I am continually surprised at how different a place actually is with compared to what I think it may be. Before every move, I do as much research as I can but try to have as little expectations as possible and a curious mindset so that I can be open to whatever the actual experience is without prejudgements. I arrive looking and waiting for the discovery of new moments and people to reveal their gifts. As this is also a real life experiment and life is filled with all shades of experience, I know that after a few months when the honeymoon has faded, I will be able to see below the surface level of the culture and will be challenged with surprises. I also know that as an adult third culture kid (ATCK) and global nomad, that there will be an adjustment period in the first few months of arriving into my new host country. For me, it always begins with simple comparisons with food between the country I've left and the new one that I'm adapting to. When I hear myself thinking or talking about a special meal, I know I am grieving for the place I left and am in transition. For example, for the first few months after moving to Turkey from Morocco, I found the food boring. I kept craving the spices in Moroccan couscous and tagines. By the time I moved to Prishtina, I was craving Turkish spices and breakfasts. Fortunately for me, the long shared history between Kosovo and Turkey meant that spices and food might be similar. However, dedicated to my "blank slate" approach to discovering a new culture, I was curious to what I might else I may actually discover.
First of all, the dress is different. Instead of seeing women in flowing fabrics and larger sized garments, most women are dressed in narrow and short silhouettes with formal sandals or shoes, and rarely a running around sneaker. Men are shaved. As I notice the quantity of hair stylists and shoe stores, I recall a conversation when another friend who had recently sailed in the Balkans told me, "ah...you are going where the beautiful people are." As an American coming from a genetic melting pot it still surprised me to see physical differences in people according to the country they lived in! The last time I was so impressed with physical beauty of a specific region of people was in Zambia where I admired the lean and muscular women who never went to the gym-- then I realized there must be some truth to what the friend had told me. There is a variety of hair color, skin color, and eye color so I can't tell you exactly what the Kosovar/Albanian genetic history is yet, but I think fashion and style is in the genes! and the food...tonight I enjoyed a thick piece of local hard cheese which had been left at room temperature and given to me as a part of a welcome basket from my new business colleague and school..along with a local bottle of rosé wine. The cheese rivals the best French cheese I have tasted and the 2011 bottle though young, flows with a taste of tradition. As I shop the local grocery stores I find peanut butter from Greece and a mixture of brewer's yeast with herbs that I know will be great on popcorn. Then of course there is the local bounty of radiant red summer tomatoes, long elegant lime colored peppers, and petite purple onions that will make a perfect favorite breakfast I learned to love and create in Turkey, called Menemen. https://g.co/kgs/wV6geK and the people...The owners of my new apartment give me a warm welcome and also gracefully give me privacy to rest after a long journey. (Maybe they are thinking I am rude because I am inside writing this blog and they are outside having a Sunday afternoon family barbecue! :). and I wonder...what is the family culture like? Are they attached to their children like the Turkish are?...what are the expectations of children to take care of their parents? I note that while the owner of my house is away on business, the 19-year old son assumes complete responsibility for the paperwork and rental agreements of my new apartment.
and the sounds of this city are different...there is a unique mixture of morning church-bells (from Mother Theresa's Cathedral), afternoon vocalizations from the mosque and evening local pop music pumping out from the multitude of cafes. I wonder if there is an evening curfew for the music or how I will need to adapt.
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