tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-61046889510914435862024-03-07T11:46:20.387-07:00beccapiglet's stuff"It is hard to be brave," said Piglet, sniffling slightly, "when you're only a Very Small Animal."
Rabbit, who had begun to write very busily, looked up and said: "It is because you are a Very Small Animal that you will be Useful in the adventure before us."beccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01989838476792854572noreply@blogger.comBlogger269125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104688951091443586.post-32025742947590665202018-04-01T14:47:00.003-06:002018-04-01T21:10:17.979-06:0030 Day Challenge #3- Facebook free<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
For the month of March, I deactivated my Facebook account and deleted the app from my phone. A few months ago (in anticipation of this challenge and also in an effort to separate my personal and work life) I opened a "work" account that I only check/use on my work computer and is generally used to communicate with coworkers and volunteers, and to post on work related groups and pages. I continued to use this account, but I deactivated my personal account and did not use my work account outside of work hours.<br />
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Reflection: I feel like I have been wasting a lot of time on Facebook and this challenge forced me to think a little bit about how I am using my time. I did spend more time on Instagram and Twitter (I still don't get Snapchat, lol) but I find these platforms to be really different in terms of time-suckage. On Instagram, I find myself scrolling through the pictures, but there are not things to click on so, it is easier to limit- once I've seen all the pictures, I've seen all the pictures. Twitter, of course, can be a black hole of time-suckage too, if you let it. I think, because I don't actually follow all that many people and I don't spend my time actually tweeting, it is more manageable. Twitter is much less personal than facebook, and although I follow some people that I actually know, the majority of people I follow are reporters and famous people and I'm just generally less interested in spending all my time reading all about their lives.<br />
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My month off facebook coincidentally coincided with the big Cambridge Analytica scandal and a lot of people leaving facebook, but my decision to do it now had nothing to do with that. It was interesting to think about how much of our lives are being tracked and how that data is being used. It is something I am still thinking about.<br />
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What I felt like I was missing the most from facebook in my month off was actually personal connections with people I actually know, but might not see all that often. There are a certain percentage of my friends that I don't see/talk to too much in real life, but don't want to completely loose track of. Not being on facebook also made it harder to see people in real life. More and more now, events and invitations are going on facebook and I know that I missed at least one event that I might have gone to if I had known about it. I made an effort to make sure that I didn't really miss too much- mostly by texting people that I knew were organizing things, but this felt like a pain. I am part of two book clubs currently and both of them organize events and meetings on facebook. We don't meet at the same time/place every month, instead, we discuss plans in the facebook groups. Normally it is easy to engage in these conversations- I think if I had to rely on texting to stay up on things every month it would drive me crazy. I even almost missed a meeting because I got confused about the location when I was texting with my friend and went to the wrong movie theater- this probably wouldn't have happened if I'd been able to just look at the facebook event.<br />
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The real question is what I am spending my time doing? Facebook (and Twitter and Instagram and everything else) can be good tools for keeping up on people's lives and knowing what is going on in the world and making plans. Where it gets to be dangerous is the constant scrolling that wastes time and doesn't actually serve a purpose or improve life. So because of this, I am changing it up for April. Originally, I planned on making April a sugar free month (cutting out added sugar from my diet) and I've been feeling pretty nervous about it. Honestly, it is something I want to do, but something that I need to kind of psych myself up for. But since these are my challenges and I make the rules, I've decided to do something else. I have been thinking a lot about how I use my time and getting off facebook was a part of that, but not the whole story. So my challenge for April is 30 min project time.<br />
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Rules for 30 day challenge #4- 30 min project time:<br />
Spend 30 min each day working on a short or long term project in the house. This can be anything that is not a normal daily task (basic cleaning, dishes, laundry etc) and cannot be on the computer or phone. Examples/ideas: finish my scrap books, making art, spring cleaning (cleaning closets, going through boxes in storage) etc. Let's be more productive in April! </div>
beccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01989838476792854572noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104688951091443586.post-74451938809313903192018-03-28T17:36:00.002-06:002018-03-29T10:50:40.636-06:00Journaling<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I have been thinking a lot about the journaling/writing process lately. I started this blog over 10 years ago (back when blogging was the new thing) but I have been writing as a way to process for a lot longer than that. I first started keeping a journal when I was about 12- 7th grade. Most of my early journals focused a lot on my relationships- friends, boys, my family. As I got older my journals included all those relationships, but also more about events- what I was doing and seeing- especially as I started to travel and do and see more. Those journals were private, not meant to be shared. The internet, social media, blogging, facebook changed this process for me a lot. When I started blogging, I didn't stop writing in my journal, but I wrote different things online for the public audience than I did for myself. I think that both of these processes are helpful to me and I like them for different reasons. I don't exactly have a huge audience (I pretty much think that it has mostly been my parents, tbh). Taking this month off of facebook has made me think a lot about my online presence and how/what I share. I will have more thoughts on that in a few days when my #30daychallenge is up. Also, next month, I am taking my previously private journals public- participating in Mortified Live- in which I will be reading some of my writing from 7th-8th grade on stage in front of a large audience. It should be interesting. Or if not interesting, mortifying. I guess we shall see. </div>
beccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01989838476792854572noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104688951091443586.post-30043520798834029852018-03-01T14:30:00.000-07:002018-04-01T21:10:39.162-06:0030 Day Challenge #2- 30 min daily workouts<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
For February (plus a day each of January and March, because Feb is such a short month) I decided to try to work out every day for 30 min. These workouts could be anything- I tried out dance, yoga, zumba, kickboxing, pilates and more. 10,000 steps (approximately 5 miles walking) also counted as a workout. For the first half of the month, I did really well (especially considering that I was going from barely working out at all to trying to exercise every day) and for the first 20 days, I only missed one. Then came my trip to Boston for Geek Bowl and what I returned with . . . #geekbowlplague. I spent the rest of the month fighting a nasty cold that turned into a really gross sinus infection- working out was no longer a priority. Even though I didn't reach my 30 day goal I still exercised more than normal and discovered some good things, like how many free short workouts there are on youtube that I can do in my living room. I have three more months this year that involve physical/workout challenges and I hope to continue to do some of the dance/zumba/yoga type workouts if not every day, then a couple of times a week. Up next: facebook free for 30 days. </div>
beccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01989838476792854572noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104688951091443586.post-31305997421409120222018-01-30T12:12:00.000-07:002018-03-29T10:49:25.766-06:0030 Day Challenge #1- Food Tracking<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
For the month of January (or rather, the first 30 days of it) I decided to track all of the food I ate. I used the app myfitnesspal and entered everything that went into my body. I used the default settings on the app, which figured out that I should have an average of 1750 calories a day in order to lose weight. I didn't specifically set out to reach that goal, just to track, but I think that the act of tracking definitely had an effect on my calorie intake overall. I successfully tracked everything for 30 days and actually didn't even find it to be that hard with the app. The app has lots of foods, including many restaurant menus, preloaded and has the ability to scan bar codes for just about anything that has a barcode. The hardest things to track were homemade items that I didn't cook myself or restaurant items when the app didn't have the menu, but for the most part, I think that I was able to make best guesses in those cases. I also tracked my water intake, weight, and exercise, just because the app does that too and why not. It turns out, that I lost 5 lbs in these 30 days. I don't necessarily attribute that all to the food tracking (it is January and we just came off a particularly heavy holiday season), but I don't think it hurt. I think that I ate less overall than I would have normally just because I was more aware of it. Up next- 30 min daily workouts! </div>
beccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01989838476792854572noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104688951091443586.post-32539807494609216772018-01-01T12:01:00.000-07:002018-03-29T10:48:52.006-06:0030 Day Challenges<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">For me personally, 2017 was a year. It wasn’t a good year, it wasn’t a terribly bad year, it was just... a year.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">So on to bigger and better things in 2018. Instead of making New Years Resolutions that I’m sure I would eventually break, I’m splitting up the year into 12 convenient chunks (otherwise known as months) and giving myself a challenge for each one. I’m starting in January with a food journal. Other challenges coming up this year (subject to change): 30 min workouts, Facebook free (this will be a hard one) knitting, meditation, sugar free meal planning, 10,000 steps, letter writing and a few more to be determined. I’ll update you all on my status and completion each month. Let’s go 2018!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">For anyone curious, here is my complete list (still subject to change) and thanks to everyone for the encouragement!<br /><br />January- food journal (track everything I eat)<br />February- 30 min daily workouts<br />March- No Facebook<br />April- No added sugar<br />May- Read everyday<br />June- 10,000 steps<br />July- Letter writing<br />August- Meditation<br />September- Strength training<br />Oct- Knitting<br />Nov- workouts agian<br />Dec- Gratitude</span></div>
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beccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01989838476792854572noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104688951091443586.post-44089504595857164372013-11-17T00:10:00.000-07:002013-11-17T09:45:37.180-07:00Life as a first year teacher: Trimester 1<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I am one third of the way through my first year of teaching. It is hard. It is fun. It is scary. It is frustrating. It is confusing. It is empowering. It is exhausting.<br />
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I am exhausted. Anyone that says that teachers have it easy and get lots of time off has absolutely no idea what they are talking about. I regularly spend several hours a night on weeknights and time on weekends grading or planning. I am getting up at 6:00 every morning (and as I've said before, I'm not a morning person) and I was spoiled by getting enough sleep in Albania that in order for me to function, I have to go to bed by 10:00. More than the sleep thing though, is the mental exhaustion. Most days I get home and my brain is just tired. It is hard to do more than collapse in a pile on my bed and watch bad tv shows. I have seen very little of my friends and family since school started. <br />
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I am empowered. It really is amazing being in the classroom and seeing students change and grow. They are doing that, and I am helping them do that! My students are amazing and when I see them succeed I feel like I am succeeding. I feel empowered and powerful in the best way.<br />
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I am confused. There are so many things to navigate as a new teacher. District, school and classroom politics and policies can be overwhelming. Nothing quite makes sense and I sometimes just have to sit back and hope that things will just work themselves out.<br />
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I am frustrated. Some of the things that just don't make sense can also be super frustrating. Why are they making us do it that way?!? What am I doing wrong? Why isn't this kid responding to this? Why don't they turn in their homework?!<br />
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I am scared. I live in a little bit of fear every day that I am doing something totally wrong, that this will be the day that my class completely falls apart and just when that happens the Superintendent is going to walk into my classroom and see the utter chaos that is reigning. I am terrified that I am a bad teacher and that I will fail my students. I lose sleep at night worrying that my students won't be successful in my class and I won't be able to teach them what they need to know to be successful later in life. <br />
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I am having fun. I am trying every day to have fun. I am having fun teaching and I hope that my students are having some fun learning. I am definitely having fun with my colleagues. I love the teachers that I am working with and as a team we have done a really good job of making sure we are having fun.<br />
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It is hard. Teaching is hard. It is hard to get up every day and be on. It is hard to go to school every day and not fail my students. It is hard to make decisions every day that effect the lives of my students and not know if they are the right decisions. I don't know that I've every pushed myself as much as I have for the past three months. I am pushing myself every day to be the best teacher that I can be for my students and it is hard. But it is worth it. <br />
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I am one third of the way through my first year of teaching. It is amazing. <br />
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beccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01989838476792854572noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104688951091443586.post-30565350199281430102013-09-21T21:43:00.000-06:002013-11-16T23:36:00.888-07:00Readjustment<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Last week I had coffee with Connie, an older volunteer that I became close with in Albania when we traveled together for the holidays in Italy. Truth: when I grow up I want to be like Connie. When she came back from PC, she bought an RV and for the past two years has been driving it around the country, staying for a few months at a time near friends and family. During our conversation, she asked me about how I have readjusted to life in the US. I had to think a lot about this question. My first answer is "great!" everything is fine! Because that is the easy answer. And things are pretty good for me right now- I have a good job, I have a good place to live, I'm close to my family. I have stopped having panic attacks in the grocery store. The past three years have really been about settling into adulthood- figuring out what I really want to do with my life. So in many ways, readjustment has gone very well for me. There are a few things that I noticed however when I think a little bit more about how my life is different from my life before I left. While I have made many new friends (mostly through camp and school) and have remained close to some of my old friends, I have also noticed that I have grown apart from a lot of people that I used to be very close. Why is this? There are a whole bunch of reasons, I'm sure. I've been away for most of the summers since I've been home, I've been working and in school and am less likely to go out during the school year. I got used to a more solitary life in Albania, too. I value the time I get alone more than I did when I was younger. Some of it may also be my old friends. Many of my friends have gotten married and had kids in the past few years. While this obviously doesn't mean that we can't be friends anymore, it sometimes means that our paths don't cross as much anymore. This was also something I was thinking about a little while ago- in my life BPC (before Peace Corps) there were always tons of activities that my friends organized to get people together- there were parties all the time, regularly scheduled theater, kickball, cooking club, concerts and so many other things. In order to see people,you didn't have to plan or do much, just show up at the party. Now these sorts of things are fewer and farther between, so in order to see people, you have to make an effort and when events do happen, not as many people show up . . .
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The timing of this for me is that I noticed the change when I returned from Peace Corps, but I realize that it is also just a sign of getting older and growing up. So it might not just be readjustment to life back in America, but adjustment in general to life as an adult.</div>
beccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01989838476792854572noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104688951091443586.post-21316015072939739352013-09-14T21:32:00.000-06:002013-11-17T09:49:21.570-07:00Camp<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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The spring of 2011 found me home, but I didn't really know what that meant. I had been around the world and wasn't really sure what to do next. With a summer open, I decided to do something I always wanted to do, but never really thought I would, go back to camp. As a child, some of my best memories are of camp. I was that kid, the one that never got homesick because she was just having so much fun. From year to year I kept a list of my counselors real names in a notebook, but I always kept it secret until the end of the week (not my secret to tell). But by high school, my interests had broadened and new activities like marching band made camp harder to do.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnmwgPL1RQUlmZUhvgbMmlbSRmXegtMogmh4BJypsMbrMyAKymC05LUF4nhUY6vVgS6EDZgDR47ndy0VkRXI8GsS9UihY7F1MrftX5KH4nJasjShyphenhyphen6ScU6SSYrpEC3_Ru-gApaut0Lcg/s1600/P6280145.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnmwgPL1RQUlmZUhvgbMmlbSRmXegtMogmh4BJypsMbrMyAKymC05LUF4nhUY6vVgS6EDZgDR47ndy0VkRXI8GsS9UihY7F1MrftX5KH4nJasjShyphenhyphen6ScU6SSYrpEC3_Ru-gApaut0Lcg/s320/P6280145.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
The summer of 2011 was epic. I was home. All of a sudden I had a place and a family and I knew that I would keep coming back for as long and as often as they would let me. I grew up at Flying 'G', but Sky High had my heart. 2012 was going to be the best summer . . . Until fire disaster shut camp down and financial disaster kept camp closed. I had a few choices for the summer of 2013- look for a summer job in the city, work for day camp in Denver or look for a new camp to call home (at least for the summer). I knew I wasn't done with camp yet, so I started my search.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7SLfkf24vxywYubT61rwN1T7ACQ1EZtjrHssAaCsS8yy-Yzy8mL5tiQWQj3tX1iom-3D1h1xjsOqihIARiU2wKPC_6Q28RA-1c8BwZFWTsanEpdLNtkoxiTZOa4R_8k3pkM4INUIgKg/s1600/P7151670.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7SLfkf24vxywYubT61rwN1T7ACQ1EZtjrHssAaCsS8yy-Yzy8mL5tiQWQj3tX1iom-3D1h1xjsOqihIARiU2wKPC_6Q28RA-1c8BwZFWTsanEpdLNtkoxiTZOa4R_8k3pkM4INUIgKg/s320/P7151670.JPG" width="320" /></a>I found Barker and thought that it might just be perfect. Only four hours drive from Denver and in the most beautiful part of New Mexico, the Enchanted Circle. It ended up being a very hard summer for a variety of reasons. Construction at camp wasn't finished on schedule, leaving us without a kitchen or showers, we were understaffed for most of the summer and there were lots of difficulties with communication with the council office. But for all that, I still loved camp.
