Nepal: Enjoying the Unexpected

Early on, I said my motto for my team was "enjoy the unexpected."  Having been on a number of previous teams, though not as team leader, I have had a range of "unexpecteds"--location changes, site changes, transportation snafus, difficulty getting supplies, weather challenges, personality conflicts, culturally inappropriate behavior by team members, etc.  So while the details might vary, the categories are the same.  For first-timers, of course, any or all of these could be real challenges.  Hence my motto.

But since this was my first time as a team leader, I expected there would be something unexpected---that even though it might have happened previously, I wouldn't have noticed it or known about it because it was handled by the team leader and the local coordinator.

So I had my first "unexpected", and I enjoyed it.

On all my previous builds, we never completed a house.  The houses were larger, so they couldn't be built in 8 build days.  So unless we were working on houses already under construction, we wouldn't finish.  

This time, we essentially built three houses from start to finish.  And that meant that at our farewell ceremony, we could have actual dedications.  And as team leader, I was expected to take an active role in the dedication.  Two unexpecteds rolled into one.

It was a moving experience, as you might imagine.  We pulled up to the build site.  The community was largely gathered already, matching chairs somehow obtained and set out for us.  The houses were decorated with prayer flags, banners, and other signs of celebration.  After a few minutes, we walked up the hill to the site of the smaller house.  There was a ribbon across the door, and as team leader, I was asked to say a few words to the family, cut the ribbon, and invite the home owner into her house.  With glassy eyes (both she and I), we did.  (Much later, as we were leaving, the man of the house made his appearance to thank us.  But he couldn't make the dedication.)  

I've always felt very emotional about the houses I've lived in.  Both the arriving and the departing are emotional experiences for me.  But I've always been fortunate to live in very nice, secure, safe homes.  Cannot fully imagine what it's like to finally be doing that yourself.  But I'm glad to have been a part of it.

The short (25 minutes) Yeti flight back to Kathmandu was an abrupt transition.  Flying at 11,000 feet, along the line of Himalayas much higher, fairly clear skies, beautiful lush green hills below, occasional clusters of homes into communities and villages.  From that height, the homes didn't seem small or simple.  All seemed very typical--the sort of thing I've seen flying over other places.  And then I noticed....no paved roads.  None.  

Hills ended abruptly and the expanse of densely-populated Kathmandu spread out.  Quickly descend to a very busy city of 2-3 million (depending on whom you believe.)  Visible pollution, extensive paved streets filled with vehicles, nothing green seen for miles.  Urban life as I've seen it so many other places only with a mountain backdrop.  But from the air, it doesn't look that much different.  It's only when you get on the ground, up close and personal, that you see the differences.  I continue to be appreciative for the opportunity to see those differences.

Dinner in a KTM restaurant known to be popular with trekkers.  Especially those who have successfully climbed Mt. Everest.  Totally by coincidence, at the next table was a large (12-14) group of people celebrating their achievement--a father, his 13-year old son, some Sherpa guides, their medical doctor, family members, probably some friends.  They summited Mt. Everest earlier this week.  The 13-year old is the youngest person ever to do it.  He has now scaled 6 of the 7 highest peaks in the world--the first when he was 9.  

Life is about experiences.  He and his family know that and choose to have experiences.  Though I wouldn't choose theirs, I applaud them for raising him that way.  Can't imagine what he'll do after 14.  Hope his obituary doesn't just read "scaled Mt. Everest at 13: youngest person ever."  But by all outward appearances, he's just a typical 13-year old California kid...who happens to climb tall mountains.

And so this adventure comes to an end.  Home beckons, after a little more KTM time and 30+ hours in the air.  And though this adventure ends, my journeys will continue.  Already recruiting a team to go to Bahir Dar, Ethiopia in January.  Until then, namaste.

Nepal: Soar Like an Eagle

Woke up this morning to a beautiful clear sky.  Great view of the snow-capped mountains from my bed.  A great day to soar like an eagle. 

So I did.

Paragliding is a very popular activity in Pokhara.  Cliffs to jump/takeoff from, mountains to create thermals, etc.  Attracts paragliders from all over the world, and people who want to paraglide with them.  So when in Pokhara.....

Begin with a ride up the mountainside in an open truck, twisting mountain "roads" (you should excuse the expression), to the parking spot.  Then, a 5-minute walk up a narrow path along the edge of the cliff, no guardrail, to prepare you for what's ahead.  Atop the cliff, overlooking the lake (far) below, mountains as a backdrop, eagles and hawks soaring above.  Harnessed up, since I'm flying tandem with a knowledgeable pilot (Patrick, from France.)  I ride in front ("the view is better for you"), he on my back, glider ready to inflate above.

Basic instructions: take several running steps to the cliff's edge, keep running until you're running on air. You'll feel the lift immediately, don't stop running, then when you're aloft, sit back, relax, and enjoy the flight. (Sounds like the usual flight attendant speech.)

For unknown reasons, I'm the first to go in the group.  Probably fortunate--means I didn't get to see what happens during takeoff.  At Patrick's command, start running.  Take a couple of steps toward the cliff edge, he says "stop."  Regroup.  Then, another attempt.  Take a couple of steps.  Then "stop."  Regroup.  Then, take a couple of steps, now running on air, and now.....we're flying.

It's really an indescribable feeling.  You're floating with the air, upcurrents, downcurrents, just like birds do.  Patrick is "steering" us to the best of his ability, but it all depends on the thermals and the wind currents.  The view is magnificent, the quiet is calming, but mostly, it's just the feeling of going with the flow.  Of the wind.  Literally.

One surprise was the constant motion--not for the weak of stomach, or even the strong.  (One of our guys asked to go down sooner.)  But in the wind, you're always swaying/rising/falling, so you're in constant motion.

At one point, as we were heading down into a jungle of trees, Patrick said "I'm not talking right now.  I'm trying to keep us in the air and have to find the thermals."  Fine with me--don't need my pilot to be a source of conversation.  Just fly the glider, Patrick.

Turns out the thermals were in an "unusual" pattern today, therefore difficult to find and fly.  Patrick said afterward "did you see the monkeys in the jungle? You had a real closeup view."  No Patrick, I was more focused on the treetops as we seemed to be approaching the side of the cliff.

A few more attempts to find some thermals and get higher, then he said we needed to land--a shorter trip than usual, for which he apologized.  Landing was easy, very smooth.

They talk about the  "unbearable lightness of being."  I thought of the "unbearable being of lightness."

One (overused) word: awesome.

Nepal: Mudslinging

Our last building task is "plastering" the interior walls and floors.  This involves mixing concrete (always), applying it to the walls, smoothing, repeat.  In my various journeys, I've seen it done in various ways, with various textures of concrete.  All end up the same--with smooth(er) walls which are cosmetically more attractive.  It's the sort of task that doesn't require much skill or training, just experience.

The Nepal technique of applying the concrete is to use a trowel to sling it against the wall and see what sticks.  (Concrete seems to be universally called "mud" hence the term "mudslinging.")  I've never mastered this, despite various attempts.  Can't seem to get the right flick of the wrist or something.  And this time was no exception--I didn't even try, having been frustrated many other times, watching other people succeed with their flicks while mine either plopped to the ground or never made the wall.

The good news (for us) is that several people quickly developed the right skill.  So mudslinging went very quickly and easily.  Others then learned the smoothing skills, while people like me kept to concrete-mixing, sand bagging, cement bag carrying, and other mule-like activities.

Before we began, though, one of our team members noticed the site didn't have a screed.  This is a long, straight smooth board, used for helping provide a uniform finish to the walls (and eventually, the floor.)  So on our way to the site, we stopped at a likely looking place to buy several.  No luck.  They couldn't quite figure out what we wanted.  Stopped at another place, same result.  Then decided to go next door, to a lumber shop, and buy some scrap pieces that would do the job.  Garry carefully sized up a couple of nice, straight suitable pieces.  The shop owner then hot-wired the sander and sanded them smooth and off we went, screeds in tow.

We made good progress our first day, in part because we mixed up another load of concrete before realizing it would require us to stay longer than planned to use it up.  But given the imperative to use all materials wisely, we stayed later.

Today, our second day of this, we finished up the walls and floors.  Since we were there, we also plastered the front wall of the larger house.  Turns out we are quite efficient overall, so we accomplished all the expected build tasks, plus a couple of extras, and in one less day of building.  So we decided to reward ourselves by giving us a free day.

House dedication will take place on Friday.  This will actually be my first time at a true dedication--I've never before been involved in actually completing a house.  And of course, it will also be our farewell gathering, a particularly emotional and poignant time for everyone--team members and local people alike.

Ten days ago we arrived at the site, which barely had any work done it except for the foundations laid out.  Today, we completed houses for three families--they will move in about a month from now, after the concrete has cured sufficiently.  Kind of remarkable, actually--take a group of 16 inexperienced but very eager people, put them together with a few local people, add some materials and a whole lot of good will, and you end up with new housing for three families, and a total of something like 12 people.  They aren't large houses, and they're nothing like we would tolerate.  But for them, they are a significant improvement in housing.  And along the way, they've learned there are people who care enough about them to come a long way, give their time, effort and money, to help them.

And we get even more, and have a lot of fun along the way.

Nepal: A Little Bit of Knowledge...

This is the part of the trip when things get a little tricky.  People feel as though they've  mastered the various construction techniques and are ready to do them on their own or start giving directions to others.  The endpoint of the trip is nearing, so people start to want to do everything, pack in everything, in the shrinking time remaining.  Cumulative fatigue is setting in for everyone, making tempers a little shorter, annoyances a little larger.  And yet, the basic team spirit builds and overcomes most if not all of this.

Had a good day building today.  Mixed and poured floors for both houses, put roofs on both houses, mixed and poured the porch for the duplex (larger) house.  Interior (and in some cases, exterior) plastering is all that remains.  Weather permitting, that should be easily accomplished before we leave.

As construction nears an end, the tasks become more concentrated, and it becomes harder for all people to be fully engaged all the time.  In my other trips, this always frustrated me--I always wanted to be busy, didn't want to have to "share" work.  In my new role, as team leader, I'm more willing to lay back, let others be involved, step in only when and as needed.  Probably makes me look lazy, but so be it.

