Polish Dogs and Pierogi

So, we’re moving to Poland. Surprise!

Or not so surprising I suppose, for those few I had a chance to tell after I accepted my new Grade 4 position at the International Trilingual School of Warsaw (ITSW) a couple months ago.

IMG_20181104_105308_300_2 — I’m going to miss her. (Halloween 2018)

I guess I haven’t posted about it before now because I’ve been so caught up here that it hasn’t even felt real yet. Now that our year is coming to a close, I’m feeling a lot of things. Relief is up there, due to the abject craziness that we (Foster and myself, but mostly the teachers and students) have been dealing with, but primarily what I feel is sadness.

IMG-20190504-WA0005 — And I’m going to miss him.

I love Albania. Serious love. Introduce it to my parents and make a five year plan with it love. But love isn’t enough, as they say. More on that later.

I would love to come back to Albania, and to Durrës eventually, but our travels will be taking us to Warsaw in the interim.

ITSW had offered me a job last year teaching preschool, but I passed on the offer because I had become obsessed with the idea of Albania. When things changed here, I reached out, and they offered me a variety of options, including Grade 4. I never imagined myself an upper elementary teacher, having taught preschool or Kindergarten for the last five years, but man I’ve fallen in love with that too.

They’ve even offered to let me teach the same units with inquiry-based education next year, which is exciting for a lot of reasons. Not least of which is that I get to take what I’ve been building from scratch this year and actually take time to apply, improve, and differentiate it all much better.

Warsaw is exciting for a lot of reasons, too. I have a friend living not ten minutes away from the school I’ll be working at who’s been helping me learn Ukrainian these past two years. It will be fun to already know someone from outside of school, and to have more opportunities to practice both Ukrainian and Polish.

IMG-20190512-WA0006 — And I’m going to miss views like this.

But oh lord, it hurts to leave here more than I could have imagined it would. I’m going through surprising stages of grief. I find myself wondering things like “Is this my last time going to this market?” “Is this my last coffee at Mulliri?” “How much byrek can I eat in five weeks?!”

Then there are my students. I had looked forward to seeing them grow and change over the next year, or few years. I wanted to be a rock for them that they could come back to, seek advice from, or even just be able to say hi to in the hallways. They’re a wacky bunch, and I love them all.

IMG-20190511-WA0011 — And I’m going to miss places and moments like this.

This is not the end of my love affair with Albania (heck – I still have to blog my backlog of adventures!) but it will be long distance for a while. So if you find me in a Polish apartment crying over the loss of byrek in my daily life and looking at photos of faraway beaches, you’ll know I’m longing for a lost love.

But all the best love stories take time, don’t they?

IMG-20190504-WA0021 — I’m gonna miss the squad. And all our shenanigans.

Let’s Get Real

Taking a moment to share some vulnerability. I promised to be honest.

Often, when people ask about living abroad, I find they are looking for a specific answer. They even frame it accordingly:

“How cool is it being able to travel to so many places all the time?”

“It must be so awesome to meet so many new people, right?”

“Where is the coolest place you’ve been?”

“How much of the language have you learned?”

“Where are you headed to next?”

They want to know about the sights and sounds and beauty of it all, and I cannot blame them for that. Most of the time, I am happy to give these titillating answers, ready to defend my choice to live abroad and travel frequently with tales of adventure and culture. (Don’t worry, a fun post full of fun details is already underway – bear with me.)

That said, there is another side to all of this that I do wish more people were aware of when they asked the question:

“What is like, living abroad?”

Sometimes, the answers to this question are less noble and exciting, and sound more like:

I feel like I’ve lost the only home I know.

I feel pieces of myself slipping away into the past, replaced with new ones, but I’m not quite ready to let them go yet.

Sometimes I’m afraid I’ve made the wrong choice.

I worry about what I’m missing while I’m gone.

I’m losing people I never thought I would.

I’m worried I’ll never be able to go back, because I’m not sure I fit there anymore.

In letting go of all my other plans in order to be here, I’m no longer sure where this path will take me, or what I want.

This is what comes from letting go of everything you’ve known, and while I celebrate discomfort, I also suffer the cost. I do not think I’m alone in this, as an expat, but we feel the loss of home and people in our own way. For me, Bend, Oregon was a place like no other – a place that emanated everything I knew about what home should feel like. And this surprised me, because it was something I’d never had or felt before.