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This month I have scheduled three weekends at three different camps- volunteering and working. I highly doubt I will be back in New Mexico next summer (although stranger things have happened) but I do think I will be at camp somewhere. I just can't stay away.</div>
beccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01989838476792854572noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104688951091443586.post-19993411036430871212013-05-30T21:38:00.000-06:002013-11-17T00:15:25.472-07:00Isn't this exciting?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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It is Saturday morning and after a hard hike the day before, my dad and I are taking our time eating breakfast and packing up our campsite on Mali Korabi, the highest mountain in Albania. For the past three days we have seen lots of cows, sheep, donkeys, horses and the young men that tend to these animals, but no one else, so we are surprised to see a line of hikers with backpacks walking towards our campsite. <br />
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When they approached we talked to them for a few minutes and discovered that they were part of the same Polish hiking/climbing club that marked the trails. We told them about our adventures the day before. Based on out difficulty crossing the streams, they decided to try out the red/white longer trail up. We said "<i>shehemi me vone</i>" (see you later) and they continued up the trail and we continued to pack up. <br />
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A few hours later, we were hanging out in the village when the group arrived. They made it farther up the mountain, but at some point they lost the trail and also didn't make it all the way to the summit. They had to take one of their party back to Peshkopi but the rest of the crowd was staying for the night, meaning that they had space in their car for my dad, me and out gigantic backpacks. So we piled into their van and headed down the (really nice!) road. <br />
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And then . . . a few miles down the road there is a bridge . . . the bridge is a bit narrow and coming off of the bridge our back tire clipped the side of the bridge and made a loud noise. Not good . . .<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkslQ9nE_pvhS-wmfThfk8ZApvoW8v7YTACX_lPCYAFDbMoblJ5M67jEJ_dxMMqchpIcVqbwcf_YIBvwHwNb75kyFuspmJ9yVoQt0ePbyR9nj9N_MMSTiGrt2CW9nTd8lB3spS6hn0JA/s1600/P5041153.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkslQ9nE_pvhS-wmfThfk8ZApvoW8v7YTACX_lPCYAFDbMoblJ5M67jEJ_dxMMqchpIcVqbwcf_YIBvwHwNb75kyFuspmJ9yVoQt0ePbyR9nj9N_MMSTiGrt2CW9nTd8lB3spS6hn0JA/s320/P5041153.JPG" width="320" /></a> <br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjePGAL09zvZBG5jfZO08xtC8Ye19nsHvSu1sMmyP7OApJReGGSQm3a_fnhkJK9Z8FFgakKtLlP4yFsynuhnk8AI3DbXa9XBLvq_BNUfYhXej-ku_8Iey6zGR-4vtS6I7FmnU9C-QmGAg/s1600/P5041147.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjePGAL09zvZBG5jfZO08xtC8Ye19nsHvSu1sMmyP7OApJReGGSQm3a_fnhkJK9Z8FFgakKtLlP4yFsynuhnk8AI3DbXa9XBLvq_BNUfYhXej-ku_8Iey6zGR-4vtS6I7FmnU9C-QmGAg/s320/P5041147.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Then the real adventure started- Do we have a spare tire? Yes, ok good start! Do we have a jack? Yes, still going ok. Does it have all it's pieces? Apparently not. Fail. Do we have a tire iron? Yes. Can we actually get the bolts off? No again. After stopping a few passing motorists to ask for help, we found a jack that had all of its parts, but could still not get the bolts off. What to do, what to do? After a bit of back and forth, we decided that we needed better tools, and we might be able to find them down the road a bit. My dad, two of the Polish girls and I caught a ride with one of the passing good Samaritans and the driver of our van drove very, very, very slowly about 2km down the road. We found a road crew that had some more tools and when the van arrived (<i>avash, avash- </i>slowly, slowly) we were able to get the tire changed (how many Polish climbers and Albanian motorists does it take to change a tire?). I took pictures . . . I wanted to be useful :).<br />
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About an hour after we stopped we were on our way again with a spare tire. By the time we got to Peshkopi all of the tire shops and garages were closed so even though they had planned to go back to the mountain, the Polish crew ended up spending the night in town. Two things we remembered today- Albanians will always stop and try to help when you are stranded on the side of the road and even when the roads get better, driving in Albania is always an adventure. </div>
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beccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01989838476792854572noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104688951091443586.post-18750169204122651392013-05-08T20:03:00.000-06:002013-08-15T08:32:26.126-06:00Hajde Korab, heren e dyte or What a difference three years makes<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Right after my COS (close of service) from Peace Corps, I went with my father, three other volunteers and two kids from Peshkopi to climb Mali Korabi, the highest mountain in Albania and Macedonia. We had a great time, but there were some issues. On the Albanian side, the trail was not marked and when we asked for advice from the people in the village (Radomire), we were basically told to "go up" which is all well and good, except for the fact that there are easy and hard ways up mountains and this mountain has several peaks. We ended up on the hard way and on the wrong peak. Not a big problem, but kind of annoying. In fact, we didn't have time to continue even though we thought we could see the top because we had to get back down the mountain in time for our ride back to town. It took nearly four hours to get to or from Peshkopi, so leaving on time was important.
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And now here we are three years later. I am here again with my dad, although it is just the two of us this time. The first big change: the road has been completely done and the time is cut in half. The second change, a Polish climbing club has marked the route up the mountain. Now when you ask in the village how to get up the mountain, they say "go up, and follow the painted trail marks."
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLmSfnTycTpUI-YY2V4_53IMhUSBbBjk-tAFzykP1uP_nrGXnaPJf-VBwnlgEFRmAUjfQPLUvoRie92W5OBDqa9o5LZ2WDXc1_2jYOp8foTkMmkLVjUo1-dljeAMMyuzwnyp5aQ90MOA/s1600/P5011086.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLmSfnTycTpUI-YY2V4_53IMhUSBbBjk-tAFzykP1uP_nrGXnaPJf-VBwnlgEFRmAUjfQPLUvoRie92W5OBDqa9o5LZ2WDXc1_2jYOp8foTkMmkLVjUo1-dljeAMMyuzwnyp5aQ90MOA/s320/P5011086.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Two marked trails!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIZMwoY5w_bw2hiugzBCcrFcwu1244QH2SlTyZvnp9qexEYwnGjcf5V_Bth4PWF7SkJ_2iWo4YZWfa0K1jw01rIgNzNRYEXDPucwwoo2pn1YqBkRwByUuXB-alSI5lOqWRaHCeTcRY0w/s1600/P5011105.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIZMwoY5w_bw2hiugzBCcrFcwu1244QH2SlTyZvnp9qexEYwnGjcf5V_Bth4PWF7SkJ_2iWo4YZWfa0K1jw01rIgNzNRYEXDPucwwoo2pn1YqBkRwByUuXB-alSI5lOqWRaHCeTcRY0w/s320/P5011105.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A cow visits our camp</td></tr>
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There are two marked routes up the mountain. One (marked with red and yellow), is shorter and goes the the West Ridge. The second is longer and goes to the East Face (marked with red and white). We arrived in the village in early afternoon and wanted to find a place to camp on or near the route. We chose to start following the shorter route. After about an hour of walking with ALL of our gear (camping and climbing equipment weighing probably over 100 pounds between us) we found a nice flat spot to camp near a rushing mountain stream. It soon became clear that this route followed the rushing mountain stream up for at least a little ways and that the path crossed the stream a few times. Our campsite was near one of the numerous shepherd huts (stone houses) built at intervals up the mountain and we soon met several local residents. The cows and sheep tended not to bother us and we were lucky to not meet any dogs without their owners. Despite what we had been warned by nearly everyone we told of our adventure, the weather was quite nice and it did not get very cold, even at night.
