Iowa Martins in Albania

Notary--an expensive joke.

2012-01-17T19:21:00.000-08:00

Yesterday,I needed to get my signature on a document notarized. I looked on the internet to find some placesthat provide this service, and there were many. I chose one nearby. I entered theUPS Store to find Jack in comfortable jeans and a t-shirt. I don’t mind people being comfortable, and Idon’t think you have to wear a suit to have credibility, but Jack’s relaxed attitudeand flippant demeanor did not engender trust and seriousness. He did not have an air of responsibilityabout him.

“I need toget my signature notarized on this document.” Jack was ready and willing as he handed me a pen. I looked through the four pages and found thesignature line. I signed. He immediately took out his little ink padand stamp, applied the seal, signed and dated the paper.

As he wasworking, I asked what it takes to become a notary.

“Well, youhave to apply.”

“Oh,” Isaid, “’cause I heard a couple years ago that all you had to do was pay somemoney.”

“Yeah,” hesmiled, “they’ve added some requirements. You have to take a test about thestate and stuff.”

“I testabout the state,” I repeated, “what do you mean?”

“I don’tknow,” he answered curtly, obviously not interested in my questions.

“Ahhh,” Isaid.

“$7.95,” hesaid.

We finishedour transaction and I added, “…but you took it?”

“Ah, yeah,”he said with a smile, “I passed and I’m certified.

I was notsatisfied, but I turned to go. Then Ithought of something. “Well shouldn’t you have asked for my license or ID orsomething?”

“Oh, Itrust ya. Yeah, I trust ya.”

I went outthe door. A minute later, I thought, “Howcan he trust me? He’s never seen mebefore! If he trusts me, then he trustseveryone who walks in his shop. And thatmeans that his trust doesn’t mean a thing!”

So Iunderstand that the system of notarizing something is a complete farce.

chess and math homework

2012-01-16T20:37:00.001-08:00

I tookadvantage of a day of no school today by Skyping with the boys. I set Maxim up with an account on chess.com. We played live until he had to finish hishomework. I have sent him an invitationto play a ‘correspondence’ game in which when we go online, we send a move tothe other. It could take quite a whileto finish a game. We are both pretty excitedabout it. The great thing was that we had Skype going at the same time and wecould talk as if we were right next to each other.

The nextthing I did was to check my credit card and I saw that Greyhound had charged meAGAIN for a disputed charge that I had taken care of in November. This all started when I returned after my bustrip to find that they had charged me three times for the bus ticket; - $246.99,-$246.99, and -$246.99. The bus companydoes not have an 800 number that people can call, so I have to pay for everyminute. After hanging online for 9minutes and then 10 minutes, I directed all my problems to Sears the creditcard company. They gave me provisionalcredit while they investigated. +$246.99+$246.99

Prettysoon, I got two letters from Sears. Isent answers to the letters, but I put them in the same envelope. Hence, they verified one credit, but the nextmonth, I was charged again.

-$246.99. So I sent another letter. On November 30, Sears gave me another +$246.99. Everything is good, right? Nope. December 20, Greyhound charged me again. -$246.99. So I called Sears andthey told me about the letter they sent on the 20^th of Dec. It must be sitting in the Panora postoffice. I need to respond by Wednesdayor I have to do a ‘good faith’ complicated claim. So…I wrote another letter and faxed itin. We will see.

While I wason hold with Sears, Maxim called me. Heneeded help with his math. “OK. What’s up?”

“I’ll readit,” he says. “Mr. Johnson has 69 roseplants. He has 6 people in his companyand he wants to give each one the same number of plants. How many does each one get?”

“What doyou need to do?”

“I don’tknow!”

“Well…whatdo you think you need to do?”

“69 dividedby 6.”

“Yep, I’ll beright back. I’m on hold with the creditcard company.” The thing about being onthe phone from 7000 miles away, there is no time for details. Maxim probably likes it because I don’t askso many questions.

I went tothe other call and the woman is right in the middle of, “…for waiting Mr.Martin. I am Jody from the disputedclaims department and I see…” So Istepped right into that conversation seamlessly. When I understood that Greyhound was tryingto say that they tickets were non-refundable, I told her how it was quiteobvious that I did not want to buy three tickets for the same trip.

“Oh well,they just want to know if you want to continue with the dispute.”

“Ofcourse! What do they think I’m an idiot?”

“Nosir. This is just procedure. No one ispresuming anything.”

“It’sobvious that I am stuck in a bureaucratic jungle. I’m sorry. What needs to happen now?” When she explained that I would need to getthe letter from the post office—probably tomorrow—and then send it back. Iexplained that I would probably not be able to get the mail tomorrow because Iwill be working out of town. I askedwhat information I need to give and then I could fax the letter. She said that would be fine.

After allthis mess, I got back to Maxim. He wascalm and finished with the first problem. “Ok. The next one is this: Jerry has 35 sticks of gum. He wants to give the same amount to his threekids and keep the rest for himself. Howmany will he keep?”

“What doyou think?”

“35 dividedby 3 and the quotient is the answer.”

“Nope.”(this straight answer is what I mean about not asking many questions. Normally, I say, “What do you think? Is that the answer you need?)

“35 dividedby 3 and the remainder is the answer.”

“Right. See you knew how to do it.”

We wereabout to say goodbye when Oskar said, “Wait, wait, Papa! I need help on my homework, too!” I could hear him getting his papers. “There is a blank, and an 18, then two blanks,and a 24. What do I do?”

“I’m notsure.” I had to think of something thatmight give me a clue what he was doing. “Howbig are the blanks?”

Maxim readthe directions. “Skip count by 2. Which number goes in the blank?”

“Oskar,what is 18 plus two? …”

“31?”

“Oskar, let’scount from 10 to 20…10, 11, …Now, let’s count two more after 18.” So we had mild success.

By now,Maxim has written me a note thanking me for the help.

[11:46:55] Maxim Martin: thank you for helping :)

[11:47:33] James Martin: I am happy to help. Can you help Oskar?

[11:47:40] James Martin: I'm having a tough time.

[11:48:00] James Martin: I think you will be able to do itmore easily

[11:49:30] Maxim Martin: yes i will

So I endedup getting Maxim to help Oskar. I’mactually not sure that Oskar needed help. He was probably watching Maxim talking with me while we were setting upand playing the chess game and wanted a little time with me. Maybe I will be able to get them bothinterested in playing…

Best New Year's Party

2012-01-05T05:51:00.001-08:00

The Best New Year’s party.

In theafternoon on 31 December, the boys and I were walking down the street—crowded withhappy people, and a few beggars. At eachstep, if you took a 360° sweep of the area 9 times out of 10,you would see someone carrying a full-grown turkey by its feet. The neck would look like a snorkeler’s pipeand it twisted itself to see what’s ahead, probably unwary of the butcher’sknife waiting around the corner. Yes, Ihad my favorite Christmas present—a camera—but I didn’t think to snap thisinteresting site of fowl. When you arein the moment, and seeing many curious things, a live turkey held upside downby its feet doesn’t seem so noteworthy. Ihaven’t been exposed to an Albania New Year celebration, but I imagine there issomeone in every family who knows how to prepare a turkey for dinner.

            As we werewalking, who should walk toward us but Zelda, Maaike, Tanya and her son,Luca. We couldn’t have planned itbetter!
            “Where areyou headed?” asked Maaike.
            “To theamusements—to the bumper cars, the balloon slide, etc.”
            “Howwonderful! Zelda has been begging to gothere. You go ahead, Tanya wants to buysome souvenirs and we’ll call.” I lovedthe attitude and immediate change of plans with no confirmation of agreement—itwas simply understood that Zelda would forego the search for souvenirs and comewith us. So I took off with three kidswalking across town. I prepared them to bedisappointed because I was afraid there would be a huge crowd of people there,what with the holiday and all. Usually,the Albanian kids don’t play nicely with others. They push and shove as a normal course ofbehavior, and when they see that the boys are foreigners, they gawk or are nosey. Today, though, we were pleasantly surprisedby the lack of people at thegames. We have been to the balloon slideso many times in the past week, the young ticket taker knows us and if no oneelse is around, he lets us play as long as we want. The balloon slide is perfect. Kids can jump off the top, about 15 feet inthe air, free-fall straight down and gently swooshto a stop—no worries.

            Later, whenwe arrived to Maaike’s apartment, it was one cool episode after another. To begin, I had brought over the makings for apie crust and a banana cream pie mix. Iwas talking with a Canadian guy who is married to an Albanian lady about holidaytraditions. He said they need to maketheir own. On whim, at Hy-Vee about amonth ago, I bought the pie mix with the intention of bringing over here. I wasn’t sure when I would use it, but now I’ve decided that this will be mytradition. I had never made pie crustand I was quite unsure about the whole business. Maaike was reassuring when she said, “When Icook with a recipe, I think of it as a rough guide. I try to do what it says, but if it doesn’tlook right, then I guess and push on.”
            The firstthing I needed to do was to thaw out the butter. Even though I had had it outside the fridgeall day, the temp in the house is so cold—50°—it wasstill hard as a rock. We found a kids’dish and set it on the ubiquitous space heater for a few minutes before addingit to the flour that I had brought over. Luckily, I had measured the amount already because the only measuringcup in the house started at 100 ml (.43 cups), one-half inch from the bottom ofa 5-inch diameter plastic cup that held as much as a liter (≈quart). So 1/3 cup was not possible withsuch a utensil. I remembered theapproximate amount from when I had smashed it in a 1/3 cup measure the daybefore at home. During that attempt Ihad turned the butter into liquid when I microwaved it too much. Someone told me that it would not be possibleto use liquid butter and that I would have to start over. Because I was unsure about the process, thefact that I was forced to guess at the amount of butter didn’t make me veryhappy. I decided to ‘push on’.
            I neededtin foil to keep the crust from burning (I think). A different guy who is also married to an Albanianwoman warned me that later today all shops would be closed until Tuesday. By the time I remembered that I had forgottenthe tin foil, one shop in the whole neighborhood was open—I took a chance. The place was about the size of a kid’sbedroom, and just as messy. My eyes weretreated to a cacophony of stuff—everything you might find in a dollar storeplus every possible kind of alcohol, bread, and fresh fruit. I looked around the place and the ownerslooked at me quizzically with their upturned palms in an attitude of “What doyou want?” How could I explain ‘tinfoil’ when I didn’t even know how to say ‘you’re welcome’? I don’t even know how to say ‘tin foil’ in Russian,my only language besides English. Then Isaw them…a half dozen narrow boxes that looked like they might contain tubessitting on the floor. I could only pointbecause there was a glass case of beer, candy eggs, tuna, pickled mushrooms,and yogurt in front of me. One of theguys working weaved his way around the other stuff on the floor and made hisway to the corner. I pointed down. He went to the bottom shelf. Down further, I energetically gesticulated. He went to the bottom of a stack ofsponges. Down, Down. I telepathically was saying, “Below the RAIDand the motor oil, on the floor beside the tubs of butter. That’s right, inside the plastic bag with thesocks.” His hand moved sideways to threetubes of toothpaste. Down, Down! I said silently.

I couldhear him thinking, “What does this silly foreigner want in this pile of junk?” I brightened unnaturally when his had lit onthe treasure.

            At differentstages of the crust-making (I performed in stages because of my apprehension), Zeldaperformed a rendition of the musical Tarzan in the living room. She jumped around searching for tigers and otherdangers, while other party goers where enlisted to play the parts of gorilla parents,Jane, the leopard and I’m not sure who else. One attractive feature were the wonderful cartwheels and hand standsfrom the Iowa boys as they showed off the skills learned at tumbling class inthe summer.
            The crustwas placed in the oven as I looked another time at the recipe. Suddenly (and thankfully), I read for the 100^thtime, but for the first time with 100% comprehension, that I needed to place adouble layer of tin foil on top of the pastry at that moment, not later. Shout, turn, grab the pan…cover with tin foil and back in the oven.
            MoreTarzan.
            The kitchenhad no real mixing bowls, no measuring spoons, no tin foil, no oven mitts, butshe DID have a mixer. I found this outafter I had asked my new Lithuanian friend to mix the topping with a fork. After she had done an excellent job of thisfor a minute, she asked how long she would need to do so. I said, “Well, it says that we need an electricmixer on high for 3 minutes. I guess youwill need to work hard…unless…Maaike, do you have a mixer?”
            “Yes, Ido.” As if she had been waiting for thatrequest all night, she immediately pulls out a hand-held machine, perfectlysuited for the job.

I had toldMaaike earlier in the day that I would need some empty tin pop cans for ascience experiment. Without missing abeat, she said, “Then we buy some Coke and have a burping contest.” While the pie was in the oven, I limbered upmy throat muscles. Without drinking adrop I shocked the audience, and gained praise from my progeny. The four children were seated and ready todrink. The burping commenced. This was afantastic event for us, but the boys are just at the age when, with looks ofgreat admiration and wonder on their faces, they say things like, “You know Alvian? His brother knows someone who can burp thewhole alphabet!” Possibly, it was not afair fight because I have had more than 40 years of swallowing air grossing outmy sister, trying to get the excess gas from my stomach. I won.

Then Tanyaused her Italian cooking skills, acquired during 6 years in Italy, to prepareoutstanding white sauce and red sauce to go with the excellent pasta.

As the eveningwore on, the sounds of bombing, sparkling, and whizzing outside were growingmore and more persistent and noticeable.
After thepasta, we went downstairs to the concrete courtyard, and lit several triangularitems of intense light and whooshing sound. Nothing great to those of us who bring more sophisticated experience tothe table, but the youngsters—particularly the big O—were duly impressed. We also had tiny, substandard sparklers.

The finalevent before the big moment—air pressure demo. I have guided students to crushcans with air pressure many times since learning the ‘trick’ while employed atthe Maryland Science Center. ThisDecember, however, I am using the book, Potentially Catastrophic Science Experimentsto direct some of our activities. In thebook, as a demonstration of the power of air and steam, the authors direct thereader to heat cans containing a small amount of water on a frying pan. When the water inside is boiling, we are toput the cans upside down into a pot of cold water—thereby producing the desiredsmashing. After several minutes ofwaiting for the cans to heat up, the effect was far from dramatic. About this time, I noticed on Maaike’s countertop,an electric teapot—a staple in European homes.

“This teapotis part of an ideal method for this demonstration of seemingly super-natural,natural power.” We took a lid from a containerof oatmeal, heated the water, poured it into the can though a funnel, dumped itout, placed the lid and presto! Crushingbegins! I’ve seen people take the canand plunge it into water and the can is smashed instantly and impressively. In my opinion, however, MY way, with the lidand hot water is a much more effective display. With the plastic lid, the crushing does not take place all at once, sothe gradual impact of the air pressure is clear and present. In this case, just as I said, “Many timesI’ve seen it when it is dented a few times to the point where it fallsover.” At that exact instant, a dent ensuedand the can fell over.