Bend represented a lot to me, more than I can say in words (I know because I’ve tried many times over in the form of poetry). Leaving it was akin to tearing my soul into pieces and stretching them across the longitudinal lines as I rode the wings of a massive jet from Redmond to Tirana. I’ve mourned it, many times over, and I still miss the smell of pines with a desperation most would ascribe to that of unrequited love. (I pine for Oregon…haha…I’ll see myself out.)

As those I love move on with their lives, I find myself feeling further away from all I left behind, and my heart feels torn between where it wants to be and what feels right at any given time.

Do I regret it?

No. I can’t.

Given what I know about myself now, through this experience, I am absolutely certain this is what I needed to do for myself and for Foster. But this doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.

So if you ask me:

“What’s it like, living abroad?”

Know that I might not always give you the bright-eyed-and-bushy-tailed response you may be expecting. Know that this doesn’t outweigh the greater good. And know that I might want to tell you, on occasion, that I miss home and people terribly. In all things, there is balance.

Yeah Sure, Why Not?

Holy Spring, Batman!

Time flies when you’re travelling the world, I suppose. I’ve got a backlog of posts and travels, and buckets of news.

To start, I will take you back a few weeks ago, when we accidentally wandered into Macedonia. The trio of travelers (plus our pint-sized person) decided to spend the weekend in Korçë in Southeastern Albania. I have sung high praises of all my Albanian adventures, but Korçë might be my favorite town yet. Nestled into the mountains, we had intended to get there sooner and hit the slopes for some snowboarding adventures. Unfortunately, Spring had sprung early here and we were lacking the necessary snow to perform any shredding of powder. However, we were met with surprisingly gorgeous weather in a quiet town. We fell head over heels with it all.

Korçë is near the corner of Albania where it meets Greece and Macedonia, which all share Lake Prespa – a beautiful region of mountains and rural towns. After settling into what can only be described as one of the swankiest apartments I’ve ever set foot in, we took a much needed rest, with plans to use the in-apartment jacuzzi the following evening after adventures that would be determined in the morning. Andrew suggested a jaunt over to Prespa National Park. We had our passports, perhaps we could head down to Greece? We hopped into The Elegance – our noble steed – and decided to enjoy the scenery with no schedule or expectations for where the day might take us.

Well, directions are hard, first of all…and when we found the border, it took Cheryl and I a solid two minutes to put together the fact that we were seeing Cyrillic. I have a background with that alphabet, and knew something wasn’t right when I could read some of the signs at border control. Turns out, it’s not all Greek to me. Cheryl pointed out the Macedonian flag and, sure nuff, we’d managed to take a very wrong turn along the way. When Andrew returned to the car, we gave an almost synchronized shrug when he asked: “Anyone want to go to Macedonia then?”

Yeah sure, why not.

We reevaluated our course. And by reevaluated, I mean we actually looked at a map this time to figure out where we were. After some discussion, we decided to loop around the whole lake and swing through Greece as well – three countries in one day seemed like a fun bucket list item. Foster was out cold in the back seat (and most of Macedonia actually) so we felt comfortable simply winding quietly through the countryside and enjoying one another’s company.

Andrew suggested I take a turn behind the wheel and relearn manual transmission after my nine year hiatus. The roads were empty so it seemed like a good time, sure. Y’all have heard of Murphy’s Law, yes? Well, the roads were empty right up until I got behind the wheel of The Elegance. Then everyone and their mother took to the back roads of Macedonia to tailgate The Elegance in revs of frustration, performing quick sprints around us on the moderately straight stretches. Okay, I exaggerate. But only slightly. We hadn’t seen a car in miles and suddenly they were coming around every corner. It all went fine, but Cheryl could feel my anxiety from the backseat. But, I rediscovered an old skill that I promise to practice again soon.

In a disappointing plot twist, we found the border to Greece closed. Andrew was driving again and we slowed to a halt at a seemingly unguarded post with signs in Cyrillic that we accurately guessed said: You Shall Not Pass or Ю Шалл Нот Пасс! Well, balls. What a bummer. A man appeared out of a house in the distance and we hoped he had come to remove the bar blocking our path. Alas, he was there to point at the sign and tell us in broken English “Sorry, bros, no can do.” No explanation here, only some harrumphing on our part.

So we turned around. Two countries in one day wasn’t so bad.

