Tirana, Albania

Modern Tirana was founded as an Ottoman town in 1614 by Suljeman Bargjini, a local ruler, although the area has been inhabited since long before the town was founded. Tirana became Albania's capital city in 1920. The city is surrounded on almost all sides by hills, with Dajti Mountain on the East and a valley that leads to the Adriatic in the distance, the Triana river also runs through the city, and is visible in many parts of the city. During WW2 Tirana was a fascist stronghold, that Benito Mussolini visited from time to time. A puppet government was established there with a puppet leader King Zog, at the reins. Tirana stayed in fascist control until is was liberated on 17 November 1944 after a intense battle between Communists and Nazi forces. The Nazis didn't hold for long and eventually withdrew and the communists seized power. The city experienced a incredible decline in architecture, as well as living standards as massive socialist-styled apartment complexes, and factories were constructed, while Skanderbeg Square was redesigned with a number of buildings being demolished. Tirana's Old Bazaar and the Orthodox Cathedral were burned to the ground for the creation of the Soviet-styled Palace of Culture. The Italian-built municipal building was destroyed and the National History Museum was constructed instead, while the structure housing the Parliament of Albania during the monarchy was turned into a children's theater. It seems as you have read and will read in the future, that when one regime enters, it destroys all reminders of the former regime, to replace it with a facade of their own. Of course, there were revolts against the standards of living and other issues throughout this time in Tirana's history, mostly by university students. Overtime, with the fall of the USSR, communism fell in Tirana. The most recent problem now is the chaotic development of the city. Everywhere you look the is construction. Multi-story complexes are going up and there is no utility backbone in the city. Many illegal homes are going up and the roads are not in great shape. Tirana is a colorful place, with a bustling nightlife, but no charm. Its a place with some kinks that still need to be worked out.

So I arrived in Tirana and immediately saw the mess that it is. I liked it though. It was a fast paced city with movement everywhere. I walked around the square and took the sights, the mosque and clocktower, the opera house, the national history museum. A big statue in the center of a former Albania war hero, horseback. On my way to the hostel I heard screaming. I look over and see a woman screaming and almost throwing herself into the road. She is screaming at every passing car. She obviously had a mental illness. Everyone avoided her as they walked by and she ignored everyone...except those cars. The hostel was nice I stayed there for several days and met a guy working their an American. That was nice, because it was good to talk to someone in English for a change. We went out and drank throughout the whole time there. I went to Mt. Dajti to get a view of the city. It was a nice trip up to the mountain. Great views and plenty places to hike around. On the way out I ran into the prime minister of Albania. Have a secret service guy show me his gun, because I wanted a picture of the pm. It was cool all the same. After a couple of days I left for Berat. I was waiting on a new card to come in mail. I am still waiting to get back to that card and out of Albania. I am ready to see a new place. I love it here. I would recommend it to anybody, but its time for a change of scenery. Next stop was Berat.

Skopje, Macedonia

Skopje is the capital of the Republic of Macedonia. Skopje, with about a third of the total population. It is the country's political, cultural, economic, and academic center. It was known in the Roman period under the name Scupi. Some people still call it by this name today. The area in and around Skopje has been inhabited since at least 4000 BC; the remains Neolithic settlements were discovered inside Kale Fortress (Skopje Fortress.) The night before the start of the 1st century AD, Scupi was seized by the Romans and converted to a military camp. Later in 395 AD, The Roman Empire was divided into two halves, east and west, Scupi came under Byzantine rule from Constantinople (Istanbul). From 1282 the town was part of the Serbian realm and its capital city since 1346. In 1392 the city was conquered by the Ottoman, it would stay that way for over 500 years. At that time the city was famous for its oriental architecture. In 1912 the city was conquered by the Serbs during the Balkan Wars and after the First World War and stayed that until the creation of what was to be called Yugoslavia. In the Second World War the city was conquered by the Bulgarian Army. This is one of the reasons Macedonia and Bulgaria don't get along to this day. In 1944 it became the capital city of all the reincarnations of Macedonia. The city developed rapidly after World War II, until the major earthquake of 1963, which destroyed 80% of Skopje. Skopje is approximately halfway between Belgrade and Athens. The Vardar River, passes through the city then flows south passing the border into Greece. Today, Skopje is spreading is growing leaps and bounds. The government has created the "Skopje 2014" project. With the help of the EU the city is changing its image of a bland capital into something different plans have been to erect several statues, fountains, bridges, and museums at a cost of about €500 million. When I arrived at the central bus station in Skopje, I saw was a unorganized, bland, and unimpressive city. I could see the VERO center, which was a major eyesore. I wandered to my hostel, which was in "Old Town" and was quite nice. Old town was a really nice part of the city, small streets, old houses, and Macedonian flags waving in the cold wind. I woke up the next morning and wandered around the city. I went to Macedonia square and saw the gigantic statue of Alexander the Great. There was a huge video screen next to the statue. It was playing a movie, that was fragmented often with car commercials. After seeing this I went to the Kale Fortress, it was a long walk to find it closed. I heard later from many people that this is a common issue as of late. Afterwards, I went to the National Holocaust Museum, which was very interesting and well designed. It was in Cyrillic and English, which was nice, even the movie playing in the rooms was in English. I discovered that the Bulgarians during WW2, entered Macedonia and made all the Jews write down their addresses, names, and bring a picture. This was a way of cataloging never seen, in WW2. Its the only one of its kind. The people in some of the pictures are smiling, some are not. The museum has many of these pictures. This is another reason Macedonians dislike Bulgarians. After the Bulgarians, the Ustaša arrived and reeked have on the people of this country. The amount of hate it took to kill so many people, I will never understand.