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On Thursday we decided to see if we could find some rocks to climb. As I've mentioned, one of the main reasons my Dad wanted to go back to Albania was that I did not allow him to bring climbing gear the last time he came and he saw lots of good rocks to climb. Of course, getting to those rocks turned out to be a major challenge. There was a group of good limestone rocks that we could get to pretty easily, but the base of most of these faces was a steep scree slope that was not safe to approach. We found one face that had a good approach and also a way to scramble up the side so my dad decided to try to set some anchors at the top. Unfortunately, when he got to the top of the rock, he found that the ground was uneven and had a lot of scrubby brush and trees that made walking around difficult. Therefore, he could only anchor from certain points . . . and the faces that were below these points were not accessible from the bottom! After about an hour of this, it had started to rain a bit and we basically gave up and returned to our camp. At least we tried . . .
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The next morning, we decided to try to make the summit. We followed the red and yellow trail as it followed the river. We crossed over once with some difficulty and then had a good two-three hours of
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My Dad and me on Mali Korabi</td></tr>
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fairly easy hiking as the trail headed up. Around 2 in the afternoon, we came again to a place where the trail indicated that we cross the stream (for what I think was probably the last time). It was clear that we were not going to be able to cross the stream- it was flowing very heavy with snow melt and we did not see any safe place to cross. The place indicated by the trail markers was not very wide, but the water rushing below made a jump very dangerous and while I MIGHT have been able to do it, there was not way that my dad could. So we had a few choices: above the crossing was a rocky area with large patches of snow. We could have continued for a while on this side of the stream up the rocks and snow and see if there was a place farther up to cross or even if we could find the head waters and go around. After a while walking this way, we decided that crossing the melting snow was becoming dangerous and we took our second choice: turn back.
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The peak (maybe next time . . . )</td></tr>
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Both my dad and I were of course disappointed to fail to reach the summit for a second time, but I don't think that either of us regret our choice to turn back. When we had to recross the stream to get back to the campsite later in the afternoon, both of us struggled to get across safely and my dad took a stumble that could have ended very badly had he not anchored himself with his ice axe. In any event, he got a bit wet and banged his leg, but didn't get washed away. We learned that like in Lura, April/May may be too early, because the melting snow made this track almost impossible. But we also learned how easy it is now to get to the mountain, how much the village has improved for visitors (there is a hotel now) and that at least for now, no one minds if you camp in the middle of a cow pasture. Based on these facts I do not think it is impossible to think that this will be my last time <span id="goog_1476135627"></span><span id="goog_1476135628"></span>on this mountain. Who knows, maybe third time is a charm . . .</div>
beccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01989838476792854572noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104688951091443586.post-29967172935843999902013-05-04T10:29:00.000-06:002013-05-13T10:36:02.672-06:00The seven (four) (frozen) lakes of Lura<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
One of thee places in Albania that I always wanted to get to but had never had the chance to visit was Lura National Park. This park is in the Diber (Peshkopi) region, and is supposed to be one of the most beautiful parts of the country, but is very remote. I had heard that the road up was really bad and also that some of the park had been damaged by illegal logging and fires in recent years. Over the two years I lived in Peshkopi, I was always kept my ears open for chances to go to Lura and asked people I knew every once in a while how to get there. Pretty much I was told that you needed to have a 4-wheel drive car. For this trip, my dad and I talked about trying to get up there, but in fact, I didn't think we would have much chance unless we rented a car in Tirana. Renting a 4x4 is not impossible, just expensive and we eventually decided we didn't want to spend the money. When we got to Peshkopi I started asking around about how to get to both Lura and to Korab, our other planned destination. I hadn't heard much yet, when on our first full day in town we had lunch with my good friend Ermal (pastor of the church and also all around great guy) and Sarah, an American living in town and working with the church. When I told him that we were planning on going up to Korab on Sunday and (a bit jokingly) did he want to come with us? He responded that he would love to, but he had made plans to go somewhere else on Monday . . . Yep, you guessed it, Lura. It turns out that Sarah's parents were coming for a visit and that they all, along with the American family that Sarah is living with here were all going up to Lura together in two 4x4s.
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our whole group in Fushe Lura</td></tr>
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Two things: first, wow there are a lot of Americans in Peshkopi now; second, did they have space for two more? The two turned out to be three when Joe decided he would join us as well. So we had 13 total: 11 Americans and 2 Albanians squeezed into two 4x4s holding 6-7 each on the worst road I've ever been on, and that's saying a lot. Luckily, the road did not twist and turn too much, it just had the worst surface I've ever been on. My perception may have been colored a bit by my location: in the way back seat in one of the cars bouncing around with Joe and our knees up to our chests. After four hours (for 50km) we finally arrived in the village of Fushe Lura (Lura field) located in the valley below the park. We had a quick lunch and then headed the mountain. If it is even possible, the road got worse. We went from a pitted and rocky dirt path to just rocks. At a certain point, we decided that the cars could not go any farther without damage so we got out and walked. As we went higher, the road was increasingly a river of melted snow and we took off our shoes to walk across several rushing streams. Even higher, we found the unmelted snow. At this point some of our party decided to turn around and some of us pressed on. Luckily, it was actually pretty warm and so other
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A little snow can't stop us!</td></tr>
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than having wet feet, we were not too cold. After about an hour of walking on the snow, we finally arrived at the first set of lakes. The
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lakes were beautiful and frozen. Unfortunately they weren't frozen enough to walk out on (we tested by throwing some rocks, they went right through the soft ice). Knowing that the sun was going down and that we didn't want to walk down in the dark, we quickly took some pictures and headed down. We were only able to see four of the seven lakes as the other three were probably another hour (at least) walking through the snow and our wet feet would not have handled that well.
