I wish that somehow I could transport the sensory experience of Africa to you all - words will never do it justice. There are the rhythmic acacia trees dancing across the valley, the Masai standing ramrod straight swathed in red guarding their cows and/or goats, and people everywhere walking, standing, talking. I saw a woman yesterday with a 5 gallon carboy on her head walking. I don't think I could lift one, much less put it on my head and walk.

We left Karen and drove to an escarpment overlooking the Rift Valley. I was surprised by my emotions looking over the womb of humankind. How improbable it is that I am alive. How many generations had to defy the odds and live long enough to reproduce to start the genetic pool that I am part of? Which of the 7 original mothers can I trace back to? The valley is beautiful stretching out before us- it must have taken significant events to drive the first migrants out of the valley and onto their wanderings.

On the way to the first two nights' campground, we stopped briefly in a town. Immediately we had salesmen at the side of the truck. "Look, mama, look at what I have. Isn't it beautiful? Do you want to hold it?" One man asked me where I was from. When I said America, he said, "So we are family, now. Obama." Our guide told me that the change in attitude toward Americans in all of East Africa is unbelievable since the election. Overnight the pictures of Osama Bin Laden that were pasted on buses and cars disappeared. Now we are family.

To reach the campground, we turned off on one dirt road, onto another and another and another until we reached it at the end of the road. It was in the middle of nowhere, guarded and surrounded by 15 strands of electric wire to keep the hyenas out. The owner is a young Kenyan who was delightful, and the campground itself was nice if plain - it had a bar and a bathroom with toilets and showers where sometimes after 5 you could actually get a hot shower. We met the rest of our traveling companions there: a young British couple, 19 and 25, who had been traveling for 10 weeks, an 18 year old Aussie woman, a 50ish American man who remodels houses in Albequerque, and a 30 something British woman. Our group was a 29 year old British microbiologist, a 40 or 50 something German chemist, a young Welshman just out of University, and Michael and me. Most of the others were travelers- they worked long enough to get money for their next trip, and stayed on the road for months. It's an interesting fraternity, welcoming and enjoyable. And when I say campsite, that's what I mean. We put up our own tents and sleep on the ground. Mostly we rotate who cooks dinner and who washes the dishes. Breakfast is spartan = I usually have a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for breakfast. The first night my body protested sleeping on the ground (and listening to the hyenas) but since then I've slept at least as good as I do at home. And there is a bonhomie that is wonderful that is developed among all of us.

I'll only tell now about our first day there. We arose early and went to the Nakuma Park which is famous for its birds. And although we saw white and black rhino, lions, giraffes, every manner of gazelles, elands, and other hoofed animals, wart hogs, a parade of baboons and monkeys, my favorites were the birds - 3 types of eagles, a yellow billed stork, a red throated stork, rollers, hoepoes, flamingos by the hundreds, ibises, etc. My favorite was the African Pelican. They would fish in V formations, bobbing their heads in time, until all of a sudden, in one movement, their heads would go down into the water to get fingerlings.

Enough for now. I've had other adventures and fun, but I don't want to be at the cafe for too long. I'm well, having a wonderful time, and wish you were all here with me.

Today I start a great adventure. I've always dreamed about going on a safari in Africa, and today my dream starts. There are 5 of us and we'll join 5 more on a big truck traveling across the Rift Valley, back to Nairobi, then down into Tanzania for 2 weeks. Who knows what we'll see, but it will be an adventure. My friend Michael and I arrived in Nairobi at 2:30am two nights ago. On the trip into Karen Camp, where we stayed for 1 day,there were zebras on the side of the road. My first impressions of Africa = warm, luxuriant, and well guarded - high fences and padlocked gates everywhere. It's always a treat to step away from winter into the warmth of summer. Temperatures here are in the 70's with flowers blooming everywhere. The camp we stayed at was a combination hostel, campground, and hotel. Michael and I enjoyed a room and with a bathroom. Although we may not have needed it, I slept with mosquito net over me - just seemed right. This is short - we need to go buy a couple days of lunches before we head to our first national park, but I'll try to keep you updated as I go.

The Name Game

As many of you may know, Greece has blocked Macedonia from joining NATO and the EU because it of the name Macedonia. The Greeks claim that Macedonia is a Greek name that describes a whole region, and that the Slavs of Macedonia are trying to usurp Greek history and lay claim on the part of Macedonia that is in Greece by appropriating the name. Diplomats have been meeting for years trying to work out a compromise and though every meeting promises good progress, in reality it seems like very little has been done. All of this I knew in the abstract, but last week I got to live it when I took a trip with my friend Tracy down to Thessaloniki.