From there I traveled around the city and stumbled upon the National Art Gallery. It was not very impressive. First it was expensive. Second, all the paintings suffered from water damage. Third, there was so little, maybe 30 pieces total. I did find one or two that I liked a lot. After this, I went back to the hostel and planned my next move...Albania.

Bulgaria and Rila Monestary

Sofia

So Jesse and I arrived in Sofia around 2am. The bus there was not so bad. Our first border crossing went well. Few questions and the guards were generally humble. We walked through Sofia for quite sometime. We couldn't find our road for the hostel and my feet were going numb. If you remember, I burned my really good pair of socks in Goreme. We pasted by old shops, squares, a small river, prostitutes (who whistle at you!), and thousands of cabs. Jesse and I walked around aimlessly until about 5am. Finally, after telling Jesse that I would pay for the cab, we get one. The cabby tells us that he knows the place. We enter the cab and he takes up about a block away and we are now standing in front of our hostel. I would stay for the next 6 days. A little history about Sofia. Sofia with a population of 1.3 million people, sits ensconce under Mount Vitosha; which you can see from certain parts of the city. The well-preserved town walls, which are visible when you walk underground, date back before the 7th century BC, when the Thracians constituted their city around a mineral spring, which people still drink out of today. Sofia has three mountain passes that lead to the city, which have been key roads since days of yore, affixing the Adriatic Sea and Central Europe with the Black and Aegean Seas. The city was destroyed in the 447 invasion of the Huns. It was rebuilt by Byzantine Emperor Justinian I (Remember him from Hagia Sophia in Istanbul) and for a while called Triaditsa or Sredets by the Slavic tribes. During the reign of Justinian it prospered, a great fortress with walls was built whose remnants can still be seen today. After a number of futile sieges, the city fell in 1018, but once again was established into the restored Bulgarian Empire at the time of Tsar Ivan Asen I. From the 12th to the 14th century, Sofia was a burgeoning center of trade and crafts. Again, in 1382, Sofia was seized by the Ottoman Empire in the course of the Bulgarian-Ottoman Wars after a extended siege. After this event the city started to construct more Ottoman style structures, such as Mosques and bathhouses. In 1878 Russian forces took Sofia again in the Russo-Turkish War, and became the capital of the autonomous Principality of Bulgaria in 1879, which became the Kingdom of Bulgaria in 1908. During WW2, Sofia was bombed by Allied aircraft, in late 1943 and early 1944. As a consequence of the invasion of the Soviets, Bulgaria's government, which was allied with Germany, was overthrown. These issues ended in 1946 with the creating of the People Republic. The architecture of Sofia is a mix of Socialist apartment blocks and quite a large amount of ancient Roman, Byzantine and medieval Bulgarian buildings are preserved in the center of the city. Many architects were involved in the construction of more modern buildings in Sofia, including places of learning. With the rise of Communism in Bulgaria came the typical Stalinequse construction of apartment blocks, large public squares, and particular designs for learning centers. This is also still present today, and can be found anywhere in former Communist states. The city is known for the Ivan Vazov National Theatre, National Opera and Ballet, National Art Gallery, National Gallery of Foreign Art, Alexander Nevsky Cathedral, Boyana Church, and SS. Cryil and Methodius National Library houses the largest national collection of books and documents and is Bulgaria's oldest cultural institute. Bulgaria is now a member of the EU and WTO.
The first issue occurred the next morning. I was trying to get money out of an ATM, which was not a problem in Turkey. I kept getting denied. Jesse fronted me some money and I was fine. Two days later out of money again. Again, I go to an ATM. This time it eats my card. We try calling the bank. They tell us that they will not give me my card back. I wait til the next day and again attempt to get it back from the bank. Here is a similar dialogue of what was said between me and the teller:
Me: "Can I get my card back?"
Teller: "No."
Me: "Why not?"
Teller: "Hold on, let me ask."
Me: "Good idea."
Long story short...got the card back and have been suffering from this issue as of now. Lots of Western Unions as of late. This has been somewhat of a problem. I just got to budget a bit.