Concrete is a mix of cement, sand, and gravel/stone.  The precise mixture depends on the purpose, the mason, and money.  Here, they have to buy the cement and sand.  They can gather the gravel/stone and a sand substitute along the roadside.  So the proportion of bought material vs. gathered material will vary depending on your budget and willingness to gather.

One family spends less, meaning we gather sand-like stuff from the side of the road and the mixture is rougher (read: "exposed aggregate", which in the states we pay extra for.)  The other family bought sand, meaning the mixture is smoother.  Money always affects the finished product.

Also learned that it's the family's responsibility to get the necessary materials there when we need them.  First house: irresponsible male (apparently, the village drunk) so he doesn't always provide the things we need when we need them.  Second house (two sisters): strong father around who makes sure they transport the sand delivered some ways away and get it there on time for us to use.

How do you make Rice Krispies?  Take rice you've grown, bake it over an open fire. ( Not sure whether it goes snap, krackle and pop if you add milk though.)

Nabin is a young man who rides with us on the bus.  He's 14 and I assumed he was the driver's son.  Turns out he isn't--his father is a drunk who has two wives (not uncommon, and legal in Nepal).  Nabin decided he didn't want to be like that, quit school, asked the driver if he could work for him for free.  He comes with us, has now begun working on the build site, learned how to mix concrete, put up walls, etc.  Not sure he made the best choice.  Regret that he even had to make a choice.

I love roofing, so I was looking forward to doing it here.  Turns out roofing here involves lifting up sheets of corrugated tin, overlapping them, then lifting up concrete block to weigh them down in the monsoon winds.  Takes perhaps an hour.  So much for roofing expertise!

Weather has turned--was hot and dry last week, cooling down some.  Recently, clear in the morning, hot until after lunch, clouds roll in, maybe rain at night.  Prelude to the rainy season.

Experienced the Nepali medical system today.  One of our team members stepped off a path on the way to the toilet and hurt her foot.  Just in case, we took her to the hospital to get it checked out.  Chose the "expensive", private hospital to get better service and better quality care.  Immediately treated upon arrival, x-rayed, seen by an orthopedic doctor, given a  prescription, filled at the hospital pharmacy.  Torn ligament in her foot, doesn't require surgery, just rest for a few weeks.  Being a foreigner, Habitat had to pay the whole bill upon discharge.  $28.  Total time at hospital: 1 hour.  Same care as in the states, same treatment, same diagnosis, different cost, different time.

I am always interested in group dynamics.  I enjoy observing and trying to analyze what's going on.  I enjoy in a different way trying to manage them in my team leader role.

On to plastering!

Nepal: Trekette

I once made the mistake of saying to an Englishman that I really enjoyed walking.  He asked what was my favorite walk--the Cotswald Way? or the walk from Devon to Scotland? or the Scottish highlands walk?  I said I was thinking more of a walk to a nearby village, or around the town square.  He said "Oh, you mean you like to stroll."

A trek seems to involve 6-15 days, guides, maybe porters, staying at "teahouses" along the way, going up/down/around the mountains.  I'm taking a 2-day trek that involves walking, eating at restaurants, back to the hotel, out the next day, back to the hotel.  So I guess this is more like a "trekette."

Bus took us up from Pokhara this morning, up from the river, along some mountain ridges.  Wonderful view of Fishtail Mountain, which is 21,000 ft. high (we were at about 3,500, so this baby really soars.)  Then started our walk, alternating between gradual uphill and fairly flat, for about 2 hours.  Stop for tea/coffee ("last rest stop for 2 hours", which turned out to be a lie, unless you were going the way we'd come from), then another 1+ hour to Sarangkot (5,500 ft. altitude.)  Along the way, wonderful views of the mountain and valley, the lake and city below, homes of "real" people living their lives.   Occasional water buffalo, a pond with people doing their laundry and swimming along with the buffalo, past a little gathering of people under a tree whose kids were getting polio vaccine and Vitamin A shot courtesy of a  UN program.

Basic local building material is the stone of the mountains.  Readily available for the taking.  So everything's made of stone--houses, stalls, sheds, stairways leading to the houses, stairways leading to the field, outdoor toilets, etc. etc.  I love stone, so I found it beautiful.

Hillsides all beautifully terraced for agriculture.  Hard to imagine doing all that without mechanization--just a draught animal and a human.  But do it for centuries and you get an absolutely beautiful mosaic of fertile fields.

Up at Sarangkot, have lunch at Beautiful View Restaurant, up from the outpost, overlooking the mountains, valley and lake.  Lunch cooked to order, so plenty of time to enjoy the place, and the pace.  Then about another 30-45 minute walk, this time totally down, so much easier in some ways.  Then back to the hotel.  While this may not qualify as a "trek" in the Sherpa sense, it met my needs perfectly--a stroll in the mountains, seeing people and incredible scenery, then back to the comforts of our hotel.

On the way home from dinner, began to rain.  Then a downpour.  Flashing lightening much of the night, heavy rain.  Loved being in my hotel rather than a teahouse, with a bathroom/shower rather than an outdoor toilet.  I'm a treketter, not a trekker.

At dawn this morning, a symphony of thunder crashes and heavy, gray skies.  Thinking "there goes day 2."  Guides show up, tell us the weather "up there" is good, roads aren't too slippery, so the trek is on.  Short bus ride, then a 1-hour climb up to the World Peace Pagoda.  And I do mean "climb." A beautiful stone stairway all the way.  I'm thinking 1-hour on the stairmaster, plus an altitude climb thrown in. 

Beautiful scenes along the way. The pagoda's on the top of a hill, overlooking the lake, with the mountain range in the background.  I asked whether it was new.  "Oh no, it was built in 1995 I think."  Counts as new to me.

While we were there, we ordered our lunch so it might be closer to ready when we got down to the restaurant.  I ordered sukuti (dried mountain goat--"traditional Nepali dish"), banana lassie (Indian), and Coke.  Felt very global.

The menu listed a banana split.  Several wanted to order one.  One said "does it have very cold ice cream?  It must have very cold ice cream."  "The banana split doesn't have ice cream--we don't have sufficient electricity."  "But a banana split isn't a banana split without ice cream?  I want one with ice cream."  etc.  So here they are, standing at the World Peace Pagoda, arguing about the "true" banana split.  The irony was lost on them.

About a 30 minute walk down (it's always quicker, though the knees complain rather than heart/lungs) to a wonderful restaurant along the lake, looking across.  Dried mountain goat is very chewy.  Very, very chewy.  Sort of like tough beef jerky I think.  And it seems to get tougher the longer it sits on your plate.

Then row across to an island visit the temple on the island back in the boat across to Lakeside of Pokhara into the bus drive to Devi's Falls (named after a Swiss couple who fell to their death in the falls) down long flight of stairs into the first cave past another temple into a second narrower and lower cave to the base of the falls look up admire the falls and retrace your steps.  If this sound like a blur, it's because it is.  Fortunately, some expressed a desire to cancel the remaining stop at a Tibetan refugee village demonstrating rug-making and rug-selling.  Some didn't want to go, others were indifferent, no one was strongly positive, all were tired I think.

And so ends my trek experience.  It was wonderful, in many ways, and I don't feel the need to do more.

And so ends the weekend.  With the trek, it was a very "group" weekend, complete with herding.  My groupiness tolerance has been exceeded.  Happily back to work tomorrow.

Nepal: Odd Bits

One of the many pleasures of these trips is the unexpected things that crop up.  Not necessarily that they're not typical, just that I don't know all that's typical and therefore, they're unexpected.

I've always thought a monsoon was torrential downpour. Well, based on one experience, I'm half right.  It's a torrential downpour, but coupled with high gusty winds--the kind that are roof-blowing, corn leveling, tree-shaking, roof-removing, hail-producing, and just plain wild.  We had one today.  Looked at the sky steadily turning darker shades of gray-to-black, then sprinkles, and then....the wind and driving rain.  We had taken shelter on the site so could watch it all.  Homes here have tin roofs that are nailed down, then rocks put around the perimeter to hold down the roof during monsoons.  Understand why today.  Parts of several roofs of other homes blew off (not Habitat homes though.)  Pouring rain, hail, temperature drops about 20 degrees.

And then it's over. After about 30 minutes.  Sky clears, and mountains we haven't seen before emerge--snow-covered majestic peaks, blue sky above them.  Bus-stopping-for-pictures worth--(we had by this time gotten on our bus to head back to the hotel.)  Another example of  John, pay attention--it doesn't usually look like this in your life.

Dinner tonight with a few others from the team.  Choose a place regarded for the best thin crust pizza in Pokhara.  Gelato, too.  Sit on the terrace, overlooking the lake, soft jazz music playing in the background, order a couple of pizzas to share (including one that's yak cheese).  Excellent chocolate chip gelato for dessert.  This is Nepal?  Well, it's a tourist part of Nepal.  But Nepal nonetheless.

More good building going on.  I think we've finished the block passing--new record (for us) this morning when we passed all 200 blocks that remained.  Meanwhile, walls going up, probably finished tomorrow.  Let them set for the weekend, then Monday we'll do roofing.  And then some plastering on the outside.  And then we'll be done.

Getting a little better sense of the local people in our build site, including one who was on an absolute rant today--screaming about something, at great length, for quite a while, with no response.  No idea what it was about--not knowing the language can be very relieving.

There's an older guy whom we call the President.  Seems to rule the roost.  Delightful guy, probably about my age (maybe younger) but looks many years older (he's had a much harder life than I can even imagine.)  Caught him napping today, a rarity.

Saw another woman cooking over her open fire, some sort of one-pot dish.  Only way she has of cooking.

Nepalese people are short of stature.  I am not.  Houses are designed for their size, not mine.  Lots of "mind your head" and ducking.  Only problem comes when I make an unexpected (for me) head turn.  Hit a pipe extending from the roof--wouldn't come close to a Nepali but whacked my head nicely.  Blood, nothing serious, but lots and lots of attention (we were at the restaurant for lunch.)  Clucking, bringing an ice stick, pulling a band-aid from his wallet (who carries a band-aid in their wallet?), others expressing concern, me just wanting to get on with the day.