As I've mentioned before, the borders of the countries in the Balkans have been fluid during the last 100 years and have changed many times. The present border between Greece and Macedonia (known formally by the name the Former Yugoslav Republic of Macedonia ((FYROM) in the UN because of the dispute) was drawn after WWII. Thousands of Slavic Macedonians were expelled from the Greek side of the line - the politics were running hot and heavy because Tito wanted to establish legitimacy for Yugoslavia and the Allies wanted to keep Greece from going over to the Communists. Even the name of Thessaloniki, the second largest city in Greece, has been changed from Saloniki to Thessaloniki to represent that it was now in Greece. So while the countries have coexisted peacefully for many, many years, there are still some tensions, and they come out over the use of the name Macedonia.

The train master above is from Negotino in Macedonia, where Tracy and I caught one of the last trains down to Thessaloniki - the run ended Jan. 1. The train was late - very common - and we had some time sitting with him in his office chatting as best we could in Macedonia. He started talking about the name issue - his name was Risto and how could anyone ask him to change his name? What right did the Greeks have asking the country to change its name? and so on. One thing Tito did was strengthen the Slavic Macedonian identity, and it worked - they are Macedonians! We then took the lovely ride down to Thessaloniki. We were to meet the people we were staying with at IKEA (yes, it's the same one) which was on the other side of town from the train station, so climbed on a bus. It was very crowded and uncomfortable for us with all our bags, so the minute we thought they announced IKEA we jumped off, even though we weren't certain it was what was said. Sure enough, it wasn't the right stop. I asked a very nice woman where IKEA was, and she told me to get back on the bus and continue a little way farther. She then asked me where I was from. "America", I said, "but I'm living now in Macedonia." "Where?" she asked, her eyebrow raising. "Macedonia," said I, in all innocence. "This is Macedonia, you are from Skopje," was her forceful reply. Oops. All throughout our visit, if we said we were from Macedonia we got strange looks and sometimes huffy responses. "We are all Macedonians - how can you take our identity?" Most of the Greeks referred to Macedonia as Skopje, which confused me for a while until I realized they weren't just talking about the town but the whole country. It was interesting to live the controversy and not just read about it.

Going to Greece was like stepping into a whole new world. The towns were gorgeous and not filled with communist functional gray buildings, and despite the economic woes it felt downright prosperous compared to Macedonia. The weather was warm and the Adriatic sparkled. Ahhhh! We stayed outside of town with a lovely, interesting couple - the other pictures above were taken on our walks around the countryside by their home. Across the valley that their home overlooked was Mt. Olympus - we were staying in the valley of the gods. It was a wonderful break from the gray, wintery glumness that had pervaded Macedonia. We met with officials from the American Farm School to talk about possible cross border collaboration - they want us to come back in March to discuss it more. By the way, as part of the Farm School, they have a college, Perrotis College, which has an exchange program with schools back in the States. College students can come, take classes on Greek civilization and culture and optional classes including the Greek Palate, hike Olympus, take a sailing trip out to an island - sounds like a wonderful opportunity. It was a great trip and we met such nice people - I hope we do return in March!

Travels in Macedonia

Happy Holidays, Everyone,
Sunday brunch, Macedonian style chez Wiggum: scrambled eggs with two kinds of peppers, onions and garlic, put in a lightly sauteed tortilla and topped with shredded pepper cheese (kashkaval), sheep cheese, (cirenje), and tomatoes and avocadoes - a rare treat. Yummm.

Just returned from Debar, a small town on the Albanian border, where I helped Ellen and Mere with their wonderful spelling bee. Since we aren't allowed to drive in Macedonian, most of our travel is on buses, with an occasional train trip thrown in. I write a lot about traveling on buses, because each and every trip is an adventure! The bus system here is something else. There are hundreds of bus companies in Macedonia, and each has its own system. There is no central coordinated bus scheduling, so no matter where you go, part of the fun is figuring out how to get there and then how to get back. Looking on the internet generally nets me little information, so I am reliant on other volunteers to help me with the different times, lines and rules. For example, generally round trip tickets cost less, but with some companies they are only good for a day, others a week, and others a month. You need to make sure you return on the same company you bought the ticket from - and there are often several serving the same areas. Some companies assign seats, others grab one where you can, and so on. Generally when I travel on buses I try to get a seat by myself because I'm usually hauling a backpack, purse, and bag filled with stuff, and I like the room, but I've had some of my most wonderful conversations when I'm 'forced' to take a seat with someone.