Rila Monastery

Its an incredibly beautiful place. A long trip up into the mountains, around them, through valleys, snow everywhere. You follow these things, until you hit a a wall and a door-that's it-the monastery. Rila Monastery is found in a deep valley of the Rilska River at an elevation of 1,147 m (3,763 ft) above sea level. The monastery is named after its founder, the hermit Ivan of Rila (876-946 AD). Who was said to travel into the mountains to be left alone and pray all the day threw. Well, it seems he was followed or discovered, as well as his hiding place, and thereafter turned into a monastery. Over the years large donations were made by almost every Czar of the Second Bulgarian Empire up until the Ottoman Conquest, making the monastery a cultural and spiritual center of Bulgarian national consciousness that reached its acme from the 12th to the 14th century. The monastery was rebuilt where it lies today by a man named Hreylu Dragovola during the 14th century. However, the Ottomans, as well as numerous raids overtime had destroyed the monastery by the middle of the 15th century. With donations by the Russian Orthodox Church, Rila was re-erected by the end of the 15th century. Three brothers from the region of Kystudenil, who moved Ivan of Rila's relics into the complex, were the main constructors of the monastery. After the complex acted as a cache of Bulgarian language and culture in the ages of foreign rule. During the time of the Bulgarian National Revival(18th-19th century), it was destroyed by fire in 1833 and then reconstructed between 1834 and 1862 with the help of wealthy Bulgarians from around the whole country.

As we entered the monastery, there was a level of silence, I have yet to hear since I started on my journey. The snow fell with a bit of strength. I started to look around and become familiar with my surroundings, when a Japanese woman started shouting about a picture. I had not noticed her, until then. She was screaming "OK! Take my picture here!" I would take it, she would run back and tell me no, then we would repeat this process. Now I am not a camera man and I don't what kind of shot she wanted, but I apparently was not doing this "picture" justice, so finally she just looked at it and said "OK," in a sad kind of way and went off. Back in my zone I started to shoot away. The church was amazing. Every square inch was hand painted eons ago, by St. Ivans novices. Pictures of all the important religious figures were present, as well as St. Ivan and other big players of the monastery's past. The inside of the church, was really impressive. The same style as the outside, painted in every place, but with some graves inside, writing in Cyrillic so I cant tell who they were, as well as some splashes of gold, and a lot of candles. They even sold Rila Monastery bottled water inside! Got to make money wherever you can, maybe that's why there were 3 souvenir shops inside and a dozen outside? We stayed for about two hours, not because we wanted to, but because the driver of the bus disappeared. When the driver came back we left. I slept the whole way back. When we arrived back in Sofia. I had made a decision to book it. That night Jesse and I, on our way back to the hostel, were smoking ciggarettes. I saw a cop car coming up the street. I even joked, "be cool, the cops kid." Well, the cop car stopped right in front of us. A cop exited and a conversation started, that went something like this...mind was a bit clouded:

Officer: asaldòlskdoapsodkùàèèò! (I don't know Bulgarian?)

Jesse and I: We don't know what your saying, we are American.

O: òpmnddilsiepeè! Bulgarian!

Jesse: OK

Me: Whatever you say

O: Where is the heroin, the marijuana, the cocaine?

Me: Not here.

J: Yeah, we don't have anything like that.

O: Were is your Passports?

Me: In the room

Jesse: (While handing him his Tennessee driver license) Here.

O: (Incredibly confused) OK. (Hands it back). Have a good day (and some other bs in there).

The officer leaves in the car, walk home laughing.

I was tired of it there. So after a night of bowling and drinking heavily, I told Jesse I was going. He felt rushed and possible pushed a bit (even though there was not a rush and he was not being pushed), so he didn't come with me. Haven't seen em since. I woke the next morning, packed and got out of there. Had a splitting headache that started, that morning. I had it for the next three days to come.

