me marr malli

I can't lie to you, there is very little that I miss about home. Of course, my heart aches with every swim meet or basketball game I have to experience over text. Every facetime I happen to catch my family doing family things, frolfing in the park, Bananagramming at the dining room table, waxing eyebrows with Schitt's Creek playing in the background. The little pang every time my friends send me pictures at Marg Night or of a rapidly emptying bag of puppy chow in the office. I miss the little moments, the moments so normal and seemingly unimportant, but the moments so incredibly sacred to my memory banks these days.

I have eaten my weight in cherries and it's only 11 days into cherry season.

What I don't miss though, is the constant feeling of worry about what is coming next. The constant need to check, and double-check, and go back again because, "I just know I'm forgetting something," on my to-do list. What I don't miss is the panic of being 2 minutes late. The clock at work meaning very little when the task list is large. I don't miss the constant nagging feeling that I am somehow, somewhere behind... I have to be, even if I can't pinpoint what it is. The absolute certainty that if I don't keep going at top speed, I will fall short, I will fail. The knowledge that even if I do move at top speed, I still may fall short. I don't miss the temptation to skive sleep, to eat on-the-go or to skip meals altogether, to save all of my work to the cloud and work from home, just so that I feel like I'm getting ahead.

The thing is that life is different here. I feel like I get into it with someone new every day as to whether or not that means that life is better or worse, and I really can't give you an answer. It is just different, but I also think that I appreciate life here because of the contrast to life in America. You see, I don't have to wonder, to believe the movies, to buy into the perfect narrative about life there. I know what it's like there, and I am experiencing life here. It's not that I'm not stressed. It's that the kind of stress is different. It's not that I don't feel like I need to be busy. It's just that I know I don't have to be. It's not that I don't feel behind. It's just that I know that what I see as behind, is seen as lightyears ahead. It's freeing to be an American in Albania.

Please enjoy this photo of my frustration from a conversation I had with a friend last week. PSA I didn't take a lot of pictures this week, but I'm still committed to word to picture ratio, and this right here is the result.

Here, I'm not doing my job right if I skip the morning coffee just to get 20 more minutes with my computer screen. Something is wrong if I don't stop to talk to at least 5 people on my way home. I'm failing if 12 people don't know what I am working on. Why? Because everything is about relationships here. It's not about getting ahead, it's about being a part of moving something forward. You don't just do things here, we do things.

Some days I forget that I can't just do the things. I have to wait until we are ready to move something forward together, and that is really hard. My taking control and doing something right now, no matter how good it may be or how well I did it, isn't rewarded here. Ingenuity and initiative are not seen as positive, really. Rather, they are met with suspicion or just a general, why though? Why would you do that? On those days, the days where I forget that I can't just make progress on my terms, and as I'm moving forward at top speed, I feel the harsh jolt of hitting the roadblock I am choosing to ignore, I miss home. I miss the idea that nothing can stop me if I want it bad enough. I miss the idea that I can do the things. I miss the challenge of finding a way to do the things better and more efficiently. I miss the idea that progress is as much an individual responsibility as it is a group effort. Regardless of how practically truthful these things may have been in reality, the idea was there, and it was strong.

As I'm sitting here writing this, I realize that this all can be summed up with a simple: I miss independence. And I know this to be true because the things I miss about life outside of the office are so painfully reminiscent of my independence. I miss driving. I miss the feeling of having the world at the touch of the gas pedal. I miss the freedom of running at night and having the whole city to myself. Right, it's probably not a good decision regardless of location, but no one told me no. I miss the idea that I can be reckless if I so choose. I miss making my own food. Considering all I know how to make is salad and cookies, I can safely say I don't miss eating my own food, but having the power to choose when and what I eat, I miss that. I miss feeling like my general health and fitness are aspects of my life that are under my control. I miss having a space that is mine. One of which the responsibility and manner of cleanliness is mine.

Last night, I was out in search of the sunset as usual, snapped this photo of some weird clouds, heard some thunder, and ran to the morgue for cover just in time for a 20 minute downpour, 20 minutes of thinking about all the creepy morgue stories, and hoping that no shadowy figures would show up behind the frosted glass.

A part of me really does feel like I've regressed about 10 years, because the longer I am here, the more I realize how much I equate maturity with independence. This feeling has perhaps been the biggest personal struggle for me in adjusting to culture. I struggle with feeling at the mercy of others, of my situation, of my job, of my city, and I've realized that this feeling has started to chip away at my motivation, my passion. Because when I don't get to decide things like what and how much I eat, and how late is too late to go for a run, I suddenly don't see the point in trying to be healthy. When I don't get to decide when to take chances, or who to talk to to get moving, all of the sudden it is much harder to keep pushing for progress.

At the same time, though, the things that I get frustrated with from time to time, are also the things that I adore about life here. Perhaps the biggest gift that Albania has given me is the ability to see how priorities really do shape life and relationships. Nearly 2 years ago, I was away from my family, working in a small town for the summer, when my world was turned upside down with news from back home. I always thought of myself as being a lucky member in a particularly tightly knit family. All of the sudden though, it wasn't enough. In the thick of college turned to graduate school and building my resume with endless activities, internships, and jobs, the phone calls and visits home had become less frequent. A realization that came crashing down as I sat at my desk, counting the daily deposit. Every free moment I had in the months that followed were spent at home, where I needed to be. Now, there is only sadness that I had allowed myself to forget what was important in order to join the rat race. Here though, the rat race isn't a tempting distraction, let alone a distraction at all.

I think it is important that you know that I fell down twice in front of the entire elementary school on the trek to the cherry trees yesterday.

I have been lucky enough to experience life as it is lived by two polar sets of priorities, but still, I can't tell you what is better, because "better" is as subjective as strawberry rhubarb pie. I can tell you, though, that I will carry bits of what I have learned here with me throughout my life because I am certain that my life will be better for it.

I do miss home, but I know that, when I do go home, I will go home better, I will savor every bite of strawberry rhubarb pie, because I know how important it is.