The buses themselves are usually bought used after a full life in Europe, so they often look a tad worse for wear. Seats are often broken, engines questionable, interior tattered and worn. There are two main lines from Gostivar to Skopje, one which has nice buses and a direct route to Skopje, and one which is more questionable that often goes to Skopje via Tetovo. Of course the latter company has more runs, especially on weekends, so I am often forced to take it. Once Kerry and I were going to Skopje for a meeting. Fortunately, Zhats had a direct bus that morning, as well as one that went through Tetovo. When we were ready to leave the station, however, things started looking a little sketchy. The driver couldn't get it in gear, and it took us about 5 minutes just to leave the station. Clearly, he was fighting the transmission, and the transmission seemed to be winning. We finally got out of Gostivar, but after stopping at a toll booth and starting to climb the hills on the way to Skopje, the transmission exerted its authority. The inside of the bus began to fill with an acrid odor of burning transmission, and the driver was forced to pull over. We were sitting in the middle of the bus, and as soon as it stopped everyone sitting behind us got up and ran to the front - not a particularly reassuring event. The driver continued to struggle with the transmission to no avail, and finally the other bus came upon us and pulled over so we could board it. It was full, and our bus was full, so everyone was jammed in standing in the aisle. I saw an empty seat in the back and heading for it. The woman next to it shook her head. It was raining outside, and, well, it was raining in the bus, too, directly on the seat. Still, it looked better than standing all the way to Skopje smunched between 100 others, so I perched on the edge of the seat enduring an occasional raindrop falling on me. Another time we were stopped by the police 4 times, made to go to the police garage where the bus got an inspection, off-loaded from the bus, reloaded onto the bus, off-loaded again until another bus arrived, and finally allowed to go on. An hour trip took two.

So you get the idea of some of the challenges. This weekend turned out to have a couple of eventful trips. The trip into Skopje was relatively routine - the bus was late because it had been snowing, but I had allowed time for that so arrived for my meeting on time. After the meeting we had a lovely lunch at a Chinese restaurant in Skopje, and rather than hurry, Katie, the other volunteer who was traveling to Debar, and I decided to catch the 5 o'clock combi (some buses are bus size, some are large van size and are called combis). We lounged around, but I was confident we could easily go outside to the main street and catch a cab - there was a cab stand across the street. We went out and started hailing cabs - it was late Friday afternoon on a cold day after a snowstorm. Not a good idea. All the cabs were full, and there were no cabs at the stand. Yikes! The 5 was the last bus to Debar, and if we missed it, well, it would be a disaster. We hailed cab after cab - no one was stopping. Finally, with 10 minutes to get to the station, one stopped and picked us up. Of course, traffic was also dreadful, and we had that horrible feeling of watching the minutes tick off. We called Ellen and Mere and asked them to call the combi to wait for us, and the combi driver called back but Katie, who is very good at Macedonian, couldn't understand him completely. Finally stuck in traffic but close to the station, katie got out and sprinted to the station. I finally got there, paid off the cab driver, and ran around to the station door, only to meet Katie shaking her head - they said the bus was gone. We walked outside and Katie again called the driver, they were waiting for us but where - that's what we couldn't understand. We walked around the back of the station where the exit gate was, and sure enough, there was a combi, but just as we reached it it took off. It had a red light so had to stop, so while I went to ask the gate man at the station about the combi, katie ran to check if the newly departed but stopped combi was ours. Soon, I heard Katie yelling at the top of her lungs, "Caaaaannnnnnndy". Sure enough it was ours, and we made it by the skin of our teeth.

The combi picked up passengers along the way, and pretty soon it too was crammed with people standing in the short aisleway. Katie and I were talking about food, and I mentioned Irish Soda Bread, and we heard a voice above us say, "Irish Soda Bread, that's the best." It was a young man with a heavy accent. I was trying to place it when he told us he was an American from Brooklyn! He had the heaviest Brooklyn accent I have ever heard. He was delightful - he was born in Brooklyn but his family was from Debar and they were visiting because his aunt was sick. He mentioned a couple of times how nice it was to be able to talk to someone in English, how much he missed home, though he was also fluent in Albanian and the Dibar region was his family's home. Such is the immigrant's story.