Also I am just curious if anyone is reading this thing anymore. I am quite behind with these, but am slowly typing them up. I would like to know. I am going to write them anyway. I just want to know. Thanks J

Instanbul and Cappadocia

Istanbul
Meeting with Jesse at the airport was easier than I expected. We met at a Starbucks! Of all places...ha. We met up, hugs were given and we talked for about 20 minutes about travel and sights in general. We took the metro to Sultanahmet, where our first hostel was located. The first thing I noticed was how modern everything was. Tokens for the subway, computers and other machines everywhere. Now for 2 years I didn't see a receipt, let alone a computer. Istanbul is a huge city. We passed by buildings, stadiums, an old city wall maybe 50 feet high. The Minarets, towers, and other relics of the past are everywhere. The city has literally absorbed the landscape around it. It took us 45 minutes to arrive in our part of the city. We immediately saw Sultanahmet Camii ( Sultan Ahmet Mosque or The Blue Mosque) and Ayasofya (Hagia Sophia) in a large square. There was an Obelisk from the Byzantine to right of us next the road. These places take up every bit of the sky you see. I am still so impressed at their Brobdingnagian size. The work that was put into them, most have been labor intensive. We walked through the square and wondered down some cobble-stoned streets; streets barely wide enough for a car. As we finally drew near our hostel, I felt a big weight lifted off my shoulders. I was no longer in The Gambia. I was starting a new journey, something different and new. I looked forward to it.
The next morning after a hot shower and a sound sleep, we traveled back to Ayasofa and Sultanahmet Camii for views of the inside of these places. First, we went to Sultanahmet Camii. We wandered around the outside of the complex looking at outline of the mosque and its minarets, its overall size and all the small domes. There were ablution spots on all sides of it. The marble or stone was still quite lambent after so many years. I took several pictures of the outside of it, while taking everything in. I found the entrance to enter inside, but was sort of uncomfortable with entering. I remember in The Gambia that if you were not a Muslim, you could not enter a mosque. In this case, we being called by a Turkish man to come and see. We entered reluctantly and removed our shoes. Inside was one central room or the main dome. This "big" room was more like an infinite expanse. All the white pillars and walls were covered with beautiful designs in reds and blues. The soft carpet under toe was spotless and well cut. My first thought was how incredibly dingy it was, but after a few minutes you didn't even notice. You aren't there to look at the carpet anyways. There is a praying "area" where some Muslims were praying. They blocked it off with a long wooding banister. I noticed everyone taking pictures of the men praying. This bothered me in a way. This is there space and we are just here to see it. Its one thing that its prayer time and we're there, its something else to take pictures of them while they pray. The chandeliers that hung from the ceiling, were quite nice in their own eclectic way. I sat for a few minutes on the floor just taking everything in. I could feel the energy surging through the building. Its hard not to; there is so much history in that place. Looking out of a large wooden doorway; I could see my next stop on the other side of the square, Ayasofya.
Ayasofya was built before Sultanahmet Camii in 360. It was originally a Greek cathedral, but was destroyed by rioters twice, once in 532, again 537. It was a Roman Catholic cathedral from 1261 to 1453. From 1453, until 1943 it was a mosque. Its now a museum. The central dome is incredible. So far on my travels, I never seen anything to quite compare. Ayasofya is considered one greatest surviving examples of Byzantine architecture. The huge buttresses and arches are everywhere. The windows are copious. The architects over the years that have fixed collapsed domes, broken windows, and other structural issues were extremely ingenious. Through history always changing certain issues and replacing them with more inventive and pulchritudinous architecture. There are two floors with a views of the main room abundant. The walk up to the second level is through a space wide enough for carts to move heavy stones. The floor is made of cobblestone and is worn down by feet over centuries to a lustrous, almost slippery sheen. The second level of the church is decorated similarly to the first level, but with some older, unearthed pictures of Jesus and his apostles, as well as Mary. There are even old cast iron candle holders aligning the second levels inner walls. When you look up to the center of the main dome from the second level you can see the exquisitely painted works of hand. Saint John Chrysostom is seen as well as Pope John The Baptist, and other mosaics by Patriarch Photius with (Emperor Micheal III and Basil I present) , Emperor Alexander, Empress Zoe, and Emperor John II Comnenus. The artwork is gracefully painted in many colors, but with Christ wearing a blue robe with gold backgrounds (Typical 9th Century art style). There is amazing tile work everywhere and geometric shapes are plentiful. I wondered around taking all of this in. Ayasofya is another impressive construction endeavor. I was feeling the same vibe that I felt in Sultanahmet Camii here, but stronger. This structure felt to me like a breathing entity. I glanced over at one point to see Jesse sitting next to an old man in some wooden chairs along a wall. It was really picturesque. Jesse, a young, healthy man. The old Turkish man riddled with scoliosis, leaning on a wooden cane to sit in a chair.
After leaving Ayasofya, we worked around the city for possibly 4 hours. I found a nice doner and a park to sit in. As I sat, the fat cats of Istanbul arrived with hopes of some falling scrapes finding there way to the ground. Jesse and I chatted about a lot of things and our lives over the past two years. It is one of those memories I will not forget. Afterward, we wandered up a nearby road and passed under a Roman aqueduct. Once again, the city had built around this treasure of the past. It was weird watching traffic run directly underneath it. We walked into the Grand Bazaar accidentally. Inside the bazaar, people passed and weaved. Sellers offering prices and hot Turkish tea. Herbs and Spices galore. The arched ceiling and geometric patterns with a splash of yellow background was very appealing. Later on made back to our second hostel and had an Efes, the Turkish beer. It was tasty, not a Julbrew, but good. Drank a little Raki too. Turkish liquor that tastes like licorice. Went bed that night feeling pretty damn good.
