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.