living life in shqip

The other day it occurred to me how very different my life looks now. Of course the scenery has shifted, my schedule is largely centered around coffee, and my food intake has seen a drastic increase. Aside from this, however, my life has taken some pretty hard left turns, all of which I can point back to one single aspect of my life here in Albania: Shqip.

Rose credits to Iva, the sweetest soul with the best garden. Sunset credits to Jesus, you rocked it. Photo credits to me, forever obsessed with capturing cool colors.

Living life in a different language can honestly be summed up in one phrase: it is the entire range of emotions all day, every day. One minute, I am on top of a mountain having a conversation about how much I love cheese with some of my favorite domino players in my favorite local coffee shop. The next, I'm frustrated because for some reason, the greeting I gave to my friend's grandfather was left unrequited. Perhaps my American accent was difficult to understand. Perhaps he just didn't want to summon the patience necessary to hold a conversation with me. Perhaps I just didn't say the right words. Honestly, perhaps any number of things, but regardless of the perhaps, I am left muted.

I had a realization the other day that I am where I am because of who I am. At the end of PST (Pre-Service Training), we were tested in our ability to speak Shqip. I remember so vividly the first time someone asked me how I was studying. I remember making a very confused face, because I wear my emotions on my sleeve, and replying, "why on earth would I study?"

This photo really has nothing to do with anything except to let you know that my home is pretty cool, and you should come visit sometime.

Coming to Albania, my biggest fear was communication. For those of you who know me, you can attest, if you can get a word in edgewise, that I communicate, a lot. I realized early on in PST that putting my nose in my book was not going to ease my fears. I spent exactly one evening studying my vocabulary notes in the living room with my host family. That evening ended in illegible notes covered in drawings from my favorite 3 year old. It also ended in me realizing that I had wasted an entire evening attempting to memorize words for myself rather than use words to be with people. It occurred to me that it didn't matter if I had memorized the word for strawberry if I wasn't willing or comfortable enough to struggle through a conversation about it.

So I stopped studying, and I started talking. I knew that if I was going to be happy here, I needed to be able to express myself in Shqip. I needed to be able to make witty comments. I needed to be able to express my full range of emotions. I needed to be able to be myself. I could not allow myself to be confined to the box of vocabulary words that I should know from Units 1-10. To me, a perfect score on a test at the end of PST could not have mattered less. I needed to feel like I could function as a human in the world.

That canyon though.... but really, you can raft down there.

Three months. Yesterday marked three months since I first uttered a sentence in Shqip. I would not be where I am today if it weren't for a few things: determination, wit, and humility. Beyond that though, I wouldn't be where I am today if it weren't for the patience and persistence of some incredible humans here in Albania. Regardless though, this journey has been and will continue to be met with frustration and, as is absolutely necessary for sanity's sake, humor.

So alas, here I am, 3 months down, annoying my friends with a million vetëm shaka's per day. To be fair though, I can almost solely attribute my abilities in Shqip to people's seemingly bottomless patience and persistence to get through to my stubborn and impatient head. However, no amount of patience and persistence can answer some of life's biggest questions, so strap in, because I'm about to tell you exactly what keeps me up at night.

It legitimately scares me that I cannot, for the life of me, figure out what the word mërzit means. I hear it at least 27 times a day and it makes me anxious every time. I swear it means every single negative emotion in the book. When someone says it to me, I just start searching through what I've said, what others have said, my facial expressions, the general feel of the day, what have you, in attempt to figure out if I'm supposed to be bored, upset, annoyed, angry, or some kind of sad. All of which seem like such distinct emotions to me, but alas, here we are, panicking about whether or not I am mërzit. Should I be? I don't know, but I know I am all types of mërzit about it.

Each day, I look forward to my afternoon treks to the canyon. I have always loved to hike, but it didn't occur to me how strangely uncharacteristic these solo hikes were until I was going through the motions of the endless questions from my family when I got home the other day. Where did you go? Why did you go? Who were you with? You were alone? Why were you alone? Do you want someone to go with you next time?

Shoutout to my language teachers by the way, you all are the real MVPs. Now please excuse me while I dry my tears because I miss them so much.

If you had told me three months ago that I would go on solo hikes every day, sit on a stone cliff for hours reading or listening to music alone, or even go to a coffee shop and enjoy a chai limon by my lonesome, I would have told you that you were crazy, then venture down a fun path of internal panic that I may ever have to spend time alone. You see, I've never hiked by myself. In fact, I have never once purposefully chosen to spend time alone. However, here we are. It turns out that the social creature that I am needs those moments of rest, of solitude, after a full day of struggling to express myself.

The reality of life in another language is that it is difficult. It is incredibly exhausting. It is exciting, and it is rewarding, but at the end of the day, I realize it's only 8 pm, and I can't keep my eyes open. For me it has also been life altering. It has fundamentally changed my perception of the world. It has fundamentally changed who I am.

Views from the rock.

You see, everything is relative. Just as I can never be sure that you see the same color as I do when all you and I have ever known is that sunflowers are yellow, how can I ever be sure that you feel what I feel when I say that I am frustrated, elated, or at peace? All I know is my experience, and it is a terrifying thought to me that you may never truly understand what life is like behind my eyes, that my words, however thoughtful, may not capture that experience in a way that accurately conveys it to the mind of another. A terrifying thought, but also a freeing one. Because once I take a step back and realize that pouring out more words may not necessarily equal better understanding, I can remember that there is a whole lot more to connecting with each other than words. I can just be, and sometimes, just being is enough.

Each day is marked with moments of pride, comprehension, microscopic successes. Each day is also marked with moments of confusion, frustration, irritation, sadness, panic. However, the days are becoming less marked. The more I speak, the less I'm surprised when I correctly conjugate a verb, and the less I am downtrodden when my jokes don't land, because, after all, that's just an average day in English.

I cannot express to you how much time I spend on this rock.

So here I am to tell you what life is like in Shqip. Shqip has revealed so much about me that I did not know. It has forced me to accept some realities that I didn't want to face. It has also forced me to see the world in an entirely different perspective. The nagging sense that I will never be able to fully understand others who have grown up knowing and experiencing life through the lens of a different language is challenged every single day, because the more I function in this language, the more I realize that comprehension is so much more than language. It is also so much less. I don't pretend to understand others, because I have come to realize that the word understanding is but an arrogant fallacy. What I can do though, is appreciate that we are all here on this earth together, and almost every action we take is in attempt to connect with others. Connection. It is the difference between feeling important and feeling apart of something important. It is the difference between needing to be at the head of the table and understanding the power of the table. Life is beautiful when we stop and realize that it is about connecting, not understanding.