The bus dropped us off at the international bus station in Tirana early in the morning. A large uncovered parking lot with ticket stalls advertising destinations all over Europe, from Greece all the way to Germany. I dared not think how long a journey from Tirana to Berlin would take. We decided to walk to the central square, Skanderberg, less than a kilometer away, to stretch our legs after the 10+hour journey on the bus.
Continue reading →Albanian Diary – Part 1
Where does one country begin and another ends? It sounds like a simple question with such a simple answer. Just look at the map, and you’ll know. There are numerous lines that neatly demarcate each country, just as a child imagines these lines as real physical structure like a line in the sand. You’re there, I’m here. This is your territory, this is mine.
In reality, borders are always porous. Even when there are walls, rivers, mountain ranges and border crossing formalities that mark the leaving of one country to enter a different country. Borders are always porous.
Continue reading →a lesson invisible
I’ve learned to see the wind
in the stadium wave of leaves of grass,
the metachronal rhythmic dance of stalks of reeds,
the exponential ripples gliding on the surface of the sea.
I’m the spectator bystander completely consumed by
this live performance on momentary canvas
Swift,
boundless, and
vast
On sad songs
“Why does it sound so sad?” I asked the man sitting next to me.
He doesn’t speak any English.
“Italiano?” he asked.
I shook my head, dismayed. Sorry, no Italian.
“Sprechen Sie Deutsch?” he asked.
That’s a lucky try.
“Natürlich!” I exclaimed. “Obwohl nür ein bißchen.”
Just enough to communicate the most basic of intent.
And so begin my quick tutorial of Greek folk music.
Why it’s always sad, mostly about love, that doesn’t end well.
“Only sad things deserve to be turned into songs,” he said.
On wonderment
Before this trip, I thought I would’ve cried at the sight of Acropolis, the same way I was so awe-struck by the Eiffel Tower when I first visited Paris four years ago. But there we were, up on Filopappou Hill with Athens below us, the Mediterranean Sea glinting in the harsh sunlight, and Parthenon in the distance. I thought of the first time I learned about Acropolis – probably in my college architecture 101 class – and how it had always been on my never-written-down-but-still-very-real list of places I’d like to see before I die.
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