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me and my dad at Liqeni i madhe (the big lake)</td></tr>
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Things learned on this trip: when they say the road is bad, believe them (whoever they are . . . ), April is too early to go to Lura, Lura <br />
will not be a major tourist destination until the road is fixed . . . or helicopter travel becomes common in Albania.</div>
beccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01989838476792854572noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104688951091443586.post-77760479999569390172013-04-30T13:36:00.000-06:002013-05-13T11:44:46.554-06:00Meet Xho Bonk<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Someday, maybe I will travel differently. I will stay in hotels, go on cruises and rent cars. Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe, I will always travel like this, staying with friends or in this case, perfect strangers that become friends. Joe (Xho in Albanian, the xh is how you spell J. If you see a j in an Albanian word it is pronounced as a y and a y is pronounced oo) is one of the new Peace Corps Volunteer in Peshkopi. He is Group 15 (I was group 11) and has been here about one year. Joe is great; he is smart, interested in fun things like old communist monuments, has a sixth sense about finding bunkers hidden on hillsides and is nice enough to be mistaken for a Canadian. He isn't perfect, however; despite his affinity for Albanian pop music, I don't think he will ever be an Albanian pop star, although stranger things have happened. So Xho, gezohem qe u njohem (nice to meet you)! <a href="http://dudewheresmygomar.wordpress.com/">Here is Xho's blog . . .</a><br />
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beccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01989838476792854572noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104688951091443586.post-55277209004647189502013-04-28T02:33:00.001-06:002013-05-13T11:44:28.553-06:00Changes<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYuLuzLO6v5jNuHlitJL4NDa1NIjmWN6SK4nC8ucOifpTgnriGBxui20m-tqO0wydbDZk5q1v4txNkBszm2xD98VHp9b7pVqlJeuMruNHXaLxqDYAO5jTouvHZFIZUWBHArD5JBX8Vpg/s1600/P4260838.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYuLuzLO6v5jNuHlitJL4NDa1NIjmWN6SK4nC8ucOifpTgnriGBxui20m-tqO0wydbDZk5q1v4txNkBszm2xD98VHp9b7pVqlJeuMruNHXaLxqDYAO5jTouvHZFIZUWBHArD5JBX8Vpg/s320/P4260838.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">New high school in Peshkopi</td></tr>
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I have been away from Albania for nearly three years. Walking down the street I am keeping my eyes open for the differences. Was that building always there? How has this road changed? For better or for worse? Some of the changes are obvious and big: the high school has moved into a new building outside of downtown and the new university that had been housed in the upper level of the language school has now taken over the remodeled high school building in the center of town; the athletic center, nearly finished when I left, is now completely finished; my landlords house (next door to my place) has a new floor added on and a new roof and has been painted purple. I hardly recognize the view. These are physical changes, however. Are the changes only skin deep? A sign of what might be a larger, deeper change at first might only seem like another physical change. When I arrived in Peshkopi five years ago, there was one Internet cafe. The Internet was not reliable and they did not have a generator, so during the nearly daily power cuts (usually 12-4 and sometimes as long as 9-4 every day for months) there was no Internet at all. This was a huge challenge for us during the first Model UN because we wanted to teach the kids how to do Internet research, but could almost never find a time when we could meet after school that the Internet cafe was working. Most of the students had never really used a computer and did not yet have e-mail or even know what facebook was. This is not the case in Peshkopi anymore. Even before I left, there were several more cafes open in town and many people had started to get Internet service in their homes. Now, there are more cafes than ever, even more people in town have Internet at home and maybe the biggest difference, smart phones have also arrived, giving people access to Internet in their hands. Facebook has come to Albania, with a vengeance. Before I arrived I notified most of my friends I was coming by sending fb messages. Communication between people has changed dramatically. So the next question is, does this mean there have been bigger or deeper changes in the past three years? I don't know, but I think that there are interesting potential implications for the opening of communication to this country. Just as development happened quickly when the country opened its borders twenty years ago, development may happen quickly now that the virtual borders are open. But development twenty years ago wasn't easy. In fact, although development started quickly after the end of communism in Albania, it was a painful and sometimes violent process and it has stopped and started a few times since then. While buildings and roads have been built, ideas have been slow to enter the minds of people here. So have things here changed in the past few years? Of course, but it still remains to be seen how deep these changes might go.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheRNVhOFOOocQcj3S4V5driJukC8lhoFxMNtDjyXpPhetuBzQRpR8ceG1EhYojtEOSS6VnEaHCYgfueasuZrzUPzSXR7q7AlRNAOnlgczaDwgbr4iqKOpTj6QID5KcAx_7hK0EzxqlLQ/s1600/99ED68D1-F800-434A-B14A-3357ACD18B45.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheRNVhOFOOocQcj3S4V5driJukC8lhoFxMNtDjyXpPhetuBzQRpR8ceG1EhYojtEOSS6VnEaHCYgfueasuZrzUPzSXR7q7AlRNAOnlgczaDwgbr4iqKOpTj6QID5KcAx_7hK0EzxqlLQ/s320/99ED68D1-F800-434A-B14A-3357ACD18B45.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The updates to my landlords house (new second story, new roof, painted purple)</td></tr>
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beccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01989838476792854572noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104688951091443586.post-19164042549508908242013-04-26T15:00:00.000-06:002013-05-13T11:44:12.411-06:00Gjuha shqipe<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
In the ferry terminal I see the first signs that we are close. Literally, signs in Albanian, giving directions, answering questions. The people milling around the terminal are speaking many languages, but for the first time in nearly three years, I recognize Shqip as one of them. I catch words or phrases sprinkled in here and there among the Italian, English and German that my ears also try to pick out. I don't talk to anyone but just listen. The first test comes when we get off of the ferry in Durres and I negotiate the onslaught of taxi drivers. But we don't need to go anywhere yet, my first task is to find a cell phone shop and figured out why my phone is not working so that I can reach my friends. I ask a taxi driver where to find a vodaphone shop, but he tells me that there is only one in the center, far from here and I should take his taxi. I ask the girl working at the cafe and she lets me know that I fact there is one across the road; she has no stake in me getting into a taxi. I start out to the shop- crossing the road is a bit like playing a game of frogger- yes, this is starting to feel familiar. I enter the shop just after it has opened and speak to the shop girl about my issue. The whole time we are speaking, other customers are coming in and out of the shop to buy phone cards. The shop's computer system is down, so people must buy the physical card rather then an electronic top-up, and some people are confused or upset because this means they won't get a special advertised offer of some sort. The system is down in the whole country, not just here, she explains. She handles the customers smoothly, this obviously isn't a rare problem. After a few different attempts, we decide we can't figure out what is wrong with my SIM card so I go ahead and buy a new one. Only when she looks at my passport and asks what neighborhood I live in does she ask where I am from. She is impressed enough with my language skills to be surprised that I am not an Albanian living abroad. I've heard this before, but not for several years, so I feel the pride a bit. Of course this is the easiest of interactions, I have clear goals and the vocabulary is pretty easy. Over the next few days my language skills will be tested again and often. The most difficult task will surely be, as it has always been, listening to conversations on various topics by Albanians. If I am involved in the conversation, answering and asking questions, it is easier, but when the conversation swerves off to other topics I know I will sometimes let my mind wander and loose the thread. Over the next few days as I meet with friends, I slowly remember words that I haven't used in years. Si thuhet? What is the word for cucumber? Blanket? You know, that one thing we rode on the river from Peshkopi to Kukes on, that goes inside a tire? There are some words I remember on my own, some that I need to ask about and some, that even when told I can't seem to hold in my mind, it seems that I might have never learned them before. By the end of the second day speaking primarily in another language, I am tired, but also happy because it seems to have stayed in my brain somehow. This gives me hope that I can learn another language and keep it alive even if I can't use it every day. But I will use it tomorrow and I am glad that it is still there.</div>
beccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01989838476792854572noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104688951091443586.post-20635142646805199542013-04-21T00:22:00.001-06:002013-05-13T11:42:52.189-06:00Packing<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I am a notorious over packer. I like to have everything I might need and most things I might want. But I don't hold a candle to my dad. Somehow, for this three week trip, we are carrying more than I packed for two years in Peace Corps and WAY more than I took when I travelled after PC. Most of it is the nature of the trip. The main point of the trip and what my dad has been talking about for the past three years is to do some climbing. Everything else is centered on this one fact. Unfortunately, to be safe, climbing has a lot of equipment and we had no confidence that any of it could be rented or purchased there for any reasonable price. So we are bringing our own and that means about 30 pounds of ropes, harnesses, helmets, and metal fittings. We are also planning on camping, so that means more stuff, like a tent, sleeping bags, cooking stuff etc. right now this whole thing feels a little bit like an expedition to Everest or something, only we don't have any Sherpas. I don't think all the stuff would be as big of a deal if we also weren't taking a long way to get to Albania. Things would be really easy if we were just flying direct and then renting a car. No problem! But that's not what we are doing. We are flying to Rome, taking a train across Italy and then a boat across the Adriatic Sea. Somehow, I have faith that it will all work out . . . Maybe we can rent a donkey to help us with the gear . . . </div>
beccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01989838476792854572noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104688951091443586.post-62806501607722518172013-04-07T16:18:00.000-06:002013-04-07T16:51:30.277-06:00A return trip . . .<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
In a few weeks, I will be returning to Albania for the first time since I left almost three years ago. Somehow, these past three years have seemed to have gone by very fast and slow at the same time. It seems almost like a blink of an eye since I left and somehow also seems like a lot has happened in the past three years. There have been some big changes in my life since I got home- I have gone back to school and finished a program to be a licensed teacher. In other ways, things have not changed at all- being home, I have gone back to many of the routines I had before Peace Corps. Anyway, I am excited and nervous to go back.<br />
<br />
Unlike my parents, who didn't return to the Philippines for almost 30 years from the time they left, I am making my first return trip only a few years after leaving. I honestly didn't expect that I would be going to Albania so soon. So why now? It was actually my dad's idea. When he came to visit me at the end of my service three years ago, <a href="http://beccapiglets.blogspot.com/2010/06/hajde-korabi.html">we had some adventures, </a>but there were a few stones unturned. For one, my dad is a climber. He likes to climb things. When he came to visit me before, we did some hiking, but no climbing. This was my fault- he wanted to bring a rope and harness and various other things that would have made it possible for us to climb things, but the timing was not good. He came at the end of my service and I was leaving to travel around the world, so I needed him to take a suitcase (or two?) home with him when he went back. This was by far the cheapest way to get stuff home (since he was planning on coming anyway and he was flying on my mom's passes). So he didn't bring ropes or a tent or anything else we might need to have a backpacking/climbing trip. We therefore had another kind of trip, which was great. But . . . there are some beautiful rocks in Albania that are just crying out to be climbed. Some people don't understand rock climbing. What is the point of climbing that rock? Basically, it's just fun. It's a challenge. It's a puzzle. And for the last three years, my dad has been thinking about the rocks that we saw in Albania and wanting to go back and climb them. So we are.<br />
<br />
<div class="im">
This is the (very tentative) schedule for our trip.
It is flexible based on the fact that we are flying on passes and may
not actually fly on the day we plan. It is also flexible based on the
fact that we may just decide to change plans. Anyway, it looks like a
good trip!<br />
</div>
<div class="im">
</div>
<div class="im">
Sunday, April 21- Fly to Rome <br />
Monday, April 22-Rome</div>
Tuesday, April 23- train to Bari, ferry <br />
Weds, April 24- Arrive Durres <br />
Thurs, April 25- Tirana<br />
Fri, April 26- furgon to Peshkopi <br />
Sat, April 27- Peshkopi<br />
<div class="im">
Sun, April 28- Peshkopi </div>
<div class="im">
Mon, April 29- Peshkopi <br />
Tues, April 30- to Korab (camp)<br />
Weds, May 1- Korab (camp)<br />
Thurs, May 2- Korab (camp)</div>
Fri, May 3- hiking? Lura? (camp)<br />
Sat, May 4- hiking? Lura? (camp)<br />
Sun, May 5- hiking? Lura? (camp)<br />
Mon, May 6- to to Tirana- stop in Kruja?<br />
Tues, May 7- Tirana to Durres- ferry<br />
Weds, May 8- Bari to Naples <br />
Thurs, May 9- Naples to Rome <br />
Fri, May 10- to airport- fly home</div>
beccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01989838476792854572noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104688951091443586.post-75672419528439621472012-05-16T23:19:00.001-06:002012-05-16T23:19:23.863-06:00Following Trevista – The Challenges That Lie AheadThis is the school that I spent the last three months of school at last year. It was a hard situation, probably the most difficult job I've ever done. I don't know the answer to the question of what to do about schools like this or this school in particular, so I guess it is as she says in the story . . . we shall see what happens over the next year. . . <br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.cpr.org/article/Following_Trevista__The_Challenges_That_Lie_Ahead#.T7SJ0uYrZ2I.blogger">Following Trevista – The Challenges That Lie Ahead</a>: Trevista public school in Denver is embarking upon a major shake-up to boost academic scores, part of a federal program to save failing schools. [Photo: CPR]beccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01989838476792854572noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104688951091443586.post-51046363100358332242012-05-11T20:08:00.000-06:002012-05-11T20:09:00.112-06:00Student-Teacher-Student<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Seven years ago I had just graduated college and now had (count em!) TWO fancy pieces of paper and absolutely no idea what to do next. I knew I wanted to do the Peace Corps, but I wasn't in a financial situation to do that yet. I was working in a restaurant and having a general directionless feeling, like so many people do when they leave college. One day I went to visit some teachers at my old high school and got to talking to one Ms. (Dr.) Heidi Hursh. Somehow, she convinced me that I should be teaching- and then proceeded to get me a job. <br />
<br />
At 23, I was barely older than the students I was teaching and got mistaken for a student on a pretty regular basis. Also, I had no idea what I was doing. Technically, I had the credentials to teach the class, a college level Introduction to International Studies, since to be able to teach lower level college classes you just need a Master's degree in the subject you are teaching and I happened to have a brand new one of those. But I really had no idea what I was doing.<br />
<br />
The transition from student to teacher was strange. First, I was young. Second, I was teaching at my own high school, right next to my old teachers. I remember one day when a few teachers invited me out for a FAC (Friday Afternoon Club-Happy Hour). I sat in the middle of a long table sipping my beer- in between my old physics teacher and my stage teacher. I don't remember talking much, I think that mostly I just sat there with wide eyes and tried not to freak out at the fact that I was there. The teachers gossiped about the news at the school (the principal had just announced that she would be leaving the school) and of course, talked about students and (amazing!) other things as well. Over the next few months, I got more comfortable in this informal space, but even now, years later it is a bit amazing to me that I got to go out and drink with teachers.<br />
<br />
Over the past few years, while I have been in Denver, I have taken on several different roles from teaching to subbing to running after school programs. I am more comfortable now when students call me Ms. Lipman and most of the teachers I work with now have never known me as a student. But I am a student still, or again.<br />
<br />