But wait, what’s this?! Cars passing us going toward the border. Maybe they had the right password to get past the guard and his impenetrable bar! The password wasn’t “I’m American – please let me in” but it might be “I’m Macedonian – do me a solid.” Only one way to find out. Andrew flipped a u-turn and we hightailed it after them.

In hindsight, I feel bad for what probably appeared to be crazy road stalkers as we turned around and went speeding after them. They were probably horrified and very confused. As they neared the border, and we neared them, we looked at each other with a kind of manic hope – none of us liked to back away from a challenge, and we had our hearts set on three countries in one day. But as they drew closer, and read the words Ю Шалл Нот Пасс, they pulled to the side of the road. Or maybe they were pulling over hoping we would pass them.

Either way, nobody did cross the border that day. So we finally gave in to defeat and turned around once more, leaving our Macedonian friends to recover a normal heart rate and talk about the time those crazy Americans stalked them along the back roads.

Hotel Rot – it’s like Hotel California…kinda.

Foster finally woke up right as we stumbled on Hotel Rot, whose name demanded a photo op. After a few moments here, we decided it was time to return to our swanky apartment and enjoy in evening with a box of wine and a bubble-filled jacuzzi. We had done our exploring for the day.

Or had we.

Surprise! Cheryl and I forgot our visas. The dude at border control who had so happily let us out of Albania, was less inclined to let us back in just a few hours later. “We were just here!” we protested. “The visas are in Durres!” we said. But his military-issue buzz cut said “Not my problem.” Luckily, the other man present (with a more forgiving haircut) was empathetic to our plight and convinced the soldier to let us through without it, just this once. Guess who won’t be forgetting their visas again anytime soon?

We came down from the adrenaline rush and had a quiet drive back to Korçë, promising each other we would never again be unprepared. And that we would take a different way through to Greece next time.

As an aside: Macedonia very recently changed their name to Northern Macedonia after bickering with Greece about names and territories, etc. We later mused about the likelihood that the border was closed as a part of this argument and their tense sibling rivalry.

Bonus views below

The jacuzzi after bubble-pocalypse occurred.

I Think it’s Called “Jogging”? With a Soft J

Those of you that know me know that a hate a few key things with a passion:

Spiders
Mayonnaise
and Running

“Running?? But you play football!” Yes, you’re right. I do love football, and I play as often as I can. But I haven’t “run” in approximately eight years. I have developed a real skill built on laziness and cherry picking.

I kid. However, my hatred of running is very real. I only jog occasionally at best, and only to relieve great stress or to build stamina for my other hobbies (football). You see, jogging is quite boring. “Apparently you just run… for an extended period of time. It’s wild.” I personally prefer to be running after something, with a goal in mind. Like an actual, physical goal, on which I can score. To those of you that run for the joy of beating personal records, I salute you – I am not so purely intentioned and need to be competing against someone else.

I do make an effort every now and then, recently making a pact with my friend Andy to run weekly, on what I dubbed Sunday Run-day. And by our second run I was noticing something quite intriguing. Now he runs a bit faster than I do, but I manage to keep close to his pace around 20-30 yards behind. I would watch as he passed people on the sidewalk, getting a glance or two here and there. But when I ran past, I would get full double-takes.

Before you get any ideas, I have been wearing full pants and sometimes a jacket, but certainly nothing overly revealing (though that level of modesty is a misconception for this region anyhow), so I knew it wasn’t my attire. I’m hoping it’s not because I look like I’m dying either, but I suppose that’s not out of the question.

After our last jog on the streets of Durres.

Rather, after asking around, I began to realize that generally speaking, Albanian women don’t run. It’s important to note here as well I suppose, that Albanian culture has some interesting theories about sweat’s affect on the body, and many still firmly believe that spending too much time sweaty attire will make you sick – so were they worried for my health?

Ah, but men run. I’ve seen a number of them out and about. And clearly, Andy is not outside the norm, getting next to no reaction at all. So is it that I’m a women? My sneaking suspicion is that women running for exercise is certainly not the norm.

Again, those of you that know me also know that I take feminism very seriously. And so, silly though it may be, this has become quite the motivator for me. I certainly upped my pace last Sunday, in an effort to prove I could keep up. Every time I step on a football pitch, I am proving myself worthy of being there amongst men. It is just as important to me to prove that running is as gender neutral as breathing.

