A tribute

Our six weeks in Albania end today.  When we woke this morning, Jeff asked me whether I was ready to leave, and I replied that I am.  "It's not because I didn't enjoy or appreciate this time," I told him. "But it's like a very satisfying meal, when you push your chair back after eating the last bite, and drinking the last sip of fine wine, and say with all honesty.  'That was delicious.  I'm totally, completely satisfied.'"

So today we packed, cleaned the apartment we've been calling home, and enjoyed a last dinner at the  home of the Stoschers, the dear friends who've become even dearer to us as we tasted a bit of their lives and ministry here in Erseke. And I feel it fitting that this last post be a tribute to the Stoschers, because they have played such a large part in making our stay comfortable, interesting and meaningful.

Mark and Ruthie Stoscher

If you're like me, you didn't know much about the lives of missionaries.  In fact, I've met very few missionaries in my life, even though I grew up in the church.  It's probably also fair to say I had some stereotypes about missionaries, as you probably do as well.  But being around the Stoscher family has given me such a love and appreciation for what missionaries do in places around the world like Albania.  They truly give up their own national identity to live in a new country long-term, where they will probably never feel completely at home.  They learn difficult languages.  They put up with less-than-perfect living conditions and learn to live without many of the comforts that we take for granted in the U.S.  And, they dedicate their lives to being the light of Christ to the "least of these," the poor, the sick, the lost, the broken.

In Mark and Ruth's case, they host individuals and groups almost daily for meals. They allow teenagers to take over a room on the first floor of their home, even when it's loud and messy and inconvenient.  They open their gated playground every day to allow the town's kids to play, even when they have to stop what they're doing to supervise.  They loan out just about anything not attached to the floor (furniture, tools, car, appliances), and give away even more.

Once, I asked Ruthie for a bit of popcorn (you can't find popcorn in Erseke stores), and she was joking with me that she didn't have any popcorn to give me.  Of course, we both knew Mark had just brought her a giant bag from Tirana, the capital city. But Abi Stoscher (15), who didn't know that, exclaimed, "Mom, for a minute I thought you were serious. But I know you would never say that because you would give your last bit of it away, even if that's all you have!"  Wow, can you imagine your teenager saying that about you?  It really convicted me to think about all the things I have that I wouldn't give away, because "it's my last bit." But that's how our friends the Stoschers live, holding loosely to the things of the world, and sharing generously with everyone around them.

Mark, Ruth, Abi, Beka, Jamie and Stephen, thank you for sharing your lives with us for six weeks.  Thank you for showing us the beauty of Albania in its land and people.  Thank you for demonstrating a life lived richly in all the bet senses of the word -- rich in faith, rich in character, rich in generosity, and very rich in love.

An unexpected gem: Macedonia

Many people we've met in Albania enjoy vacationing in a historical town called Ohrid (pronounced OH-crid), just over the border in Macedonia.  Ohrid sits on a lake by the same name, which is said to be the oldest and deepest lake in the Balkans (about 940 feet at its deepest).  Last week, we decided to take the 3-hour trip and spend a few days exploring this lovely city.  Of course, it's tourist season in Ohrid (never knew there was high-season in Macedonia, did you?), so the town was quite overrun with people like us seeking a pleasant place to swim, sunbathe and explore.  We found two very quaint apartments to rent on the same floor of a small building in the heart of old-town Ohrid.  (I'm embarrassed to say it, but one of the best things about this place was the cable TV!  We couldn't help soaking up a couple of National Geographic programs and a Scooby Doo episode in between site-seeing.)

Some of our favorite moments were exploring the old castle in the city, which dates back to the 10th century; visiting a few lovely Greek Orthodox churches featuring well-preserved tile mosaics of saints and Biblical characters; and, of course, swimming in Lake Ohrid, which is calm and sparkling in the morning but whips up some vicious waves every afternoon. Some of the not-so-lovely memories involved  European tourists with large bellies and very tiny bathing suits.  But some might say we were fortunate that they were wearing any bathing suits at all!

In any case, we highly enjoyed Ohrid, and felt proud that we could navigate an entirely new country with yet another language (Macedonian), currency (denar) and culture (good coffee, bad beer, so-so service), without too much trouble.  I think we're ready for the next leg of our journey, Italy, where we'll arrive on Monday.

