On the 6th of December, the 24th group of Peace Corps Trainees became volunteers officially. The ceremony was very, very official, and we were all beautifully done up, and our host families were there. It was all quite overwhelming, especially the official pledge. Pro-tip for anyone reciting a pledge: please break it up into more manageable bits for us. Coming back to the training site was a little bit sad: first, the other volunteers were leaving, and I would be by all myself. Also, leaving my host mum hurt a lot. She’s leaving for Germany for three months, but the other compound members will be there for me to visit, which I appreciate.

My host family that I mentioned in a previous entry was changed by Peace Corps, so I’m with another family. It is another Albanian family; my city is majority Albanian. I love it here so much. It’s such a warm, inviting place that once again has all sorts of quirks like an entire working kitchen that is never used and random empty rooms. It’s next to a mosque so the adhan (call to prayer) is very loud but I don’t really mind. They also have an alarm system that I did accidentally trip this morning because I forgot to turn it off. There are obviously things that I have to get used to in the house.

There are three weeks of work before the official end of the semester, and then I have a very long winter break, wherein I will have to definitely continue my language studying. Having two different counterparts, one Albanian and one Macedonian, means that I will have to stay pretty equally good in both languages, and I need to concentrate on Macedonian especially. My plan is to finish the trainee handbook and then spring off from there.

There’s not much winter going on here; it’s cold, but not cold enough. Mostly it’s just chilly and dreary, with grey skies and drizzly, annoying rain. I can’t wait until January, when apparently the real winter comes and snow will be a frequent thing, according to my host family. Winter is absolutely my favourite season. I’ve never really thought about why, but I enjoy the cold and the crispness of the air and cosy blankets.

What is hardship? What would be a hardship for you? Living far from home, or not having hot water whenever you wanted it? Is a squat toilet a hardship, or having to eat food you don’t like? The third core expectation of the Peace Corps is “Serve where the Peace Corps asks you to go, under conditions of hardship if necessary, and with the flexibility needed for effective service.”

People don’t usually picture a European country as a place with conditions of hardship. North Macedonia is probably not as difficult a service location as say, Mongolia or rural Senegal. But there are still hardships: a conservative, insular culture; political and ethnic tensions that feel familiar, yet alien and sometimes frightening; language difficulties that make you feel stupid (currently, I have the vocabulary of an eight year old in Albanian and Macedonian). With those hardships come opportunities, though: N Macedonia is such a friendly, warm place. This is the first year my city has hosted trainees, and families are hosting strangers in their house, and I have never felt unwelcome. My host family is impressed by how much I try and speak Albanian, and many other people have applauded my efforts. I am understood at the пазар (open-air market), whether speaking Albanian or Macedonian. I can read text messages/snaps from my Albanian host family, and I can answer them.

A Facebook friend mentioned Lysgaard’s Curve to me. It’s the idea that people have a period of adjustment that usually comes with negative reactions to their new culture. I have felt this dip a few times, and know it will probably continue. Honestly, though, as a third culture child, I’ve never really felt at home anywhere, so why not make a home here?

Things on my mind:

• Cultural achievement, unlocked: fussing at one of the women in the compound because she wasn’t wearing socks.
• Liking the taste of the latte macchiato at my favourite café, but only that. Coffee is still vile to me.
• Using Spanish, a language I’ve only recently learnt, on my practice LPI (Language Proficiency Interview).
• Meeting the mayor of my city and ending up on the local news, and then being recognised by people at the пазар.
• Having the assistant director of my school compliment me to my Macedonian LCF (Language/Cultural Facilitator).

Additionally: there was a massive earthquake that hit Albania early this morning. We felt the tremors here on the west side of N Macedonia, once when the earthquake hit, and once more a few hours later. Peace Corps has volunteers in Albania, and my host mother’s younger son is there as well. Showing solidarity with our neighbours and ethnic family there, as well as the volunteers.

It’s week seven of PST (Pre-Service Training) and now everything is getting quite serious. Peer teaching is happening this Thursday, and Friday we receive our permanent sites: that is, where we will be for the next two years. Rumours, speculation and wild betting are definitely occurring as we all wait with nervous anticipation. I am definitely quite anxious. We can make some guesses: as I have been learning Albanian along with Macedonian, I will probably be placed somewhere in the western part of the country, possibly either in a majority Albanian or majority Macedonian place, or one that is fifty-fifty like my current training site. Otherwise, I have no clue.