And minor motivator though it may seem, I need all the help I can get. Nothing quite gets the fire burning like pride and proving a point.

More Misadventures and Musings

Jet lag is a funny thing. Sometimes it hits you at the most unexpected times. Like five days after the fact on a Friday afternoon on your way out of town. And so it was that I piled into the back of a car with Foster, on our way out of town with friends to a mountain escape after our first week back from winter break…and promptly passed out ten minutes into the trip.

I awoke to the familiar sound of under-prepared car tires turning wildly in thick snow, and the slight fishtail slip of these same tires trying to find ground where there is none. I jolted awake as we came out of the wobble and found a straight path. The world around us had transformed from rainy Durrës to snow-covered Shkodër in the northern region of Albania. And by snow-covered I mean it appeared that the sky had literally opened up to drop metric tons of snow all at once on the town. For a mountain town, they seemed ill-equipped to deal with such mass amounts of the frozen stuff, simply plowing it to the side of the road where there lay buried and forgotten anything you might normally find there….like cars…or houses.

Plows, however, they did have. In fact, one ended up chasing us back down a one way slope seemingly unaware of (or simply unconcerned by) our presence on said road. We encountered the snowplow 17 kilometers away from our mountain lodge destination, which is when we realized The Elegance (remember this vehicle from my last adventure post?) was not fit to make it up the hill. Much less another 17 kilometers in heavy snow.

We 180-d back to the center of Shkodër to find a place to bunk for the night and try again in the morning. Well. We happened upon a hotel with spa included and quickly decided the extra euro was worth it. We rolled up to this swanky joint and marveled at the amenities. For 90 euro a night we had all access to an indoor pool, Turkish bath, dry sauna, and discounted options for massages in the a.m. Originally, the weekend had been booked in an attempt to get away and relax anyhow, so we figured this was a good Plan B. And boy howdy, was it.

Massages were even more discounted than we realized (16 euro!) AND the continental breakfast was excellent. It should come as no surprise that we decided to spend our entire weekend here and forgo the treacherous roads outside of town. Good thing too, as we later learned that the alpine lodge was spotty with their electricity, and so was their heating. My friend Cheryl and I had one goal for the weekend: be warm. And our five star hotel definitely exceeded that with two sauna options!

We were not prepared for a spa stay, so we didn’t have swimsuits. Luckily Andy had extra boxers! They almost fit except for the parts that didn’t…

We ordered room service on Sunday and marathoned bad reality tv (shout out to Say Yes to the Dress!) while we quoted “treat yo self” to one another at every turn. It was the exact opposite of our original plan, but there were zero complaints. We returned to Durrës well-rested and relaxed. It washed away our sadness at the break being over and filled us with renewed appreciation for all that Albania has to offer (especially masseuses…).

Shifting gears, I wanted to address winter break a moment. I’m popping a video in here with a brief break recap, but I will add in some other details to flesh it all out. Though it was lovely to be home, it was also difficult to be there. You see, once you leave a place, it remains in your mind exactly as you left it: frozen. I knew facing the changes would be hard, because even after just four months things, people, and relationships can change drastically. And sometimes those changes are difficult to face. Especially when I was so torn about leaving in the first place. I love Bend, Oregon. Everything about it. Leaving was important, but also felt like tearing myself from the only place I’ve ever felt at home. I worried about how I would reconcile these two versions of myself – the one that felt at home there, and the one that had grown and changed here in Albania. And abroad? Here? Change happens at an exponential rate.

On a whole, it all went fine. I did the things I love (snowboarding, football, seeing friends and family, eating lots of Thai food and tacos…) and I mostly didn’t break my own heart over it. Mostly.

It’s hard. To want two such mutually exclusive things at once. Travel and home. Stability and nomadic freedom.

So I left with a certainty: as much as I love being “home” and as much as it hurts to be away, I am not ready to be back yet. I’m still growing into myself as a person, a parent, and a teacher. And I need to do this a while longer before I’m ready to settle into a place I call home.

Continental breakfast had this guy all hyped up.

Friends and mountains and clock towers made for great vibes.

Stateside, Baby

Sunriver, Oregon on Christmas Eve – bring on the snow!

We’re back, we’re back again!

Spending the holidays at home in Central Oregon this year. It’s a nice breath of fresh, crisp, snow-filled air here, and we are loving seeing family and friends again. I am currently powering through jetlag by snowboarding until my legs fall off, and refusing to acknowledge my exhaustion. It’s going surprisingly well.

