Should I Use The Setting for Sheep or Butterfly?

by Davidi

Our apartment is equipped with “European Style Appliances.”   “European Style” is code for “small.”  Our refrigerator, dishwasher, washing machine, dryer, water heater and even sink, are half the size of American models.  A dinner plate won’t fit in the dishwasher.  A milk carton won’t stand on a shelf in the refrigerator.  After a mere 26 loads of laundry, we’ve washed for the week.

We have adjusted to the size issues, but size isn’t the only thing that matters.  The controls are, of course, in Albanian, or in what appear to be ancient hieroglyphics.  (We have an idea of what the picture of the sheep’s head on the washing machine dial means, but the butterfly and flower petal still escape us.)  Reference to the Albanian language instruction manuals merely confuses the issue.

The most interesting controls are on the oven.  These include four knobs which, as the landlord confirmed, do nothing at all.  On the other side of the oven, there is a timer which has been flashing for the last seven months.  It comes with five buttons.  The landlord’s suggestion:  “I’d just ignore those.”   These challenges have really caused very few problems, as we can't read cooking instrutions in Albanian anyway.

The dishwasher, cleverly hidden within a small kitchen cabinet, has an equally clever delayed start timer --   so clever that the dishwasher can’t be started immediately.  Apparently, it takes at least an hour for the dishwasher to get in the mood to wash dishes. 

Our apartment is pleasant now that the air conditioner in the bedroom and the heater in the living room have been completely replaced.     As is common here, they may only be operated by remote control, so an extra supply of batteries is a must.   The master bath is often toasty warm, as the dryer vents into the bathroom, rather than outside.  The water heater for the master bath rarely runs out of hot water, but the water heater in the half bath never runs out.  It's never been used.  Why they need hot water in the toilet is beyond me.

90% of all phones in Albania are cell phones, but our home phone can't call cell phones because the phone companies don't get along.  Our American FM radios don't get most stations because they tune to odd numbers (92.5 or 98.1 etc), while the Albanian stations are on even numbered channels.

The only perfectly clear instructions we have are on the toilet.  A huge sticker containing an anatomically correct man demands that I sit down to pee.  

"A Light Lunch" . . . Albanian Style

The 4th Entree of the Afternoon
by Davidi

The prosecutors of Elbasan, all 23 of them, asked me to lunch.  A short ride took us to a restaurant, nestled beside the wall of an Ottoman castle.  I was pleased to see a light lunch including a large plate of salad (tossed and slaw), a plate of boiled eggs and sheep cheese, a plate of ham slices covered in olives and more sheep cheese and grilled vegetables.  It was terrific.

This was soon augmented by "fergese" (organ meats boiled in yogurt and sheep's cheese), broccoli in sheep's cheese, and meatballs floating in sheep's milk.  I was soon full.

The first indication that the lunch might not be so "light" came after the prosecutor beside me finished his plate.  He leaned over to me and said "I wonder what we are having for lunch."

When the real lunch arrived, it was something resembling "chicken fried steak" with a meat pie on the side, and oven baked sheep cheese on the other side.  I wasn't hungry, but I ate it, and it was scrumptious.

When the waiter cleared my plate, he asked that I lean back so he could put down my lunch.  The new plate contained a steak, french fries and (surely you've figured this out by now!) sheep's cheese.  I eventually identified another object on my plate as a chicken breast on a large stick with ham in the middle.  I was told "Buft Mire" (bon appetite).  They looked at me strangely when I asked if we had moved to having dinner.  I slowly cleared my plate, but held on to it, afraid that someone would have something more somewhere in the kitchen.

Eating with friends in Albania is a little like eating at your Grandmother's house.  The food keeps on coming, and you must eat it, smile and express admiration.  The food is very good and especially fresh, so it is mostly an easy task, but I was really hoping the end had arrived.

My nightmare came true.  Here came huge chunks of lamb in bowls of rice.  I distracted my hosts, made excuses and talked about how good it looked.  They wondered aloud about dessert. (Thankfully, it was fresh fruit)

Albanians are usually thiner than Americans, but I don't know why.  Perhaps they don't eat as much processed food, and avoid refined sugar and sweeteners.  My theory, is that they foist off most of the food on diplomats.