After enjoying Ellen's hospitality for the night and watching the kids at the spelling bee (they were great!), Ellen, Mere, and Katie took me to the bus station to catch the combi back to Gostivar. It was supposed to be there preparing for its 5:30 departure, but there was no sign of it. Again, we called the company, but couldn't understand what the dispatcher was saying. We asked a nice man standing close by to call for us, and he did (the gist was that the combi should come but the dispatcher wasn't sure where it was), and right when he hung up the combi pulled in. It was snowing heavily in Mavrovo, and he had been held up. He was happy to have a passenger, and I climbed in, along with a couple of other folks. They shortly got out, however, and soon it was only me and the bus driver. He signalled for me to come up and sit by him, so I did. He was Albanian, so we switched from my also non-existence Macedonian to my only a little better Albanian, and chatted our way down the road, talking about families, our children, where we were from, etc.

It was raining as we left Debar, but about 20 kilometers from Mavrovo we hit heavy snow. The roads were slick and I doubt that the tires had much tread. We slipped and slid all over the road, gathered momentum on downhills so we could make it up the uphills. It was gorgeous outside, but the driver and I soon stopped talking because he needed every ounce of concentration to stay on the road. When we finally made it to Mavrovo we met a plow truck, and things were marginally better after that. He asked if I would like to stop and get a cup of coffee and I agreed, but in Mavrovo two new passengers were waiting so the cup of coffee was put off. We made it down the mountain, only to run into a bank of heavy fog which reduced visibility to a few feet, and finally into Gostivar - home........I owe the driver a cup of coffee still - he wanted one still but I was beat and just wanted t get home.

Adventure after adventure - that's part of what makes this so fun. Only a part, though. There are so many things that contribute to making this such a memorable time in my life. Although I always wanted to be in the Peace Corps, I never quite believed it would happen nor did I have any idea what it really would be like.

I wish you all the happiest of holidays. The hard part of service is being away from family and friends, especially at special times like Christmas! May Santa Claus climb up your wall and leave you lots of fabulous gifts. I love you all and miss you. Have a wonderful 2011 with lots of positive adventures yourselves!

Albanian History

I met a man the other day who had fought in the 2001 conflict for the Balli Kombetar. Balli Kombetar means Forehead of the People and was a resistance group in WWII, but it is the name of the group that fought in 2001 to unify Albania back to the borders it had from 1941-1943. In WWII they collaborated with the Nazis because they were afraid that the allies would give territories back to Bulgaria and Serbia, which is, in a way, exactly what happened - except it was to Yugoslavia. The partisans under Enver Hozha and Tito allied with the Allies, and thus we ended up with both Albania and Yugoslavia under communism. Anyway, the article I was reading referenced an ancient set of laws that guided the Balli Kombetar, the Kunan of Lek, and I was intrigued.

The internet is a wonderful thing. Wikipedia had a reference to the Kunan of Lek. It is a set of laws that governed all parts of Albanian life, and probably started around the 9th century. In the early 1400's a minister under Skenderbeg, the Albanian hero who fought the Turks, brought all the laws together under one legal umbrella, and the Kunan of Lek Kukagjini was born. The laws governed all parts of Albanian life, and were passed down orally generation after generation until the Albanian alphabet was developed in 1912, when it finally was written. What is so interesting to me is that much of Albanian life and their customs reflect the Kunan, and it explains so much.

The Kanun is based on four pillars:

• Honour (Albanian: Nderi)
• Hospitality (Albanian: Mikpritja)
• Right Conduct (Albanian: Sjellja)
• Kin Loyalty (Albanian: Fis

I realize now how I insulted the honor of my host dad by carrying my dishes to the sink. As a guest in his house, I was a member of the family, and women over 60 are not supposed to do anything but be tended by the daughters in the house. When I continued to put my dishes in the sink, I violated his honor. Houses are built they way they are both because extended family/kin loyalty is so important and because part of the kanun defined the ways to conduct blood feuds. Blood feuds were a part of society - if one's honor was offended by another man badly enough, you had to kill him, and if someone killed your relative, you had to kill them back. But there were definite rules - a man could not be killed in his home, thus homes were built as compounds with big walls around them. There were ways of getting safe passage for awhile - oaths called besas, and sometimes it was possible to mediate or buy your way out of a blood feud, but many went on for generations.

