Bell Tower Photos

Views from atop one of my city's most prominent bell towers.

Exploring Idealism

The following excerpt from the Foreign Service Journal is beautiful worded, written by former Peace Corps volunteer turned Foreign Service officer Erik J. Schnotala:

Every time I hear the phrase “transformational
diplomacy,” I cannot help thinking of my former Peace
Corps colleagues, who taught me to recognize two distinct
types of idealism, a lesson I’ve carried with me
into the Foreign Service.

First, there is the naïve sort of idealism, the kind
that people often associate with Peace Corps
Volunteers. This variety expects the best from people
but needs the adulation of others to sustain itself, so it
seldom lasts long. And when the world doesn’t change
overnight, these idealists are disillusioned — as happened
to many volunteers in my former host county.

The second kind of idealism is more enduring
because it understands human shortcomings and does
not expect too much from people. It is hardened by
real-life experiences and knows that partnerships take
time to develop. This kind of idealism still dares to
make the world a better place, but it has a longer horizon
and is not expecting praise or even tangible results
along the way. It sustains itself with nothing more than
a belief in its mission and unshakeable perseverance.

Mother Teresa's Oath

I found Mother Teresa's oath at her memorial house in Skopje this week, the city of her childhood. It spoke to me, and reflects the selflessness I am learning it takes to truly give to others...

Man is unreasonable, illogical and selfish

It doesn't matter - love him.

If you do good, they'll say you're selfish.
It doesn't matter - do good.

If you realize your goals,
You'll find false friends and just enemies
It doesn't matter - realize your goals.

The good that you do will be forgotten tomorrow
It doesn't matter - be true.

Honesty and sincerity will make you vulnerable
It doesn't matter - create.

If you help people it might be bad for you
It doesn't matter - help them.

You give the best you can to the world
The world repays you with punches
It doesn't matter - give the best you can.

This Space I Call Home

"Between stimulus and response, there is a space. In that space is our power to choose our response. In our response lies our growth and our freedom."--Victor Frankl, 1946

Just as expected, this first year in the Peace Corps in Macedonia has been the most moving and fulfilling of my life. I arrived last year to the date, with plenty of expectations in spite of all the recommendations to have none. I couldn't help but to expect more than just the up's and down's that seem to go hand-in-hand with any journey of this sort.

The funny thing is, life here for me has been almost completely up. I've been happier than ever before in my life, and almost regularly sigh to take in my new norm of well-being and overall balance. Sometimes I wonder when the roller coaster nosedive will come; I've seen it happen to others and I've certainly experienced it before in my own life.

I perhaps imagined it happening when we first moved to our sites after three months with our host families, in the dead of winter, tredging down sheets of ice, celebrating the most 'christmas-less' christmas ever (in January, far from home, and over bonfires...really!?). But the down's didn't come then. It was all so new, and I had every reason to feel deeply grateful for my placement with AIESEC in this charming city I now call home.

Maybe it would come when everyone scattered in all directions this July, I calculated. My closest colleagues here were suddenly graduating and off to other places, many to new countries to take on glamorous internships with AIESEC. Dejan was at last swayed to take advantage of his golden opportunity to move to New Jersey. Our favorite European volunteer headed back to Sweden and then moved on to London.

Instead of the loneliness I dreaded ever since I roamed the streets of Manhattan as a friendless newcomer at age 17, a new cycle was kicked off, new interesting friends were made, and my daily jogs and diving into new projects filled my days with an even more refreshing fulfillment. I went into overdrive in order to meet new people and quickly branched out all over town, both socially and professionally.

At regular intervals I calculate how long it has been and just how long I have left. Holy cow, I think, over two years here!? I'll be in my mid-twenties by then! Even two years in New York City left me restless! I start calculating the ages of my friends and family members by 2010, some of whom I may not see until then. But then I remember--wow, if this was the happiest fall/winter/spring/summer I've pretty much ever had, I have a lot more to look forward to!

All of this babbling is marked with contradictions, in a sense. Today while jogging, for example, I considered if I felt free here in the midst of all this reputation bologna and Peace Corps confinement. Even just jogging brings plenty of odd stares my way. These aren't the things I focus on most, though. I focus rather on how grateful I am to have this life and these opportunities, because of the things I was merely lucky enough to be born with, like my supportive family and my citizenship. When I consider my current freedoms, I focus easily on things like the flexibility of my work schedule, and my long-awaited financial independence!

