Having successfully memorized a few Albanian phrases, I confidently strode into the Albanian Attorney General's office with my colleagues. I shook his hand firmly, and started to introduce myself. I got out three words, "Une yam David," before all the lights went off. My mind went blank. I couldn't think of another Albanian word.
Power interruptions are common in Tirana. Our apartment has a backup generator, as do all Embassy residences and international businesses. We've stopped being surprised by power outages, knowing that the reassuring hum of the generator will soon bring us light. Most Albanians do not have a generator, and some neighbors have quietly hooked their houses up to an American home's generator without anyone noticing.
The problem isn't a lack of electricity. Albania is currently exporting excess hydro-power to other countries. It is the wiring.
Albania's wiring is strung by anyone anywhere they wish. Poles may have 50 lines tangled like hair In a shower drain. Lines droop so low to the sidewalk that you must duck to miss them. Old lines are not removed. They are just cut, with the ends left to hang down, sometimes at eye level, over the sidewalk. Even on downtown streets, there are often no poles, so the lines are casually draped over tree limbs. Sometimes exposed wires stick up out of the sidewalk, attached to nothing. Walking to work is a little like that old board game "Operation." Touch anything metal and you may light up.
At our apartment, the wireless internet router is outside. The phone plugs in on the back porch, apparently because the wire won't reach any farther. This makes it less likely we will be making calls during heat waves (now!) and blizzards. Maybe an email is your best bet.
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