The incredibly tiny nut that holds my glasses together came off.  Again.  Friends searching in the grass, but there's absolutely no chance of finding it.  Go to a photo/sunglasses shop after dinner.  "Bring it to me."  Empties a container of many different tiny screws, nuts, whatever.  Puts them together.  "May I pay you?"
"If you wish."  Give him 500 rupee note (smallest I have) and ask for something back.  "How much you want to pay?"  "50 rupee."  "That's nothing."  "100 rupee."  "How about 200 rupee?"  So I learn that "if you wish has an implied price.  I'm happy to have my glasses back, whatever the (small) cost.

I never seem to learn.  It takes me about a week to recover fully from a long airplane trip.  Always feel I'm doing pretty well each day, and then, about a week after, I realize my mind and body are finally fully together.  (Or at least as much as they ever are.)

Walking back to the hotel on a side street after dinner I encounter a cow moseying the other way.  We exchange appropriate evening pleasantries and go our respective ways.

Got involved in tuck pointing the final layers of block on house #1 today.  Involved going up high (my specialty of course.)  Decided it was best approached by going up on the roof of the close by adjacent house.  Sitting on the roof made the job easy.  The roof is tin.  The sun was shining brightly.  I gained new feeling for "cat on a hot tin roof."

A new insight into the electricity situation.  Most (all?) of the electricity is generated by hydro.  In the rainy season (approximately 5 months each year), the flow is ample to provide electricity 24/7 to the nation.  But in the non-rainy season, it isn't, hence the load-sharing scheme.

How do you fertilize the rice paddies?  Put a pile of cow dung in the middle, flood the paddy regularly and let that spread the fertilizer evenly across the paddy.  Seems better to me than our ways.

Some concern about the family in #1 house being able to repay the loan.  Seems a male has joined the household and he isn't very diligent about seeking work.  New arrangement:  we'll withhold the plastering of the outside walls until he/they have made 6 months worth of payments ($10/month.)  If they do, then their house will be plastered and the job completed.

I marvel at the ability of people in very poor conditions to keep their families in immaculate clothes.  Clean, pressed if appropriate, and always nice looking.  Wash in the stream, hang to dry, who knows how to iron?  But always, always clean.

We've finished building the walls of both houses, plus designed a porch for one and an enhanced path for the other.  Roofing on Monday, plus concrete floor Monday or Tuesday, then plastering the walls.  And then, they're done.

Off building work for the weekend.  Going on a 2-day trek into the mountains.  Nothing like "real" treks with Sherpa porters, etc. but it will be great to get into the mountains a little, visit a village, and see the surroundings.  Then back to building on Monday.

Nepal: Building Community

The contrast is startling.  Expected, but startling nonetheless.  Pokhara is in a valley, with mountains visible around it, and along side a lake.  The valley itself is richly green, broken down into postage stamp plots (I figure each about the size of a single car garage), neatly terraced, where individuals grow rice, corn or wheat.  Very green, very flat, very fertile.

 

Pokhara itself is the 2nd largest city, population variously estimated at 200,000-300,000.  We're in the tourist section, which looks quite different--jammed with hotels, restaurants, internet cafes, and shops doing laundry.  The rest of the city looks little different from Kathmandu, though smaller.

Woke up pre-dawn (sunrise is a little after 5:00) to the sounds of birds singing instead of dogs fighting.  And to the non-sound of horns not tooting.  And to the wonderful sound of some monks chanting in a monastery in the distance.  Took a short walk down to the lake, watching as the city slowly awakened and came to life.  

 

Off to the build site after breakfast---everyone on time, even the two who had been late before ("we were here before anyone else" she said brightly).  About 20 minutes to the edge of town, beginnings of the hills, up incredible roads.  But a beautiful land site--valley below, mountains all around, river running through a deep canyon.

 

We're building two houses.  One is for a woman and her four children.  The foundation has been put in, though our first task was to modify it a little because it was too close to the "road."  It is a one room house, about 10x12 total.   Door, window.  And it will be all hers (and her kids).  She currently lives next door in a rented house, mud walls and floor.  This will be much more healthful.  [My last office at Ursinus was 10x12.  I never held meetings in there for more than two others.  I certainly didn't try and live there with four others.  Size is relative and contextual.]

 

The second house is sort of a duplex--two sisters will live there, each with their family, a total of 7 people.  This one is noticeably larger--12x30.  Smaller than a 2-car garage, though.  Foundation also laid, ready for block work.

 

After pleasantries and welcome, divide into groups.  First problem: "I don't have gloves."  (Nariyan to me: "Did you tell them to bring gloves?" "Yes.  But some pride themselve on only reading essential things.  This wasn't one.")  So off Nariyan and I go, back to the city, in search of gloves.  Meanwhile, the others got to work. 

 

Found some great leather gloves (one size) for $1.40 a pair.  Bought 12 pairs.  Also looked for some more shovels, but couldn't find any.  Then the search for cartons of bottled water.  The strike last week disrupted the whole supply chain in the country.  Stopped at 5 places before finally finding one that had water for us.  But we found it.

 

Back to the jobsite, just in time for lunch at a local restaurant (the only restaurant actually).  Very Nepali, and good.  And the feel of being there couldn't be better.  Walked around the little crossroads gathering a bit after lunch--the local barber shop, then past the elementary school.  Kids were just getting dismissed for lunch.  I've never been a chick magnet (not sure I even would want to be) but in this setting, I'm a kid magnet.  (Full disclosure:  I had my camera.)  Great fun talking a little with the kids, all of whom are much older than I think, but because they are so much smaller than American kids, I get confused.

 

More block passing in the afternoon--the block is delivered one place, then has to be transported by pack mule (us) to the jobsite because vehicles can't get across the fields.  So we moved block all day.  On a beautifu sunny day, warm (80's), mountains in the background, green lush fertile fields.

 

We're all in a line, passing blocks from one to another.  Several local women watching us.  After a little bit, one comes and adds to the line.  Then after a little bit, another one.  And eventually, a third.  Building community.

Dinner together, at yet another Pokhara restaurant.  Also with a cultural show.  Noisy show, not very interesting.  Food mediocre, too.  But it was an event.  We will now have some dinners on our own, at restaurants of our individual choosing.

2nd day, on the way to the build site, we stop to get some tools.  One of our team members, a contractor himself, had identified a few needs.  So we bought a couple of shovels, a long level, a pick axe handle, a couple of plumbs, and a ball of string.  Total cost: less than $20.  Home Depot couldn't touch one shovel for that price.

More block passing, but a few also started block laying on the smaller house.  Great to see that the construction supervisor was happy to teach us how he wanted it done.  A challenge, I'm sure, but he's good at it.  

During lunch, another delivery of 200 blocks.  (Fiscal stimulus program?  Or simply a full employment guarantee?)  More block passing across the fields, including several trying the Nepali way---loaded on your back, using a burlap sling.  Homeowner loaded three on her back, then patiently tried to teach three others how to load two others on their back, all the while holding the three on her back.  Then she took off for the site.  Her strength and endurance far surpass anything any of us have.

And then, having transferred the block for the day (the 200 are tomorrow's project--they're too wet for today) we get involved in laying some block ourselves.  Pleased to see my hands remember the task quite quickly.  Got to do a little before rain came, and we decided to call it a day before the rain really came.

I've long heard the term "working poor."  We were talking the other day about how privileged we felt to be able to afford this kind of thing--both the money and the time.  A team member said she considered herself part of the "working rich"--able to afford this sort of thing as long as she keeps working.  I like the term.  (Except what does that make me--the non-working rich?  Disturbing thought.).

The plan is to finish these two houses, and if time, to build a bathroom (shared latrine actually.)  If this  happens, it will my first experience of actually building a house from (virtually) start to finish.  We'll see.  But I do know we will have built community.

Nepal: "Now arriving, at only gate..."

I don't herd well.  Whether the "I" is the subject or the object.  But as team leader, I have to do some herding.  So be it.

 

(Have decided that a good interview question would be to put a diagram of animals in a herd and ask the interviewee to circle which one they'd be, and why.  I think I'd circle the one slightly aside of the herd, towards the back---still part of the herd, but at a distance, able to observe the herd and what might lie ahead for it.)

 

Herding began with the first team meeting.  Two people show up late ("so sorry"), another sleeps past his alarm.  But otherwise, a good start.

 

Continues at dinner.  Told everyone we're leaving at 6:30.  6:40 comes, two people missing. One comes down, says "she'll be down in a couple of minutes. "  I said fine, you can catch up.  Off we walk.  Quite quickly, they come running to catch up.  Another lesson natural consequences---even adults need to be reminded of that sometimes.

 

Farewell-to-Kathmandu dinner at one of those food/culture show places, where both the food and the culture show are mediocre--because you're there for the food, you excuse the culture show, if you're there for the show, you excuse the food, if you're there for the combination experience, you're happy.  Sitting on pads on the floor, at low tables.  These legs don't allow sitting cross legged without the knees extending well above the table.  Ah well, what Anne and I refer to as another Grinnell social experience.

 

Orientation session from Habitat Nepal personnel.  Affiliate is about 10 years old.   First half of that time, the standard model: single family home ownership.  About 1,000 families served.  Then, they partnered with another housing NGO and extended to save-and-build groups and microfinancing.  4,000 families served.  I like their move.

 

Off to tour of Patan City, another of the cities once separate, now joined together.  Turns out it was a king who had three sons, gave each of them a city.  They fought (there's an unusual event!) and eventually, cities rejoined.  Interesting tour, lunch at a delightful restaurant above the square, then off to the airport.

 
I think of a Yeti as the abominable snowman.  We flew Yeti Airlines from Kathmandu to Pokhara.  
"10 Years Serving the Nation."  Our plane (propeller-driven) seats around 30.  Manufactured in 1995. Climb in, flight attendant distributes cotton balls and hard candy (plane isn't pressurized.)  Off we go, up into the clouds and haze, land 25 minutes later at Pokhara.  Off the plane, claim the bag, go through the single door/gate, and we're here.

 

"Airport security" involves going through a monitor.  No need to remove your computer, no need to empty your pockets, certainly no need to take of your shoes or coats.  Men in one line, women in another. Very quick.

 

On to the hotel, which is a little away from the lake, but still quite pleasant.  Chill a bit, then walk to dinner at the Monsoon Bar and Grille.  (Note to self: stay away from cities that have restaurants named "Monsoon.")  Upstairs, overlooking the lake, continental menu, B.B. King/Eric Clapton CD playing (one of my absolute favorites.)  This Nepal?  Well, I did know Pokhara is a bit touristy.  But dinner and ambience were great, even if I was hard-pressed to be sure I was in Nepal.