Atmidnight, we took out the banana cream pie that had been in the ‘fridge for acouple hours and feasted mightily. Nexttime, it will be banana cream from scratch—this time, it was powder with addedmilk—tasty, but terribly artificial.

On thewhole the evening was my greatest New Year’s Eve because the kids were thefocus. From bumper cars, to Tarzan, toburping contests and banana cream pie, we all greeted the New Year with gusto.

Running

2012-01-01T23:51:00.000-08:00

1 January 2012

48.11seconds I think this is my new recordfor the trip up the hill. It certainly felt like a new record. I gave it ALL my energy ALL the time, with nopain, running on my toes, trying to make the least possible amount of contactwith the ground. It’s possible that Icould improve my time if I found a running surface without bumps, brokenconcrete, potholes and mud puddles. Asis, I need to select where I am going to place each step.

I woke uptoday in Oskar’s room where we laid down last night at 2 am. He, with 6 layers of blanket and me, withtwo. At 7:00, I changed my clothes intomy running outfit. I wear a t-shirt andun-insulated, thin nylon pants and a pair of gloves. This way, I don’t sweat as I run and I canwear the same clothes every day.

At school--3 pullups

As I leftthe house, I found my glasses because I can’t read the iPod without them. I flipped through the playlists and found onethat was automatically created—the mechanism by which this is done, I don’tknow. It started with the Newsboys andsome kind of ‘praise’ song—it has a fantastically motivational beat. Then it goes into Barry Manilow for a fewsongs, and I thought, “What the heck? I’lltry Barry as a running partner.” Turnsout that he’s terrific. As I was doingmy 40-minute jog before the final sprint, I sang along to Even Now, and Mandy,and Ships. Jump, Shout, Boogie made mewant to punch the air and slap high 5s with an imaginary dude hanging from thetrees.

Random door frame -- 5 pullups

Tree branch -- 7 pullups

Bar in tree-- 9 pullups

I ranthrough the park to a disused amphitheater with crumbling concrete seats. I had been doing pull-ups here for months ona metal tower to the side. This was thefirst day that I walked around it and noticed the metal steps of a ladder. I climbed up to a platform about threestories above. It was a tad unstable asthe tower continued to sway as stood on top. I wasn’t sure whether the movement was due to the nature of the decayingtower or to my shaky knee syndrome that is the last residue of my tractoraccident 25 years ago. Some might saw myobsession with Barry Manilow would also fit into that ‘residue’ category.

random doorway for future entrance to something

Maxim at the top.

tree branch -- 7 pullups

door frame --5

school -- 3

Maxim -- self portrait

The lastsong on the playlist finished in the middle of my final uphill—it was “I’dReally Love to See You Tonight” by England Dan and John Ford Coley. I could never understand the words to thissong. I thought it was, “I’m not talkin’bought my lid in.” I looked on theinternet and it’s “I’m not talkin’ ‘bout movin’ in.” When I listen for those words, they areclear.

The internet—howwould we live without it? Just movealong in a cloud of misunderstanding, I guess.

On Januray 3, I ran 48.51 seconds. In my ears this time was Toby Keith's "I Should've been a Cowboy" Maybe I would have achieved a better result if the next song, "Waka Waka" by Shakira from the 2010 soccer world cup would have come along.

Happy New Year!

2012-01-01T13:53:00.000-08:00

These videos were taken in Tirana, Albania on the evening of December 31, 2011.

Air-filled balloon slide

2011-12-24T16:55:00.000-08:00

Now THIS looks like fun. I wish I had a picture of Oskar's face that first time, last year, when the bottom fell out.

When I asked if I could do this, the young men supervising smiled, nodded their heads and said, "No, I'm sorry. Prob-LEM." Many Albanians nod their heads for no and shake back and forth for yes. One typical confusion came in a store when I was buying apples. I asked if they had change for what amounted to a $10 bill. He smiled grimly and shook his head. I was disappointed and said, "You don't have anything??" I was looking around the store when he pulls out the small box in the third drawer that I had seen him use many times, full of cash and coins, and then I understood that I had been fooled again.

Walking up pyramid in Tirana

2011-12-24T16:07:00.000-08:00

23 December 2011

Boys in the middle of pyramid. Broken glass and graffiti are typical of the entire monstrosity.

Boys at the top

A dramatic picture of protesters running around on the pyramid last Januray 21. Three people died, were shot. They were protesting the national election. The emotions quickly simmered down and a week later, protests were muted; a month later, you would have been amazed to think that something like this could have happened.

Shadow pictures while walking down the slope

All these pictures were taken moments before the camera was stolen. In preparation to film us running up the slope, I changed the SD card in the camera. How fortunate. To begin with, using a 7" tripod, all three of us ran up with the camera doing its job at the bottom. Then Maxim filmed me only running up the slope. It was difficult to keep the subject in focus. Using the tripod, I trained the camera on my run up the slope. By the time I got to the top, I was invisible.

Then I pushed our luck once too far. I set the camera up right next to the bottom of the slope while the boys were going to adjust the zoom, and try to make it all work out. I took off and got about halfway when they boys started yelling. I thought they were telling me that the camera had run out of battery or the card was full. I was not worried and figured I'd have to redo the exercise sometime when my legs didn't feel like rubber. As I came down, though, I didn't see the camera and than I understood that they were telling me that someone had stolen the camera. By the time I got to the bottom, in 30 seconds, and ran in the direction the boys pointed, the thief was gone.

Mama's 2011 birthday

2011-12-22T11:36:00.001-08:00

2011-12-21T02:30:00.001-08:00

Here is one science experiment that Oskar thought up.

Toys from Grandpa and Grandma

2011-12-21T02:23:00.000-08:00

Constrution toys December 2011

90, 180 270, 360 degree icicles "For Rend"

2011-12-14T12:41:00.000-08:00

August 1990, Yellowstone National Park. The pictures show icicles reaching out at every angle around this hub cap. It's really amazing the combination of elements that must be perfect for this to happen. The humidity had to be high enough and temperature low enough for frost to form; the sun had to be bright enough for it to melt the frost. We had to get out of bed on our way soon enough that the day did not warm up too much so the temperature low enough for the water to re-freeze. Then that moose had to be walking through the lake at just the right time so we would stop and take a picture. And one of us had to be observant enough to catch sight of this super 'cool' natural coincidence. And...at this time, 1990, I had to have my handy-dandy 110 mm instamatic camera with me and easily accessible, with a few pictures still available.

Here is a sign on a house in Albania. Makes me think of a gang walking around town with sledgehammers and axes, searching for houses that are marked for demolition.

Panorama Days Tractor Pull

2011-08-10T20:37:00.000-07:00

The pedal power tractor pull was next on the agenda. Maxim was revisiting the scene where 3 three years ago, he went home victorious. Three years ago, I think he was one of 3 contestants. This year’s competition was full of people. It was “sanctioned” and the winners would qualify for the state championships in Marshalltown after Labor Day. Because we won’t be here on that weekend, luckily the boys didn’t win.

Click on this one. Maxim, "What in the world is this guy doing?"

Panorama 2011 Last day

2011-08-10T20:21:00.000-07:00

Play set from Mike Smith

At home, our neighbor, John from Omaha, asked if I wanted his help putting up the playset. I had talked to him earlier in the day about it. He came over and we had success getting the thing together. I would have liked to have the boys help me out, but they were not much interested. Maxim was not even excited about the thing. Now that we have the basic thing there, I will be able to add on more equipment.

On the last day, we went to church and then to a classic car show. Next we saw the musical, “Little Shop of Horrors” that will be performed by the high school and a community theater. It was hilarious and the boys loved it.

Then we went to a new bike trail that is on a railroad line, and goes over a trestle bridge—it starts at Woodward.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I9x9uVX3EFk after biking, we planned to come back here and set off the smoke bombs and fireworks that we got in Washington State. Didn't get to the fireworks.

Panorama days 5K race

2011-08-10T20:20:00.000-07:00

While the tractor pull was going on, the 5K race was set to begin. Previously, I had arranged from someone to supervise the boys while I was running, but I didn’t know the tractor pull and the race would overlap. At any rate, I drove down to collect my number and came back to watch Oskar. I had to jog down for the race so I missed Maxim’s performance. I ran into a couple we knew in Kazakhstan who have relatives in Panora. I finished the race in 22 minutes and 7.83 seconds. I felt great, but I wish I had asked Stan to bring the boys down to see the end of the race. It was another 2nd place finish. 2nd in the men's 40 -49 year old division. I found that out today (Wednesday) when I opened up my mailbox find the prize below.

Wouldn't I have liked to pin that medal on my high school letter jacket!

I saw the boys and Stan sitting at a picnic table near on the town square. They were chatting happily. Stan and Dorothy were very impressed with the boys. I think they are most comfortable with me, so they are not afraid to whine and complain. I am reminded of Yadav (or something) an Indian kid in Kazakhstan who for all my trying, I couldn't get him to voluntarily say a word in school. His dad told me he is loud and crazy at home. There were several inflatable games that the boys loved. They were fantastically expensive, though. I told the boys that is the reason we have a trampoline at home.

Yesterday, I woke the boys at 8:45, asking them if they wanted to go to a pet show. Oskar, of course, wanted to see piggies. He was disappointed that piggies are usually never in pet shows. The show featured only dogs that were up for adoption from the animal rescue organization here in Panora. I learned that they ‘rescue’ many dogs from Missouri. One woman told me that the most adopted pets are from “puppy farms” in the state of Missouri because, as she told me in a soft conspiratorial tone, “they have no regulations down there.” The added the words, “those hillbillies!” in unspoken character assassination.

Fortunately, we were there because I had been assigned to walk with one of the puppies in the parade. The dog was a lovely little dachshund named Louie, who loves everyone and everything. The boys were fighting over which one got to walk the dog until Oskar had to admit that he was a bit tough to handle. Even Maxim said he was tough to control in the parade. Luckily we were still able to eat a pancake breakfast at the community center. Oskar said, “This room is the cribbage room AND the breakfast room? Imagine his surprise when the same room turned into the venue for the free movie that evening.

cribbage and calk walk

2011-08-10T20:11:00.000-07:00

I calmly sat at an open seat several minutes before the games began. This wasn’t an activity that relied on youth, vigor, and strength. In fact, most of the contestants were retired. How else could 30 people take time away from jobs on a Friday afternoon?

Assigned seats? No. A summary of the rules? No. Introductions? No. Simply, “OK, I don’t think anyone else is coming, go ahead and get started.” It was a cribbage tournament.

When I signed up, I asked how many games we would play.
“Depends on how quickly the games go.”
“I mean, how many will I need to win?”
“Depends on how the games go.”
I thought there would be brackets, winners, losers, semi-finals, everything associated with competition. Instead, we all simply played 5 games with different people.

With 121 being the winning score of every game, the maximum points were 605. After and enjoyable 2 hours, I turned my card in with a total of 596. Good enough for 2^nd place and $20—the winner won all five games.

Where were the boys during this two hour festival of brain exercise/luck/skill(ha)? Next door in the library reading and playing with interesting stuff.

While I waited for the totals of the tournament, the boys ran around outside, wrestling on the beautifully green grass. I came out to find Dave Arganbright, the man who put siding on our house, and then lived in it the first year we owned it. They were teasing each other.

Soon, the cake walk began. The boys had never seen a cake walk but they were eager to pay 50 cents for something, and if cake was involved, they were all the more excited. We paid for two ‘tickets’ which were actually not tickets, but simply the knowledge that you had paid--no body was checking. They stood on one of 20 numbers taped to the floor of the gazebo in the center square of town. The music started and 5 seconds later, the song ended. The announcer said, “Oh, wait, that was the end of a song, you can—oh, well, okay, I guess that’s good enough.” At any rate, the boys didn’t win anything that time.

I was afraid we would have to stand there all night until they won something, and I was out 10 dollars or something. I paid $2 more so they each would have the right to enter two more contests. When the music stopped the second time, Oskar was on number 3, and he was not moving. As it turned out, he needed to move one space over to number 4. He was not moving. He had been told to stay on one number and by golly he was going to stay there. After a few moments of indecision, steadfast stickiness, and persuasion from those around him, he did move. The announcer said there would be two winners each round. The first number was 12, and the next number was 4! Someone yelled, “Oskar!” (although they probably yelled “Oscar!” she got her point across.) I was surprised because I didn’t thing anyone knew our names. He won 5 cupcakes. Exactly what we needed. Easy to eat, not messy, and not too much. How lucky we were that the number he HAD been married to did not win.

RAGBRAI 2011

2011-07-26T19:50:00.001-07:00

July 25, 2011: Riding from Carroll to the first big hill. Oskar holding piggie and cheering.

Piggie is still up. See him behind the rainbow?

Old Faithful

2011-06-24T07:15:00.000-07:00

Why does it do this? Water below ground--some 4 MILES below ground is heated by magma (molten rock). As it boils, it tries to rise, but cannot. It must remain in a state of water because it has no space to become steam. The water rises in temperature to twice the boiling point. After a time, the water finally escapes and bursts to the surface.

south dakota, wyoming

2011-06-24T06:59:00.000-07:00

The clouds are awesome.

Bison--a mighty animal. Much more cool than its replacement--the cow.

Badlands

“Humph. Is that all there is?” Then a little more steam spit up. The man said again, “Well, that’s not much.” The next thing we knew, there was a river of water gushing up out of the ground.

Gram said, “Well that’s just like a whole waterfall shootin’ up instead of down.”

This is how Old Faithful was described in the book Walk Two Moons by Sharon Creech—a book that we had finished listening to earlier in the day on our way to Yellowstone. Although our boys are never afraid to show their excitement, they were wildly enthusiastic about Old Faithful—particularly after hearing the description in the book. Even more thrilling, it was Maxim’s birthday. I cannot deny that they are members of modern society, though, because they were at least as excited to have Maxim’s birthday dinner at McDonald’s.

The book has a character that is traveling from Ohio to Lewiston, ID. They travel some of the same roads that we were on. At one point, the person reading the story says, “We went into the Badlands” at the exact moment when we passed a sign that read, “Entering Badlands National Park.”

Another character in the book talks about how it seems that they smashed all of South Dakota flat except for the Badlands where the craggy, soft, sticky, rubbery hills and valleys simply appear out of nowhere. Maura had made nearly the exact same observation about 2 hours earlier.

As we pulled into the Badlands Park, we asked about a pass or something for several parks because we are planning to see several on this trip. Rather than pay $15 to enter Badlands, we bought an $80 yearly pass. We’ve already used it for Devil’s Tower, and for Yellowstone ($45)—and we are planning to visit Olympic NP, Crater Lake NP, and Redwood NP. We may be able to see Rocky Mountain NP, too. We are feeling quite the bargain shoppers.