The gender roles were strictly defined. Only men could carry weapons, and women essentially belonged to their husbands families. Marriage was arranged - this predated Islam and held true for Catholics as well. When a woman married, it was custom that the bride's family give the groom a bullet, so that if she cheated on him he could shoot her with her family's blessing. Countries were defined by common language and heritage - one of the reasons that it is difficult for Albanians to identify themselves as anything but Albanians - never Macedonian or Montenegran.

Hospitality is huge here - if you are accepted into an Albanian's home you are treated like a king or queen. It is one of the reasons that Albania was the only Nazi occupied country in WWII that ended up with a larger Jewish population after the war than before the war - not only did they protect their few Jewish citizens but with their commandment to help the weak and helpless they accepted a number of Jews seeking asylum into their country.

It is fascinating to me to see how an oral tradition handed down over the centuries still has such a strong hold, probably largely unconscious, on the culture of Albania. But then it makes me wonder - how many unconscious ancient customs do we act out - things handed down generations ago from England, Germany, and other ancestral homes?

Another Glorious Weekend

My friend Happie called me Friday afternoon and invited me to come down to Makedonski Brod to visit and go to the Zrze monastery since it was going to be a beautiful weekend. So after work I packed up and caught the 5:30 combi and I am so glad I did. It was a spectacular weekend. Saturday morning we got up and caught a cab with a random cabbie waiting by the Mak Brod Center. It was the first of several 'blessings' for the day. He agreed to take us to Zrze, but warned us we would have to walk the last kilometer or so up the mountain to the monastery. That was fine. We went from an okay road, to a not so good road, to a pretty bad road, and reached Zrze. Zrze, like many small remote villages in Macedonia, is dying. I had thought maybe we could pick up something to eat and drink there before our steep hike, but there were no stores that I saw. Many houses were abandoned and falling apart. We saw no one under 45 living there, and indeed, no young people do live there. A quick side note, someone told me that the reason that villages like these died in Spain was because of universal education. While small villages can support primary schools, once children start high school they are sent away to board at the high school in the nearest city. Often times parents follow them there, but even if they don't, the children never return to live the hard-scrabble farm life. They move to the cities to seek better opportunities and more stimulation. The same is true in Macedonia. So slowly, as the older people die, the villages die. Villages that once had hundreds of residents are now down to a handful and soon will disappear forever, along with that way of life. But back to my tale....

Smiler (pronounced smeelar) stopped and asked a resident about the road up to the monastery. The man shrugged, and said he could make it with his car, so Smiler started up. The road was truly terrible, but Smiler was determined. It turned out that he had grown up in Zrze, and the last time he had been to the monastery was 30 years ago, and he wanted to see it as well! So up we went, saved a strenuous (and hungry and thirsty) hike, to one of the most beautiful places in the world.

The monastery is currently inhabited by 8 monks who are busy restoring the archaeological features. It was first settled in caves in the rock cliff under an ancient fort in the 9th century. If you look at the picture, you can see the monks cells and a cave church in the rock. There was also an old basilica that was built up on the ledge in the 5th century that they are busy excavating - if you look on my facebook page you can see more pictures. One of the monks came out and gave us a tour - he spoke very good English. Most monks in Macedonia are young, because while the church wasn't shut down under Tito, neither was it encouraged. Only during the past 20 years or so have the monasteries been repopulated with young monks. Anyway, in the 14th century the current church was built with its beautiful icons and paintings. There are two paintings of Jesus and Mary by the altar which have a miracle attributed to them. Mary's painting showed her playing with Jesus - a fairly unusual depiction. For 3 days after the paintings were placed in their proper place by the altar, the monks would enter to find that the paintings had switched places. Mary finally spoke to one of the monks and told him that she needed to be on the right side of the altar instead of her customary left spot so her back wouldn't be turned to the picture of Jesus, and so it is today. The monk gave us another blessing - a small book on the monastery, and they gave us some mountain tea to enjoy under a tree in the courtyard. It was magical.