I just finished my first semester of "Student-teaching" on my way to become certified to teach high school. One of my friends asked me today if I was done with school yet. I thought about it and laughed a bit- there are so many answers to that question- yes, I am done with school for this semester; no, I am not done since I have one more semester of classes in the fall; no, I'm never done with school- once I finish this program then I will just keep going, teaching and learning- I will never be "done" with school. I thought when I started teaching seven years ago that there was this magic time when you became a "teacher." I have realized a more nuanced view of this process- I am a teacher, but I am still a student. Even when I finish my license and am teaching full time (fingers crossed that I get a job!) I will still be a student. Part of teaching is the fact that you never stop learning. </div>beccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01989838476792854572noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104688951091443586.post-68143429433234367632011-12-26T12:52:00.003-07:002011-12-30T15:53:32.539-07:00Festivus . . . for the rest of usI'm an atheist. And I love Christmas.<br /><br />Really, though, I love holidays. I love parties and celebrations and feasts and days off and getting together with family and traditions. So I love Christmas, but I also love Hanukkah, Solstice, Passover, Thanksgiving, New Years and the Fourth of July. I love singing Christmas carols, I really love some of the good old ones like Silent Night and Good King Wenceslas and Here we go a-wasailing (I also love wasail, yum) and Carol of the Bells, but I also sometimes just love singing Jingle Bells really loud. I love the Singing Christmas Tree. I love Christmas lights. I love seeing Denver all covered in snow and sparkling. I love the City and County building getting lit up and I love the Parade of Lights. When I was a kid, I loved getting up at 5am on Christmas morning and going downstairs to empty my stocking and watch cartoons and parades. I loved finding an orange at the bottom of my stocking. I love going swimming on Christmas.<br /><br />I think that traditions are important and I appreciate the religious background to Christmas, I just don't happen to believe in Jesus as savior and son of God and all that. I like Jesus, I think he was a great guy and that we can learn a lot from him, so I don't mind celebrating his birthday. I also like to celebrate the birthdays of Martin Luther King Jr. and George Washington, cause they were pretty great guys too. <br /><br />I don't get offended when people wish me a "Merry Christmas" as long as you don't get offended if I wish you a "Happy Holidays" because Christmas isn't the only holiday this time of year. Christmas is included in my "Happy Holidays," but since I don't celebrate Christmas for the religious aspect of it, it is equal in my mind with Hanukkah, Winter Solstice and New Years, which my family also celebrate with fun and tradition (I love lighting Hanukkah candles, and especially cleaning the wax off of the menorah, I don't know why, I just love playing with the wax). <br /><br />This year for Christmas, my sister and her family cooked a holiday feast for us at their house- they invited their good friends and my aunt came down from Greeley. My mom (the only Christian among us) had to work until mid afternoon, but when she arrived we all sat down to a lovely meal of turkey and stuffing, with latkes from my aunt and pumpkin pie. <br /><br />Happy birthday Jesus.beccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01989838476792854572noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104688951091443586.post-67940228011506262962011-12-23T19:30:00.000-07:002011-12-23T19:31:22.476-07:00Time . . . to get back to writingI have been home now for just over a year. That fact seems so strange to me. I have been home now for half of the time I was in Peace Corps and for twice as long as I traveled afterwards. It is funny sometimes how time can seem so different. How lengths of time are so different depending what you are doing. It is like how the last five minutes that you are waiting in class before a vacation starts can seem like they take years . . . and how hours doing something you love can seem to just fly by. The two years I was in PC and traveling are such BIG times. There were lifetimes worth of experiences squeezed into a little less than three years. Of course every moment wasn't exciting (January in Peshkopi seemed to TAKE FOREVER!). The year that I have been back in Denver does not seem to have taken very long and in many ways I am still adjusting to being home. I have maybe gotten over my NEED to tell everyone about PC, but I still bring up Albania and my time in PC often. I still refer to myself as having "recently returned" and I'm not sure when I will have to drop the "recently." A year ago, my parents picked me up from the airport and took me to a RPCV holiday party. A few weeks ago, I walked to that same holiday party. A lot has changed in my life in the past year, and when I walked into the party, some part of me still feels as though I just stepped off the plane from China.<br /><br />You may have noticed that this is my first update in a long time. I have been keeping a journal in some form or another for most of my life and blogging seemed like a convenient way for my friends and family to keep track of me while I was gone, but I have pretty much stopped since I've been home. I have started to write in my journals again (something that I did only sporadically when I was gone), but I think that I have missed this outlet. There are some things that are private and belong only in the paper and pen version that sits on my bedside table and there are some things that I don't mind sharing with the world. I have never really known or cared if I had much of an audience (except my parents, hi Mom!) and I don't think that is much of a consideration for me right now. I think that I want to write for myself- to work out things that are going on and to update and remind myself. I doubt that I will come back to blogging as much as I was during my trip, but I think I will try to come back and update every once in a while . . . .beccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01989838476792854572noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104688951091443586.post-83003856101246218322011-03-02T15:48:00.004-07:002011-03-27T22:51:02.747-06:00ReadjustmentI've been home for a few months now. I have started to write about 5 different posts, but I keep getting stuck in the middle or distracted. I heard a lot from people (and remembered myself from my previous abroad experiences) that reintegration was harder than the original culture shock of leaving and entering a new country. Knowing that doesn't really prepare you for it though.<br /><br />Coming home is hard. When you leave, you expect things to be hard- you are entering a new culture, you are going away from everything and everyone that you have ever known. But when you come home, it is not like that. You would think that it would be easier to come home. You know these people, you know these things, you have lived this life. But things at home are never quite what you expect them to be. By the time I went back to China (after seeing my parents in the Philippines) I was really homesick. A big part of me wanted to just go home with my parents When I was homesick, I had this particular idea of "home" that is obviously idealized and not totally correct. So when you come home, the first thing is that it is not exactly what you were missing for all those months. I was missing something, maybe the idea of "home," but real home is this crazy real place that is always changing and is not always how I remembered it when I was missing it.<br /><br />Second, when I was gone, things changed. I am at that age when a lot of my friends are getting married and having babies. So all of a sudden, I come home and there are all these couples and babies and people with completely different lives from when I left. I went away and they kept on living. They kept on living without me and now they are used to living without me, so it is sometimes hard to come back into their lives. They have been used to not calling me and me not being around. I have been used to not seeing them and not being around. <br /><br />Third, I have changed. I'm not used to the fast paced American life anymore and I'm not sure I want to get used to it again. Even though it was really hard for me to get used to, I did eventually learn how to slow down and enjoy life a bit more while I was traveling. I kind of grew to love snuggling up to my fire and my laptop and watching a movie and then going to bed at 9:00. I got used to getting a full 8 hours (or more) of sleep. I am not the same person that left three years ago (yes, I just past my three year anniversary of leaving for Albania, crazy!). I have literally been around the world. I want to talk about all the places I've been and people I've met and things I've done, but I also don't want to talk about it too much. I feel a bit like <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KwuDH5BkHvw">this guy.</a> My life is now defined by the past three years and I don't want to be boring talking about it all the time, but it is a frame of reference that I now will experience things by. My life is now "Before Peace Corps" and "After Peace Corps" and I now have a lot of stories that start out with "when I was on the train in Russia . . . " or "compared to Albania . . . " I don't know if people really want to hear about it or not. I know that I have heard all of my parent's stories about a gazillion times- I love their stories (and I love them even more now that I have taken the trip) but I don't know if everyone loves them. It is sometimes hard to know when to talk about it and when to just be quiet.