We left Panora on Tuesday—our first stop was the Guthrie County courthouse to buy the registration for the car. I had called the day before to learn the hours and where exactly to go, etc. The woman on the phone said our account had a stop on it from the Iowa Department of Revenue saying that we owed $4643. About two weeks ago, I when talked to the IDR, they told me that I had a zero balance. So I called them again after I talked to the Guthrie County people. Again I was told of the zero balance.

“Oh, we’ll get that taken care of right away.”

On Tuesday, it had NOT been taken care of, I called again. After waiting on the phone for ages (I was lucky because I had taken my prepaid phone balance down to 61 cents), a woman came on and she “watched him push the button” as they cleared our name.

We drove on to Hinton where we had a meeting with our tax man, who runs an impressive operation from his home. The boys brought in coloring books and cars. They kept themselves entertained extremely well.

We were drove through Le Mars—the ice cream capital of the nation—and ate a buffet at Pizza Ranch. As we ate, it became exceedingly clear to us why the US has a problem with obesity. The greasy pizza, huge fountain drinks of sugary pop, and the all-you-can-eat nature of the meal showed clearly on the waistlines of the patrons. It’s true, we ate there, AND we ate at McDonald’s. It just shows that once we are here in this country, the bad habits are difficult to avoid.

We drove all night Tuesday night, sleeping in the car. At one point, I woke up to find us sitting in a massive parking lot that was about one-quarter full. Everyone else was asleep, so I got out to go to use the rest stop facilities. As I approached the enormous building, I couldn’t help but think that the rest stops had certainly been upgraded since we had driven across country in the past. I wasn’t sure if I should try to go in because there were two uniformed guards in starched white uniforms with walkie-talkies or sticks or guns handing from their belts. I tentatively shoved the sparkling, two-ton door. The guards did not even look at me as I walked by and saw a football field-sized room of slot machines. There were dozens of other uniforms standing around. I walked by the desk of a hotel reception area. I wasn’t sure if they wanted me to come in just to use the toilet, but no one even looked at me.

I could walk right up and look over the back of a Black Jack dealer. Everyone at the table had 20 except for one guy who went over 21. Dealer turned over a 9 and an 8. He said, “Ok, that’s 16. Oh, wait, 15.”

All the men at the table said, “That’s 17!”

The dealer blushed; he was obviously a dealer-in-training. I don’t blame him for making a mistake. A minder right near him (who must have been his instructor) said, “Ok, now you pay everyone at the table.”

There was a craps table that I couldn’t figure out at all. Random people seemed to be putting chips down and taking them off at unspecific intervals. Then someone would throw a couple dice seemingly whenever he felt like it.

As I took Maura’s place behind the wheel, she asked, “What IS this place? As I was driving, these lights rose up out of the corn fields and there was a lake of concrete. It doesn’t say anywhere that it is a casino.” As we pulled out, on the other side of the road, we saw sleepy farm yard. We both remarked how terrible it would be to have a nice quiet piece of property out in the country and then they build this casino that gives of a nuclear power plant worth of light pollution 24 hours a day.

On Wednesday night, after the Badlands, Mr. Rushmore, and Wall, SD, we stopped in Ten Sleep, WY. I wanted to say there because it was getting late and if we went on to the next large town, it would be too dark to ride bikes. We have the boys’ bikes on the back of the van—Oskar is finally eager to ride, ride, ride. I’m not sure how much of RAGBRAI he will be able to do this year. I may be pulling him in the trailer.

Ten Sleep is a town of 341 people—99% of whom work in the tourist industry. The name is a measure of distance. It took ten sleeps to go from one camp to Ten Sleep and 10 more sleeps to go from Ten Sleep to the other camp.

In the morning, I went for an early run and Maura went for a run later. The boys rode around on the empty streets to see the river—all rivers we have seen are brimming with melted snow and rainwater. Yellowstone have more snow in it than people here can remember. On our way to Y-stone, the road followed a river that was bursting. The whitewater was crashing down moving like a bolt of lightning.

We are staying in Butte, MT right now. We will be traveling to Seattle today.

Maxim and YouTube

2011-05-22T11:46:00.000-07:00

19 May 2011

I will tell you about a wonderful thing that has just happened in my household—actually TWO things. A couple hours ago, Maxim was having trouble with his homework. He had this disgustingly acidic attitude as he was grumpy. He didn’t know the stuff and I thought he wasn’t even thinking. He was trying to decide if two fractions are equivalent. He had a slouch, and he was filled with the one word answers of an uninterested bean bag. I said a couple times, “Well, if you don’t care, I don’t care, and I’m not going to help someone with your attitude. ”Then I would walk downstairs and read a book or something to Oskar who was always eager.

While I was down there, Maxim went back to reading his book—not concerned. When I went back up after a few minutes, his attitude had changed a bit, but he was still surly. I convinced him that he needed to act like he wanted help and to sit at his table with the book open and a pencil in his hand. After hitting a brick wall for the third or fiftieth time, I asked, “Your teacher didn’t teach this to you today?”

“No. ”

“What did she say?” (He has a terrific teacher who we worked with in Kazakhstan).

“She talked about decimals. ”

“She didn’t tell you how to make equivalent fractions?”

“No. ”

“Well, what did you learn about decimals?”

“That they have to have a point. ”

Don’t laugh because this is an important idea when you are just learning. “Okay…that’s right. ”

He continued, “And also that there are houses of tenths, hundredths, and thousandths. ”

“Yes,” I agreed, but I didn’t understand why he was learning about that because we in 5^thgrade work on that stuff. I couldn’t understand why she would have talked about decimals and then gave him homework in fractions. I looked through his workbook and 10-12 pages further in the book and there was a lesson about tenths.

Maxim brightened up and said, “I can do that. ”The skills on this page were about writing fractions and decimals that involve tenths. He completed that page, including the somewhat more difficult story problem at the bottom in 5 minutes—without trouble, without tears and without beatings. I think somehow, he misunderstood which page he needed to do for homework. On top of that, we quickly when read two sheets of review work for tests that he will be taking tomorrow. In all, the evening was terrific!

Another wonderful thing that happened this evening involved my YouTube account. Recently, I was told by QSI that we should not be using our business account (qsi. org) for anything personal. So…I created a new account—oskmax@gmail.com--delinked my Facebook, and tried to login to YouTube. YouTube is now Google, is now everything, I think. Anyway…I couldn’t log in even though I had just cleaned it up about a month ago. I had deleted the two videos from yashamax1 and put everything on yashamax. Whatever—to make a long, somewhat complicated story (that you don’t need to understand) short, I got a message from YouTube after sending them a HELP! message. The message gave a link at which I could fix my problem, and I did. Yahoo!If you have never put up videos, or a blog, and then been faced with the possibility that you could not gain access to it, you don’t understand the relief that I felt when I was able to unlock the door to my control room. There are still more strawberries and ice cream in my dessert bowl.

Snails in Tirana

2011-05-22T02:40:00.000-07:00

We noticed this snail crawling on the railing outside of our house on 19 May 2011.

Pinewood Derby Albania 2011

2011-05-22T02:19:00.000-07:00

The Boy Scouts of America
Pinewood Derby
Pack 909
Tirana, Albania
Bear Den Championship
21 May 2011

tick on cat

2011-05-08T11:45:00.000-07:00

I found a tick on our cat last week. I was eager to take it out and the boys were eager to help. Here are some pictures and a video of the whole affair:

2nd day at Porto Palermo

2011-05-01T08:28:00.000-07:00

I now know why the water pressure in the shower is poor. Everything at this place is environmentally less destructive than customary methods. Water uses gravity, the lights and hot water are solar-powered, the waste water from showers and sinks is put back onto the ground, and they have a windmill to power the community refrigerator. The owner/manager is a journalist who has written about environment issues for 30 years. Two years ago, he leased this place for 10 years. He has also made several documentaries about nature in the area; he made the latest one two years ago about the 1950’s era Soviet submarine base—the entrance of which can be seen from the castle. They used to hide subs inside the mountain. I can only imagine how big it must be down there.

We started Sunday with a trip to another castle 7 kilometers away. Oskar said, “This castle is much different than the other one.”

“It’s older.”

“How much older?”

“Well, as we read on the sign, it was used in the 4^th century BC, and the castle by our hotel was built in the 1700’s, so that means it’s over 2000 years older.”

This castle is truly just the remains of a structure. Most of the area is simply piles rocks and a “series of small walls.” (Eddie Izzard, 1997) Oskar and Maxim did more young-boy things—climbing around, poking their heads into places, examining stuff. Oskar found a piece of something that had been growing. There was a bit of green, and I said it looked like a large ‘bulb.’ It was something that you put in the ground and at some point something grows.

“Can I keep it?”

“Of course.”

As we were walking down from the castle, he said, “I’m getting tired of holding this.”

I took it and said, “Let’s look at it a bit…there’s still some green here, so it must not be too old…and look at this, it still moist once you peel some layers off. Hmmm…it looks a lot like an onion. Ah, yes it’s definitely and onion, or something like it. Do you want to eat it?” It made it all the way back to Tirana.

We left the castle and came back to the beach. As we drove up, I mentioned to the kids that the sun was in full regalia and the haze had burned off—a clear, beautiful day. In no time, we were in the water again—about 12:30. Today there were probably 4 times as many people on the beach—12. The greatest thing about going on vacation during the off season. Yesterday, the boys had climbed/walked along the rocky shore and said they were excited about doing the same thing today while I swam along. They would be exploring the water—finding sea urchins and cool-looking rocks. Once, they called me over to look at a reddish, squishy thing. It was a ‘sea slug’ if such things exist—stuck to the underside of a rock and feeling gooey. Maxim was still up for this, but Oskar had changed his mind. I think the tall rocks and great climbing that was demanded put him off of the adventure—he wanted to stay in a smaller area to investigate. We had a dilemma. Oskar wanted to stay; Maxim wanted to go with me. I wouldn’t leave Oskar by himself. Maxim showed great maturity when he said, “Okay, I will stay here with Oskar.” Maybe I showed less maturity when I didn’t offer to stay with both of them.

The rocks along the coast were of epic beauty. I was Jacques Cousteau again for 30 minutes. After warming up a bit after the swim, and since I hadn’t gone to sleep after writing until 2 am, I was pretty tired, so I took a nap on the rocks. At one point, I woke and didn’t know where I was…I certainly didn’t know why the bed was as hard as rock—duh, it was rock. I turned over and it was already 4:00. I had thought the yesterday that it would be cool to swim all the way around the island. I asked two Albanian couples that were having a picnic nearby if they would be around for awhile. I asked them to keep an eye out for the boys, and if my boys could call on them if they ever had a problem. They readily agreed to the arrangement.

As I swam around the island, the bright sun made the view idyllic. As Maxim had pointed out earlier, the water was more “active” today. This meant that as I swam, with a mask and goggles that I had borrowed from the journalist/owner who is also a dive instructor, the speckles and glints of sunlight on the rocks was astoundingly lovely. As I swam on the opposite side of the island from the bungalows, I was again “thrilled” by the sense of hugeness of the ocean. To think that there is nothing below me, and the rocks were too jagged to climb on, and there is nowhere to go anyway, is a tad disconcerting. Just don’t think about it I guess. As I swam closer to shore, the bottom nothingness is replaced by a white rock in the shape of the map of Thailand. At first I was shocked and thought maybe it was a huge animal, or a shipwreck. You might think that my stomach took quite a few jumps as I saw surprises and confusions—you’d be right.

For supper, we I had fresh fish at near the bungalows—I found out later it was cod. Then the boys road their bikes down to the fishing dock. We saw people catch several fish, got a close up of a crab and a shrimp. Then we went to Qepero, a ‘town’ stuck on a hill a few km away. We were definitely the novelty for the evening as we ordered hot chocolate, AND ice cream. While we waited for our food, Maxim read a book and Oskar completed a few more pages in his coloring book. Back at the bungalow, I read the boys a James Herriot book—a section of one of his stories is illustrated and made into picture book form. This one was about Moses the Kitten who is rescued and begins to suckle from a mama sow named Bertha. Oskar, of course is totally jazzed about this story because his favorite animals are pigs. Even when he eats ham or bacon, he calls it ‘cow’ so he won’t feel like he is eating pig. Ah, the power of suggestive thinking!

Pictures and video of Porto Palermo

2011-04-30T12:46:00.000-07:00

Fantastic picture of Oskar peeking around the wall with his tounge out. He inherited that from his papa. This is one photo that you should click on to see the full size image.

Oskar's onion treasure

Our tidy little red car. A Renault Senic. As we were driving around Albania, we paid $7 per gallon of gas--174 lek ($1.75) per liter. 1.75 x 4 = $7 per gallon. In Croatia, it was 9.76 kuna ($1.95) per liter. 1.95 x 4 = $7.80 per gallon.

This is the portion of the castle that was rebuilt by Ali Pasha in the 1700's. He built a mosque. It is still in good shape while the rest of the place is quite dimantled.

Most of these bumkers are along the borders and some face the sea. This one, and the others in the others in the picture below, were probably placed to defend the strategic importance of the castle--which can be seen in the background on top of the mountain.

There are four bunkers far down the mountain from the castle. One of them is circled, the others are on the same level to the left in the picture.

At the beach.

We stayed in bungalow #4.

Beautiful water.

Boys playing, throwing rocks. This taken minutes before Maxim smacks Oskar's foot with a rock. (no injuries)

Maxim finds a treasure. (One section of the larger video above on this page)

Going to Porto Palermo

2011-04-30T12:22:00.000-07:00

Here I am 03:00 in the morning on 23 April, listening to stereo snoring from the boys. We are in a hotel near Fier, Albania. As we got out of the car, I asked them, “Who wants to sleep on the floor?” They BOTH said, “I do!” We got into the room and they immediately stuck their noses in the new books that Maura had packed for the trip. Perfect! I love the fact that they are so much into books. As we were getting under the covers, Oskar did ask to put on the TV, but not seriously. They are somewhat used to TV in the hotel because it is about the only time they watch TV at all. After a minute, Oskar said he wanted to sleep on the bed. I looked at Maxim. He said, “What about you sleeping on the floor, Papa?”

“I’m not sleeping on the floor.”

It’s now 11:30 p.m. on 24 April and the boys are sleeping in bunk beds—Maxim on top, just like in Iowa. At 8:30, I lay down with them and tried to tell them a story, but I kept loosing the thread. They were on the ball, though. Maxim asked me once, “Papa, how does the story go from the being about the dead shark we found today, called Bad Luck Charlie, to a truck driver in Colorado.” I fell asleep too for about 90 minutes.

(During the last night, Maxim fell out of the top bunk. He cried a bit as I hustled him into my bed and put two blankets on him. He was probably awake for no more than 60 seconds. He woke up 3 hours later and asked, “How did I get down here?” No injuries.)