Peer teaching is where two PCT (Peace Corps Trainees) co-teach some classes, whilst the counterpart observes us and gives us feedback. Next week, we will be solo teaching. I’m excited about both things, but as I have never co-taught, I am looking forward to balancing the classroom. The classes that I’ll be co-teaching are all final year students who are preparing for the ending exam called the Matura, and just like any final year of secondary school, they may be more than a little cynical and unwilling to play along. We shall see.

Autumn has FINALLY come upon us, and with it beautiful yellows and oranges. There was a hint of cold weather, but the 20s are still sticking around (20s = ~70 deg Farenheit). With the cold weather came all the wood burning stoves and a rise in air pollution. Living in a valley means that it settles on top of us like a smothering blanket. The rain has chased most of it away. Yesterday, on the 4th of November, our little valley experienced a 2.9 magnitude earthquake. Nothing was damaged: light fixtures shook and the metal blinds rattled. N Macedonia has a history of earthquake activity. Hopefully they all remain small and innocuous.

Small things of note:

• The pizza here is delicious. When I think of pizza cultures, trust me that I never would have thought of N Macedonia.
• Many of the grocery stores are run by Macedonians, even in majority Albanian parts of the city. Language switching throughout the day is exhausting, but ultimately rewarding.
• Most Macedonians that I have observed do not frequent Albanian restaurants or cafés, and Albanians do not frequent Macedonian ones. There being a distinct ethnic divide doesn’t really surprise me as a biracial person, but trying to navigate it with poor-ish language skills and a weak cultural grasp can be frustrating. My host family takes me to Albanian places, but many of the other PCTs have introduced me to Macedonian places. As a small rule of thumb that is not necessarily followed everywhere, Albanian places generally do not serve alcohol, whilst Macedonian ones do.
• I am learning standard Albanian and dialect Albanian at the same time. The grammar stays the same, but pronunciation can vary wildly. I don’t always remember the standard when I’m speaking in class.

What happens when you are a guest in someone’s home? What do they do for you? What are YOU expected to do? These are questions that one usually gives little thought to. Here in N Macedonia, there is a ritual to having guests over. In Macedonian, it’s На гости, and in Albanian it’s mysafiri. There are two different connotations to these words, but the concept is the same: you are visiting someone’s house, and you are their guest. In Macedonian, it’s to be a guest, and in Albanian, it’s to be somewhere else (assuming that you’ll be a guest there).

I have been guesting in quite a few households, both Macedonian and Albanian, since I’ve been here. The rituals are obviously different, but the feeling is the same: you must be taken care of as a guest. I visited a fellow trainee’s flat, where she lives with a busy Macedonian family. As soon as I arrived, I was given something to drink and then piles of snacks came to the table: grapes and apples, nuts and sweets. The table was pushed closer so we didn’t have to reach far. If we didn’t eat a lot, we were fussed over. I admit, I will eat all the cashews you put in front of me.

In the Albanian families, there is a set ritual, it seems. First, the tiny cups of very strong Turkish style coffee (I skip this step). Then the snacks come out. There are salty and savoury snacks, and you must eat at least a couple. The cold drinks usually come out at this step as well. There are multiple plates of the same types of snacks so nobody has to reach over anyone else. There is always soda, along with juice and water. There is also then the Turkish tea step. Turkish (or Russian) tea is brewed in a double broiler teapot: boiling water on bottom and the tea on top. The tea is brewed very strongly and then poured into a small glass that has sugar at the bottom; the boiling water is poured in to dilute it. Trust me, it needs to be diluted.

Honestly, this step is my favourite because there’s a thin slice of chocolate cake that follows. I don’t usually like chocolate cake, but this is more like a mousse. I have had it multiple times.

Of course, I, not being from this culture, usually make some gaffes. I help clear cups or try and help being coffee in, especially if, as happened recently, we are having guests where I’m living. But of course, being a guest is a very special thing. It’s the bonding that is the most important thing in a На гости or a mysafiri. It’s best to just be the guest, and enjoy the company. You’ll be there for a while, anyway.