 

Work begins tomorrow.  Meanwhile, enjoying the A/C while the electricity is on.  Unexpected benefit, and will give my body a chance to cool down at night.

Nepal: "Good Night, Sleep Tight..."

Some more exploring of the city, along with getting acquainted with the team members as they arrive.  A few of us headed off for the Monkey Temple. (It has a better official name than that, but it's in Nepali, which I can neither say nor spell.)  It's a world heritage sight, outside the main tourist area, so it was a pleasant change of scene.

Hotel desk person told us it was an easy 15-minute walk, "you can't miss it because it sits up on a hill."  Neither part of this sentence was accurate (unless he's a marathon runner and goes there when there' no traffic of any type.)  And you can't actually see it high on the hill until you get to where you already know you're there.  But with my good map, and four brains working (yielding perhaps one intelligence), a little help from an "I'm not a guide" person, we got to where we could see it.

And it is high on a hill, overlooking the city with great views of the mountains in the distance.  To reach the temple, there is a long (and even by my standards, long) staircase, lined of course with people hawking any number of different trinkets, religious and otherwise.  Pauses along the way to sit on stone walls, in a little shade, admire the views, and chat.  Eventually reach the top--it is a beautiful temple, with gold covering the roof.  But as I often find in non-Christian religious places, because I don't know the religion well enough, I really can't fully appreciate all of the symbolism and significance.  (Actually can't in Christian cathedrals, either, but that's another story.)  But it still was beautiful, and quiet, and felt good to be inside it.

Reversed the walk, this time down the staircase.  And as is always the case, when you're going downhill, and you know the route, it takes much less time.  Still not 15 minutes, though.

Stopped for lunch on the way back--having been here two days, and the others having just arrived, I became the expert on choosing and locating a place to eat.  Worked out fine--they seemed satisfied, we ate, and had a good time chatting.

Back in time before the electricity went off again.  Earlier, I had gone to the ATM to get some money.  Discovered, of course, that ATMs require electricity.  This was the "off" period.  So, still another way in which I need to be a little more aware of what time it is, when I need to have electricity, and plan accordingly.  Another example of the many things I take for granted when I simply turn something on at home.

My roommate arrived while we were out.  Besides being a really great guy, he proved his inestimable value immediately.  Within minutes of arriving, he correctly discerned our fan didn't work, called and got another.  What a guy!  (I had simply concluded I was not deserving of a working fan and accepted my situation.  Wetly.)

Some more team members arrived later.  It's really nice to get acquainted with them in person.  I had talked with most of them by phone, others simply by e-mail, so it's good to be together with them.

Dinner with another couple plus my roommate.  They wanted to go to a high(er) end place they'd heard about.  I said they were welcome to do so--I was going budget again since that's worked fine for me and leads to interesting places.  They joined us.  I don't think they'll do that again when we dine on our own in Pokhara.

My dinner plan included hitting an ice cream place that our travel agent had pointed out to me, quite near the hotel.  So off we went.  Only to find.....it was closed!  Forgot that Saturday is the weekend here, so many shops are closed.  It's the only day they are.  And this one was.  So, no ice cream.  Maybe tonight.

More exploring, this time walking through Durbar (Palace) Square.  One of three (Kathmandu is comprised of three formerly separate cities, each with its own palace square.)  Nicest part was taking another Lonely Planet walking tour starting and ending at Durbar Square.  Through a non-tourist area, devoid of pashmina shops, beggars, other vendors.  Just real people, going about their business.  A taste of real life in the city.

I've always enjoyed grilled cheese sandwiches.  Even ungrilled cheese sandwiches.  Never had the opportunity to have a yak cheese sandwich.  On a baguette.  Now I have.  And I have.

All team members now have arrived in Kathmandu, at our hotel, all checking in.  Team meeting shortly.  Then the formal program begins.

One team member came down for breakfast with the report (and the evidence) that her mattress had bedbugs in it.  She had already moved to another room, and that has bedbugs as well.  Now onto her third room.  Fortunately (in an odd sort of way), her husband's parents live in a high-end assisted living place in the States.  And they recently had an infestation of bedbugs!  So it's not limited to lower level places.  Nonetheless, I now know more about bedbugs than I ever wanted to know, including the complex steps of getting rid of them if they get into your house.  So far, no evidence of them in my room.

And on that note, good night, sleep tight....

Nepal: Stepping Out

The city is a wonderful melange of sights, sounds, people and traffic.  It is a very busy place--at least the parts where I am.  "Wide" streets are two vehicles wide.  But of course, that has to accommodate vehicles,  pedestrians, rickshaws, scooters, bicycles--all competing for the same space.  "Typical" streets barely accommodate two vehicles.  Narrower streets break off from them--endless alleyways, all lined with shops.  Occasionally, a temple and even more occasionally, a square and a little open space for breathing.  And very infrequently, an actual open area around a temple, providing a welcome respite from the density of the city. 

There are no sidewalks.  No stop signs.  No stoplights.  No traffic signals or directions of any type. No street signs or names.  Did find one major intersection--a roundabout--with a traffic cop directing.  Otherwise, can't imagine how they'd ever sort it out.

Have a wonderful picture of Kathmandu gridlike:  collection of all types of vehicles and people (including one carrying a large load of eggs on her back), all tangled to a complete stop at a fairly major intersection.  I could squeeze past, get a picture, and continue on.

Constant tooting of vehicle horns, calls of "hallo, hallo" to obvious tourists (like me.)  "Can I give you information about a safari?" "No thank you." "How about something to smoke?  I have good stuff for you."  [I'm sure you do.]  Chanting from the temples, music playing, people playing instruments, etc. 

With my trusty Lonely Planet guide in hand, took one of their walking tours.  Great map (fortunately) which I was able to (mostly) follow and to get unlost when I got lost.  Side trips into little courtyards with temples and stupas, back to the main road, ending at Durbar Square.  Turns out there are 3 Durbar Squares, one for each of the three cities that eventually came to form Kathmandu.  We're taking a tour of one of them (Patin) on Monday, so I'll do the central Kathmandu one on my own.

As I wandered along my walk, I took notice of endless shops selling t-shirts and other shirts--just in case.  Had decided that if my suitcase didn't arrive today, I'd buy a new shirt or two---the shirts are distinctive, and cheap, and light weight, which are all desirable.  

Also stopped at a nice looking pashmina shop to get a lesson about pashmina.  As is true of so many things, there are gradations.  Don't know how valuable this information will be, and don't know how far up the "niceness" scale I want to go.  (Have always found good champagne for $10-12 a bottle and excellent dark chocolate truffles for lower-than-Godiva prices---a gourmet I'm not, I guess, but I don't know about my pashmina scale.)

Ate local for lunch again--at a restaurant termed a momo factory because it's known for the best momos in Kathmandu.  (Momos, I've learned, are dumplings--steamed, deep-fat fried, or fried, with various fillings--buffalo, pork, chicken, vegetarian, probably seafood but I haven't seen those yet.)  Went with the chicken this time--I'm afraid I may have still smelled of water buffalo from last night.

Have also become reaquainted with lassie--the drink, not the dog.  It's yogurt-based, wonderfully cool.  Can come regular, or sweetened, with or without fruit flavor.  I'm partial to sweetened, and when available, banana or passion fruit.  Had three today.

Back to the hotel to find--no suitcase.  Called the travel agent, "good news--it's at the airport.  but they need your signature."  I suggested going with the agent myself--didn't want further hassles.  So he picked me up, we barreled out to the airport, I retrieved my bag, came back and immediately brushed my teeth, changed my shirt, took off my shoes and very dirty socks, put on my sandals and felt wonderfully improved.

Five more team members arrived today, another last night.  So there are now 9 of us in Kathmandu, though I haven't met three of them yet.  Others arrive tomorrow.  So I'm slowly getting into team leader mode.  Don't know what that means, just know it's happening.

Talked with a young man today who was here last week, during the demonstrations.  Pretty much as I expected (and feared)--absolutely nothing to do, nothing open, just sat in his hotel room watching bad TV (any other kind?), and waiting.  Fortunately for us, the strikes/demonstrations are over.  For now.  Hoping for at least the next two weeks, too.

Nepal: First Impressions

And so the adventure begins.  Three planes, four airports, three times through security, 30+ hours, and I get off the airplane in Kathmandu.  The only part that concerned me was during our stop in Dhaka, Bangladesh.  Most of the passengers got off.  The rest told to stay on.  Security check to make sure all the remaining bags belonged to people who remained on the plane.  All did, except one.  Mmmmm.  Then someone remembered that the bag had been placed in the overhead bin by a young man, dressed in white clothes and hat of a Moslem, who had gotten off the plane.  (He was the only person who wasn't southeast Asian, Asian or European, and the only one dressed in that unique way.)  Flight attendants casually removed the suitcase and off we went.

Then the wait for my suitcase to come off.  Anxiety grows as more and more bags come, none of them mine.  And then, all bags are off, and mine isn't there.  Report to the "mishandled baggage" desk, complete the form, and emerge to the welcome sign with my name on it and the person picking me up smiling.  I love that.

To the hotel (it's now about 11:00 in the evening) through the quiet streets of the city.  Very little traffic, nothing's open.  Arrive at the hotel, informed that there is no electricity (more about that later), but no problem--nothing to unpack anyway!  Then realized that in my dark room, especially in my totally dark bathroom, I didn't know the layout--had to grope around to distinguish between the toilet and the sink but did. 

Pigeons outside my window greet me in the pre-dawn hour.  Downstairs for breakfast.  Choice of "continental", "American" or "Indian."  Go with the American today--will step out tomorrow with the Indian.  

Meet with Manisha, the local Habitat coordinator, to review various details.  She's a delightful person, has hosted 32 teams previously.  Will not actually be with us, though, since her sister's being married this weekend.  Typically, a wedding is a week-long event for the family.  But because of the recent political disturbances, they are shortening it to two days.  About 450 people on Saturday, and "only" 150 on Sunday.