We had a fantastic time on Saturday. The day began at 7:00 with me sitting under a blanket in the hotel room writing while the boys read their books or played with the Bakugans. I must interject here and the Bakugan toys are remarkable. They begin as plastic balls the size of a golf ball. When they are near a magnet, they pop open to reveal several layers of appendages that require ingenuity and not a small amount of dexterity to fold together again. The boys are totally enthralled with them. We have discussed several times why it is that these things capture their attention so completely. If I find the secret, “it will be bigger than the microchip.” (Ghostbusters—1984)

After 30 minutes that turned into 45, we took our gear downstairs and the boys rode their bikes while I practiced my guitar sitting on the bumper of our little red car. The place had a massive parking area (one of five in Albania) with many columns that divided the under-building area into sections. It was great fun for them to weave among the concrete and the laundry.
After an exhilarating drive over beautiful mountains, we arrived at our destination about 12:30. Five km from the place, Maxim yelled, “There it is!” We had seen a photo of the place on the internet and it was easily recognized.

Porto Palermo is a peninsula that is virtually an island about the size of a high school baseball field. It is separated from the mainland by a narrow piece of sand. A guy named Ali Pasha built a castle here in the 1700s. http://www.ecoturist.com/

The boys and I were down on the rocky beach by 1:30 and we didn’t come back in until 6:00. At last we left after Oskar did his second ‘final swim.’ I promised that we would come back Sunday. I don’t blame them—I have not experienced water this clear since Thailand. At 2:00, I went for a swim, expecting to jump in for a bit, freeze the hairs on the backs of my hands until they snap off, and get out shivering. It was mighty cold at first, but soon I was feeling fine. Thankfully, this time I remembered to bring my swimming goggles and it was like swimming in a delightfully low-chlorine Iowa pool. There weren’t many fish, but the exquisite rock formations were like watching a continuously changing movie. I felt like Jacque Cousteau. Thirty minutes later, I got out and the shivering began. My eyes certainly had to be creative as they struggled to follow the words on the page of my book (about Alaska) until I retrieved my Obama sweatshirt from our ‘bungalow.’

This place is great because the boys can be totally self-contained and there is hardly anyone around. The biggest population on the beach is cows. At one point, about 6 came charging down the highway accompanied by bellows that could be heard a half-mile away. The cows already on the beach gathered in anticipation of the six interlopers’ arrival. It was like a bovine rumble. The first salvo was a red heifer and a light red heifer ducking their heads as they came together in what seemed to be a totally mild confrontation—it was difficult to tell whether they were facing off or doing a big-boned animal impersonation of the European kiss-on-both-cheeks greeting. I didn’t really get to find out though, because almost immediately the dude who had taken 100 lek ($1) from me as entrance fee to the castle started yelling and throwing rocks at our four-legged friends. I could never understand what he wanted them to do, so I can only imagine what the cows, with their probably more limited skills at interpretation of human behavior, where thinking.
One activity for Maxim is finding ‘sea glass.’ I am trying to convince him that although genuine sea glass has been tossed and turned by the sea until it is clouded and smooth, much of the stuff he has found looks like it has recently been tossed by morons who don’t care about their impact on the planet.
We explored the castle—10-foot-thick walls and numerous rooms with precious few, and tiny, openings in the walls and ceiling, making the inside damp and unbelievably cool. I love to see the boys run around the rooms and suddenly jump in front of each other—the other kid shouts out with extra-huge fully animated shock. They do a little dance as they see each other. Later in the evening, Oskar will recreate the little dance and say, “Maxim, remember this?!?”—with the previous joy once again.

After the castle, I was attracted by the water on the other side of the causeway and the variously shaped rocks jutting out into the sea. I thought that I should go for a swim there…I wanted to maintain my reputation as a land-locked Iowa farm boy who likes to swim. At the same time, I was not looking forward to the cold-water shock that was coming—after all, it was nearly 4:00, long after the hottest sun. I was pleasantly surprised, however, to fill my lungs successfully after less than a minute of gasping. How marvelous to float nearly weightless suspended like a leaf in the wind in crystal clear water where mermaids would feel at home! I called Maxim over to take some pictures. I wanted to try to get an image of the transparent water. Then I swam away from shore. Not since Maura and I learned to scuba dive have I looked in the water and felt I was in a nearly limitless expanse of area. As I moved farther from the shore, the bottom moved farther down. The words ‘inky depths’ came to mind as the water became darker and darker blue. I am afraid that I can’t adequately express my feelings of freedom and exhilaration. I can’t deny that I am a bit confounded at this point because some might feel insignificant when confronted by the unbelievably immense and powerful water all around them. Water that can cause tsunamis that crush and destroy. I wasn’t exactly ‘scared’…as I swam, I decided that ‘thrilling’ would best describe my feelings.

As we walked up the steps to our cabin, Oskar said we would need a shower. Normally, I would agree—salt water and sweat. In this case, however, I deflected his plans as I said, “The shower has low water pressure, and we are simply going to get back in tomorrow, so let’s just change our clothes.” Comfortably, Maxim had the great idea of simply putting on the same clothes he wore before going swimming, AND when we left Tirana. I’ll bet I know the kind of person who cheer when I said only half jokingly, “You know, boys, my goal is to go the whole weekend without changing clothes or taking a shower.” (Goal realized.)

The boys are most looking forward to walking along the rocky shore while I swim the same route.

Maxim, “I told Oskar that this is what boys do.” I think he meant that boys climb on rocks and stick their noses in places as they explore. Maura has read how mothers need to suspend their in-born worry about safety once in awhile and let boys be boys. Maxim’s statement to Oskar may have been born after over-hearing one of her descriptions of her reading.

I told Maxim that my goal is for him to learn to swim so he can come out with me to see all the stuff I see.

“You want some company,” he said.

“Not exactly. I just want you to experience what I do.”

“Then I need to tread.” He’s right. During the last two years of swimming lessons, he has learned strokes and random skills, but he has not learned to tread water. As I mentioned/complained to the organizer of the lessons, I don’t give a hoot whether he can do a back stroke or a front stroke or an upside down stroke or a “flutter kick” (whatever that is); I just want him to tread water so he can survive if he ever finds himself in over his head.

Leaving on a Jet Plane and Hard to be Humble

2011-04-30T06:49:00.000-07:00

Leaving on a Jet Plane

Tirana International School--International Night

Oh, My It's Hard to be Humble

video of Plitvicka

2011-04-27T15:24:00.000-07:00

Dubrovnik super safe

2011-04-19T13:12:00.000-07:00

One interesting tidbit about the walk around Dub this year was the changes in the holes in the wall/windows. One spot where the boys and I crawled last December now has a bar across it. These pictures of the boys and I were taken after we crawled in a 'window' of the city wall.

Below is the same window in 2011.
Maxim did find a different window where he could explore with no bars.

I wonder when we are going to cross the line to making this too safe and taking the thrill out of things. I made sure he didn't go too close to the edge. He is one of the safest guys I know. Look at his Pioneer hat.

Plitvicka National Park, Croatia

2011-04-19T12:38:00.000-07:00

Oskar is pictured here hugging his newest piggie. He calls this one "Oink, Oink, Oink, Oink, Oink Little Piggie Piggie" and I thought he might name it 'Croaita' or 'Plitvicka' How unimaginative I am.

The big goal of our trip was Plitvicka National Park in Croatia. The park features scads of waterfalls all over the place. They are formed by Karst and Travertine--these things are some kind of carbon deposits that happen in only a few places around the world.

Remember, if you click on these photos, a larger version will appear.

Plitvicka National Park in Croatia--D on the map. C is Trogir, the little town where we stayed on the first night. B is Dubrovnik and A is, of course, Tirana.

north of Albania April 2011, Dubrovnik, podcasts

2011-04-19T11:38:00.000-07:00

We spent much of the time in the car listening to stories and to podcasts. One podcast was about Global Warming. What do we do now? asked the host. The scientist-guest answered, "get working on the solution now and stop this silly bickering about if it is true or a hoax. It's happening, and now faster than anyone ever predicted." What convinces me is the melting polar ice--or at least polar ice that doesn't stay as frozen as long.

We also listened to a story about the Great Chicago fire of 1871. This story I downloaded from the Johnston, Iowa public library. I also listened to Black Like Me a story written by John Howard Griffin which focuses on a few weeks in 1959 when he takes a drug to darken his skin. He tours the Deep South--Louisiana, MIssissippi, Alabama, Georgia--to experience the racial situation first-hand. How nice it is to be able to use a library in Iowa from all the way over here.

After picking up Maura at the Tirana airport at 11:45 pm, we left immediately for Croatia. Since the airport is on the way north, we decided that we should simply get started instead of driving all the way back home, going to sleep for a few hours, and then getting BACK in the car early in the morning. Maura was coming from Rome where she had been for a Counsellor Fly-In sponsered by a couple colleges in Rome that attract high school graduates from the States, and from anywhere else actually. The International colleges invite the counsellors so they will go back to their schools and talk nicely to students about the prospects of a post-secondary education from a school in Rome.

We drove until Dubrovnik. We had been there last DEcember. The highlight of the stay was the walk around wall of the old city. Maxim and I walked on the wall again this year.

When we where in Dub last year, the water was quite turbulent. This year, I was flat as a pacake and beautifully clear.

Trip to Croatia part 1

2011-04-08T12:44:00.003-07:00

6 April 2011

The most prominent impression on this trip so far is the dingy, backward nature of Albania. When we got two hours from Tirana, the “roads” turned into farm tracks with holes, large rocks, and erratic path, and an illogical, often incomprehensible plan for the future. Immediately when we entered Montenegro—certainly not a country picked in the top one hundred itself—the road became paved. It was still only 1¼ care widths wide, but it was clearly marked with reflectors to the sides. As I told Maura, I got the impression that Albania should be embarrassed about the condition of their roads. The ADA and Alpet filling stations should be embarrassed. One of the only ways we knew that we were on the correct road is that there were large gas stations. The 'roads' leading to the stations, however, were mere suggestions of constructed pathways. The further we drove north, into Montenegro and on into Bosnia and Herzegovina (this is ONE country, I thought it was called Bosnia Herzegovina, but the official name has the word and between the two countries. I am still trying to research how this came about. All of these countries are members of the former Yugoslovia), and finally to Croatia, the road became increasingly well developed. The crowning jewel is the Croatian super highway that is being built near the west coast. It’s so beautiful, it seems that post cards could be printed that feature the fantastically tall Romanesque column built to support the transport marvel.

The only problem with the highway is that it is not finished yet. As we were driving we would sometimes realize that we were not on the highway, anymore, but we were on the two lane coastal road that roughly parallels the new structure. More than once, we looked around, saw the highway above us, and looked longingly, and lovingly toward it’s concrete. After the third time, we realized that the road is not finished yet. At one point we saw the gaps, and visions of Sandra bullock driving a bus at 50 miles an hour flashed through my brain. In fact, at one point, not 60 seconds after we had been heaping praise on Croatia because of their road, and wondering who helped them, where the money came from, etc, we found ourselves on a nearly Albanian-type suggestion of a route with holes and boulders.

Sometimes, I think how interesting it would be to be on a trivia show and be asked a question that involves the domain name initials for Croatia. Albania has .al; Montenegro has .me; Greece has .gr. Alex Trebek would read, "This country has the initials .hr in it's domain name and the initials on cars." I would calmly say, "What is Croatia?" All of the arm chair Jeopardy players would be amazed that I knew the answer and would wonder why on earth Croatia would be abbreviated HR. It's because IN Croatia, the country is not Croatia, but Hrvatska. I can see the logic. If you say the word Hrvatska with a bit of gusto and scaping in your voice, it sounds a bit like Kr (with some imagination). This is another time when I am disturbed by the fact that English people have to change the names of foreign countries to something that suits our tastes and abilities.

2011-04-08T12:44:00.001-07:00

6 April 2011

smashing cans with Oskar and Maxim

2011-03-29T11:30:00.000-07:00

Here is another science video. This one is great because Oskar is doing most of the camera work. It ends with some terrific thrid-grade jokes, too.

Legs in London

2011-02-22T20:02:00.000-08:00

This guy is in London--Covent Garden

Everything about him seemed completely standard (except I couldn't figure out why he was wearing such baggy pants) until he started to contort himself.

Wonderland in UK

2010-11-11T13:19:00.000-08:00

“Wow, Papa, look at the parking lot!” This was Maxim walking out of the airport hotel on Saturday morning at 6:00 a.m. after 4 hours of sleep. Not to be outdone in the aura of wide-eyed fascination, Oskar looked around with a smile that split his face like a ripe watermelon falling off a truck—pure fascination. Nothing puts an experience in a better light than a child with no inhibitions who has it in his mind that things are cool.

The whole weekend was a trip through wonderland—and the kids had fun, too. We began with a four-hour flight from Tirana to London; Oskar had a new coloring book, Maxim, a new joke book. I found three empty seats calling to me. I envy Maura’s ability to sleep at a 5% incline anytime she wants.

6:15 am Saturday, Oct. 15 A Family Rail Pass. This pass would get us greatly reduced fares. Even discounted, however, they were still only marginally less than outrageously expensive. Maura had tried for several nights in a row to buy the thing online, using her substantial online experience, without success. All she managed to obtain was an application form for the Family Rail Pass. Show up at the train station Saturday morning and hope there are windows open so we can buy the stuff we need.

Thinking that people at the ticket window are all about efficiency, I stepped up and, without even saying hello, “We need to buy a family pass.” A woman at the neighboring window called me over. I slid our application through the tiny slit in the glass. When she internalized what we wanted, and our pathetic unpreparedness, she chuffed, “Let’s get you the proper form, shall we?” She made motions for us to see her colleague and sent us back to the same line she called us out of 2 minutes earlier.

This man was…well…chubby, sitting like a lump of marshmallow, eating Cadbury’s chocolates.

“Where are we going today?” says the marshmallow. As I said, we knew exactly what we wanted and I wasn’t in the mood to futz around.

“Well, we are going to Newcastle, but right now we need to get to King’s Cross to meet a friend who has our tickets. We need a Family Rail Pass.”

“So, you want to buy the tickets straight through to Newcastle”

“No, we need to buy tickets to King’s Cross.”

“Well, see if you buy the tickets to Newcastle, the whole trip would be discounted.”

“But we already have tickets to Newcastle. We are meeting a friend at King’s Cross. He has our tickets.”

“So you already have the tickets to Newcastle?”

“Yes.”

Maura was kicking me in the back of the knees now, adding to my budding annoyance. The thing is that the groom (we were on our way to a wedding) bought the tickets, pretending to be in possession of a Family Rail Pass, pretending to need train tickets from London to Newcastle on the October 16, and pretending to be us. Then, without touching the tickets, Groom had them mailed to his friend, also pretending to be us, named Gwyn in London. Then, minutes before the train would depart, we were going to quietly bump into the Gwyn on platform 4 and make the exchange. In this new world of triple checks on passports, removing our shoes for ex-ray at the check-in line, and other hypersensitive security, we were not sure if this bit of skullduggery was allowed.