Woke up the next morning and bought fresh pomegranate juice on the street. It was delicious. I also had the pleasant surprise of seeing my first snow in over two years that morning. We walked again through the city. Moved out of the touristy part of Istanbul and went to an area called Beyoglu. We were near Taksim square, in the pouring rain wandering around looking for our next hostel (we forgot to get an address before we left.) We stumbled upon a small riot over some issue (found out later had to do with Kurdistan). There were police with riot gear and shields waiting for something to happen, nothing did and we moved on. We eventually found the hostel, which was near Galata Tower. When we arrived we immediately sat next to a heater for over an hour. My feet were soaked to the core and had lost feeling. That night we met up with a friend of Jesse's that went to our college. She showed us around and took us to a tea bar. I drank to cups and a coffee. Watched a Galatasaray game on TV; they won. Afterward, we met up with a friend of friend of mine for food and beers. We went to a traditional Turkish restaurant and ate like kings. Met some cool people and then went for some beers. Drank Tequila and beer, met a Kurd, who lived on boats for a living. He had three months to kill, before setting off again. All he wanted was alcohol and women. he told me he lived in a container in Baghdad for 4 years. They told us about suicide bombers killing police. Putting bombs in trashcans, robbery, and murder. Not against citizens, but against the police and the government. Heard a story about a guy, who held an entire ferry at gunpoint, until the police arrived and gunned him down. No one knows why he did it. After dinner went back to the hostel and talked with a guy about the Peace Corps. He was really interested and said a lot of nice things about me and my choice. I was smoking a ciggarette with him, while he talked to his girlfriend in Qatar. Lots of "I love you baby"'s were said and lots of "I promise"'s too.
Went to Galata Tower the next day. It is a tourist trap, I didn't want to pay 15 bucks to view the city from a restaurant at the top of the tower. Jesse and I decided to go to Cappadocia, so we left for the bus station. When we arrived at the Otogar main bus station, I immediately went to the bathroom. I didn't see Jesse again until 5 hours later at the hostel.
Cappadocia
Jesse decided not to go the next morning so I went alone. I left earlier in the morning it was still dark. I encountered three teenagers. As I walked up, I realized that they all had lead pipes in their hands. I tried not to be too intimated, but as soon as they saw me their attention was on me. They walked up and were saying something to me in Turkish. I didn't understand. I just kept walking, they decided to follow me, which annoyed me. They were hitting their pipes against the walls of nearby buildings. I finally turned around and said "Fuck Off!" They stopped and stared at me. We waited for a few moments and they turned around and went the way they started.
The bus ride took 11 hours and was fairly crowded. When we reached Ankara the capital, it got kind of confusing. Several bus changes and no English didn't help. Luckily, small Japanese woman on my bus named Kobo helped me by translated Turkish into English. What a world! I made to the right bus and moved on. Saw an amazing sunset at Tuz Gulo an enormous salt flat. Made it to Nevinshir around 7 at night. It was snowing again, which was nice. Took a bus to Goreme. Goreme is a crazy little town. People live in caves there. The government regulates the work done to caves. I talked to one guy who told me that if he even put a nail in the wall that was 20 years in prison. He also told me that the caves are great for your health and keep food fresher longer. An Orange can last up to 5 years without going bad, an apple 4, grapes 2, and grapefruit 5. I arrived at my hostel and then owner took me out for some drinks. We drove around the town in his old Renault, until we found the place he was looking for; a small bar full of Turks watching the Fenerbache game on a projector. The owner a lunatic gave me tea and beer. I asked someone how to say thank you in Turkish, he told me. I said "Thank You," which was actually "Fuck off!" in Turkish. The owner flipped out, screaming "No! Fuck You! Get the fuck out of here!" I didn't know what was happening. Everyone laughed at my expense. I was warned about Turks and their ways of joking...I was warned. I came back to the hostel later and wanted to dry my socks. I laid them on top of a heater for a few seconds maybe ten at the most. I burned them and the room smelt like absolute shit. I went and told the owner what I had down. He was fine, but my Asian roommate was not to happy. All I got was "Really, why would you do that?" I know its hard to piss off a Asian person, there the nicest people on planet earth. I achieved that goal, I pissed him off. After my sock burning episode, I went to get some food. Ended up meeting my other roommates. We drank and ate, I played FIFA 12 on 60 inch plasma. The owner was a Turk, who just came back from Australia after 8 years. I called him the rubberband, its like the man had no bones in his body or he was double jointed everywhere. He could dance...like a rubberband. Talked with a solider about the war in Kurdistan. Talked to a Turk, who translated for American troops in Iraq. Drank a lot. We had the town to ourselves it was really amazing.
Next morning, went on a tour of Cappadocia, saw Derinkuyu Yeralti Sehri (Derinkuyu Underground City). Its the largest underground city of its kind in Cappadocia. We seemed to be in a hurry, so I didn't see as much as I wanted to. It was extremely impressive though. An insane feat digging 11 stories underground. Its so easy to get lost too. Lots of tunnels, holes in the floor (booty-traps), etc. The hallways were built so that if they were attacked by invaders only one man at a time could go down the hallway, making it easier to kill them. Saw some torture devices, a stable, a cathedral, a burial site, all underground. Next, went to a mountain cathedral, it was beautiful. Saw some valleys, went to a few small towns. That night, I decided to go back to Istanbul. Took a night bus, arrived in the morning, met with Jesse and we decided to go to Bulgaria. We went back to Otogar, this time didn't get separated. I got a ticket, thought I lost my camera, I found it. Pissed off a Turk for getting in my bag too much. That's Turkey for you. Off to Bulgaria.