Is this path, these ultimately fulfilling choices I've made, and others have made that landed me here, a lucky or karmic draw? Or am I just recognizing the beauty in this experience, which I fought so hard to make happen? There are challenges every day which threaten my sense of balance, and yet I think what all this "karma" is actually about is that I'm so grateful for all of this. At some point early on here in Macedonia, it dawned on me that the more positive I am about everything, the more positives I and others recognize around me. This attitude is based in a philosophy inspired by Victor Frankl's 'Man's Search For Meaning'.

Frankl was a holocaust survivor who recognized a key survival skill in human psychology--recognizing meaning in life in even the most difficult of struggles. I could go on and on about Victor Frankl's experience and consequential psychotherapeutic developments, but the point is, I have found a sense of larger meaning here. What could possibly be more fundamental in life than to reach out to others, form meaningful relationships, and do good deeds? Beyond philanthropy, the connection alone, making the extra effort to touch someone's life and make it a bit brighter, is a gift that keeps on giving. This simple act gives me a deeper sense of purpose.

This is a basic lesson, one I have always known but haven't always put into practice as a lifestyle. The lessons I have taken so far from this year in Macedonia will continue to enrich my life. As Frankl wrote in 'Man's Search for Meaning':

“Everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms -- to choose one's attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one's own way.”

If we look for it, freedom and purpose are everywhere.

My Life in Images

This is it, my marvelous Macedonian city...

A summer never to be forgotten...

In Sardinia, we snorkeled and sailed to islands dotting the coast between la Maddelena and la Corse, to sardine-colored sandy beaches and untouched harbors, where we feasted on mussels and drifted peacefully upon the turquoise sea. In Sofia I navigated the Bulgarian cobblestone streets until dawn overtook the oppressive darkness, us drunk on life and cheap cocktails, time at a standstill as we got more lost with each turn until we stumbled upon our Boulevard Vitosha. In Istanbul I sat with friends of childhood Turkish friends on Anatolian rooftops, talking long into the night over tea and fruit-flavored nargila, with the view of Europe’s majestic gateway sparkling from beyond the Bosphorus Sea. In Afitos, the pristine Greek beaches beckoned us out to swim and explore another perplexing reality, the Macedonia lost to the Macedonians that inhabit a Greece lost to the Greeks. In Rome, I navigated the preserved renaissance alleyways with my sister, admiring open-air orchestras and preppy Italians on Vespas, indulging in stracciatella gelato, Sangiovese wine, Prosecco with a dash of blackcurrent in a shadowy enoteca, and multiple truffled pastas.

Neither the charm of Rome, the glamour of Paris, nor the greatness of New York City could have prepared me for the awe-inspiring, heartbreaking splendor of Istanbul. A long term life goal to visit Istanbul has been realized, and yet after just five days there, a new goal to return lingers over my future.

Day 1, we arrive in a trans-continental train as dawn breaks and the meuzzins’ prayers awaken a city draped in red and white Turkish flags, revealing a humble pride and admirable respect for tradition and culture. We are welcomed with thick Turkish coffees near the Sultanahmet quarter’s Blue Mosque and Hagia Sofia, before the unforgettable Turkish hospitality carries us to far ends of Istanbul, to a fish restaurant overlooking yachts upon Rivieraesque inlets, sahlep sipping by the sea, and non-alcoholic nightlife with live Turkish acoustics.

Day 2, we bond in the suds of femininity in a hamam lit by sun peeking through rooftop holes, enjoying full body massages, then fresh robes and fresh tea despite the curious gazes of lounging Arab guests. I decide that Istanbul is much like a city-wide version of Princeton’s Grounds for Sculpture, a lush green sculpture park devoted to life-size interpretations of the world’s greatest impressionist paintings. Except that Istanbul is not a deliberate art project, but a contemporary explosion of majestically detailed Byzantine and Ottoman architecture, built to please even the most capricious of sultans.

Day 3, again embraced by the hospitality of our new friends, we are taken to Istanbul’s Anatolian side of the Bosphorus, in Asia. Wind flows through the car as a crisp radio wave drifts Sezen Aksu’s ‘Geri Dön’ out to ease the victims of a rush hour traffic jam. We eat kebabs and eggplant salad in an elegant tearoom of Ottoman decor, we have our fortunes read in the grains of Turkish coffee, and we continue the night over nargila on a humbling Anatolian peak. I decide that Turks are generous, deeply spiritual people, and that this is what gives a sprawling, earthquake-prone city like Istanbul a refreshing edge of tranquility otherwise lost in the west.