“Oh, well, that’s a pity,” said Mr. Lump.

“Well, yes, it’s a pity, but that’s what it is, so let’s get on with it!” I was losing patience. After all, we didn’t know how long it would take to get from Gatwick to King’s Cross so we didn’t want to dawdle. The man on the other side of the window did not seem to have any fire in his rump. His words came slowly, like sludge flowing through a hole the size of a pin … the last drops of shampoo eeking out of a bottle on a cold morning…a rattlesnake sloughing off its used scales.

Meanwhile, Maura is throwing daggers at me with her eyes now, because we actually DID get the discount Mr. Marshmallow was talking about. She didn’t want me to let the cat out of the bag. In actual fact, I didn’t understand exactly what it was Groom had done for us, so I could very easily have spilled the beans all over the station and put us into a fantastically over-priced rental car and used the already purchased tickets for our next campfire. My whole life seems to be a series of incidents of talking too much.

Annoyingly, the man seemed to take no notice of my rudeness. A let down. After all, why would I express my frustration if I didn’t want my distaste to register?

Luckily, right about then, before I could open my mouth too wide, I noticed a pastry shop just a few meters away. I took the boys as Maura took over dealings with the marshmallow. About 10 minutes later, I walked back to the window and Maura was just leaving. “How’d it go?”

“That ridiculous man! Just sell me what I need!”

“Did you get everything?”

“Yes, exactly, but I could have been out of there 10 minutes ago!”

“Did you get the tickets BACK from Newcastle?”

“No, I just wanted to get to King’s Cross. If I’d have bought the return from Newcastle…humph! That man! ‘Weeeeelll, what class of ticket would you like?’ ‘Where do you want to sit?’ I can only imagine. I would’ve been there for another hour.”

High on the list of great things in young boys’ lives are trains. They love the freedom to walk around while we are moving at 90 miles an hour. They love the huge windows that allow them to see the countryside flying by in truly living color. They love to feel like they are riding Thomas the train engine. They love their coloring books and Playmobile magazines. So…the three and half hour train ride from London to Newcastle was one thrill after another.

One nugget of British life the boys were eager to see was the cool taxis. These are the boxes with ceilings high enough to accommodate men’s top hats. Apparently many taxis traditionally have these ceilings even today—when no one wears such hats. Their back doors open in the reverse manner for easy access. Even during the brief walk between the hotel and the tube station, they shouted out, “Hey! There’s a funky London taxi!” (Oskar actually used the word funky even though I hadn’t used it, nor had Maura). So of course when we left the station, Maxim nearly jumped in front of the first car he saw. We told the young man our hotel as he put our bag in the back—he paused. “Well, it’s right there, you might want to walk.” Maura had done well with the reservations. The place was across the street from the reception—at science museum, a bonus! …featuring a Dr. Who exhibit, no less. The fun was just beginning.

A picture of the boys in a cab. The top hat-high ceiling is obvious...unfortunately, the doors open like a standard car instead of like a "funky London taxi."

Berat trip

2010-10-21T14:46:00.000-07:00

The moon was still shining at 4:30 am and sounds of dripping water had woken Ms. C-B, one of our travel mates. She first thought it was raining, but then realized it was IN her apartment. The water heater had sprung some kind of leak and was spraying scalding water all other the apartment. We made a couple calls; school maintenance came over and fixed up the place. At 8:00, we were ready to go--dry and no water on the floor. Hoo-rah! Just missed a bullet trying to kill our plans that time.

The photo ops came fast and furious--first sight worthy of a triple-take was a live goat standing at attention in the back of a yellow car. He was probably enjoying his first and last chauffeur-driven cruise to the butcher shop.

Ten minutes later, near Durres, calmly walking along the street sniffing (or chewing) his minder’s fingers, was one of the biggest and hairiest dogs I’d ever seen. He had a chain hanging from his neck. “My! What a large nose he has,” I thought. “My! What huge paws he has! Look how he’s walking!... That’s no dog, it’s a &#%!@ bear!” I guess he takes that route often--no one seemed to notice.

In no time, we were stuck in traffic--unusual, we thought, for a Saturday morning--our bodies were overheating and sweat was popping out of our skin. We decided not to worry about the grime and clothes sticking to our bodies.

Below, see the corn cooking on the side of the road. (see next blog entry)

2010-10-21T14:37:00.000-07:00

After 3 hours in our baking machine, we arrived at our destination, Berat. It’s reputed to be the oldest town in Albania. Wikipedia, the source for everything reputed, says it was founded in the 6^th century BC. Albanian legend has it that two mountains fought over a girl, killed each other, and the young lady’s tears formed the nearby river. I think I’ve heard that story before somewhere.

The relaxation was the great part of Berat. The pace of life is languid and people are friendly, as they are all over Albania. The cruel heat kept us from pursuing anything more strenuous than watching. We fit right in. We drove up a 60° incline up to the castle to trudge around on grass that was trying to escape death by furnace. At one stage, more than one of us was asleep at an outdoor cafe that let us use their umbrellas.

In the early evening, we received a reprieve from the heat. As we walked around town, the boys became excited about taking pictures. Life takes on a refreshingly curious view from the perspective of a kindergartener--lots of shoes and knees. The take away point from this article is that Berat needs to be visited in the fall, winter, or spring.

Home from Berat

2010-10-21T14:24:00.000-07:00

The trip back was nearly as hot, but at least I had my camera ready. I got some pictures of the hammock-sized plots of corn every quarter mile or so.

While I was buying an outdoor bed and a deck umbrella with Mrs. C-B, Maura got a great picture of an enterprising dude with about 157 5-gallon plastic water battles secured, strapped, or stuck to his bike.

We also encountered 19 wedding processions with honking horns, streamers on the hoods and cameraman hanging out the window.

Osk no training wheels

2010-08-01T13:29:00.000-07:00

Today, Maxim rode 27 miles, unaided, from Harmony to Whalen. Oskar enjoyed the trip in his trailer. This picture shows us preparing for the trip. We are all wearing new t-shirts from Pat that she picked up at the Iowa Seed Saver Exchange.

When we returned, we took the training wheels off Oskar's bike and the results are below:

Take note of the expert manner in which he begins from a dead stop, puts his foot on the ground, showing that he is in control.

Oskar's tounge

2010-07-31T14:18:00.000-07:00

Here is Oskar concentrating with his tounge tasting the air around him.

The kids (Dan, Clare, Oskar, Maxim, Eileen) are playing Jr. Monopoly.

Eagle on Root River

2010-07-31T14:15:00.000-07:00

31 July 2010

This eagle sat watching/ignoring us for 45 minutes while we snacked below. When we moved on he/she was still in the tree. We felt honored that we were allowed to view this remarkable piece of nature. Double click on the pics to see them at a larger size. You can also download them. The eagle in front of the trees is really good.

Lanesboro 2010

2010-07-31T11:05:00.000-07:00

These photos were taken 31 July 2010 on the Root River in SE Minnesota. Remember to double click on them to see them at full size.

RAGBRAI 2010

2010-07-27T05:48:00.000-07:00

We had a great time on RAGBRAI. It was a wonderful day--not too hot, no rain. As I approached Quimby, I saw all these windmils that were not turning. I thought, "Oh, man. How terrible! All these people coming to our area and all of the windmills not working. A few minutes later, it dawned on my that it wasn't that they weren't working, but that there was NO WIND! All afternoon there was NO wind. Amazing.

trip to Hydropower dam

2010-05-19T19:58:00.000-07:00

Rarely in life do situations work out better than expected.

"The roads not too bad" "You should call the day before to make sure the road has not washed out" "It's too dangerous" "If I were you, I'd take a car and drive up there all the way a few days before so you can check it out yourself. These bus companies always say the road is fine." "You had better call to see if there is somewhere inside you can eat in case it is raining." "Make sure they have toilets there."

These are some of the concerns expressed before we made the trip.

Everyone who planned to take part was gathered at school one minute after the agreed upon time. With the sun shining, breeze blowing softly, Blue Planet on the DVD screen, and everyone smiling, we took off at 7:50.

Less than two hours after leaving the school, 40 minutes of which was spent threading our way through Tirana, we arrived at the dam. I thought I should call to alert them that we were in the area, and all of a sudden we were at the gate. I saw Mr. Sokol Ramadani, the manager of the site, answer his phone as he walked up to welcome us.

Ramadani, who learned about hydroelectric dams in Canada, was a superb tour guide as he spoke flawless English and eagerly answered our questions. He was quite happy to show off the clean plant with new equipment. He has had to convince the workers and engineers that the best way to run a plant is to keep it clean and well maintained.

He took us into the display rooms with models of the site, classrooms, the control areas, the turbines, and around to the lake. The whole site can be remotely controlled from Tirana if necessary. We learned that a benefit of the huge amount of water this spring is that they have been working at full capacity for several months, producing more power than Albania needs. The extra electricity can be exported to places like Greece.

During my time in the 8-year-old classroom, we studied electricity and how it can be generated in such plants. During our tour Mr. Ramadani confirmed that indeed nothing is "generated" at the plant, but the energy is transformed from the kinetic energy of the water to electrical energy through the use of a turbine.

After an hour-long tour of the plant, we drove to an excellent outdoor restaurant where everyone at their sack lunches. We made it back to school in plenty of time for after school activities.

After several troubles and at least four reschedules, I am happy to say that I wish every field trip could be so smooth, beneficial and trouble-free. Among the many people we'd like to thank are Marialis Celo and Dan Berg for their invaluable help in setting up our trip.

Dubrovnik to Albania III

2010-04-22T13:31:00.000-07:00

On New Year's Day, we began the drive back to Albania about 9:00 am. It's quite evident that Albania was a hermit kingdom. Our maps have roads going to Albania, but they are not always there. The main thin to takeaway about the roads on our trip around the Adriatic, through Italy, Slovenia, Croatia, Montenegro, Bosnia and Herzegovina, and Albania is the that roads were all lovely—until we entered Albania. One cool thing we saw was the "Wild Hog Crossing: 6 km" sign. The boarder crossing was like a shack in the wilderness. Immediately upon entering the road became chunky.

As we drove through the Shkodra area the rain came down in buckets. One week later, most villages I the area would be evacuated before they became completely isolated. The Peace Corps volunteers in the area were hustled way to Tirana so they would be cut off from medical help, etc.

The road was quite obviously in a state of repair. It looked like they were improving the surface, but at that time, it was a tragedy. As we drove, the road would suddenly stop and we would have to make a 70 degree turn down through some slop and over a boulder. At one point while we were following some taillights through heavy rain, there were car on the right AND on the left going the other way with nothing in between us but soggy dirt. Another instance on our trip when the strength and beefiness of our truck came in handy.

The three boys in a window overlooking the bay of Dubrovnik.

Dubrovnik the old town II

2010-04-22T13:28:00.000-07:00

As we walked into a restaurant at noon on New Year's Eve, we came across a group of Americans who had just sat down. The father/husband acted like George Bailey as he tried to solve any problem. He could have been an understudy for George Emerson from "Room with a View" – as he said, "Well, we can move over here, and you can move that table next to this one, move that chair, and then grab another chair. Then you'll have a spot."
As we settled into the new arrangement of furniture, Maura said, "You all seem somehow familiar."
"I'm Matt Huddelston and this is my wife Jane, my daughter Lucy, and son Tom."
"Maybe we meet in Kazakhstan," answered Maura.
"We were in Kazakhstan."
Turns out that I had been the kids' computer teacher, and Maura had been Tom's homeroom teacher when he was in third grade 6 years ago. Tom, of course, had undergone the greatest change by doubling his height. Matt also changed a lot in the fact that his hair was now completely silver.
Aa a well-informed embassy dude, Matt told me about Croatia and Dubrovnik, Serbia, Croatia, Bosnia and Herzegovina. After Yugoslavia broke up, the mixture of Croats, Serbs, Muslims, Orthodox Christians, Roman Catholics, Bosnians, Albanians, and the rest made the entire make-up of the Balkan Peninsula complicated- to say the least. So the Yugoslavs made an attempt to force Croatia to stay.

Belgrade army was bombing area around Dubrovnik and then bombed the Mid-Evil city itself.
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http://www.pescanik.net/index.php?option=com_content&task=view&id=4754&Itemid=158
The escalation of violence against civilians and the ethnic-cleansing operations conducted by the Serbian forces were the immediate cause of the NATO bombing of FRY in March 1999, which is why it was termed a ‘humanitarian intervention’. But after NATO’s initial raids Miloševic did not stop - on the contrary, he intensified the crimes in Kosovo. Many state and public bodies participated in ‘cleansing’ the southern Serbian province of its population. Yugoslav army trucks and Serbian Railways trains were used to deport the population to the Macedonian and Albanian borders, the municipal services were used to remove corpses from the streets, and the Serbian police executed civilians and secretly transported their bodies to central Serbia using refrigerator trucks. The organisation and extent of the persecution following the start of the NATO bombing shocked the world.
It was soon understood that what was happening was an ethnic-cleansing operation on an unimaginable scale, which subsequently became known as Operation Horseshoe. It seemed that Miloševic was implementing a ‘final solution’ to the Albanian question. Only three weeks into the NATO bombing, the United Nation’s High Commission for Refugees (UNHCR) registered over half a million displaced Kosovars, and several hundred thousand more who were internally displaced. The deported population had their personal documents and other proofs of Serbian citizenship confiscated, and were thus deprived of their individual identity. Up to June 1999, over 80% of the total population of Kosovo and over 90% of Kosovo Albanians had been driven from their homes. Around 10,000 Albanians were killed during the operation, which lasted less than three months. Thousands of houses were demolished by means of artillery, bulldozers, fire and explosives. Religious objects were not spared either - around 150 mosques were destroyed.
We in Serbia had no idea what was happening, of course. The state television broadcast images of destroyed bridges and TV towers, alongside occasional downed NATO aircraft. Some of us were in air-raid shelters, others fought bravely against the mighty NATO air-force, while Slobodan Miloševic and his assistants continued their joint criminal enterprise in Kosovo.
Following Miloševic’s capitulation and the withdrawal of the Serbian army and police from Kosovo, we became inundated with images of Serb refuges and torched Orthodox churches. The deported Albanians who returned to Kosovo together with the international forces revenged themselves against the Serb minority for the crimes committed by the Serbian state. Since that time, the commemoration of each anniversary of the ‘NATO aggression’ involves references to Serb victims, to Serb refugees, to depleted uranium, and to the illegitimacy of the bombing; but the true cause of NATO intervention or the terrible war crimes which the Serbian state committed against Kosovo Albanians is passed over in silence.
http://www.pescanik.net/index.php?option=com_content&task=view&id=4754&Itemid=158
---------------

At the beginning of my attempts to make heads or tails of the information, one problem was journalists' habit of interchangeably using Yugoslavia and Serbia, Yugoslav and Serb. I think I've been able to figure out that since Serbia has Zagreb, where Matt and family now live, Serbia felt itself to be the biggest part of Yugoslavia, and sometimes the moniker of Yugoslavia still gets applied to the place.
From Wikipedia, I've learned that after Yugoslavia broke up, Serbia and Montenegro formed a union for some years, often using the name of Yugoslavia, or Former Republic of Yugoslavia (FRY). Serbia and Montenegro was the name used by the US for a time. During that time, however, often the country was known by its synecdoche (sĭ-něk'də-kē) (a figure of speech in which a part is used for the whole) "Serbia" because Serbia and Zagreb has a dominant influence on the country.

