Albania 1996

When I went to Albania for two weeks in the summer of 1996, I wasn't sure what exactly to expect. I had read a lot about the struggling economy and the problem-plagued democracy that was emerging there, and I had heard about Albania's suffering under fifty years of harsh communist rule. I suppose the two greatest reasons to go were 1) curiosity and 2) to see the Yoders, a long-term missionary family who I deeply care for.

By the time I left, I had fallen head over heels in love with the country and its people. I hope some of that intensity comes out as you look through this electronic photo album from my trip.

The flight over was my first across an ocean. I remember the excitement of coming near Tiranë and seeing what looked like a patchwork quilt below us. I wondered what types of crops were growing in all those fields below us. We landed on the very bumpy runway of Rinas airport and disembarked. The airport was small and very crowded. It seemed to take forever to get through customs.

We were met by Tom and Landon. They took us to a house right in downtown Tiranë where we stayed that night.

The whole city seemed to be one giant construction site, with lumber and concrete everywhere. I was impressed by Skanderbeg Square, which was very busy and alive.

The next day we got on the road to Permet, the city where the Yoders were living. An awesome brother named Dini Shahini drove us on that 6 or so hour journey down the sometimes narrow and winding road which was the only way to get there.

Permet is known around Albania for being one of the most beautiful cities, and that's a reputation the town deserves. It was so picturesque. A single bridge crossed a scenic river to get into the town, which was the cleanest place I had seen so far in the whole country.

I was introduced to my host family that night, the Cicis. They lived in a small (but by Albanian standards large) apartment that was a couple buildings over from the Yoders. I had a nice view from the balcony of the town. To the right we could see several of the other apartment buildings and to the left was the high school where my host mother worked and the huge rock on top of which rested the remains of an old fortress.

During our stay in Permet I got to see most of the town. I remember touring the elementary school, which was incredibly run down.

I also remember touring the hospital with my host father. He didn’t speak English and I didn't speak Albanian, so we communicated in French. The hospital was in terrible condition. He was an obstetrician and he took me into the room where several babies were sharing one little breathing chamber. Because of their lack of funds, the air had to be pumped in using an old tire pump. Vjangel, my host father, smoked as he showed me the children who were having trouble breathing on their own. I wanted to cry.

In that same hospital, I saw the room where both children are delivered and abortions are performed. The whole hospital was full of sick people who they didn't have medicine for.

Most of the time there was cheerier, though. One night we played out in the park with lots of children from the town. We played soccer, sang, and did a little skit about David and Goliath. Guess who was Goliath.

Another time when we were just doing some prayer walking, a couple of us stumbled upon some sort of event at the Orthodox church. People were dancing and having a great time.

We also got to hear a private concert from a folk music group. They were quite good. Their music sounded a little whiny, but somehow it seemed just right.

There are lots of other memories from those days there. One day, I somehow got invited to a little girl's 10 year birthday party. I taught a roomful of kids how to do the Macarena. Another day, the awesomely talented Merita Eberly played a concert for the city. Part of the fun was moving the piano across town, another part of the fun was taking care of all the rowdy kids who came to listen to the concert.

I frequented one particular café a lot. I must have bought at least a hundred Mitas there for myself and the Yoder boys and anyone else I wanted to spend time with.

Sooner than we had imagined, it was time to head back for the airport. I remember stopping at the beach at Durres and seeing all the concrete bunkers that had been built in no apparent sequence everywhere along the side of the road and on the beach. They say there are more than a million concrete bunkers in Albania, which is pretty amazing when you consider there are only about three million Albanians there.

There was so much to process, I still don't think I'm done even three years after the fact. I can't wait to go back and see how the country has changed.