We conquered Gramozi

Ever since we arrived in Erseka, Albania, we have been staring out our window at the breathtaking mountain range called Gramozi.  And if you know Jeff even a little bit, you will not be surprised to hear that one of the first things he said when we arrived here is, "I've got to climb that mountain before we leave."



So, yesterday, we did it.  Jeff, Isabel, Noel and I, joined by Mark, Beka and Jamie Stoscher, conquered the highest peak on the Gramozi range, which at its ragged, stone-capped peak is about 7,000 feet in elevation.  That meant a climb of about 4,000 feet from the mountain's base in Erseka.  It was a grueling, nine-hour day, made especially challenging because there is absolutely no trail to the top, unless you count the aimless, zigzag ones created by the many herds of sheep that graze on the mountain.  To hike Gramozi, you have to forge your own way and figure out the best path as you go, a somewhat confusing task since we couldn't always see the peak from where we were standing.  Even Mark, who has climbed to the peak once, stopped a few times to scratch his head and say, "I think that's the right way." or sometimes, "This doesn't look familiar."

Much of our day was spent trudging through knee-deep thorny plants that scratched our ankles until they bled and swelled. We scrambled on all fours over slippery piles of shale and sharp, shaky bolders.  And at the end, we clung to the side of a steep ravine and scooted cautiously, using narrow hand- and footholds, toward the very top.  (I believe that's when Isabel finally shouted, "I'm never going hiking again!")

But wait. Let me interrupt at this point to assure you that the hike also had abundant moments of beauty and joy.  Along the way, we stopped to pick chai mali, a flower that Albanians dry to make a tea they claim can heal just about anything. (That's Beka holding a bunch at right.) We dug up wild artichoke (above left), which Mark patiently stripped of its spiky leaves and cut into pieces for everyone to eat crunchy and raw.  We sucked the nectar from some wildflowers resembling hollyhocks, and marveled over numerous bugs, including giant beetles and grasshoppers.

And, of course, the most thrilling moment of all: Perched at the very peak of the mountain, we gazed triumphantly down at Albania on one side of the mountain and Greece on the other, with even the eagles flying below us and the clouds nearly close enough to touch.  We called home to the Stoschers and had Mark's oldest daughter, Abi, look up this verse to read over speakerphone: "We also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character, and character, hope.  And hope does not disappoint us."  (Romans 5:3-5)


As we stumbled down the mountain, every muscle aching, I decided that this day reminded me most of the endurance of childbirth.  It even had those moments (ladies, you'll relate) when you think to yourself, "I cannot possibly get through this," but then you realize it's too late for that decision, and you're clearly in it for the long run.  Yesterday, our group was in this journey together, with a very specific goal in mind, and there was only one way to accomplish it -- by mustering all the strength and courage, and yes hope, we could muster.

I don't think I'll ever want to climb Mt. Gramozi again.  And yet it was awfully satisfying to gaze up at that mountain this morning with a great amount of admiration and respect, and say, "It's very nice to know you."

Oh yes...the kids!

Some of you have asked me how our kids are doing with this trip.  So I guess I should stop being an ego maniac about all my thoughts and observations and fill you in about our foursome.

Our kids have adjusted fantastically to life in another country.  Especially thrilled to be here are Noel and Godebo, who have made fast friends with the Stoscher boys, Jamie and Steven.  They get along swimmingly, and can be found most days playing Monopoly, Capture the Flag, soccer or a number of other games.  Many times we add two Albanian boys to the mix, Samuel and Joseph, whose parents have brought them up to speak both English and Albanian.

Bereket sometimes integrates into the boys' games, but her preference is to play with some of the local girls, such as Rysa and Esther.  These girls don't speak any English, but this bothers Bereket not at all.  She just takes them by the hand and goes off to swing on the swings or ride the teeter-totter in the Stoscher's playground.

Isabel has enjoyed getting to know the Stosher girls, Abi and Beka.  However she's also fine hanging out with the grownups, which has always been her way.  Like our boys, she survived a week of camp here in Erseka and was very proud of herself for making the best of it despite the fact that she had a few awkward moments with some of the Albanian campers, like when her roommates decided it would be fun to take pictures of her while she was sleeping.  Isabel is the quintissential good sport, and she handled it all with grace and good humor.