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1 Oct 1991 – Yugoslav Army attacks Dubrovnik
May 1992 bombardment ends

Dubrovnik and south I

2010-04-22T13:20:00.000-07:00

Dubrovnik. It's a cool name. I know of it because of the bombings in the '90s. The city was bombed by Serbia. I think they did it as a kind of terrorist move that would scare them into staying in their country. To me, that sounds completely illogical. I'm trying to educate myself on the situation here. I'm reading Balkans by Misha Glenny. It's a 700+ page brick that starts to explain the current situation with the relevant details from 1804. I started at the beginning and there were just to many vowelly challenged names: Zdrjac or Djnska--and even the name of the country known by many as Croatia--Hrvatska . I couldn't connect the dots. So I began with the Epilogue. At least there were things about which I have some memory--Bill Clinton, NATO, Slobodan Milosevic. (BTW on the flight from Albania to Rome at Spring Break, I was able to place my seat beside a teacher at school. She is from Serbia and her last name is Milosevic. She was also born in the same town where Slobodan grew up. She is not related--as far as she knows, anyway) Now I am reading Chapter 9 and I will leap backwards. I hope I will be able to sense of things.

We drove into Dubrovnik on December 30, 2009. Fortunately, we found a house with a couple rooms about 100 steps from the old city. The next day, the four of us spent 90 minutes just walking around the wall. The old city has a wall around it that is wide enough at places for 7 people to walk abreast. I had an image of running a marathon on the Great Wall of China. The old city protected by the walls has lovely buildings and apartments. There were cannons, rock windows, narrow stairs—it would have made a killer venue for a game of hide and seek—or something more sinister. I felt a bit like a peep monster when I accidentally spied people cleaning their shoes or cooking dinner. It was interesting to see satellite dishes popping out of the stone walls, and among the clothes lines. Coming from my United States experience, just imagining that we are walking on stones that have been tread on for hundreds of years was awesome. It was awesome to see hear and FEEL the Adriatic crashing into the rocks. Even more was the feeling when we would be three stories above the sea.

While walking through the Tirana airport in October, I bought a small book on Dubrovnik. I wasn't sure when or if we would go there, but it seemed like a cool place. Although I knew the place had been bombed, I wasn't sure exactly WHO did the bombing. I had an ill-conceived notion that it was NATO who bombed Dubrovnik. Why? Well, I was thinking that maybe they wanted Serbian leadership, Slobodan Milosevic, to stop his practice of killing groups of people in his country. Dubrovnik is a big money-maker for the place. Kind of like, "You better stop killing your own people, or we will kill them so you will understand that it is not nice to kill them." The actual situation was that Serbia bombed Dubrovnik (in Croatia) because they wanted them to stay in their country. "Be our friends, Croatia, or we'll beat the crap out of you." I always think that it is a hugely troublesome question when some section of the country wants to secede. There is a great feeling in my that says, "let 'em go."

On the wall inside the city is a placard that shows a map/diagram of the buildings in the city that were all or partially destroyed during the bombing. As far as our untrained eyes could tell, all of the damaged buildings have been repaired. It was interesting to pick out the roofs of old buildings with dirty red tile—500 years old—and rebuilt ones with clean red tile.
Just outside the city the Adriatic Sea was ferociously pounding the rocks on shore. The constant noise and bluster was as loud as a grain dryer. To simply stand so near and feel safe was thrilling, not to mention the feelings when we overlooked the crashes from three stories straight up.

education at the right time

2010-04-13T11:48:00.000-07:00

If you put pancake batter on the frying pan before you mix it up, you're going to have a sticky, unappetizing mess. Recently, I have been exposed to two educational situations on which I'd like to comment. The common thread can be summed up by the phrase, "Kids learn when they are ready to learn." I spent January and February teaching the eight-year-olds (third graders). By some lucky chance this happened to be the section of the curriculum when they were scheduled to be introduced to BOTH multiplication AND division. At first glance, it seems like a huge task.
I started by teaching the IDEA of multiplication. What does it mean to multiply? Repeated addition. With the guidance of the Director of Instruction, I taught the kids how to find the answer if they hadn't yet memorized it. During our instruction, we drew many pictures of groups and placed a certain number of items in each group, etc. The test over the unit included few straight multiplication problems like 8 x 5 = ? Instead there were problems that demanded the kids to apply their understanding and then use their multiplication skills to create their own problems.

In the box below, write a problem that requires multiplication to find the solution. Then show how you find the solution. Below is a sample problem that you might create:

Junli makes a scrapbook that uses 4 photos on each page. If the book is has 6 pages, how many photos does he need?
4 photos x 6 pages = 24 photos

The students had great success. I loved to see them find the correct answers. It seemed to me that if the students had tried to learn multiplication sooner, they may have experienced frustration and that frustration may have led to dissatisfaction and even hatred of mathematics.
I may not have thought about this observation if it wasn't for the fact that several parents, especially European parents, were concerned that their children were not studying multiplication as early in their school years as they should. They were questioning the wisdom or our basically American curriculum. This is a completely valid concern. My experience this spring shows me that, at least in the area of eight-year-old mathematics, the curriculum is doing well.

My other experience with kids learning well at the time when they are ready to learn involves my son, Maxim, who will turn eight in June. Velcro on shoes is a wonderful invention. Before this year, we hadn't even thought about getting him shoes with laces. This spring, however, when he needed a pair of shoes, he was eager to try laces, and we were eager for him to learn. He may have been especially eager because success in this area would earn him an arrow to put on his Cub Scout uniform. From the first weekend with laces, he experienced only a small amount of difficulty and annoyance. After three days of me showing him how to tie about 4 times each day, he got it and he's been wearing them ever since. Our classrooms are little houses and kids take their shoes off when they enter. Therefore, he's had plenty of practice—taking off and putting on his shoes probably five times each day.
Our experience with Maxim is that it is often tough to teach him new things. He easily gets frustrated and wants to give up. He garnered this skill quickly and easily, however, with only one true outburst of agony.
This time, the pancakes turned out delicious.

Comedian Maxim Martin

2010-03-24T13:02:00.000-07:00

Maxim showed his humorous side during a talent show on Tuesday night. He did wonderfully!

Wipe hands on pants

2010-02-27T22:06:00.000-08:00

Hand dryers in public restrooms have finally improved the point when they blow dust off a counter top. Back in the eighties when I first remember their appearance, the dryers the public toilets were ridiculous. For the last 30 years, hand dryers have been largely wishful thinking that "environmentalists" used because they were supposed to save paper. After washing your hands, there was always a dilemma. The air flow was so weak that not long after you put your hands underneath, you would feel silly and embarrassed to have people witness you engaging in such a pointless activity. Subconsciously, you knew that the dryers were not going to get next guy's hands warm, either, but his impatience drilled into the back of your head filling the air with unspoken thoughts like, "Come on, man. I got places to go!" So you'd step away with your wet hands in order to give the man a chance for the whole pointless dance to start again.
Now, the air flow of many of the dryers I have used lately—in the new shopping malls and some airports—is strong enough to inspire satisfaction. It still takes more time than you want to spend in the bathroom, but things are happening; and it's a pleasure to have my hands warmed.
I used to be that all the hand dryers had the manufacturer's name—World Dryer from Berkeley, Illinois. (I was at least a little pleased that something I used was NOT made in China.) They had a metal plate fastened to them. On this plate were the directions: 1. Push button 2. Rub hands under warm air. 3. Stops automatically. After a week or so in the toilet—I reckon it happened that fast because every, literally every, machine I saw had some of the words or letters scratched out by some vandal. Many of them had the typical: "1. Push button 2. rub hands under warm.". One of them has stayed with me all these years. After the 3 directions with all the customary alterations, was scribbled this: "4. Wipe hands on pants." It was perfect.

Pompeii

2010-02-11T14:29:00.001-08:00

Somewhere back in my childhood, I had heard of Pompeii. I had this dim memory of something about a volcano burying a city. The associated image was one of people dashing out of their wooden houses wearing flimsy sandals running head-long down the slope in front of a wall of steaming lava. I've always thought it would be cool to see it. Before we left Albania, someone told me that I could download a walking tour of Pompeii. Since I listen to my iPod all the time, I decided to try it. Maxim also loves to listen to my podcasts. While we listen to NPR's Story of the Day, he might pipe up with, "What's Voodoo?" His favorite show is Car Talk; I'm sure their humor is very nearly on the third-grade level, so it's a perfect match. On the way to Pompeii, we ended up listening to the entire 90-minute walking tour twice. That made us exceptionally ready to see the sights once we got to Pompeii. We were ready—no European Vacationers in this family.
In 79 A.D., Mount Vesuvius, a previously dormant volcano, erupted for 30 hours, showering the surrounding countryside with up to 30 feet of ash. The residents didn't die from a lava flow, but from suffocation. I'm not sure why people were caught so suddenly. I guess the ash must have been falling over an enormous area and it was impossible to escape it. Some died in terribly contorted shapes. A cool thing is the manner in which plaster casts of the bodies were made. When the city was discovered in the 19th century, the ash had solidified while the bodies of the people, and some dogs, had disintegrated leaving a hole in ash the outlined their shape perfectly. Plaster was then poured in the hole and the shape was created.

If you would like to see Maxim's writing about the trip, go to: http://sixyearoldfriends.blogspot.com/

These guys are holding up the cieling of the bath house.

Here is the arena.

A great picture of the infamous mountain. Click on the picture for a larger version.

Oskar modeling a statue.

This is a lunch counter. At the time, poor people didn't have kitchens so they all ate at lunch counters.

The thing I can't understand is how these people were trapped in such dramatic positions. If ashes were falling for 30 hours, wouldn't they have had time to run away? I guess the ash was falling over such a wide area, and the ash was so thick that people couldn't run fast nor far enough, and the ashes just clogged their windpipe.

These are the remnants of people who were buried in the ashes.

"Beware of dog" mosaic

match and coin experiment

2010-02-05T12:39:00.000-08:00

This is something I downloaded from the Best of You Tube podcast. The coin sits on an empty match box. One match is standing in a hole with the flamable end up. The non-flamable end of another match sits on a coin while the flamable end touches the flamable end of the match that is in the hole. How to pick up the coin without touching the matches?

Light the leaning match BELOW the flamable end. After the matches burn, calmly pick up the coin. I don't know, but I think the top of the burning match burns quicker than the bottom and thus the material on the upper end contracts more quickly than the bottom. Therefore, the match bends up.

Bettona, Asissi to Pompeii

2010-01-25T11:25:00.000-08:00

Most people have probably heard of St. Francis of Assisi. From the house—Ben’s Breakfast—where we stayed, we could look down into the valley and see Assisi. We left the house about 1 pm with about a 5-hour drive in front of us.

While planning our trip, I had called the Pompeii Youth Hostel several times using Skype and made a reservation for the day after Maura flew into Rome from Spain. The boys and I were going to drive to Naples and meet her at the train station after she rode the train south from Rome. Then we would all drive to Pompeii. After experiencing difficulty driving in Italy, I decided we should get to the area a day earlier. This way we wouldn’t have look for the hostel AND see the ruins of the famous volcano eruption during our ONE day in Pompeii. I called the hostel from Bettona—they said they would be waiting for us. So I would get to the hostel on the same evening that Maura flew into Rome.

I naively thought that I would be able to use the directions from Yahoo maps to find my way to the hostel. These directions are great if you find EVERY landmark and signpost. “Drive 57 miles, turn right onto ramp” is pretty clear; but “Drive 40 meters, turn left. Drive 8 meters, turn right” does not leave much room for error. After asking six or seven people directions, I discovered that we were not even in Pompeii, but about 4 km north of Pompeii on the outskirts of Naples. The narrow two-lane road that lay between us and our destination was a cross between a New York Marathon for vehicles and a Cash-For-Clunkers graveyard.

Once I got to Pompeii, I had the address, which didn’t turn out to be much help. I would ask someone, drive until the end of their directions that I understood and ask someone else. Sometimes only 100 meters away. One time I stopped the truck in the middle what I thought was a deserted street. By the time I got back, six people were standing around my truck, annoyed that some stupid foreigner had parked his car in the way.

What were the boys doing while this transpired? Oskar was sleeping and I luckily had an excellent iPod story about a mouse in a castle, The Tale of Despereux, for Maxim to listen to. He loved it. Life continued as such for some 40 minutes, in Pompeii after we had spent 40 minutes in driving from Naples, and 5 hours driving from Bettona, until I arrived at the address.
Finally, when I found what was surely the address, the person asked about the hostel said, “The hostel is right there (I could see the sign for the Pompeii Youth Hostel), but it has been closed for a year.”

“What?!?” Those two question marks and one exclamation point do not near do justice to my feelings. While my outward voice and expression were muted, because I could see no point in looking like a hysterical foreigner who doesn't know how to travel, but inside my hopes collapsed. How could this be true? I had just called the hostel two days earlier and they said they would be expecting us. My wife was flying into Rome that evening; she would come to the hostel the next day, and then what? Did we have to stay at this empty building all night? What if she found out the hostel was closed? Would she even bother to go there? I told the people opposite the hostel, who were having a birthday party at a restaurant, that the situation couldn’t be worse.

“What number did you call?” they asked. When I showed them they said it was a Pompeii number. Their call was automatically forwarded to Naples—35 km to the north, via a road I never wanted to meet again. So even though the hostel—named Pompeii Youth Hostel was taking reservations, they didn’t bother to tell me that they were not IN Pompeii. The website still says that the hostel is a 5 minutes walk from the buried city. I’m still composing the scathing letter I am planning to post on some hostile hostel website.

Anyway, a man at the party where I made the call worked as a tour guide in the city. On his second try, he found a hotel for us—right outside the gates of the ruins. I didn't care how much it cost, ($140/night) I was happy to find something. The hotel was in the midst of hosting a Roman feast with greeters in classic Roman uniforms, swords and weaponry including fake snow machine to add authentic(?) atmosphere. In the end, Maura had sent me a text message on her phone telling me that she was delayed because of snow storms. Luckily, we both had enough money on our phones to communicate to each our plans and locations. She made it the next day without much incident, so the worry of the evening passed. My extreme worry and utter failure of logistics turned out not to be a problem after all.

