Goooooaaaaaaal!!

June 11, 2006

Last week in Labinot Fushe before heading to my new home of Lezha. It’s tragic really, it took three months for me and the people in Labinot Fushe to get used to being around each other, and now I’m moving on to be a sideshow in a new town. My departure will leave behind a sizeable void, I’m sure of this. I’ve been trying to let the locals down easy, giving them plenty of advanced notice, and trying to impress upon them that life can carry on without me – admittedly, I’m not sure how. Today I was talking with Edgar, a waiter at our local café, he speaks English.

“Well Edgar, we’ll be gone in a week. I hope to maybe make it ba…”
“Hey! Beni, back up right where you were a second ago.”
“What, did I drop something?”
“No man, when you stand next to the T.V. the reception comes in a lot better. Do you have plans for the rest of today?” Edgar said, only half joking. He was watching a World Cup game.

The World Cup is something I always thought was kind of fun and neat, but it has consumed this country. I’m sure there are plenty of stories in newspapers, magazines, and on T.V. about how life stops in places for these soccer games, – I will not call the game “football,” I know what football is, it’s played in pads and a helmet – Albania is definitely one of those soccer-obsessed places. The pictures you might have seen of the parties in the streets of Germany are sort of similar to the World Cup atmosphere in Albania. Just replace that image with one of men sitting in smoke-filled cafés on plastic chairs, huddled around a little grainy T.V. and trying to direct an American where to stand so the reception comes in better.

What Albania does have, that I doubt happens in Germany very often, are runaway cows. I was a witness to an attempted escape today. I was walking home this evening and I heard what I thought was a gate or a door slam shut behind me. I turned around in time to see a cow lumbering up a driveway, I don’t think cows can run the way a buffalo or rhino can, but this gal had a pretty good head of steam going, faster than I’ve seen a cow move. The fugitive took a hard left out of the driveway, now heading in my direction, two women from the house were in pursuit. The women were yelling something at me, probably “hey, stop that cow!” – a request that I never would have thought would be directed at me, but now seems completely plausible.

I stood for a second as Bessie continued to rumble towards me and the situation changed from “amusing to watch from a distance” to “now I’m a little scared of this thing.” The cow wasn’t moving very fast, and it was just a cow, not a grizzly bear or a moose, but I didn’t like the feeling of being in the path of a large animal. I took evasive action, ran across the street, and watched as the cow trotted a few more feet, got tired, and came to stop to munch some grass. The women caught up, they didn’t feel the need to take the precautionary measures I did, and just grabbed the beast by the horns and lead it back to the pen.

I thought it was an exciting thing to have had a minor role in, not exactly running with the bulls in Pamplona, but a good story that I can inflate later.

June 15, 2006
7:30 a.m.

My last day with the Labinot Fushe host family, tomorrow afternoon I’ll be on my to Lezha. I’ll head into Elbasan today in search of a parting gift for my host family. I hate shopping, in the U.S. I take a sort of NAVY SEAL approach to gift buying. I have a defined target, the necessary reconnaissance has been performed – preferably, someone else has scouted the gift for me – and a clear plan of action that allows me to get in and out quickly and with as little impact as possible. Today, I’m going in blind, more of a guerilla shopping adventure.

There are probably World Cup games this afternoon as well, which I have to admit I’ve managed to get moderately wrapped-up in. Maybe its because it’s the only game in town, but I keep a T.V. schedule of the games in my wallet that lately I’ve planning my days around. A far cry from the weekend itinerary I would set for myself in college around football, but I have been looking forward to watching soccer everyday.

I just stared at that last line for about a minute without blinking…okay, I’m over it now.

I watch soccer games the same way I watch baseball game. I genuinely pay attention for about fifteen-percent of the game, the rest of the time I’m talking about what I had for lunch, the number of people I shared a furgon with, – a new record yesterday, sixteen plus two baby sheep – and trading other amusing stories. The banter between my friends and I is facilitated by the fact that we’re speaking English and no one has any idea what were saying, it’s very liberating. Whichever soccer game may be on at the time is far down the list of reasons I may be sitting in the café. The game functions like a decent jukebox, nice background noise most of the time, a few moments that are kind of nice that add to the overall mood, and a few moments that are completely puzzling and make me consider asking for the bill.

I do have one friend, Joe, who is a genuine soccer fan and actually watches the entire ninety minutes of the game. Joe and I will stare at the same game, watching, what looks to me, guys just pass the ball around the middle of the field. Joe on the other hand will be completely riveted by the game.

“Oh, man!” Joe will say excitedly. “Did you see that?”
“What?” I’ll reply.
“That pass man. It was sick, the guy almost got through.”
“No I missed it. Hey, why does Italy wear blue uniforms? It’s not a color on their flag or anything.”
“What?…Oh, oh, pass it back!” Joe yells at the game.
“I think they need to spend more time moving forward. Hey I think I want some ice cream, what’s the word for ice cream?”
“Dude, it’s the strategy of the game to pass it back. You just don’t understand futboll.”

Joe insists on calling the game futboll, something to do with the rest of the world calling it futboll. That’s not enough for me.

“Oh, I do understand football” I say. “For instance, that particular sport is characterized by the forward pass and advancing the ball down the field. Soccer on the other hand distinguishes itself from football with its general lack of scoring and offense. It is true, I don’t get soccer. But, I do know that there’s a humongous goal down at the end of the field but for the last hour these guys have been knocking the ball around the middle of the field while there is still about a mile and half between them and the goal. I think these guys could stand to watch a little football just to see how much scoring points enhances a game. It might be a little racy for them, what with all the touchdowns, and the tackling might be kind of scary for their little soccer player eyes. And I’m sure they wouldn’t understand that after a guy gets tackled, rather than rolling around on the ground like he just broke his leg in three places, he gets up just to do it again. All in pursuit of scoring a touchdown and getting to dance in the end zone. We like points so much we give teams six, when it could just as easily be one, and let them kick an extra point just for the hell of it. Now, what is the word for ice cream?”

At this point every Albanian in the café is more interested in our conversation than the captivating soccer game.

“Akullore. I don’t why you can’t remember that word, we get ice cream every day. Get me a pistachio. I call it futboll because the rest of the world calls it futboll, and it’s actually played with your feet…”
“Another flaw!”
“Whatever. They can’t just charge down the field, they have set up their offense blah, blah, blah….”

At this point I’ve already left the table to head down to the akullore stand. So that’s how Joe and I have been watching the World Cup.

8:00 p.m.

I decided to go with a baklava for my host family, I think they liked it. We did see a World Cup game this afternoon, I believe it was Trinidad and Tobago versus Saudi Arabia, but I’m probably completely wrong about that. I don’t know what the score was. I also had some hazelnut akullore. DE-lightful.