Everyone is Staring

Elbasan, Albania, Home of a University, the national dialect of Albania, hub of Peace Corps training, and the best darn sufflace* this side of the Shkumbin River.

“I don’t want to be famous, I just want to be one of those working actors.” This is one of a million platitudes made by my former and current colleagues duking it out in Hollywood- along with “Manifest it!” and “Do you know where I can get cheap headshots?” I too, do not want to be famous. While I have no problems with the idea of limitless wealth, comfortable world travel, and spending more time than I currently do on speed-boats, I’ve been stared at constantly and peppered with the same questions** for the last year and a half. My personal life is constantly scrutinized and everyone knows where I am at all times. I’m being watched by an old man drinking coffee and Albanian moonshine right now. If this is any indication of the life styles of the rich and famous, I want nothing to do with it. He’s still staring.

The first walk through the city of Elbasan, a new wave of energy broke upon me. Not real energy, but crazed manic energy borne of lack of sleep, and having no clue where you are. We walked in an enormous herd of Americans through the Albanian city. This is when I realized that I do not look Albanian… at all.

I remember thinking, upon getting my invite to the Peace Corps, Well it’s in Europe. I look European! I would then promptly unbutton one more button on my shirt than I was comfortable with revealing more chest hair than is socially acceptable in America and then look blasé at whoever was around as if saying, I just woke up from a nap, and I’m going to drink wine while listening to house music.

False, I in fact, do not look Albanian! As we tromped through those Albanian streets I realized that it would take a lot more than a generous sprig of chest hair and a world-weary grimace to fit in.

Albanian twenty-somethings generally dress in tight brightly colored shirts, smattered with a motley assortment of English phrases, the most popular of which seemed to be, “Boy I love my trouble love.” A phrase as true as it is absolutely non-sensical.

Upon packing to leave for two years I realized that I had amassed a truly heroic collection of blue shirts, in fact all of my shirts were blue, except for the one that was black. Aside from obvious fashion differences, the typical Albanian male and I seemed to share nothing but an appreciation for drawing breath to sustain life and large amounts of coffee. Where is all the chest hair? I thought to myself as I slowly buttoned up my blue shirt… ashamed.

Our herd of Americans set out on our first Albanian adventure during xhiro time***. And then we walked through the castle. I share, along with most Americans, a fascination for anything that is older than 200 years and built out of stone. As we walked under the arch way of the castle in Elbasan I looked around trying to make eye contact with any Albanians in my general vicinity as if to say, DID YOU GUYS KNOW YOU HAVE A CASTLE!? IT’S SO OLD! We don’t have these where I’m from. They returned my gleeful glances with intense staring and smoothing wrinkles out of their bright pink t-shirts.

Just then a guy about my age walked by, his shirt featured a cartoon picture of two tennis shoes and read, “Where is my star shoes at?” As I tried to figure out what this could possibly mean, I realized I was staring… He must have been famous.




*Albanian gyro.
** Where are you from? How old are you? How much money do you make? Are you married? Why aren’t you married? Do you want me to find you a wife? Have you seen Albanian women? Do you want to get married to an Albanian woman? I know an Albanian woman, do you want to marry her?
***Xhiro n (GEE-Row): A long slow walk through a city around sun down. A proper xhiro is a social activity that one dresses up for, and walks slowly with their friends or family up and down the main street of the town. Take the normal American walking pace and move at 1\4th the speed. Once you get to the end of the main street, turn on a dime and walk back the other direction. This may feel awkward at first because as Americans we are trained to walk “to” destinations achieve a goal at said destination and then return home triumphant.