Next installment: What did we listen to on the way to Pompeii? Second grader Maxim is a junky for news and information. We listened to a 90-minute walking tour of the Pompeii ruins—TWICE.

Bari to Bettona

2010-01-16T22:32:00.000-08:00

We woke up about an hour before the ferry arrived to the port south of Bari, Italy at about 8 am. The boys had a good time on the drive north looking at magazines like Highlights, and Ranger Rick. Maxim has become an excellent and enthusiastic reader. The road was confusing at times—it seemed that we were always headed for a town such as Foggia, but when we passed the town, it looked as if the signs STILL said we were heading toward the town. It was such all throughout Italy, so there must be some nuance to the organization that I don’t understand. In general, it was fun. At one point, we turned off to find some food at a supermarket/mall complex. What was in the parking lot? McDonald’s! That place is everywhere. I took the easy way out and went to McD’s but it didn’t open until 11:00. I took this as a sign that we should not go, which was fine with me.
On the map, (click on the map to see an enlargement) it shows that we drove from Piceno to Spoleto. That route took us right through a national park. Delightful, rugged scenery, but we didn’t get there until about 4:00 so we weren’t able to see that much because of darkness. I didn’t even bother to take any pictures. In person, though, the landscape was breathtaking—the kind that makes a guy say, “uh” because nothing comes to mind that will do justice to the appreciation you feel. After asking about 10 people for directions, I found Romanian dude who knew most of the way. He said he had similar experiences in Spain trying to find places and he was happy to pay it forward. We arrived about 8:30 pm. As it turns out we were the very first people this bed and breakfast had invited to come work as part of the HelpX website.

After the boys woke up the next morning, the first full morning of vacation, the boys went straight to the magazines we brought with us. The picture shows them digging into their mags and me into UTNE Reader. The crazy boy picture shows the results of me figuring out the ‘quick shutter’ function on the camera. Soon, we packed on several layers because the house had no central heating. Yes, the place was supposed to be a bed and breakfast (Ben’s Breakfast in Oskar-speak), but not long before we came, their oil furnace had broken down. The weather still wasn’t too bad—slightly below freezing during the night. The two sisters who run the place had been waiting for just such an event. With the fossil fuel-eating, CO2-belching, environment-damaging monstrosity out of the way, they had an excuse to install a wood burning stove for the house. All well and good except it meant that we didn’t go out of our room until we wore an undershirt, two sweaters, and a coat. We survived—even when we all took showers one day.
Right after breakfast, which the two sisters made for us, we took a tour of the land. When I asked what I would be doing, Maria said she was thinking I could bring in some firewood. Later that day, Maxim and I brought in several wheel barrels full of what amounted to mostly sticks. It was a Hallmark moment with Maxim walking one-third of a mile with a load while the 9-month old mutt, named Toaw, that was already bigger than Maxim, ran along side with saliva dripping from his Goofy-grin. The kitchen, where everyone spent most of the time when we weren’t asleep, was heated by a wood-burning stove that used up the sticks quickly. I decided I was wasting my time getting the small stuff, and I remembered that we'd seen a few logs down the hill. The afternoon's work lay clearly before me.
The hillside was quite steep and there was no way I was going to be able to heave those babies up to the path. After dinner, I was not looking forward to starting their old, jury-rigged, three-wheeled cart with lawn mower engine; I understood that this was the machine the ladies called their 'tractor.' To start the contraption, a rope had to be wrapped around the flywheel, pulled, and then rewrapped after every unsuccessful attempt. I was not confident about my skills in starting such engines and I certainly didn’t want to waste an hour or two fiddling around with this old beast that hardly looked stronger than the wheel barrel anyway. As I walked out of the house, I turned the corner and what did I see? Our ridiculously big Nissan Patrol.

This is the truck that we bought sight unseen while we were still in Kazakhstan. Maura took the place of the principal in Albania. This guy had this truck to sell and we didn't want to be forced to buy something when we arrived, so we bought it. Its greatest selling point about this vehicle is that it is fully licensed—that means, I guess, that we can take it out of the country. Many vehicles don't really have any registration papers, so trying to go abroad with it is impossible. The mechanic I found to do some major repairs on it asked me what I do with it.
"Just drive around town," I answered.
"This is the kind of car you take hunting," he said.
It's true that we have never been anywhere we couldn't get out of. The other night, I backed up in the middle of the street and the front wheel dropped in a hole. Not a pothole, but a rectangular, purpose-built hole (for purpose, I don't know). It was about 2-foot by 6-inches and 18-inches deep. Even though the truck has some monster tires on it, a front wheel dropped right in. Luckily, I had recently been playing with the 4-wheel drive function and I was able to pull right out.

I realized instantly that I didn't have to fiddle around with some rinky-dink, pasted together piece of lawn furniture, I could use the fossil fuel-eating, CO2-belching, environment-damaging monstrosity that I had brought over from Albania. I was sure that it would pull logs up the hill with a quite nicely. All I needed now was a chain. No chain—but there was rope. This was exactly that kind of work I was after when I was looking for a job that would be different than teaching. I thought I'd sling the rope around a living tree on the other side of the forest trail (we didn’t have a pulley), tie the end to the log and pull with the truck. With the rope breaking only about five times for each log, I had a good time. I had my ipod plugged into the radio and listened to NPR's Science Friday or Stuff You Should Know. It was especially fun when I invited Maxim to come out and help/watch me. He saw how I pulled a 90% loose stump toward the road until the rope broke. Then I moved some trash out of the way and pulled it a couple more centimeters. Then I slung the rope around an upper branch and pulled the stump up for a few inches. Finally, I simply pushed the hard rock up onto the road. “I like coming out and working!” was a wonderful expression from the boy.
During the afternoon before we left, after I had pulled up all the tree trunks that were scattered on the hillside, I decided to cut down an old dry tree that was still standing. The slope was steep and it was at an inconvenient position. After trimming the extra with lots of volunteer shoots that were eagerly growing around the base, I started in on the 5-foot diameter trunk. The ground was quite slippery, so I cut it off several feet from the base.

When Maxim was younger, he would often ask me to sing him a song before going to bed. Sometimes, I would be more interested going to bed myself, so I asked if he wanted to hear the Lumberjack song—you know – "Timberrrrr!!!!!" Unfortunately, even though he and Oskar were in the back of the truck when this tree took its dive to the forest floor, they were too busy playing around, and didn't see the tree fall.

Cutting this tree turned out to be a problem, not only because the slope was steep and the ground was slick, but also because the Italian forest police enforce a law that people can’t do things that will damage the countryside even on their own land. The next morning, the Maria invited a young man to come out and help me cut apart the stump so the police wouldn’t come after us. As I understand it, the owner of the land must get permission to cut down trees, and the stumps must be cut nearly even with the ground. The young man and I spent the hours before we left for Pompeii throwing, staking and hauling wood—not a bad way to spend a morning.
Our delicious meals at Bens' Breakfast were provided by the owners. When they weren't out with me, the boys played with 20-year-old toys left by the woman’s son, and watched a couple James Herriot DVDs. At any rate, after three nights, we left for Pompeii.

Italian trip

2010-01-12T19:02:00.000-08:00

Would you let someone you met over the internet come to your house and stay for five days? We were the lucky recipients of Caroline's hospitality when she did exactly that. I trawled the web for two weeks looking for a place where I could do some physical work while the boys are I were in Italy. No one was harvesting olives or grapes in mid December, but Caroline wrote to say that she may want someone to live in her house while she goes to visit family in the UK. We exchanged some emails and a phone call or two when, about three weeks before the trip, I called to say that we would definitely like to come. She sounded happy.
She told us later that she had second thoughts after she hung up the phone. "What have I done? I don't know these people at all. This is worse than a blind date. They are going to be living in MY HOUSE!" With the end of school and my efforts to plan the rest of the trip, I didn't think about it much.
I gave up on the finding-work plan and made a reservation at a youth hostel in Pompeii. The next day, I got a message that began, "We would love to host you and your sons for a week in mid-December." Then I changed the reservation and made plans to drive 5 hours from Bari, Italy after we got off the ferry from Albania to Bettona.

Six huge ships lit up like Christmas tree were exciting for all of us—my boys and I. Immature as a child? I'm guilty. During this off-season trip, there were about 6 cars on a deck that could hold about 100 cars. Regardless of this fact, we were directed to park close enough so that we had to squeeze out the window. The ship also carried about 20 semi-trailer trucks that were also packed in tightly. The trip over the Adriatic was mostly uneventful. We went to sleep right away because it was already 11:00 at night. During the night, I switched places with Maxim, who was on the top bunk, because the ship was pitching and rolling some 30 degrees. It was far enough anyway that I was afraid he might roll out. All arrived safely.

Albania Day

2010-01-12T18:48:00.000-08:00

Albania Day was at the end of November. This was the day to commemorate the independence of Albania.

Maxim's First Concert

2010-01-11T13:08:00.000-08:00

Maxim in his first piano concert. Trying to keep up with his cousin who can be seen here:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f_WWYVGL3Mg

travel in italy

2009-12-06T08:06:00.000-08:00

I love living without responsibility. Last year was a true joy for me. Sure, I had a little bit of responsibility, but I was beholden only to myself because I was taking college classes. Ah…college…the best time of life. Our only job is to learn stuff. My grand high goal remains to find a job that will pay ME to learn a language. That's why I have taken the Foreign Service exam four times.
The purpose of vacation is to decrease the degree of accountability weighing on our lives. Since Italy is only a ferry-ride away, we decided we would spend some time there. Maura is going to going to begin our time off with a trip to Spain. The day after school closes, on 12 December, she leaves for Barcelona. Her idea of a Christmas/birthday present (her b-day is on December 21) was to get away from us. On the Sunday night after she leaves, I plan to take the boys to a friend's house where we will watch the weekly NFL games as they come in over the Internet. The games at noon in the States start at 7 pm here. I've been over to watch once so far this season. It's fun to be able to cheer for the Vikings (although on THAT evening, they won't be playing until 3 am.) On Monday, the boys and I will travel by ferry, with our disgustingly large SUV, across the sea to Bari, Italy. (We bought the truck while we were still in Kazakhstan from the person Maura replaced here in Albania. We are fixing it up with the goal of selling it.)
I wanted to see if I could arrange a farm stay in Italy. I found a website called helpXer. It's designed for backpackers who are traveling around and would like to stay cheaply at hostels in foreign countries. My ambition was to find something that would allow me to get a taste of real Italian farm life—not a petting zoo or pony ride. During the time that I am without her, I wanted to find farm work for me while at the same time, some kind of supervision for the boys. As it turns out, late December is not really olive-picking time, but my inquires did yield some fruitful opportunities.
After sending MANY requests for information without finding any suitable situations, I received perfect offer. we would be happy to host you and your 2 sons in december, for accommodation either in a large bed-room in the house or in a separate dormitory, we would charge 30 euro/day and 4 hrs work a day in exchange for food (we mainly cook vegetarian dishes) . hope to hear from you soon. I've talked to them about the work I'll be doing—"Oh…cleaning up downstairs, chopping firewood…there's always something."
We will leave the hostel/farmhouse on the 19th and drive a few hours to Naples where Maura will meet us after she comes back from Spain. We'll see Naples and Pompeii before going to Rome for two nights. I'm most looking forward to seeing the cats that inhabit some Roman ruins. There is a Roman marketplace that has been excavated to about 10 meters below the level of the sidewalk. There is a "save the cats" organization that takes care of strays. In 1997 Maura and I spent several hours watching them from above. I might buy another leather belt. I'm still wearing the one we bough the last time we were in Rome. Roasted chestnuts are also a nice treat in Rome.
From the 22 – 27 December, we will be housesitting in a house near Firenze (Florence—you should ask Maura about her disdain for the fact that people have to change the names of towns. It's easy to say such names as Firenze and Roma and Moskva—why did we have to changes the name to Florence, Rome and Moscow?).

The owner of the house is going to visit her relatives in Great Britain. She wanted someone to keep track of things and take care of her four cats. This is a super-cheap way to live—free. It might not be something that the house owner would want a back-packer to do—a family, tough, is ideal. I'm trying to find some place that will allow us to do some work feeding homeless people or something during the Christmas season.

On the 27th, we are driving to Bologna, outside Venice. After a night there, we are going to drive around the Adriatic, through Slovenia, Croatia, Bosnia-Herzegovina, and Montenegro back to Tirana.

three nights, three countries and clear water

2009-10-02T12:14:00.000-07:00

It was like waking up faced with another day of work, but then realizing it was Saturday. Sure, I had brought my swimming suit, but that was just because I am stubborn and try to go swimming everywhere possible. I must admit that I was looking forward to the shower's hot water enveloping my numb extremities more than the swim. I had already seen that rather than the hand held shower head that we have in Tirana, the hotel on shore in Pogradeci had a shower curtain.
Lake Ohrid straddles the border between Albania and Macedonia. I was totally prepared to have all the air inexplicably leave my lungs as I submerged. Wonderfully, it took some 30 minutes before my fingers were numb, but by that time, I had enjoyed swimming around and under a restaurant that was situated on a 30 square meter platform resting on pilings that must have been sunk into the bottom. I enjoyed appearing from below in the middle of the platform like a huge sturgeon and surprising people doing the morning clean up.
After the swim, we drove on to Thessaloniki, Greece and an Ikea store. Stores in the States on the day after Thanksgiving or the day before Christmas have nothing on this place. We arrived about midday and went straight to the lunch area. Packed to the gills is too mild to describe the melee. Maura said we were a family that had arrived at Disneyland too late in the day. A table was out of the question; we were lucky to find a couple wheeled carts to hold our trays as we ate.
That evening, when we ordered a salad with tomatoes, cucumbers, peppers and feta cheese, the waiter said, "You mean a Greek salad?" Have you heard the joke: What do they call Chinese food in China? The answer will come below if you don't figure it out.
The next day, we looked at some sites in Thessaloniki. The most interesting thing for the boys and I were the dogs. As Travis and I walked around in the evening, we noticed a large, well fed dog with a huge head laying on the sidewalk in front of us. As we tried to find the sea, we walked two blocks and turned right. There, in front us, relaxing on the sidewalk, was either the same dog, or the dog's clone. We both remarked how the dog was not following us, but seemed to know where we would be. Still not finding the sea, we turned again at the next intersection, and there was the dog again. Each time, I bent to give him a pat—the second time, I noticed that one of his front elbows was swollen. The third time we saw the dog, I noticed the swollen limb.
This story about the mystery dog leads to the explanation of the fact that dogs are everywhere around the city. It seems to be something like cows in Bombay. At one square, near the ruins of a Roman flea market, they continued to sleep as the boys, screaming like children, chased pigeons. One had its head and shoulders wedged into a border around a tree as if it had been dropped from a helicopter.
On the way home, we stayed on the Macedonia side of the Lake. I was expecting similar swimming experience—after all, it's the same water. Never in my life have I swum in water more refreshing. Paddling on the top, looking down, I could see 10 meters to the bottom. I wanted to reach out a mile to the other side. Not since Thailand had I seem water so clear. Why was this water better? There was no salt water to clog up the nostrils, annoy the eyes, and fill my mouth with an sandpaper.