There have been so many great moments for our kids, but also hard ones.  Godebo and Bereket have endured endless strangers -- both kids and adults -- staring at them and touching their hair without asking.  As you can imagine, they don't get too many dark-skinned folk around here.  Campers and even counselors, even complete strangers, have taken pictures of them or with them.  And lately, local adults have taken to rushing from their stores or coffee-spots to give Godebo a high-five, for some reason.  I'm not sure if they think that's what black Americans do...high five all the time???  We try to help Godebo deal with the awkward moments by telling him he's "famous like Justin Bieber."  It helps to laugh about it.

Albanian kids can be hard on each other.  They are very competitive and knock each other around a bit more than the average American kids, or at least the kids I've known.  The longer we're here, the more our children have had to deal with this, like having their hats knocked off their heads or having kids mock them.  It's not all the Albanian kids, but some.  And the Stoschers tell us one reason for such behavior is difficult home lives, so we must be sympathetic.  Luckily, this has had the effect of bonding our four children together, as they defend one another.  They feel strong when they're united.

Here are a few photos of our kids enjoying one another, and the simple things in life: taking walks, picking wild strawberries and savoring the sunset.

Are you superstitious?

I've always been fascinated by the superstitions found in different cultures, and Albania is as good a place as any to find some curious ones.  For instance, many people here still believe in the evil eye, so they hang windmill-type things on their houses or rear-view mirrors with drawings of a single, piercing eye, which is meant to ward off any bad spirits.  Also, many houses and buildings in Erseka have stuffed dolls or animals wired to their fronts.  Ruth said this is a common practice, especially during construction of a new home.  The bad spirits are apparently supposed to confuse the stuffed animal for the actual residents of the home, and so do their shenanigans on the poor, weather-beaten stuffed bear or monkey instead.  Here you'll see some examples just within a few blocks of our home.


Other superstitions and traditions here have to do with birth and death.  It's considered very bad luck here to hold a birthday party for someone before his or her birthday, because it might cause that person bad luck before the birthday actually arrives.  You also can't hold a baby shower before the baby is born, nor can you visit the family of a new baby until 40 days after the birth.  Yup, that's bad luck too.

When someone dies, many families believe the person's spirit wanders the earth for 40 days before being put to rest.  So they hold two ceremonies: one immediately after death and one 40 days later.  In between, you should not visit the family, lest you "catch" the bad luck of the family and spread death to your own.

Ruth said it's very hard to convince members of their church that God is bigger than these traditions, which seem quite obviously based on trying to control the uncontrollable in life.  Last Sunday, Mark actually preached a bit on this, albeit gently, talking about some of the superstitions and then pointing to scriptures where Jesus tells us "Do not be afraid" (Luke 12:32) and "I am the good shepherd" (John 10).  Mark's church is very young. Maybe the next generation will put their trust in the Lord, rather than in superstitions.  But it will take a lot of change.

About a year ago, a family in the Erseka church lost their 15-year-old daughter in a terrible accident.  The youth group was hiking in the nearby mountains when a large boulder dislodged and rolled into her, killing her.  When we recently asked Mark about the family, he said they no longer come to church, nor do they participate in community activities.  "It is considered disrespectful to celebrate or sing joyful music for at least a year after someone loses a close family member," Mark said. "They almost never leave the house, except to go to work."

Can you imagine this, being so ruled by tradition (or superstition) that you cannot even process your deepest grief with the help of your church and community?  Having to dwell in your misery, for years perhaps, and never taste all the beauty and joy life still has for the living?  I felt so very sad for that family, and resentful of the cultural mores that bind them.  I know it's important to respect everyone's right to his or her cultural practices.  But I can't help wishing for this community that hope will conquer fear and life will conquer death.  I believe that's the life God wants for us here and now, even when hardships strike.

