, October 15, 2007
And you?
Hi. If anyone besides our parents are reading this, we hope you're enjoying it. Please write back to tell us what's going on with you.
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
What It's Like (Part 2)
I've just taken Cooper for a walk along the Lana River. I decided to not take a video of the traffic, to save you the angry car horns, the rumble of the trucks, and the screeching policemen's whistles. Instead, here's a picture of mud. It has rained a lot in the last few days, and the unpaved back roads have been turned into long swaths of slippery mud. Even the paved streets have a patina of mud from all the dust. If you come during the fall, bring your wellies.
Tuesday, October 9, 2007
Things German (Part 2)
During the weekend, we also visited the Kunsthalle, which is a splendid art museum. (It was even better than visiting the Omega watch boutique, and for me, that's saying something.) Because of the museum's no-flash photography policy, coupled with my not having a tripod, some of the photographs here are a bit fuzzy. I also neglected to take notes on what I was looking at, so my commentary is going to be very spotty.
I could go on, but you get the idea.
Finally, on Wednesday (the 3rd), back in Tirana, we attended the premiere of Beethoven's Fidelio at the Opera House. The story, in short, is about Leonora, whose husband (Florestan) has been imprisoned by the governor Pizzarro on political charges. She disguises herself as a man, Fidelio, and gets hired by the jailor, Rocco, with the aim of freeing her husband. Naturally, Rocco's daughter falls in love with Fidelio, and she uses this to ingratiate herself with her boss. Meanwhile, the porter, Jacquino, is also in love with the daughter and so wants to kill Fidelio. Eventually, Leonora wins Rocco over to her cause and Don Fernando, the prime minister, frees Florestan, but not before Pizzarro attempts to have him put to death. In the end, Pizzarro is disgraced and everyone is freed.
Despite the Shakespearean overtones, this is not a comedy, and the motif of the political prisoner has particular resonance in Albania. The last scene, when the prisoners, who up to now had been shown in shabby, black and white Communist-era clothing, are shown in clean and modern street clothes - i.e., as having been rehabilitated by society - to watch the denouement, was visually effective. Still, the performance left some things to be desired - effective lighting, clear stage direction, and convincing acting being the first three, with synchronization of the supertitles coming in fourth. For example, the lighting designer indicated that the prisoners (save Florestan) had been let out into the courtyard for air by turning on the house lights; the actors' facial expressions (if they had any) were lost to the shadows under the proscenium; and we didn't even know they had a follow spot until somewhere toward the end of the first act. And there was something about a kid running across the stage that we still can't figure out. Still, we had 14th row center seats for $10. You can't beat that.
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| We liked this one because it reminded us of Cooper. | This is a view of Hamburg. Again, I don't know the artist. | I believe this is a Monet, but I cannot find it listed on the internet. | I liked this one for the treatment of the light. |
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| Alfred Sisley, The Cornfield. | This is one of the viewing galleries. | Abby. | This is a view from the main stairway, which itself if a work of art. |
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| George Grosz, John the Sex Murderer | Wassily Kandinsky, White Spot | Pablo Picasso, Man with Guitar | Edvard Munch, Madonna. |
I could go on, but you get the idea.
Finally, on Wednesday (the 3rd), back in Tirana, we attended the premiere of Beethoven's Fidelio at the Opera House. The story, in short, is about Leonora, whose husband (Florestan) has been imprisoned by the governor Pizzarro on political charges. She disguises herself as a man, Fidelio, and gets hired by the jailor, Rocco, with the aim of freeing her husband. Naturally, Rocco's daughter falls in love with Fidelio, and she uses this to ingratiate herself with her boss. Meanwhile, the porter, Jacquino, is also in love with the daughter and so wants to kill Fidelio. Eventually, Leonora wins Rocco over to her cause and Don Fernando, the prime minister, frees Florestan, but not before Pizzarro attempts to have him put to death. In the end, Pizzarro is disgraced and everyone is freed.
Despite the Shakespearean overtones, this is not a comedy, and the motif of the political prisoner has particular resonance in Albania. The last scene, when the prisoners, who up to now had been shown in shabby, black and white Communist-era clothing, are shown in clean and modern street clothes - i.e., as having been rehabilitated by society - to watch the denouement, was visually effective. Still, the performance left some things to be desired - effective lighting, clear stage direction, and convincing acting being the first three, with synchronization of the supertitles coming in fourth. For example, the lighting designer indicated that the prisoners (save Florestan) had been let out into the courtyard for air by turning on the house lights; the actors' facial expressions (if they had any) were lost to the shadows under the proscenium; and we didn't even know they had a follow spot until somewhere toward the end of the first act. And there was something about a kid running across the stage that we still can't figure out. Still, we had 14th row center seats for $10. You can't beat that.
Saturday, October 6, 2007
Perplasje!
Friends here have told us, "It's not a question of whether you have an accident in Albania, but when." When was today at 3:09 PM, on our way back from a Hash, when we stopped on a winding mountain road because roadwork had reduced the way to a single lane of traffic. As we were waiting for the signalman to turn his sign from red to green, a van came around the bend behind us and, due to some combination of high speed and faulty brakes (neither of which is uncommon in Albania), plowed into the back of our car. The rear door was crushed, the bumper was flattened, and the back window vanished in a shower of auto glass, but no one was hurt.
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