When we headed back we were starving, so we had Smiler take us to a new restaurant built by a friend of Happies by the Peshar Peshka cave - our third blessing. They are building some guest cabins there, but after the workers ate, we had the place to ourselves. We sat on the balcony in the sunshine until the sun went down, then our host came out and ushered us in by the wood stove. We had mixed salad - in Macedonia that's shredded cabbage, tomatoes, cucumbers, beets, carrots, and soft white cheese - to start off, then asked the owner/chef to choose our main course. He brought out уваци, a traditional Macedonian dish that is a rolled chicken breast stuffed with cheese and wrapped in bacon, and a homemade kolbasa - both were the best I've had yet in Macedonia. Biljana and Goce sat and talked to us as we ate, and partway through the meal Biljana's mother came out with a благо that she had made for us - a sweet coconut cake soaked in the sugar water that they use for most desserts - think baklava for an idea of what the syrup is like. We were stuffed, but it too was delicious not to eat. She had brought out about 8 pieces for us, and when we could each only eat one, they wrapped up the rest for us to take. That meal, plus a big glass of rakija each, cost about 8 dollars each - I shall miss the prices of good meals when I return home. It was such a pleasurable meal - like many Macedonian meals it stretched out over a couple of hours - made more special by the hospitality of our hosts and the intimate feeling of our surroundings. On so many days here I blink my eyes to remind myself it is all real - bouncing on combis squeezed between Macedonians or Albanians, their patience and delight in having conversations with me, seeing such beauty, and feeling such warmth from everyone. I wish I could send each and every one of you the sensations I experience here - they are truly indescribable.

Oct. and Nov.

Hi, everyone,
I know it's been forever since I've written, but it's been a busy month. Tomorrow is Kurban Bajram, or little Bajram. The two Bajrams will always resonate with me, because I moved in with my Albanian host family right before the big Bajram, and moved out the day after little Bajram. Thanksgiving marks half of my service time - it will be a year since we were sworn in as Peace Corps volunteers. The Mak-13's (and the Mak 12's who extended a year) are going home, and it's like losing family. They were our guides and introduced us to Macedonia, and I will forever be grateful for their welcoming us into the PC family. Mbarre rrugen, everyone.

One reason I was so busy was that I went back to the States for two weeks and visited sisters, parents and kids. What a great time! It feels like teleporting from one world into another (but not as quick - the trip home took 24 hours). Every part of it was wonderful. It was especially nice to see my parents. They have had significant health problems since I've been gone - not unexpected, given their age - and it has been difficult to be so far away. But they both looked good and we had a rewarding visit.

Talk about fabulous - San Fran and NYC were both great fun. Chris was able to arrange for Pixar to have a luxury box at the Oakland Raiders/Seahawks game, and Dave, Karen and Kellen came down to see the game with us. We feasted and watched the Seahawks lose badly, but it was great fun. He then gave us a tour of Pixar. The picture above is him in Alcatraz - I'd never gone and wanted to. Next was 3 days in NYC, where Kacy took me for a mani, pedi and massage. That night we went to a play and saw Laura Linney. It was excellent and thought provoking. It was great to see the kids' new apartments and offices - a lot has changed since I left.

Two seminars - one on sustainable tourism and one on sustainable forestry - buttressed my trip home. Above is a picture of my Kosovar friends. One day I will go visit them, but I fear it will have to wait until I'm done with Peace Corps. Kosovo is off limits to us. Everyone I have met from Kosovo has been so nice, though, and I can't wait until I can get up to visit.

Finally, last weekend I went down to Demir Kapija for a lamb roast that my friend Tracy had arranged. We all brought some a variety of things to eat or to make, and did we feast. Friday night we took ingredients we had brought to a place that makes pizza with a brick oven. We gave them the ingredients and instructed them on which ingredient we wanted on what pizza. They made the crust, added the ingredients as instructed, and then baked them in their oven. Talk about gourmet pizzas! We had a pepper pizza with fresh onions, peppers, ajvar, and the regular fixings, a garlic pizza, a gorgonzola, bacon and carmelized onion pizza, a cheese pizza, and one other yummy one whose ingredients I now can't remember. They were amazing. The next day we got up and got the combi out to Demir Kapija and dropped off the food for the lamb roast. We then went out for a short hike and condor watching. It was a pristine fall day - warm, blue sky, the kind of a day where you are so happy to be alive and outside. We then returned for the roast. The owner of the restaurant had been getting the brick oven heated and ready, and we roasted the lamb and a variety of root veggies. It was the best lamb I'd ever eaten, succulent, flavorful, with juices oozing everywhere, and done perfectly. It was possibly the best meal I have ever eaten.

Now that I've made you all hungry, I think I"ll go eat lunch. Have a great day!