The Books I Have Read in 2011

81. When You are Engulfed in Flames - David Sedaris
82. King Leopold's Ghost - Adam Hochschild
83. 4 - Chuck Klosterman
84. Notes from Underground - Fydor Dostoyevsky
85. East of Eden - John Steinbeck
86. Steppenwolf - Herman Hesse
87. Big Sur - Jack Kerouac
88. Man Walks into a Room - Nicole Krauss
89. The Complete Short Stories - Franz Kafka
90. Within the Tides - Joesph Conrad
91. One Hundred Years of Solitude - Gabriel Garcia Marquez
92. Cat's Cradle - Kurt Vonnegut
93. The Comedians - Graham Greene
94. A Moveable Feast - Ernest Hemingway
95. God Bless You Mr. Rosewater - Kurt Vonnegut
96. As I Lay Dying - William Faulkner
97. Where is the Mango Princess - Cathy Cummings
98. Invation to a Beheading - Valdamir Nabokov
99. A Sunday at a Pool in Kilgali - Gil Gamanche
100. Travels with Charley - John Steinbeck
101. The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay - Michael Chabon
102. White Fang - Jack London
103. Fidelity - Wendell Berry
104. Player Piano - Kurt Vonnegut
105. A World Without Us - Alan Weisman
106. Falconer - John Cheever
107. The Essential Rumi
108. The Secret Agent - Joesph Conrad
109. A Year of Living Biblically - A.J. Jacobs
110. Imperial Ambitions - Noam Chomsky
111. Illusions - Richard Bach
112. Tao Teh Ching - Lao Tzu
113. A Thousand Splendid Suns - Khaled Hosseini
114. One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest - Ken Kesey
115.Homage to Cantalonia - George Orwell
116. The Sun Also Rises - Ernest Hemingway
117. A Short History of Nearly Everything - Bill Bryson
118. Mystic River - Dennis Lehane
119. McTeague - Frank Norris
120. The Posionwood Bible - Barbara Kingsolver
121. Brave New World - Aldous Huxley
122. The Innocents Abroad - Mark Twain
123. The Sound and the Fury - William Faulkner
124. Holidays on Ice - David Sedaris
125. The Guinea Pig Diaries - A.J. Jacobs
126. Blood Meridian - Cormac McCarthy
127. Skeletons of the Zahara - Dean King
128. Why Are We In Vietnam? - Norman Mailer
129. Beasts of No Nation - Uzodinma Iweala
130. Life of Pi - Yann Martel
131. Music School - John Updike
132. I'm a Lebowski, You're a Lebowski - The Lebowski Fest Dudes
133. Middlesex - Jeffrey Eugenies
134. Sanctuary - William Faulkner
135. The Fall - Albert Camus
136. Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee - Dee Brown
137. In Cold Blood - Truman Capote
138. Hells Angels - Hunter S. Thompson
139. The Gambler - Fydor Dostoyevsky
140. Island - Aldous Huxley
141. The Monkey Wrench Gang - Edward Abbey
142. A Farewell to Arms - Ernest Hemingway
143. Travels with My Aunt - Graham Greene
144. The Crying of Lot 49 - Thomas Pynchon
145. The Grapes of Wraith - John Steinbeck
146.Miss Lonelyhearts - Nathanael West
147. The Naked and the Dead - Norman Mailer
148. Jailbird - Kurt Vonnegut
149. The Myth of Sisyphus - Albert Camus
150. The Day of the Locust - Nathanael West
151. Nine Stories - J.D. Salinger
152. Confessions of an Economic Hitman - John Perkins
153. The Truth (with Jokes) - Al Franken
154. Watership Down - Richard Adams
155. Bagombo Snuffbox - Kurt Vonnegut
156. Burmese Days - George Orwell
157. People of the Book - Geraldine Brooks
158. Light in August - William Faulkner
159. My Life in the Bush of Ghosts - Amos Tutuola
160. The Palm-Wine Drinkard - Amos Tutuola
161. Factotum - Charles Bukowski
162. The Asian Journal of Thomas Merton
163. Love in the Time of Cholera - Gabriel Garcia Marquez
164. The Heart of the Matter - Graham Greene
165. Jayber Crow - Wendell Berry
166. The Bell Jar - Syliva Plath
167. The Outsider/The Stranger - Albert Camus
168. Reefer Madness - Eric Schlosser
169. Desolation Angels - Jack Kerouac
170. 1776 - David McCullough
171. Ethics for a New Millennum - The Dalai Lama
172. 1984 - George Orwell
173. A Home at the End of the World - Michael Cunningham
174. The Next 100 Years - George Friedman
175. Don Quixote - Cervantes
176. Brighton Rock - Graham Greene
177. Che - Jon Lee Anderson