Then off to wander the streets a bit.  By this time, they are busy--with a few cars, lots of scooters, and many people-powered rickshaws.  Lots of horn-tooting, too.  Pedestrians seem to have no rights or priority--you simply look out for whatever vehicle(s) may be coming your way.  A little more challenging for me because Nepal drives on the left side so traffic is coming from the opposite direction than I would have thought.  

A new question to ask:  "what is the electricity schedule?"  About 10 years ago, when the growth of the country had outpaced the electrical infrastructure, they decided to have scheduled rotating blackouts--every area, across the country, only exceptions being places like hospitals.  The schedule is different each day.  So today (Thursday), the area where our hotel is had electricity this morning, no electricity from 12-6, then back on from 6-3 a.m. Friday, then off until 9:00 a.m.  Businesses often have generators so they can have power during the off-peak times.  But otherwise, you simply adapt to it.  And there's a printed schedule for the week posted at the front desk.

Ventured out for lunch.  Very pleasant place (the Lonely Planet Guide is my resource for everything) and discovered that food is quite inexpensive and alcohol is expensive, which makes sense to me.  But even combined, the total is very modest.  And the food was great, the beer most welcome.

Am staying in a very tourist-oriented part of the city.  Most the signs are in English.  My favorite so far is "High Peed Internet Service."

Endless numbers of pashmina shops.  Since pashmina is made from the under hair of mountain goats, I'm wondering whether there really are this many mountain goats, or whether they're all naked, or whether it isn't all really pashmina.

Also endless numbers of money exchange shops.  All with the same rate (fixed daily by the government.)  How would you decide?

No sign of American fast food.  Closest I've seen so far is Mc. Donal's Fast Food Tandoori.  (No "billions served" yet though.)

In the spirit of "when in Kathmandu...." had supper at Yak Restaurant.  Had what they're known for---buff(alo) momo (being a predominantly Hindu country, cow isn't an option) and tonga (hot millet beer---a thermos of hot water poured over millet I guess, let steep, sip.)   (Yak wasn't on the menu as far as I could see.)  And to complete the native spirit, a squat toilet.

As I'm walking down these main streets, I'm thinking about my sister, who honeymooned here 40+ years ago.  She liked the finer things in life and loved traveling in Europe.  I never asked her about her experience here--of course, having been living for a few weeks in New Delhi, she would have experienced some of the reality of a 3rd world country.  But still, I can't imagine her wandering the streets of Kathmandu and enjoying it.  But there are probably high-end hotels and restaurants somewhere.  Just not in my line of sight.

Will venture further tomorrow.  Enough for now.

Macedonia journal: 2008

Negotino, Macedonia: 2008

Friday, May 30: Arrival

 

So I'm hoping that getting here isn't half the fun.

 

Began well.  Easy trip to Philly, train into downtown (SEPTA still doesn't run on schedule--some things never change), pleasant walk around Center City to Jim's on South Street for a fantastic authentic cheesesteak ("one Whiz w/o") (some things never change, which is good), more walking including seeing the Kimmel Center for the Peforming Arts (still a dream when we left Philly 10 years ago), train back to the airport (Senior Citizen rate--$1, I love being old), through security, exit row seat with a vacant seat beside me to Zurich, doze most of the way, arrive around 8 a.m., whisk through passport control, baggage claim, and customs.  And then the fun begins.

 

Needed to check in with Macedonia Airlines for my flight to Skopje.  No one around to do that.  After two information desk stops and four check-in lines ("Go to row 8." "No, go to ticket counter." "No, go to row 4." "No, go to row 7.") the man said "yes."  Then asked for my ticket.  Said "this isn't a ticket." (I had accidentally discarded my paper ticket several months ago--that's another story--and had it reissued by US Air on what look like old computer cards.  Apparently, nothing like that in Macedonia. "The man didn't have the right form")  After phone calls and conversations, finally said "ok, I'll check you in--you're lucky."

 

Bag now checked, back through passport control, then the search for the dayrooms.  Lots of walking, lots of signs...until the last turn, when there wasn't a sign.  Through and back from security (fortunately, nothing like TSA--nothing's like TSA), and after 2 hours, arrived at the dayroom area.  It was heaven-sent.  Quiet, a bed with a feather duvet and feather pillow (turns out I'm allergic to feathers, at least, those feathers), 4 hours of prone sleep, preceded and followed by a hot shower.  Back to the waiting area, quick breakfast (at 3:00 in the afternoon), on to the gate.  Check in at the gate.  "Ticket, please."  "This isn't a ticket."  Explanation, conversation, phone calls, supervisor arrives, all others are boarding the bus for the plane.  Finally, "ok, board."  Figured that since I had a known reservation, and my bag was on board, I'd eventually get on, and I did.

 

Planes I fly on have their names on the outside, along with fancy logos.  Macedonia Airlines?  Not so much.  Absolutely nothing on the outside.  Plain.  Piling in/on.  Made me think of "cattle call" (and also, "extraordinary rendition".)  Absolutely full, with seats as close as they can be (impossible to cross my legs, reclining button doesn't work for any seats.)  Interior signs in English and Spanish, which suggests its origin.  But hey, the plane takes off, lands on time, baggage arrives (but with broken handle, so will need to be gentle) so what's not to like?  Choice of sandwiches (ham and cheese, cheese, or fish) but by the time it gets to my row (#10), just "fish" and "cheese."  Went for the cheese.

 

Darko was to meet me from the hotel.  Claim my (broken handle) bag, go out to look for Darko....and of course, no Darko.  Select another taxi, negotiate the fare (20 euros, $35, I protest, say I don't have that much) back to the airport to an ATM, get some local currency, and off we go.  Arrive at hotel, meet today's roommate (Matt), head across a couple of streets for some food and beverage (actually, just water and beer), back to the hotel to have "dinner" (beer, banana from hotel) and internet. 

 

So, all's well, it's 9:30 here, time to think about stretching out, going to sleep, perchance to dream, and exploring Skopje tomorrow.

 

Best to all.  The other half (or more ) of the fun is ahead of me.

Saturday, May 31:  Old City, New City.  I love wandering around cities.  Especially on weekends, when people are more relaxed, strolling, taking coffee, looking in shops, etc. etc.

 

Skopje is a fairly old city and very, very walkable.  I think it was originally settled in the 500's (but probably am wrong), along a river that wanders through it, with the remains of a fortress on a hill high above the city, looking over it and protecting it from whomever.  There's some of the old city streets left.

 

But mostly, it's a fairly new city.  Partly because of a devastating earthquake in 1963 which leveled most of the buildings.  And partly because of the split-up of Yugoslavia, making this the political and economic center of a new, smaller country.  So most of the buildings are newer, and the city itself is more vibrant.  About 600,000 people (out of a total population of some 2.5 million in the country), and being the center of things, makes it more cosmopolitan (though everything's relative.)

 

After a great night's sleep (in a real bed) and good breakfast (sort of Friday's meals compressed into one), some of us headed off for a walk to the train station and bus station.  Others needed to get information about their post-build travels, I just went along for reconnoitering.  After they got most of what they needed (a couple is now re-thinking taking a train to Venice, which involved several connections, layovers in various city's train stations, etc. and is contemplating flying directly to Rome instead--gave them my sister's admonition--"how would your life be different with that extra $200?"), we headed off for exploring the city itself.  Meandered along the river, which is strung with cafes, all inviting, most with sofa-like seating under awnings.  Then across the old historic stone bridge to the old city area, which is narrow cobblestone streets, lined with shops and restaurants, now pedestrian-only.  Matt and I then split off from the rest (tired of stopping at every jewelry shop), ended up at the city bazaar area, which is semi-open air shops selling all manner of fruits, vegetables, shoes, t-shirts, saws, hammers, sunglasses, whatever.  Narrow passageways, not too crowded considering it's Saturday.  Very lively, though, and fascinating in its own way.

 

On the way back, stopped at the National Gallery of Macedonia, an art museum in a former Turkish bath.  The building itself is fascinating.  Many rooms, mostly small, connected by narrow passageways and arched doorways.  Interesting art, mostly from the 90's and 00's, so no "Soviet realism" there.  I noted my ticket number, though. 000890.  Don't know what that counts from, but it doesn't sound like a big crowd.

 

Then to lunch at one of the numerous riverside cafes.  A sandwich and a large draught of Laska, the local dark beer.  And leisurely people-watching and river watching. 

 

The city is also a curious mixture of Moslem and Greek Orthodox.  About 60/40, I'm told, but don't know which is the 60.  So lots of mosques, and lots of churches.  According to the taxi driver (my noted authority), they live harmoniously.  Haven't heard the calls to prayer yet, but have seen some of the lines of men heading to the mosque.

 

Interesting discussion with the taxi driver about the price of gas.  Here, it's around $7.50 per gallon.  (Makes us look like whiners at $4.)  I also notice I see no SUVs.  Absolutely none.  And very few vans (except truly commercial vehicles.)  Just small, fuel efficient cars.  Which means they've already done what they can to get more miles per gallon.  Now it's just fewer miles, or more of their income going to gas.

 

I'm generally struck by a low but decent standard of living.  Very few begging, very few wide-eyed waifs, very little incredibly poor housing.  None of the grinding poverty I've seen elsewhere.  This may be different whereever it is we are building.  We'll see.

 

Which brings me to tomorrow.  We're leaving in the afternoon for our build site.  Original thought was Veles, a town about 40 miles from here.  But Mike learned last night that they didn't get the necessary permit.  Something about the office being closed because of the election (national elections are tomorrow.)  So instead, we're going somewhere else.  So as of yesterday, the build site learns its getting a team of 12 volunteers for 8 days, needs to have work arranged, materials arranged, etc.  And change of hotel, meals, etc.  Just some more reasons why I will never be a team leader.  I love being a follower, and letting all this happen around me, with no responsibility except showing up, not complaining, and enjoying.  All of which is very easy for me to do.

 

Off shortly to dinner, then perhaps back to the river promenade for a little seeing of the action on Saturday night.  Tomorrow will be quiet--the shops and stores are all closed (either because it's Sunday or because of the election, don't know which) but will do some more walking and exploring before leaving the big city for......?

 

June 1: New American Friend

 

Growing up, my father referred to FDR as "that man."  (My father thought Barry Goldwater was a little too liberal, so FDR was simply unspeakable.) Now my new friend is FDR.  Turns out a majorish street near our hotel is FDR Boulevard.  Several times, when returning to the hotel from "downtown" and I'm just beginning to wonder whether I know where I'm going, I encounter FDR Boulevard.  And know I'm within a few blocks from "home."  Thank you, FDR.