<br /><br />All of this is not even to mention the general weirdness of America. The cereal isle in the grocery store. Driving on the highway. Having a regular job. Don't even get me started on Sam's Club . . . This is the stuff that I thought people were talking about when they said that coming home is harder. And maybe I'll never really get used to grocery stores again, but probably eventually it will feel normal again . . . someday . . .beccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01989838476792854572noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104688951091443586.post-21119509572214663822010-12-05T19:35:00.004-07:002010-12-15T17:30:47.022-07:00Ms. LemonThat's my new nickname (usually just "lemon", without the miss). <p>So to explain a bit- I came back to China to chaperone a trip that was organized by DCIS, my alma mater and former employer. I went to visit a few teacher at the school when I was home last summer and during a lovely brunch at Racine's, Cathy (one of my former teachers) and I<br />started talking about China. When she found out that I would be in China in the fall she insisted I talk to Melanie, who was organizing the trip- Cathy had been offered the chaperone gig, but didn't think she could do it and thought it would be perfect for me. I talked to Melanie and got the details- the trip would be three weeks long, two of those weeks in Kunming, Denver's sister city, where we would stay in host families and some of my expenses would be paid. All I had to do was meet them in Shanghai and be a responsible adult. The group was small, only 4 high school students (all of whom I knew well from when they were in 6th grade) one DU student who decided to tag along (who I also know fairly well) and Mel. The kids are great and require very little in the way of actual supervision and I would get a plane ticket home- sounds like a deal to me! <p>It has been a great deal so far. During the day we go to classes put on for us by the high school we are visiting (Kunming Foreign Language School). With the exception of Chinese Language, which is way over my head, the classes are great. We've learned a few Chinese songs and arts. The kids are having a great time with their host families as am I. I think the kids Chinese skills will have improved a great deal by the time they get home and I think my skills will have improved by more than 100%- from two words to maybe five :-). <p>I don't quite remember where the "lemon" moniker came from- probably some mispronunciation of my name by someone, but I think I like it- the Chinese pronunciation also seems to sound a lot like my actual name, so I think I'll have someone teach me the characters and just run with it. That's Ms. Lemon to you. . . <p> </p>beccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01989838476792854572noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104688951091443586.post-31100261583494897782010-12-05T19:35:00.001-07:002010-12-15T17:32:58.681-07:00Chinese foodIn the first two weeks I was in china I didn't have very much in the way of "authentic" Chinese food. It's hard when you are traveling alone to find good places and because Chinese food tends to be family style, when you are without a family to eat with, fast food is sometimes just an easier option. As a solo traveler, I found China to be a lot like Italy- you know there is good food everywhere if you just had a local to show you where it is! <p>Luckily, on his last leg of my trip with the DCIS students, I am staying with a host family (an English teacher) and have been taken out to eat many times. Also, the food that my host has cooked at home has been wonderful. Even the school lunches have been better than the Chinese food I found on my own. <p>Besides fast food, the chinese take on "western food" is sort of funny. My first host (I had to move because her father got sick and she needed to take care ofhim) was extremely worried about what I would eat. She bought a hilariously huge loaf of mediocre plain white bread- I was too polite to tell her that I didn't really like it. Even my second host, who has been to America and understands me a little bit better worried ceaselessly about what I was eating (especially for breakfast). Twice this week we were taken by the school principal to what he described as a "western style restaurant ". It turned out to be a sort of buffet with waiters roaming around<br />with various types of meat skewered on large swords. I think I would rather eat traditional Chinese food (although eating jello with chopsticks was fun). I love how the Chinese family style works. Depending on how many people you have, you order a ton of dishes (usually a few more than there are people) plus rice and soup and it goes on a rotating platter in the center and everyone grabs things as they go by. I love this because with a big enough group you are always<br />guaranteed to have a few things you like. I think, maybe because you tend to grab things just a few bites at a time, you tend to eat less this way (at least I think I do), but you also never leave the table feeling hungry. My favorite thing so far has been "hot pot"- basically there is a pot of hot soup that is set on a hot plate on or in the table. You order different meats, vegetables and noodles and then put them into the hot pot to cook. Then everyone reaches in with their chopsticks and grabs what they want (or what they can). All of this family style eating has really improved my chopstick skills. I was not too bad before as we used to practice with our Chinese take out lunches at school, but now I can even eat rice noodles with chopsticks, which is no easy task.</p>beccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01989838476792854572noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104688951091443586.post-57635911591408144622010-12-01T19:34:00.000-07:002010-12-15T17:28:55.093-07:00KaraokeLast weekend I was invited to a weekend trip with a group of teachers to a hot springs in a town a few hours away. It seemed to be a bonding trip for the group of teachers that all teach one grade (junior 3, equivalent to about 9th grade). We started out on Saturday midday and after a lunch stop arrived in the early afternoon. After a short rest, everyone headed to the indoor pool to swim and relax. It was quite nice, with a few large pools of different levels and a wet and dry<br />sauna. Neither of the two English teachers I was with knew how to swim, so we had a funny afternoon while I (along with the PE teacher and some others) tried to teach them, without much success. The other highlight of the afternoon was the awkward match making that was<br />attempted by some of the teachers between me and the chemistry teacher, who was not bad looking and seemed sweet, but didn't speak any English and even though he was a chemistry teacher- I didn't feel any. <p>After dinner everyone split into two groups, one for karaoke and one for mahjong. I really wanted to play mahjong, and they even let me play one hand before they kicked me out to get down to the real business of playing. I think they thought it was cute- they played really fast, not like my friends. I probably could have caught up after a few hands. I was glad I went to watch anyway, since I saw the coolest thing ever- a self dealing mahjong table. A disk in the center of the table rises up and you push all the tiles into a drum below the table. The drum mixes the tiles and pushes them into slots, then the tiles rise up in perfect rows onto the table to form the wall. Magic!!! Anyway, they started to really play and I left, time for karaoke! <p>If you have ever done karaoke in Asia, then you know it is different than we do it at home. Instead of having to perform for the whole bar, you and your friends rent out a small room and you sing just for each-other. In a lot of ways this is better as people are leas nervous, but you do miss out on the great opportunity to make fun of strangers. . . <p>When we arrived the singing was already in full swing. A few of the group had great voices, a few didn't, but everyone had fun. One of the girls figured out how to find the English songs on the computer and I stated to look through them. I found what I expected- mostly. There was Madonna, Brittney, MichealJjackson- there were a few other random songs- they somehow convinced me to sing "My heart will go on". My big surprise came when I was scrolling through and saw a familiar title "Handlebars". I was overly excited and confused the Chinese teachers a<br />lot by trying to explain that I know the band. In fact there were two Flobots songs on the list and I (tried to) sang both of them. I had more success with Handlebars than with Rise since I know the rap part better (mostly on Rise I only know the "rise" chorus part). I asked one teacher to take my picture while I sang, but she was very confused (later I was able to explain why I wanted my picture with the video behind me). I'm still a little confused as to why there would have been two Flobots songs on the karaoke machine at a hotel at a hot springs in rural China- there are tons of English songs that are more famous or more popular that were not there, so I think that it must just be fate- whoever programed the machine is a Flobots fan, which is kind of awesome. </p>beccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01989838476792854572noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6104688951091443586.post-53866571759279118172010-11-28T22:36:00.000-07:002010-12-05T19:53:44.471-07:00Sleeping in airportsWhen I booked my tickets to and from Malaysia the only flights arrived at about very late (about 1:00AM). I spent some time online trying to figure out how to get from the airports in KL and Shanghai to the actual towns and where would be most convenient to stay. In this investigation I stumbled upon a great website: <a href="http://sleepinginairports.com/">sleepinginairports.</a>net.<p>For KL I found that it would be easy and not too expensive to just go to town and get to my hostel (and the ratings for sleeping in the airport there were not good). For Shanghai, since I was actually arriving in Hangzhou (about one hour by train or two hours by bus away from Shanghai center) with the late arrival it would be easier to just stay in the airport. Since the airport was new, there were no reviews, but I decided to chance it. I ended up finding a great spot- padded bench seats with no armrests, quiet, no people and with a power outlet close by. I watched a movie and then put on my face mask and went to sleep for about 5 hours. In the morning I found my way to the train and (after going to the wrong address once) checked in at the hotel where I would meet the students from Denver that would arrive later that night. </p><p>I spent a little bit of time adding my reviews to <a href="http://sleepinginairports.com/">sleepinginairports.n</a>et for some of the airports I've been stuck in including Iceland, Amsterdam and Tirana. The website is great for those of us lucky enough to fly standby, but not lucky enough to make it out on the first try. My mom wished she had know about the site before they came to see me- it might have made their overnight in Seoul a bit more comfortable. This time in China was the first time I had chosen to sleep in the airport instead of just getting stuck there, but now with this site, I might be sleeping in airports on purpose more often. </p><p><br /></p>beccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01989838476792854572noreply@blogger.com0