I read these over the last year. Happy New Year Everyone!

Saying Goodbye

So a few days ago I said goodbye to my host family. This comes with every volunteer service, but for me this was such a difficult moment. Tears were accompanied by sadness and fear. I was afraid, because I wasn't sure when I would see them again. And when I did, who would still be around. The life expectancy here is about 48 for men and 52 for women.
The last few days at site were very moving, eventful, and sad. It started on Christmas Eve, when my host father and I were sitting in his home talking until very late about everything. Tapha always full of compliments and sound advice telling me how much I would be missed, what he would do when I was gone and how we could stay in touch after I was home. Then, he told me that he wanted to offer me something and that if I would accept then he would take care of all of the paperwork, taxes, etc. I asked what he intended on giving me. He looked at me with a huge smile on his face and said that he wanted to give me some land. I thought he was joking and asked my host mom Ndaye about it. She said that no one had ever been offered this type of a gift and that I should be quite happy, because he was in fact, very serious. I agreed that I would accept his gift and we talked about how we would take care of everything the next morning. The next day we went out to see the land he intended to give me, a piece of land of about an acre and half. Then he called my host mothers Ndaye and Pul, my Mauritanian friend Baddy, and my aunt Kumba Tega. We waited for my witnesses to come with the kola nuts, which are commonly giving at large events and ceremonies. When they arrived we broke them up and shared them among ourselves. I took a few pictures, while Tapha buried some posts at all the corners of "my property." The last picture he took of this event was one of my favorites so far in my two years here. Everyone is showing their happiness through their smiles (which is not common in pictures here) and myself in the middle with a bandanna over my face (I was unable to stop coughing and the wind was carrying so much sand) looking like a bandit. Tapha at the end of the ceremony looked at me and said in English "This is your Christmas present, Merry Christmas!" That was probably the best Christmas present I have ever been giving. He also said in Wolof "Now you have no excuse to not come back, maybe next time you can bring you wife and children here and construct a house for yourself?" I agreed and felt very honored and humble.
After this wonderful day things went as normal. Except for everyone coming by my house and congratulating me on my land. As the days past I started to notice that I was waiting for the inevitable and how much I would miss my family.
Tapha had another surprise in store for me though. It occurred the night before I was to leave. I was sitting outside talking with my family, when Tapha said "go take a bath and when you get done I want to show you something." He usually never said it that way, but I follow his wishes and when I was done I exited my hut to find a music set in front of it. As the music started to play and everyone danced I felt so immensely happy. As the night progressed onward I danced with my host mothers, aunts, sisters, brothers, cousins, and friends from the village. I learned to dance like a Senegalese wrestler and a Gambian. My sisters hugged me and thanked me, my host father Tapha was even dancing. That night I was emotional. The dancing ended around 2am and everyone went to bed. I was unable to sleep that night. I couldn't stop thinking about the coming morning. As the morning light slowly pierced through my curtains I knew that I had not slept a wink.
When I stepped outside a lit a cigarette, I noticed a small fire in my aunt's compound. I wandered slowly in that direction, the cold biting my face. There I sat for a few hours talking to my aunt Kumba and the kids. Later, my host moms called me and we went into my empty hut, (I had given most of belongs to my family) drinking attaya and dancing again. All the women came from around the village and joined us. We did this until the car arrived.
When the car finally arrived, all the people waiting (maybe 65) started to pray for me. At that point the weight of sadness I had been carrying for the last few days finally hit me. A flood of tears covered my face. My host moms came up and told to me to stop crying, that I was loved and was a good person, and I needed to get in the car. But, couldn't stop. Then I heard waling coming from my aunts compound all the kids were crying, I asked for Tapha. The men were saying that he had ran away to cry and that I could not see him. My sister was screaming at me to stop crying. I looked at my sisters one last time and when they saw my face they started to cry and ran away. I could barely stand. I cried and cried. Eventually I escorted to the car. When I got in and we left I glanced back out the side mirror to see all my little brothers and sisters running after the car crying.
I talked to Tapha later that day and he told me he was sorry for not saying bye, but that he was so incredibly sad, that he could not see me. He also said that after I left my family laid in bed all day and did not eat lunch. It was so hard to hear that, but I knew it would be hard. I also did not eat that day. We have talked a couple times since then and everything is better now, but it is still hard to talk about it.
I will come back and I will build a home here, because out of this experience I was giving an amazing second family. I want to be able to come back and stay for a few months and see them again.
Also this blog is about to change...to a Turkey/Balkans travel blog. So if you are still interested in checking out what I am doing, then this is the place to find out.