 

Had a great night last night.  First to dinner with 5 others at a good Macedonian restaurant.  (Our leader has been here before and knew the place well.)  Grilled meat seems to be the usual thing.  Choices included veal liver, knitted meat, chicken kabob, chicken kabob shaslick (with tomato and onion), pork kabob, pork kabob shaslick.  Went with the pork kabob shaslick and it was wondeful.  Grilled slowly over an open fire for 40 minutes, accompanied by great Macedonian bread and plenty of local beer.  Very peppery (leaking from all pores above collar, including the nose) but tasty.

 

I first encountered squat toilets in China, and I'm told they are everywhere in Japan (and other parts of Asia probably.)  Didn't know they were also in Europe.  But at last night's sort of upscale restaurant, the toilets were...squat toilets.  And no "for the elderly" option.  Quite a conversation piece for those in our group who were unfamiliar with them.  But at least, they did have a nice flush system, instead of a bucket.

 

After dinner, several of us headed for the city square.  Last night was the first of a 9-night festival celebrating something (it was in Macedonian.)  A few vendors, some street performers, a small parade (8 Harleys, 2 clowns on stilts, a ragtag 6-piece "band" playing something, not always together), and lots of people just walking along, enjoying the scene.  Families, older folks, whatever.  Left after a while, but I understand that after the kids and older folks left, the scene picked up a bit, but nothing wild.

 

I forget that there are two kinds of bottled water: "gas" and "no gas."  First time, buying it in the supermarket, I bought the "no gas" kind (without paying attention--I did have a 50/50 chance of success.)  Last night, coming back and stopping at the local convenience store, the odds caught up with me and I (accidentally) got the "gas" version.  Brushing my teeth with "gassy" water is a gum-tingling experience.

 

Parking is strictly prohibited on many streets, but that apparently doesn 't extend to sidewalks.  So walking can be tricky.  Squeeze along the cars, or walk in the street.  I've chosen the latter.  It's working.  So far.

 

Parks in the city are wonderful spaces.  Open air, leafy, great places for families and older folks, especially on Sunday.  Wandered over, past some great clay court tennis courts, and just took in the scene.  Kids on bikes, couples walking and talking.  Beautiful weather--sunny, 80's, not too humid, pleasant breeze.  (Though one thermometer this afternoon said 38 Centigrade--100 Farenheit.  But as they said to the chicken in the oven, "it's a dry heat.)

 

Across from the park is the U.S. Embassy.  Concrete barriers, high solid metal fence topped with razor wire, guard station.  "May I take a picture of my embassy?"  "No.  It's regulations."

 

Around the corner from our hotel is the Austrian Embassy.  Pleasant building, simply fence, no guard station.  No guards.

 

Several times, individuals have said "American? Thank you." to me.  They are Kosovars, appreciating U.S. support for their independence from Serbia.  Sort of what some thought we'd get in Baghdad.  Perhaps if we hadn't gone in with "shock and awe" and an endless occupation....?

 

I'm reading Halberstam's book about the Korean War.  Excellent.  MacArthur said "we can do this with one hand tied behind our back."  Wrong.  The military said in Vietnam "we can do this with one hand tied behind our back."  Wrong.  Rummy said "it will be over in 6 days."  Wrong.  Why don't we ever learn?

 

Back through the old bazaar area (very closed), up to the remains of the fortress (very quiet, a few couples enjoying one another), great views (of the city).  Back down to a riverside cafe for a leisurely late lunch on a sofa (ahhh).  Flatbread wrapped around Danish blue cheese and tomato, sealed and warmed to a meltingly soft soup.  Big, cold draught Laska (my favorite.)  Watching folks biking and walking by along the river.  Es la vida.

 

Leaving soon for whatever town we're going to.  (Might even know its name by tomorrow.)  Begin working in the morning, hoping early (dawn is at 5, so 7 would be good--get to work before the heat of the day.)  Our project may entail building a 2nd floor onto an existing house.  Deconstructing the roof.  Building the new support structure, floor and walls, then re-roofing. 

 

Or it may not.

 

 

Monday, June 2:  Negotino, That’s the Name

 

Rode down to Negotino after picking up a couple of new arrivals at the airport.  The town is about an hour south of Skopje, in a valley, noted for agriculture, especially grapes and wine-making.  (Who knew about Macedonian wine?)  About 15,000 people.  We're staying in "the best hotel in town."  (It's also the only hotel in town.)  It's undergoing renovation and upgrading.  (We're staying in the rooms that haven't yet been renovated and upgraded.)  We have all the essential amenities--a bed, flush toilet, hot water showers, cold beer, decent food, and intermittent wi-fi.  (Several team members have laptops, so when the wi-fi's working, we have internet.  Good, since in town, there are 2 failed/closed internet cafes.  Rumor has it that a 3rd actually is open and functioning, with free internet, which  may explain why the others closed.  But no one's actually been able to go there when they were open.)

 

I've been musing about the relation between culture and pronunciation.  The town is pronounced locally as Ne-got-in-o with the emphasis on the "got."  Very Slavic.  A more romantic language/culture might pronounce the same thing Neg-o-tin-o.  With the emphasis on the "tin".  Try saying it both ways and listen--which would have the friendlier sound?  And does language reflect culture, or culture reflect language?

 

What a surprise--the project is as described!  The house is by far the largest and fanciest I've worked on (outside the U.S.)  It is about 50% larger (650 square feet), with indoor plumbing and running water, electricity, tile in the bathroom, etc.  We're adding a full 2nd floor--3 bedrooms, kitchen, living/dining room with a separate entrance.

 

The house is occupied by a family of 5--a grandfather, son and daughter-in-law, and two children (boy and girl), all living together on the 1st floor currently.  The 4 will move upstairs, leaving the grandfather (peacefully) alone.  There is also a wonderful garden on the property where they grow all manner of vegetables and some fruits.  In a very small village about 15 minutes out from Negotino.  Very peaceful, very picturesque.

 

Construction methods are also the most advanced I've seen.  Electricity, cement mixer, limited power tools.  They had already removed the roof, built the floor/ceiling, and built the exterior walls.  We will work on building the interior walls (of brick), plastering everything including ceilings, putting in the tile in the bathroom, building a concrete patio and walkway around the house, and perhaps other things.

 

Turns out the family had to be talked into letting us work on their house.  Volunteers on Habitat project is a new concept here.  They had a loan that would have enabled them to cover the entire cost of the project, using hired help.  When the Veles project got delayed, and Habitat had to find something for us to do, they talked with the family and finally, they consented to "give us a try."  So quality was of utmost concern--would we measure up to what was done?

 

Having much previous experience on building walls under the watchful eye of professional masons in different countries, I must admit I was unimpressed with the quality of the work already done.  So it was no problem to match it.  In fact, I didn't do any masonry work--found I really wasn't happy doing what I considered a sloppy job.  Not that it wasn't structurally sound (though I'm not sure about that.)  It's just that I've been taught by some fairly exacting masons who demand level, straight courses.  And these don't.  Bottom line, though is the family is extraordinarily pleased with our work.  Set the bar low enough, and we can easily meet it.  So with our help, they'll be able to pay back their loan more quickly since they won't have to borrow as much. 

 

Weather here is perfect for building--warm, but not hot, some cloud cover helping reduce the heat, nice breeze, low humidity.  Couldn't ask for better.  Cool nights, open window make sleeping good, despite no A/C (it's in the upgraded/renovated rooms.)  Other than a lack of internet cafes the town meets our needs.  And for the 2nd time this year, I find myself in a town at election time.  Parliamentary elections were Sunday with the polls closing at 7.  Returns were in about 9:30 (somebody won) and the celebrating began.  Went into town center with others to watch the festivities.  Lots of horn blowing, singing, flag-waving, drinking, and general happiness.  Most of the crowd seemed below voting age but that didn't stop them from celebrating whatever. 

 

Enough for now.  Will send more later if/when the wi-fi is operating.

 

 

June 3:  Then & Now

 

Macedonia became independent from the former Yugoslavia in 1991.  Some of the other parts were in wars after Tito's death and the break-up of the former Soviet Union.  So Macedonia took the opportunity to declare itself independent as well.  Apparently, noone complained or thought they were worth going to war over.

 

Since 1991, the economy has shrunk.  GDP is 50% of its level in 1991.  The population is about the same (immigration balanced off births and deaths) so the income level per capita has dropped.  Poverty rate is about 40%, unemployment rate is about 25%.

 

So I have asked several people to compare life as part of Yugoslavia with life in Macedonia today.  Each of them said essentially the same thing: we like being independent, life in Yugoslavia was more secure (the social safety net existed).  But the most striking thing they all said was about something totally unexpected to me.  When they were part of Yugoslavia, they could get travel anywhere--they didn't need visas to go to Europe, could easily get them to the U.S., could go to  Asia, etc.  Now, as Macedonia, they can't even go to many parts of former Yugoslavia without visas, which aren't readily available to them.  And to go to Europe, or the U.S., or Asia, they need visas that aren't readily available.  They have to apply, wait in line for a clerk to peruse their application, and hope it will be approved.  As one said to me, "it's humiliating--a low level clerk decides whether I can travel or not."  And mostly, the answer is "no visa."  (Receiving countries, such as the U.S., don't want to give visas to lower income people, fearing they will come to the U.S. and not leave.  Europe doesn't want to give them because of Greece's opposition to the name.  Etc.)

 

So I began to think, how would I feel if I no longer could travel outside my country?  Knowing of my anger at TSA and how readily I feel we've given up some rights to the security theater, I quickly realized what they are saying--I cannot imagine how I'd deal with suddenly, and permanently, being denied the opportunity to travel outside the U.S.  And I began to understand.

 

I've also become a little questioning about the Habitat model in poor countries.  Turns out Macedonia is leading the way in some other programs.  They began here with a renovations/restorations fund--microfinancing housing improvement projects, partnering with a bank to provide lower interest loans.  Strikes me as a great extension.  Only recently did they start to build single family houses.

 

The Veles project (if it happens) is also interesting.  Land provided by the government for a complex of 11 buildings, in various sizes and configurations, to provide housing for 50+ families (some apartments, some small houses, some townhouse-like units.)  Looks very attractive.