Mt. Bachelor has already gifted me two beautiful days of powder and my plans for the rest of the break are pretty basic: using that season pass as much as possible before we fly back to Albania in two weeks.

Theodore and I love the snow, can you tell?

Foster is overjoyed to see my parents (Mémère and Bumpa, to him) and vice versa. It has made for some much needed time away from one another, as cabin fever had begun to put us at each other’s throats back in rainy Durrës. For those of you wondering what winter is like in our coastal town there, just imagine that God decided to have another flood…and then another one a week after that….and so on and so forth. Suffice to say, we are very happy to have the change of scenery, especially when that scenery is a magical white landscape dotted with festive pines. Tis the season!

Have a very Merry Christmas and happy holidays, everyone! See you in 2019.

Finding Vitality in Vlorë

Albania celebrated its national independence at the end of November, just after American Thanksgiving, which made for back to back holiday celebrations and a welcome five day break.

We hopped into Andy’s faithful steed “The Elegance” – a trusty, well-worn manual Mercedes – and took a drive down South to Vlorë. The vacation was very last minute and without much direction. Our only goals were to (1) refresh, (2) recharge, and (3) get some reading/writing done. I’m pleased to say we managed to do all three.

Andy discovered an incredible (and AFFORDABLE) castle up above the town of Vlorë which houses five apartments for Airbnb rental. At ~$68 a night, we considered it a steal. Especially when taking into account that all other apartments were vacant and we had free reign of the castle. There was also a fireplace and a pile of firewood. Andy gets two for two on fire-building, which was an impressive feat considering most of it was slightly damp and required some coaxing to light.

We revisited some Kelley Family Classic Comedies™ (made classic by my brother and myself, primarily….sorry, mom and dad):

Just Friends
Ace Ventura
Ace Ventura 2
Thor: Ragnarok

At which point, poor Andy realized that roughly 85% of my personality is made up of dumb movie quotes (the other 15% is mostly puns and memes) from films I’d seen growing up. Minus Thor, which is a recent but worthy addition to the list.

Despite the need to finish editing term reports, and a decidedly obnoxious reminder in the back of my brain that I should be planning for the following week…I ignored work completely and focused on the contemporary adage “TREAT YO SELF.” I finished my book that I had started reading way back during the summer (how many years ago was that?! Feels like seven…) and wrote a few poems. But mostly, we watched Netflix, drank surprisingly-good boxed wine, and enjoyed the complete lack of responsibility to time commitments for three days in our private castle.

On our first full day there, we took a long car trip to a beautiful rocky beach where Andy knew of a couple rock climbing spots. Light faded faster than we could take advantage of the rock climbing, but we met a lovely dog I dubbed “Barkley” (pronounced “Bark-e-ley” by Fos) who kept a careful eye as we navigated a short hike over rocks and along a stream. Barkley’s companion, who Foster took to calling “Sniffin”, joined us off and on throughout our short adventure. Finally, we meandered back out to the beach in time to see a magnificent sunset, and hiked back up the hill in newfound contentment that only nature and good company can bring.

Driving back to Vlorë under a star-speckled sky along a winding, Albanian road was the perfect way to end a perfect day. It is, to date, one of the most pleasant getaways I’ve had yet.

10/10 would visit again.

More photos below:

Halloweekend 2018

We scrounged together our costumes this year and had a great time celebrating Halloween here in Albania this weekend! Check out the video and photos below.

Fos oscillated between happy screams and, well, this. All in all, a great time with friends! #whatdoesthefoxsay

Couple of renegade mice broke into the school and wreaked all sorts of havoc…

Another Day, Another Country

We went to Greece! Check out the deets and photos below.

So many interesting doors and windows here. I loved them all.

Looking down on an arena below the Acropolis.

Athens is also a cat sanctuary, apparently.

Temple of Zeus and Acropolis in the background.

Ready for a football game in Greece! The jerseys were our souvenirs.

There was also a museum for pinball with all day play.

Kosovo: The Camping Catastrophe

Oof. This post is suuuuper late. As you can imagine, it’s easy to get caught up in life abroad. Now that the school year is in full swing, I find it hard to find time (and energy) to sit down and write sometimes. But the whole point of this blog, outside of sharing with all of you, is to help me catalog my own experiences here.