A Sappy Lil Something

I have about 2 months left here and I have a blast. I was so very lucky to have been placed with such a phenomenal family. I have grown to love this family as if I were born into it. The kids and older siblings have grown to like me. We have a good relationship. Everyday they tell me they will cry when I leave. I know I will do the same. My host mothers at first were really hard on me, but now are very proud of me and tell me so. My host father is amazing, has been from the beginning. He is progressive, reasonable, considerate, and of good morale standing. The respect I have for him is hard to express. I hope to grow up and be like him. I have learned so many things from him. He has been a hell of a counterpart and a damn good host. We have achieved a lot together.
The projects I have completed have been very successful. We are moving forward constantly. My field I paid for and fenced is looking great! My trees look good, are healthy, my fence is solid , my host father will reap the benefits in the future. He is going to be rich someday! My duck project is going strong. The whole family helps with the work. That project may be a future money-maker. My HIV/AIDS football tournament was an incredible success. Probably the best project I have worked on so far in my young life. I have to credit where credit is do, I could have not done it without the help of three other volunteers that were involved every step of the way. We did an amazing job and depend on who you talk to...didn't receive the credit we deserve. It is hard to believe that 10 months before we had are first kick-off, it all started with me and another volunteer talking about a simple football tournament over a few too many beers, in a shady bar, in a shady African town, during the hottest part of the day.
The thing that goes through my head is how incredibly lucky I am to end up here at this point in my life. I don't know much about the whole God thing, but I do feel blessed. I am 26 soon to be 27 years young and have received a wealth of knowledge that I feel only something like this can offer. Speaking, joking, and giving advice in a local language is an experience that in itself is wonderful. For your village to embrace you and not treat you like some stranger anymore is a great thing. The sad part is that this is happening now and I have to leave. But it is my time to go. I had planned to stay another year at one point, do to many things including Peace Corps politics, I have decided to come home and start over again. I am not going to fool you, I am scared as shit. I feel like I have forgotten everything. It may be funny watching me readjust.
There are so many things that this service has shown me and giving me. When I came here I had such low self-esteem. I didn't love myself of respect myself. I wasn't proud of anything I had done in the past. I felt inferior to everyone I spoke to and somewhat meaningless in the large scheme of things. Now I can say that I do not feel this way anymore at all. I have had a lot of time to think here and it has helped me come to terms with my life and who I am and I am proud of that. Another thing this service has giving me is a sense of connection with people that I have never had before. The friends I have made here are friends I hope to keep for the rest of my life. I have built a bond with so many volunteers here and it has been wonderful. I feel we all have grown together through this experience...what a bond that makes! I have learned that anyone can learn a language(well almost anyone.) I sure hell thought I couldn't, but I can get around pretty damn well with broken local language. I always thought I was pretty independent before this, if I wasn't before, I know I am now. I have learned here to laugh at myself and things around me. Laughing is good for your health and I need that after smoking for so long. I don't know what my life will offer me, but eventually I will stumble upon something. I am excited about it and will enter it with an open mind. I look forward to seeing whats next. Whatever it is I feel like I am prepared for it.