 

And the best indication of the change at Habitat is the metric used for affliliates to measure progress annually:  families served, rather than houses built.  Huge change, but one I applaud.

 

I became one with my tool today.  A pick.  We were "excavating" the area for the sidewalk/patio around 2 sides of the house.  I picked, others shoveled the dirt and moved it around to the other side to level the ground, or took it out to a pile elsewhere.  Then put in a layer of gravel, tamp it down with a handmade tamp (two sticks and a piece of 4x4.)  Watered it down, and tomorrow, perhaps pour the concrete.

 

Another great weather day.  Now, off to town for dinner.  Food has been excellent, beer is good, and last night, at the "Welcome Dinner" I tried and enjoyed a local drink.  Similar to brandy, though made with grapes (is the best description I can get.)  Loved, it.  And loved others' who didn't like theirs.  They appreciated me drinking theirs so as not to offend, and I was glad to do so. ( Much better than drinking fermented mare's milk for others in Krygzstan.)

 

Definitely enough for now.

 

 

June 5:  Nailing Up

 

Another couple of great days.  A good, full day of work yesterday.  Then, a day off today, in part to do a little local politicking, in part to do some sightseeing, in part to simply have some down time.   Received this morning by the mayor of Negotino.  Quite a big affair--spent an hour with him, listening to him, asking questions, etc.  He was a typical politician in some ways.  Lots of "in the future," "plans being developed," "looking forward," "working on," "thinking about," etc.  (Couldn't help but think about Google, where the only words of consequence are "completed," "shipped," developed," etc.--what academic deans refer to as visible products rather than merely idea.)   I asked him the question I've asked others---Yugoslavia vs. Macedonia.  His first response was the politically correct one---"I prefer to look forward rather than looking back."  He then went on to talk a little about looking back.  And once again, the same thing came out---the loss of economic security, the loss of the middle class, and the loss of the freedom to travel anywhere they wanted without a visa.  The more I hear these answers, the more struck I am by the complete absence of anything about "freedom gained."  The American view of Yugoslavia and the rest of Eastern Europe is repressed, absence of personal freedoms, etc.  which were then gained with independence.  Yet to all I've talked with, no mention of these.  Rather, the loss of economic security and the freedom to travel.   Went to Stobi, a Roman ruins about 10 miles from here.  Built in the 400-500 a.d. period, burned by the Goths (Germans) in the 600s, and abandoned.  Now slowly being excavated.  Always interesting to see the examples of Christian churches built on the site of a Jewish synagogue (we were already doing that in the 5th century), the durability of the Roman building methods (how much of anything we build can reasonably be expected to endure 100 years, let alone 1500+), the knowledge of how to build an amphitheater with perfect acoustics from the stage up to the favored seats with no amplification, the knowledge to build a series of underground aqueducts to bring water down from the mountain, feed into a area to be heated, then distributed through underground pipes to heat buildings.   A few of us asked to be dropped off in town to grab some lunch.  Walking into town, quick shower came.  We stopped to wait under an awning.  Started chatting with the owner, who quickly lowered the awning more to protect us.  Then, rain stopped, off we went to sidewalk cafe.  Occasionally remind myself how wonderful it is to be able to experience these serendipitous moments.   I've occasionally heard the phrase "built like a brick shithouse."  Usually applied to some beefy football player.  Gained a different insight into this yesterday.  One of the tasks was to deconstruct the brick outhouse, long since abandoned when they got indoor plumbing, now needed to be removed so we could pour a larger patio. Didn't take many swings of a sledge to completely destroy the thing.  So much for "built like......"   My main task yesterday was nailing up a set of wires for creating a mesh to hold insulation.  Involved some of my favorite activities--ladder, nailing over my head, repeating.  A simple task, one that took most of the day.  Especially nice since I had wanted to help pour the side patio I had helped prepare, but the head mason arrived to actually do that, so I was happy to have another task.   Watched with fascination the symphony of language yesterday.  The grandfather was talking with another Macedonian at lunch.  I cannot understand any of the words, so I wasn't sidetracked by their meaning.  Instead, I could simply listen and watch the mixture of sounds, intonation, and their coordination with hand, eye, face, head and body movements.  Would have loved to have recorded it.  It was beautiful.   Noticed something small and black on my leg a couple of days ago.  Didn't think anything of it.  Happened to be sitting in the sunlight at lunch and realized it has legs and a spot on its back.  A tick.  So, I'll pull it off when I get back, cleanse it.  And if anyone knows what a spotted tick means, don't tell me.  I'll find out the old fashioned way--by experiment.   Back to work tomorrow, half day Saturday.  Weather continues to be wonderful for our work and for touring.  Hope it continues.   June 6: Town Doin’s   As I walk into town from the hotel, I pass by a factory that is assembling clothing.  Staffed entirely by women, seems to be running all the time in various shifts.  Our homeowner, Sonja, works at one of these--actually, supervises about 400 women.  The mayor said that these shops can't find enough women to work.  "Why not men?" I asked.  "Women do it better."  My guess--it's cultural (women's work) and/or economic (they work for less) is more likely the real reason.   Also noticed that many of the trees and lampposts have paper notices attached to them--letter size pieces of paper, with a photograph (usually), dates, etc.  Turns out these are obituaries, noting usual--name, birthdate and deathdate, details about the time and place of funeral, whose in charge of the services, etc.  Multiple notices, placed on trees and lightposts along the main streets.  All seem to be fairly timely, so they must also be responsible for pulling them down "after."   On a main side street (oxymoron?) off the central town square, there's a farmers' market on Thursdays (and perhaps Sunday--we'll see.)  Stopped by to see mounds of fresh produce.  One person bought a large bunch of bananas for 10 dinars--$.25.  Another guy bought 1 banana for 10 dinars.  (I think he didn't do a good job of bargaining.)  Compare that to anything we might pay.  And I doubt that bananas grow here--they must come in from "somewhere else."  Whatever the market will bear.   Workday today got a little long.  Perhaps because the new construction site superintendent (the other one left yesterday on her long-planned vacation) wasn't quite able to keep a smooth enough work flow to keep all of us engaged all of the time.  Perhaps because I got the team cold (no big deal--just feeling a little scratchy, a little less energy, and a little more irritable) which made me less tolerant with occasional moments of idleness.  Spent much of the time with pick and shovel, digging out the trench for the discharge pipe from the new outhouse (which we'll eventually build) to the pipe connected to whatever the indoor toilet is connected to.  (The new outhouse will be for the use those working in the garden [translation: non-family] so they won't have to go into the house to use the indoor toilet [translation: they're not welcome to do so.])  Nice, mindless work with very visible progress and result.    Also did a little mortaring upstairs, and for the first time ever, succeeded in flinging mortar (the preferred, professional way) rather than applying it.  I'm so proud.   A brand new swimming pool is opening here Sunday, adjacent to an also-new hotel (not quite ready.)  The contractor involved in building the pool is also involved in our house project.  So he invited us to the party tomorrow night.  And to "stop by" after work today to see the pool and have a drink.  We declined, but that turned out not to be an option.  So we trooped off the van, went up to the pool (gorgeous and huge, complete with water slide, several islands, lounge chairs, tables and chairs, sofas, etc.)  It then became clear that we were to sit down for a drink.  Several rounds of them.    Realized today that we'd had the usual breakthrough---local workers, family, and us became just a bunch of humans, having fun together, no cultural/language/class barriers, working together on a project.  Usually takes about this long, but I'm always surprised (and pleased) when it happens.  Joking with one another, laughing, guy-type things back and forth, etc.  Real people, connecting.   When we were meeting with the Mayor yesterday, I happened to mention that I had been introduced to the local drink, rakia, and loved it.  Last night, at dinner (the 3rd time at the same restaurant), our waiter brought me a glass and invited me to try it--'"it's a special kind."   Couldn't decline, and didn't.  Today, at the pool, the same waiter (the contractor also owns the restaurant, so his waiter was there today to serve us drinks) told me "the rakia last night was compliments of the mayor."  The man's a good politician.   Got a glimpse of Major Farley today.  (Our leader, Mike, is retired military.)  Mike had gone ahead of us to arrange for dinner.  The uncontrolled long stop at the pool, plus a scheduled stop at a ceramics studio, led to it being impossible to go back to the hotel and clean up before dinner unless we pushed the time a little later (which would be no problem--we eat around 6:30, and the locals don't eat until 8 or 9.)  Mike insisted we could not go back and clean up, had to sit down immediately for dinner because he had made the reservation for then.  I demurred (wasn't all that hungry anyway and will eat later in town), most others succumbed.  Sensitivity to group dynamics?  Not so much.   It goes so fast.  Two weeks ago I remember thinking "next Friday, Macedonia."  Wondering what it would be like, what the group would be like, the build, etc.  And now, tomorrow, I'll start thinking "next Saturday in Cary."  Nothing wrong with that--indeed, lots and lots of right.  And certainly no sadness about that.  Simply a reminder to myself to savor each of these days, since there will be no more "Saturdays in Macedonia" for me.   We have a very busy Saturday planned--work, then touring, then the finals of a pro basketball game (not NBA) in another town--so we'll be busy all day and evening, not back until midnight or so.  Should be fun.  Sunday, a slower day, but still some touring (winery, including picnic, and rakia, since they make it there.)   Hope all have a great weekend.  I will.   June 8:  Feeling At Home   So after separating from the group for dinner Friday, I walked around town a little and thought "what I really want to have is the pasta dish at my favorite restaurant, plus a little rakia."  So I headed off there.  Walked in, some of the wait staff knows me (though our regular guy wasn't there tonight), order my favorite rakia (yes, I've developed a favorite), and the same pasta dish I had several nights ago (pasta is my comfort food.)  Enjoyed sipping the rakia, and a 2nd, while listening to American music on the sound system, other folks (locals) coming in, since it was now 8 or so.  Then in comes "my" waiter, along with a couple of his friends, on his night off.  We greet each other (he's also the one who brings our lunch each day, and I've spoken with him each day he's come.)  And then my waiter brings another rakia, compliments of my friend.  And my pasta comes, much better than before, since it was prepared for me, rather than as part of 12 dinners of various things.  