So, Kosovo.

Don’t be put off by the title, it was actually incredible. But getting to the campsite itself was a whole different story! On Saturday, I had a lazy morning, posted a video for you all, and came down to the school at around 2pm to meet my boss, Liam, who would be driving us to the campsite. All was going according to plan as we got our maps ready and set off. As it turns out, the mapping system isn’t…great here. And by that I mean that Google literally seems to think that Albania is no man’s land. It didn’t help that the navigator lagged. We took a few wrong turns here and there, but we knew the general direction of Kosovo so we figured we would at least make it that far, right?

It’s a bit intimidating, knowing you’re going to be in a car with your boss for at least three hours. Especially this early in the year. Luckily, we both love football (soccer) and seemed to have a similar sense of humor. Which would be important for what was about to come…

We weren’t in any hurry so we spent time chatting about personal lives and past travel experiences. He’s Australian/Irish but most recently spent time in Indonesia, which was fascinating to me. As we wound our way through the beautiful hills of Albania toward Kosovo, we learned a fair amount about each other. I told him about the mountains back home, and as we crept up the highway into new terrain I felt a bit closer to the Cascade Range for a moment. Foster asleep in the back seat, I thought “hey, this last minute plan was a pretty good idea after all.”

All those wrong turns led to an awesome hilltop discovery.

Well, many a wrong turn later and a bad map pin, we weren’t sure we were going to find the rest of our group at the campsite. We were in the general vicinity, but we couldn’t call anyone (no service coverage in Kosovo) and inaccurate directions had us thinking we were going to have our own weekend adventure in Kosovo and see everyone else back in Albania on Monday. We had turned a three and a half hour car ride into a six hour car ride and we were losing hope, but not humor. The map pin had led us deep up forest roads to the middle of the bear sanctuary park but far from anything in particular. At one point, I was hanging out the passenger window of the car, practically sitting on the roof while I called directions down to Liam, who was reversing down the tight forest road back the way we had come.

We found our way back to what appeared to be a restaurant near a possible campground. On a whim, I told Liam to drive up the hill where we could hear music pumping through the trees. If we didn’t find our group, at least we found party?

Sorry – took ANOTHER break from writing here in the middle – things are always moving here! Alright, let’s see….right, we found a party.

Liam told me to go check it out real quick and see if I recognized anyone from our crew. I thought “what are the chances of that this time of night with a bunch of people milling around dancing?”

Pretty good, as it turns out. As soon as I got out of the car with Fos I ran into Cheryl and Erika, friends of ours, that were sitting near some tents taking a break from the festivities. THANK. GOD. We all gave a cheer and I went to tell Liam we had manage to find our people here in the middle of nowhere after all.

The post-dance campfire that kept us up way past bedtime.

What followed was an awesome dance party fueled by endless (and I do mean endless, there were fridges stocked full all over the place) beer, some local liquor we brought along (“rocky”), and great vibes. I ended up in a circle of dancers at one point while a young local man patiently taught me a few traditional step dances of Northern Albanian variety.

It was a truly great night. If I were to pick a moment from this travelling and teaching abroad thing that encompassed what I hoped would come from the whole experience it would be this: The buzz of local liquor making everything look a little brighter, surrounded by wonderful new friends on a weekend camping trip away from it all, having my helpless self being taught traditional Albanian dance steps while everyone sang along and laughed.

We ended up staying up around a campfire chatting until nearly 2am (Foster fell asleep on someone’s lap before then). It was a wonderful bonding experience that reminded me of what it felt like to have “my people”.

The steakhouse sits on a river and has awesome ambiance.

The weekend was well worth getting lost for a few hours and I am looking forward to doing it again. I never did make it to the bear sanctuary, so it looks like I will have to make another trip…

On another note, we tracked down a steakhouse recommendation on the way back and I had what was (arguably) the best meal I’ve had since I’ve been here. Which is saying something anyway because the food is incredible. Gorgonzola-topped steak after an insane number of appetizers and followed by a variety of desserts made a delicious ending to an already good trip. We caught the sunset on the way home to Albania and I took stock of what it means to live internationally.

Next up on the docket: I will be taking my October break (8 days!) in Athens, Greece here in a week, which I am very very excited about. I have a weekend trip planned for Frankfurt in November as well, which will be ….*drumroll please*….KID FREE. What.

Stay tuned.