Day 4, we ride the waves of the Bosphorus on a boat that permits us to daydream that we will one day be residents of the myriad of seaside mansions and palaces. We drive back through Istanbul at night, and I melt at the sight of a sky so alive, midnight blue light shows reflecting off of brilliant sparkling bridges that connect more than just continents. I decide that I underestimated the nightlife of a Muslim country, and that Istanbul has the potential to surpass the thrills of many cities I’ve painted red. The rooftop bar blasts the soundtrack of ‘Borat,’ and I dance Balkans-style in a global village of thrill-seeking Istanbulites.

Day 5, the day of my departure. My dear friend decides to stay the summer, and extends her plane ticket. We effectively lived a lifetime in five fleeting days, and I too fear I may never live my life complete far from this city. Luckily for me, I am neither going far in culture, cuisine, language, or distance. In the beginning of my bus ride back to Macedonia, I vow to begin learning Turkish, one of Macedonia’s spoken languages, to find Sahlep (a creamy drink made from orchard root) in Skopje’s Turkish-style bazaars, to make regular heaps of eggplant salad, and to consider Istanbul in the mix of AIESEC Middle East traineeship destinations at the close of my service here in 2010. So far, each of these goals has been realized...

Polyglot Thoughts

"Language is wine upon the lips." --Virginia Woolf, on Language "La felicidad no necesita ser transmutada en belleza, pero la desventura sí." --Jorge Luis Borges, on Beauty "On passe souvent de l'amour à l'ambition, mais on ne revient guère de l'ambition à l'amour." --La Rochefoucauld, on Love وليكن ملاك الأفراح واللذات المتبادلة مرفرفاً فوق حلاوة الصداقة. لأن القلب يجد صباحه في الندى العالق بالأشياء الصغيرة, فينتعش ويستعيد قوته --Khalil Gibran, on Friendship "Ако как овде с’нце ме стретит, ако пак мрачно с’нцето светит, на п’т далечни jа ке се стегнам, и в други ст’рни ке си побегнам, к’дето с’нцето светло угревjат, к’де небото дзвезди посевjат." --Konstantin Miladinov, on Travel

Longing for the south (Т’га за југ)

Me in Struga and Ohrid, Macedonia (April 2008)

If I had an eagle's wings
I would rise and fly on them
To our shores, to our own parts,

To See Stambol, to See Kukuš;
And to watch the sunrise: is it
Dim there too, as it is here?

If the sun still rises dimly,
If it meets me there as here,
I'll prepare for further travels,
I shall flee to other shores
Where the sunrise, greets me brightly,
And the sky is sewn with the stars.

It is dark here, dark surrounds me,
Dark for covers all the earth,
Here are frost and snow and ashes,
Blizzards and harsh winds abound,
Fogs all around, the earth is ice,
And in the breast are cold, dark thoughts.

No, I cannot stay here, no;
I cannot upon this frosts.
Give me wings and I will don them;
I will fly to our own shores,
Go once more to our own places,
Go to Ohrid and to Struga.

There the sunrise warms the soul,
The sun gets bright in mountain woods:
Younder gifts in great profusion
Richly spread by nature's power.
See the clear lake stretching white-
Or bluely darkened by the wind,
Look you at the plains or mountains:
Beauty' everywhere divine.

To pipe there to my heart's content!
Ah! let the sun set, let me die.
--Konstantin Miladinov (1830-1862)

Добредојдовте Пак : Welcome Back

Six months ago today, I shut down this blog.

The thought of re-capping these first six months in Macedonia is momentarily too overwhelming, so I'll start off with my reasons for having closed and subsequently relaunched my blog.

I like to share my experiences with others, and nothing so creative has come of me since I decided to stop writing publicly in September. At the time, it seemed like the only option for me, as I enjoy sharing my experiences but am concerned about privacy. I didn't find censoring my thoughts all too appealing, nor did I want personal commentaries to compromise any professional endeavors.

So before my memories slip any further into the past, I've decided to relaunch this blog in an attempt to capture my adventures in Macedonia. I refuse to accept that I will write less and less as I grow older and assume new responsibilities. Writing has always brought me a sense of fulfillment, and my stories deserve an outlet.