And I feel at home.  And I think, this doesn't happen if I'm "just" a tourist.   (On my last visit there, last night, I inquired about buying one of the glasses the rakia comes in.  It's distinctive in shape, nothing otherwise special about it.  Just has great memories.  Not surprisingly, a glass comes over to me--"compliments of the house.")   One of my favorite Macedonian foods is burek.  It's phyllo-like dough, cut into pie-shaped wedges, filled with ground meat, or feta-like cheese, or other things.  We've had it twice for lunch, along with schostka salad (tomatoes, cucumbers, feta-like cheese, a little oil and vinegar.)  Simply fantastic.  Haven't figured out why I like cucumber salad here and not at home.  Maybe the cucumbers are fully ripe here?  At least, they're sweeter, and smoother.  Anyway, many of us like this and have asked for that to become a standard lunch.   Strumice vs. Kvalik.  7th game of the championship of the Macedonia pro basketball league.  Milan (our local coordinater) is from Strumice (about 1 1/1 hours from here.)  Invites us to the game.  We go.  Arrive 90 minutes ahead of the start.  Arena already 2/3 full.  Ear-splitting disco music playing.  Large groups of local fans (the only kind in the arena) cheering wildly, back and forth, while the home team practices.  We take seats front row, courtside, right behind the backboard.  (Milan's father runs a company that produces the uniforms for the home team.  It's all connected.)   60 minutes before game time, arena is filled to capacity.  Tickets are free(!) and absolutely nothing's for sale--no beverages, no food, no souvenirs, nothing.  Nothing's allowed into the arena, either.  Or out--not even to go to the bathroom (4 hours later, after the game was over, relief.)  Cacaphonous boos and hisses when the opposition takes the court (talk about hometown crowd!)   Game begins, preceded by local lady singing/dancing to the team song, which is repeated endlessly throughout the game.  Lead jockies back and forth.  Game-tying 3-point shot (by "our" team) in final 5 seconds.  Overtime not so good.  Game over, sadness (for those who cared), and yet another unique experience on a GV trip.  Absolutely nothing like it in any pro sport in the U.S.   Came into town this morning for coffee and pastries at a sidewalk cafe (the only day we're free of the hotel's boring breakfast) and watch the town wake up.  Notice a flow of people coming the other way, all dressed completely in black, some carrying small bouquets, others a little fruit or bread.  All headed for the cemetery.  Customary to visit the grave at the time of the funeral, then 40 days later, 6 months later, 1 year later, and periodically thereafter.  Have a little food, leave some for the departed.  And remember.   Later in the morning, off to St. George Monastery, outside of town.  A beautiful 13th century place (before the Turks conquered and burned things) now being restored.  Quiet, mountains in the background.  We're there for a few hours, bringing things for a barbecue.  After a little bit, I realize it's almost time for my Meeting for Worship at home.  So I have one of my own in Negotino.  A couple of people happen to ask me my religion.  So a little discussion about Quakers ("I've never actually known a Quaker," "wasn't Richard Nixon a Quaker?")   Plan then to go to a local winery for tour and wine-tasting.  I decide I'm really done with being herded today, hop off in town, some restful recharging time alone.   Back to work tomorrow.  Hoping it will be better, like it was the 1st three days when Vendi was the supervisor.  Actually felt compelled to say to Constantino yesterday that I hoped he'd do better next week, more like Vendi (well, I said it a little more indirectly than that!)  He said he thought we were tired and really didn't work.  I assured him the contrary was true.  (And if he doesn't do better tomorrow, there will be insurrection, I fear.)   Hope all had a good weekend.  Time now to try and find some others, get some dinner, watch a little European football (some championship game is one.)  Best to all.   June 9:  He Heard Us   Arrived at the worksite to see that considerable preparation had been done.  Materials placed around the site, forms built for various concrete portions of the patio, Constantin briefing us on the array of tasks for the day and the people needed, assignments given, work begins.  Pleasant change from Saturday.   Volunteered for the building of the outdoor toilet brigade.  First dig the "fundaments" (foundation--Constantin's English is a little strained at times), then pour the concrete for them, then, after lunch, begin the building process.   I'm always happy when the mason-in-charge teaches me how he wants it, then observes me doing it, then blesses it (or not.)  So after showing me how he wanted it done, he motioned to have me do a row.  I did.  He came back, looked, tapped one block ever-so-slightly, said "dobra" and motioned me to continue.  Approval is so rewarding.   Regrettably, shortly after lunch, thunder and lightening, then a rainstorm, which eventually forced us to essentially stop outdoor work for the day.  But after work, the sun came out (naturally) so I'm hoping tomorrow we'll be able to resume building the outdoor toilet.  It's got my name on it (in terms of work projects.)   I'm reminded again how important it is to me to have some young people on the team.  We have 3 married couples--2 my age or older, 1 around 50.  Plus Mike (my age.)  And if I had only had them to hang around after work, I wouldn't be having as much fun.    There are also 4 young people, all first-timers, all in their late 20's.  They've been kind enough to include me in their after work socializing, at least as much as I want.  They're an interesting group, and I've really enjoyed spending time with them.  And since they have far greater capacity for drinking and not sleeping than I do, they still have plenty of time to be by themselves.   Talk beginning about what happens after this Friday--departure plans, where people are going, etc.  Another couple is leaving early Saturday morning, too--the airport supposedly doesn't open until 6 a.m., they have a 6:10 flight and I have a 6:30 flight.  Which certainly won't give the Macedonian Airlines people much time to puzzle over my odd-looking ticket before they wave me on.    Off to dinner at "our" restaurant while watching (yet more) European Cup football/soccer.  It's only the first round--endless amounts of games left.  But not for me (after this week at least.)   June 13:  Cleaning Up   Two more good work days.  Perfect weather (they really should publish a brochure showing these kinds of days as "typical"--they'd solve their tourist problem in one picture), and Constantino continues to get it and has the work well organized.   Having lost the "build a chimney" assignment, which was my passion, and accepted the "build an outdoor privy" assignment, I continued with the latter.  The fundaments having been dug and poured, now it was block time.  Mason taught me, then invited me to do it, I did it, he inspected, tamped ever so slightly, said "dobra" and signalled me to continue.  Happiness.   Worked most of the day doing that.  After lunch, finished the block work, then helped build the forms for the bond beam (concrete tying the whole thing together and providing the support for the roof) and the promise of doing the roof today.   During a pause in our work, I headed up the scaffolding for the chimney, laid a couple of courses, then back to the toilet.  (No humility here--my courses looked better than the others, and if I'd won the chimney-building assignment, they'd have had a nicer looking chimney.  But they're happy, the mason's happy, and they'll have a nice-looking outdoor toilet instead.  And yes, my toilet's walls look better than the interior walls built earlier.)   The family has a wonderful little puppy, Rex.  Don't know the breed, but he's all puppy.  Tail-wagging, eager, hasn't learned to bark yet, just sort of yelps.  Thoroughly enjoying all the attention.  And the scraps that mysteriously appear for him.  Actually had a stomach that looked a little full one day.  Over full, actually.  He'll really miss us.   Last work day turned out to be all stucco, all the time.  Was shifted from the build-a-toilet-roof detail to stuccoing the interior walls.  Best thing happened--I got a room of my own to do.  I love working on my own, my own terms and pace.  And fairly quickly remembered my stuccoing/plastering techniques.   Bicycle-riding, roller-skating, stuccoing/plastering--some skills never leave you.   At lunch, Grandpa asked whether we'd like to hear him play some typical Macedonian songs on his typical Macedonian instrument.  "Like Scotland" he said.  (Translation: bagpipe.)   "Of course."  (I always like it when the local people feel comfortable enough to want to share some of their more personal things with us.)   The instrument is very much like a bagpipe, made of some animal skin, blown and with some fingering holes for different tones.  He sat, though rather than walking around while playing.  The sound was sort of what I think a cat being tortured would sound like.   While waiting for the van after stopping work, a few of us wandered through the villlage.  Through the small town center with a WWII memorial with names inscribed, a convenience store, hardware store, etc., out along some vineyards with mountain background, up to a small farm with 6-7 ostriches strutting, looking curiously at us.    Back through the village, a house with a tall chimney topped by a stork's nest with both parents there.  Inches away from the nest, a TV antenna and satellite dish.  All seemed to be happy with the arrangment (wonder if the storklings get to intercept Sesame Street.)   Farewell dinner at our usual restaurant.  Never my favorite thing--too many people (25+), too much noise to have reasonable conversations, obligatory speeches saying formulaic things, and lengthy.  Around 11 or so, I did my disappearing act--went to the bathroom and didn't return.  (I don't do farewells very well.)   Drove yesterday to Lake Ohrid, a large, deep lake that is a tourist area for Macedonians and others.  Beautiful place with hills rising above the lake.  Wandered around the town of Ohrid itself, which has incredible number of churches (for some reason), winding cobblestone streets rising up from the lake, endless cafes along the lakefront, small hotels as well.  Fantastic place to hang out, look and wander.  (We didn't stay in town, though---instead, a hotel about 5 miles outside of town.  Who knows why.)   Another guy and I split from the group last night, went back into town, wandered the shopping streets, cafes, etc.  Eventually chose a liakeside restaurant, a table out on the patio directly above the lake, had a marvelous dinner watching the sun go down, thought "it doesn't get better than this."  A little more shopping, then a few rakija nightcaps at one of the myriad cafes waterfront.  Town bustling when we left it at 11.   Asked a clerk "credit card, cash or dollars" for a purchase.  "No dollars--they go.....well, you know."  Ouch.   Talking with a young man who works at our hotel.  He's 20.  He's been hired by Princess cruise line to begin work in January 2009, when he's 21.  (U.S. regulations require him to be 21.)  He'll work 3 6-month contracts, then will get his green card and visa "and I can go anywhere."  My guess is the cruise lines have worked a deal with our government to be able to hand out green cards as a reward for working for low wages for 18 months.  But his eyes lit up at the prospect.   A shop clerk asked me "whom do you favor--Obama or McCain?" I asked him who he favored.  "Clinton."  "Hillary or Bill?"  "Hillary.  Bill would be better, but that would require a change in law."  The guy is knowledgeable, and a politician.   Back into town this morning, then back to Skopje this afternoon, and flying all day tomorrow.  End of another wonderful adventure for me.  Hope all's well with you.