It is called Mother Teresa street, and is complete with a monument to her... (Mother Teresa was born in Macedonia of Albanian parents).
[Alas, I have been having technical difficulties with the blogger site, and after trying for two days, I have only been successful posting the Mother Teresa photo, out of a series of 6 photos of the street. I keep getting a message saying the website is experiencing technical difficulties. Sorry... I'll keep trying.]
Meanwhile, I am settling in. It is hard to believe 5 weeks have gone by. I am taking Albanian lessons, but it is slow going. And despite my best efforts not to, I apparently have a tendency of bursting into Serbian/Croatian in public, when I am in stores or taxis. The other day, I took a taxi to a colleague's house - I had the destination written out for me in Albanian, so I said it as I entered the car, and the driver understood. Feeling pretty good about myself, I answered him in Albanian when he asked where I was from, and again when he asked what I did. Then we arrived to my destination, the driver turned, handed me his business card, and said in perfect Serbian, "Call me whenever you need a taxi." I really don't know what I said that tipped him off, but I thanked him, in both Serbian and Albanian and left.
I buy my vegetables from a vegetable stand near my house, and generally point at what I want and indicate with my fingers how many. A system which has worked thus far. But this morning, when I arrived, the stand keeper came out to meet me and said, "Dobar dan," which is good day in Serbian. I must have said something at some point which led him to believe I knew Serbian, either that or he knows the taxi driver. Undaunted however, and armed with knowledge (learned in my last language lesson) of numbers in Albanian up to ten and the names of three fruits (apples, oranges and bananas - well, maybe two fruits, since bananas is banana in Albanian and probably doesn't count), I asked in Albanian for some apples, oranges and bananas and when asked how many, came up with the first number I could remember - 9 - so now I have a kitchen table covered in fruit I don't actually want, but feel good about having purchased it in Albanian. Seriously, I need my friend's apple cake recipe - Professor D. if you are reading this, please feel free to email it to me.
So fortunately, with my experiences so far, the Kosovar Albanian population has been very tolerant of me and my sporadic, spontaneous use of Serbian/really bad Albanian.
1 comment:
I want that recipe too, Professor D. Though I do not have nine apples.
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