The place that comes closest to the clear, fresh water in Lake Ohrid was a place north of St. Petersburg, Russia at an unused pond with a large piece of army junk on the shore. It's an area that used to be Finland. At that tiny pond, I could also see 10 meters below me to the bottom.

In China, they call Chinese food, food.

Pogradeci and Thessaloniki

2009-10-02T11:40:00.000-07:00

Boys walking into the water.

Lake restaurant

Ohrid

Groovy-looking disco in Pogradeci

The amazing thing is that this trip to lake Ohrid was only about 3 hours away. Another cool thing was that the roads are quite well maintained. Some people told us they heard the roads were terrible between Greece and Macedonia. It is clear to us that these people had never driver on roads in Central Asia and Azerbaijan.

Three pics of the big sky and lovely fields on the way to Pogedeci. Click on these pictures to see larger versions with fantastic detail.

Oskar and Maxim in front of the White Tower in Thessaloniki.

Maxim trying our Mama's scarf.

Chicken and Maggots 1 Sept 2009

2009-09-17T14:14:00.000-07:00

The guy at the closest market totals up our purchases with a pencil and paper, the nearest restaurant is called, "The Chicken Shack," and right across the road nearest major road is a huge park that is stuffed with every manner of walker or jogger from the national soccer team to elderly ladies with canes walking around a track; once I met a guy pretending to be a monkey as he did a handstand on a railing, then let himself down slowly to walk 30 feet over a 25 foot drop over the concrete floor of an amphitheater.
Welcome to Albania. The friendliness of the people is probably best demonstrated by the owner of the chicken shack. One day, Oskar screamed out, "I have to pee!" The shack was the closest, and I hoped he would recognize me from the one time I had been there. We were able to sneak in because the restrooms are before you get the main part of the restaurant. We breezed in, did our business and were popping out when he (I don't know his name yet, but will soon. I don't even know a popular local name, yet so I can't make it up. Unlike Kazakhstan, not everyone is named one of five first names—Volodya, Sergai, etc.) showed up at the door. Rather than ask us why we were snooping around, or what we would like to order, asked me to confirm that I have two sons, and gave us two bottles of apple juice, sweating in the early evening humidity.
We enjoyed a family meal at the shack a couple days later—two Greek salads, two orders of French Fries, two apple juices, 1.5 liter bottle of water, one Sprite, a half liter of beer, and a whole chicken for about $15. We even took home some salad. A similar meal in Almaty would be at least twice as much. This restaurant is literally 10 steps from the gate to the school.
This week, I've been trying to think where to get some raw meat for a science experiment. On my way back from Mr. Paper and Pencil and a purchase of bananas, I thought I would pop in and try to make myself understood.
"Mirëmbrëma!" I said as I walked in putting my hand up, "I don't want to eat anything, I just want some raw meat. Raw meat. Yeah. RAAAW meat, for a science experiment." I don't why I thought that if I stressed the most troublesome word in the phrase, somehow he might understand.
I'd like to be able to tell some story about the ridiculous pantomimes of a foreigner without a dictionary, but Mr. Chicken understand perfectly as he said, "I have sheep." I nodded enthusiastically and he stepped over to his refrigerator. I selected a couple ribs and he said, "I also have your back,” as he touched my spine. He wouldn't take any money for it, either. Maura said the other day she was in there with the director looking for one of our employees and he gave her whole entourage ice creams. It's lovely to be in a place where people like you, and have some sense of hospitality in a shop.
The trash around is disgusting, and more often than in Almaty, I've seen people drop an empty cigarette package or a sandwich paper. Here, when I've picked it up to give back to them, they have always smiled broadly, taken the paper back and usually their friends have seemed to bawl them out as they walk away laughing.
What kind of science experiment? My first unit in 6 year old science involves living things, how they change and develop. I want to recreate the 1668 investigation by Francesco Redi. His work is considered one of the first true scientific experiments. Before this smart Italian, everyone accepted that living things could instinctively appear on non-living things. For instance, frogs would jump out of the fertile soil left behind after the yearly floods of Egypt; or sewage and garbage thrown out of the window in cities naturally produced tons of rats. Mr. Redi wanted to show that if he used a net to cover a jar with a piece of meat, it would NOT produce maggots; but if a similar jar had no covering, maggots would invade. So I'm going to do something comparable. I just have to ask my Albanian colleague to convince the super-efficient cleaning staff not to throw my experiment in the trash.

first weekend in Albania--August 2009

2009-09-17T14:12:00.000-07:00

Here I am on Saturday afternoon in Albania. I'm sitting in my classroom which is a good thing because it means that my room has a computer that can access the internet. The greatest thing about this country is the people. I know I hear that from everyone about everywhere. I’ve even heard it said about Kazakhstan. I don’t even listen to it anymore, but just like there was a big popcorn ball in Sac City, this time I’m telling the truth. People smile and when you go into a shop, they try to help you. It’s like they understand the idea that their customers are the key to their livelihood.
This morning, as I ran through a huge park not a half mile from the school, there were several crews of workmen repaving the trails. My foot caught on a string that I assume was there to mark the height of asphalt or something. The string broke. I can think of nothing more annoying if I were a guy working on the sidewalk than a foreigner in a tie-dye shirt come bopping along and ruin my painstakingly placed marker. I couldn’t say that I was sorry. All I can do so far is say thank you (five syllables!) and I count to five. I looked pained made a motion of regret. The nearest guy with a hard hat motioned that I shouldn’t worry about it. The man making the motion was probably not the one who placed the string, but the sentiment was nice. I can imagine something similar happening in Kazakhstan and people yelling at me trying to fine me money. After all, money can salve all wounds.
Things are not expensive here, either. A similar jar of jam that costs $5 in Kazakhstan costs $2.60 here. I bought a monitor and printer for decent prices. I got ripped off on the price of a used computer case, but that was because I didn’t try to haggle or negotiate. I feel like it was partially my fault—I have to get into the culture. Peanut butter, however, is more expensive. When you all come to visit, please bring chunky—at least 32 oz.
We don’t get charged anything for using our ATM card here—just like in Kazakhstan. That means that I can use the card for less here than I can at the Des Moines airport.
Our house has three floors and air conditioners in several of the most important rooms. We live about 3 minutes from our classrooms; the only problem is that we have to go down two flights of stairs use a key to open two doors, and then go up two flights of stairs before using a key on our front door. The younger students, eight years old and less, have their own buildings. The older students have classes in a couple buildings not far away.
Tonight we are going to a BBQ hosted by one of the parents. I think they may be inviting a bunch of people so they can have a look at the new teachers.
The weather has been hot and humid everyday. No rain, which I’ve been told will change soon.
On Monday, the boys and I went with the 7-year-old teacher (a guy from Kentucky) to the beach. We left at 8:10 and were in the water by 9:00. HUGE amount of people. The sand is dark and looks like mud from 10 meters away, but it isn’t mud. Nevertheless, it gets into clothes and hair easily. The water was beautifully warm, but definitely salty.

Two Donkeys and a Moped 3

2009-09-16T12:18:00.000-07:00

In addition to the natural splendor, our trip was another lesson in Albanian friendliness. Not only would people respond when offered a wave of the hand, but when meeting another car on the one-lane road, drivers would compete to achieve the honor of allowing the other person to traverse the slightly wider spot between the uneven-wooden fence and the stacks of hay.

Increasing the value of their natural wonders is also a priority here. On the road along the stream, there were several spots where heavy road-making machinery was in use. As we approached, the foreman would order the excavator to move to the side and allow us to pass. A couple times, we had to wait while a couple truckloads of rock were unloaded. We remarked how pleasant it was to see the workmen dressed casually in flowered shorts and flip-flops. Pleasant because we are used to seeing all men, no matter the weather, wearing long pants and gruff expressions at all times. At one point, a metal swinging footbridge crossed to the other side. I stepped daintily across before the boys tried it.

"Look, Mama! I can walk over this hole!"

"Oh, oh, oh!" her voice cracking. "Okay. I guess you can. Now be careful. I think you should—" "Look, Mama, I can walk on this rock!"

"Look, Mama, I can swing on the branch!"

All day Maura had to swallow some of her concern as we chose to allow the 'boys to be boys.' It was great. Another swinging wooden bridge featured a cow calmly chewing in the middle with a countenance of utter contentedness.

After another three hours of travel, we arrived at Valbona, the sight of a communist-era resort district. Now, there are no more than a dozen people living there. Most everything was destroyed in the late 90's during a period of lawlessness that invaded the country. The hotel, which our guidebook says was rebuilt and reopened had holes for windows, crumbling walls, and livestock exploring the bottom floor. We stopped at the restaurant that must employ the whole town, the sign for which featured a scary-looking lamb stretched out over a fire. We netted our fish from a pond and shared out table with roaming sheep and goats.

We returned to the town of Bajram Curri for an evening of cards and story telling. The owner appeared—bad news—he was NOT the man with whom we negotiated earlier. He said that the price was higher than we expected. After a bit of back and forth, our friend Mr. Negotiator appeared—quite drunk and rude. After discerning that this man was no good to us, our school director, Mark, put it succinctly. Motioning to one side of the table, he said, "Okay. Here are the keys," and, motioning to the other, "here is the money. Take it or leave it." We returned to the town near the ferry. In the morning, we would have a short trip to the boat, and we still had time for a couple games of Blockus. We paid 6000 lek. For some pictures of the ferry and of Valbona from 2006, go here:

http://www.gadling.com/2006/07/27/balkan-odyssey-part-10-lake-komani-albania/ http://www.gadling.com/2006/07/28/balkan-odyssey-part-11-valbona-albania/

two donkeys a moped 2

2009-09-16T11:51:00.000-07:00

There are many advantages to traveling with young kids—one of which is that ship captains will be friendly and will often invite you into the cockpit. We stepped into the small room with three US flags tacked on the walls. “I am a fan of the US,” he said. He had his fingers on a small toggle switch instead of the steering wheel, but he wasn’t making any course corrections. The captain explained how the boat is guided electronically. I imagine that there are sensors that bounce signals off the sides of the mountains that automatically adjust the rudder so we stay exactly in the middle of the channel.

Along with the naked beauty of the mountains, sometimes not more than 10 meters away, at times we could see calm scenes of agricultural peace. We learned that these houses, with their grapes, terraced corn,

and boats tied up on the beach, belonged to men on the wrong side of a blood feud that may have lasted hundreds of years. In sparsely populated northern Albania, the core rules are set by Kanun code—traditional system of laws practiced since medieval times. Apparently, these people ended up here after being exiled from every other town in the area. There are no roads to their abode, no electricity. The isolation is alluring.

At the northern end, we drove off to another dirt road that made us glad again that it was not raining. At the first village, we stopped to ask if there was a hotel in town. We investigated four rooms for 10 Euros per person. Merita, the school's office manager, asked why they would give the price in Euros when we are in Albania. No answer. Albania uses the Lek, with is worth about 110% of a cent. 90 Lek = 1 USD = 70 Euro cents. I was ready to reserve the place and then we would be free to explore for the rest of the day. After all, I have stayed in much worse 'hotels' in Moscow, Kiev, and Azerbaijan. Merita, however, wisely said that the price was not cheap, so we should look at the next town, Bajram Curri, 30 minutes away, where a hotel was described in our guidebook. We easily found the hotel and negotiated a price of 6000 lek for two nice rooms plus a couple dormitory cots. We had five adults, three teenagers, and Oskar and Maxim.

Now we were ready to commence the final leg of the excursion to a former vacation spot near the border with Montenegro. The gravel road followed a turquoise steam that was so clear, one could peer into 10-foot deep pools and see the future. Words really can’t describe the luscious beauty of the roadside stream. I wanted to go down to wash my troubles away. One valley was a model for The Shire, home of Bilbo and Frodo Baggins with huge haystacks, goats, cows, stick fences, water springs, and a bearded elderly farmer riding a donkey pulling vegetables in a rickety wooden-wheeled wagon. Sprinkled lightly across this bucolic scene were hints of modernity like a satellite dish on top of the outhouse, or a dirty moped straining under the weight of a shepherd and a young pig tied to the rear rack.

You might think that in a country where the main religion is Muslim, there would be few, if any, pigs—not so. When you buy a hamburger here, that’s what you get—a hamburger. As with the FSU (Former Soviet Union), religion was not in favor for several decades. An article in Slate.com has these words:

Enver Hoxha, the country's Muslim-born Marxist-Leninist dictator, outlawed all religious practices, books, and icons in 1967, declaring Albania the world's "first atheist state." Perhaps not coincidentally, the Muslim world's most tolerant nation is also its most secular. A recent Gallup poll found that of every Balkan and Muslim-majority nation, Albania had the smallest proportion of people who said religion was an important part of their daily lives.

http://www.slate.com/id/2226840/entry/2226843/

Two Donkeys and a Moped 1

2009-09-16T10:44:00.000-07:00

Two donkeys and a moped

A bus with spare jet engines strapped to the top, another with a living room set of furniture, another with a live goat, mountains spiking skyward from the water’s edge, the boat heading directly into a wall of rock, a wedding party, and a dozen calves. Highlights from our 2-hour ferry ride in northern Albania last week.

We had left Tirana at 5:30 am for a three-hour drive to the ferry launch. The last 500 meters, we crawled through a dark tunnel made by a Looney Tunes character with bare rock, bare light bulbs, and zero braces or supports. Gratefully, we arrived in plenty of time, and at 10:00 the boat appeared on the reservoir just above the dam. While we waited, the morning crew unloaded the sheep and calves. After a small boat filled with hay moved on and the calf dinghy putted away, we were treated to a bird’s eye demonstration of a delightfully cruel way to wash sheep. A man tied a rope around the animal’s neck and proceeded to sloop him back and forth in the water. We wondered if the wool would shrink.

Washing the sheep

classroom first day

2009-09-01T14:22:00.000-07:00

click on the picture to see a large version

Ledia, crazed Iowan, Eljona

my students on the first day

My classroom

my classroom is the first floor of the white house. Behind it is the 8 year old classroom, and then the school office. identical buildings. the rest of the school is in three more similar buildings with a few larger modern buildings for secondary.

40 minutes from Tirana

Photos of the house

2009-09-01T14:01:00.001-07:00

View from the 3rd floor.

Our green house with our immovable truck in the front.

Walk down the steps, unlock the gate.

Unlock another gate, walk up the stairs.

front hallway

our bedroom on third floor

living room first floor

up the stairs. Iowa flag