This is the scripture I've been memorizing and meditating on during our time in Albania, trying to let it stick to all the corners of my mind that otherwise tend to spin around like my own evil-eye talisman of worry and dispair: "Rejoice in the Lord always.  I will say it again, Rejoice!  Let your gentleness be evident to all.  The Lord is near.  Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hears and your minds in Christ Jesus." (Colossians 4:4)

Shopping in Albania

(Note: Thank you to those who pointed out that you couldn't click on the photos to enlarge them. I did some research and figured out how to fix that problem in future posts. Let me know if this works.)

One of the most challenging and yet enjoyable things about living in a country for six weeks is having to shop for what one needs from day to day. This can be especially entertaining in Erseka, since this is still a land where English is nearly useless. Perhaps because Albania was completely closed and isolated under communism, most of the people in smaller towns like this know little English, and not even my limited Spanish and German helps a bit. That means we do a lot of smiling, pointing and saying "po" (yes) and "yo" (no) -- and trying not to nod or shake our heads, because those motions are opposite here. A nod actually means "no," which gets me into so much trouble, you couldn't imagine.


Today we ventured to the weekly "market," which is a flee-market-type gathering in the middle of the town. Locals from Erseka and surrounding villages don their best clothes and walk up and down the rows of stalls, purchasing things like used clothing, socks and underwear, fruits and vegetables, pots and pans, a few tools here and there, and pretty much the gamut of Chinese-made knicknacks. Shoes are very expensive in Albania, so many people were rummaging through the piles of used shoes, which local cobblers spiff up and sell for a great deal. Same with clothing. Ruth picked up some used shorts for $2 (she would have gotten them cheaper, I think, but the vendor heard us speaking English). We also bought dish soap, tomatoes and deoderant.  Kind of like an Albanian Walmart, right?

Normally, however, I like to visit the small stores located on every block of this town, often right next to each other.  These stores are very similar to one another, leading me to wonder how they manage to stay in business.  They all carry pretty much the same produce, which is very fresh and yummy but lacks a lot of variety.  Inside the store, you'll find some basic types of frozen meats, milk in boxes, rice, pasta, one or two types of jelly, one kind of cheese and exactly two kinds of cereal -- corn flakes and Coco Puffs.  Ruth showed me where to find a few specialty items, like some tortilla-type things; thick, Greek yogurt that substitutes for sour cream; and boullion cubes to make soup. I have narrowed my shopping down to three stores where the shopkeepers know me as the helpless American and always write down the cost of everything by hand (no cash registers here), so I know how much to pay.

I have great admiration for these shopkeepers, who literally work from dawn until dusk.  They are mostly middle-aged women, but you'll often see their older parents helping out, or their grown sons and daughters, leading me to believe these are truly family-based businesses.  Best of all, the business owners here are reputed for their honesty.  Despite the hard-scrabble life they lead, they earn each "lek" in a clean, respectable way, not even taking advantage of a gullible foreigner like me who takes out a large bill and waits wide-eyed while they count out my change.  Before I go, they pass out a candy to each of my children, kiss me on the cheeks and send me on my way.

Aaah...the Greek island experience

We have just returned from our four-day trip to the western coast of Albania and the Greek island called Corfu. Let me just start by saying we earned every moment of tropical paradise that I'm about to share with you, because squeezing 11 people into a car built for 8 and then traveling on windy, pot-holed dirt roads is a harrowing experience. Our friend Mark is quite the masterful driver, but the narrow roads and obstacles ranging from sheep and cows in the road to oncoming traffic -- and I do mean ONCOMING!!!! -- makes for a nail-biting journey. (Ever been on the Indiana Jones ride at Disneyland? Yup, that's what I'm talking about.)

Anyway, after 5-6 hours on the road, a tedious border crossing and a 2-hour ferryboat trip, we finally got to experience the lovely Greek island of Corfu. Corfu is one of the Ionian Islands, and because it was once

occupied by Venetians, it looks more like Italy than the southern Greek Isles you've probably seen in pictures. The houses are all shades of Mediterranean colors and the foliage consists of mostly

olive and fig trees punctuated by eye-popping bougainvillea bushes. Even so, the water is that same tropical island blue, and the Greek food is tremendous -- moist, saucy gyros wrapped in warm pita bread, seasoned grilled meats served with tomatoes and olives, and fresh fish of every

kind, including grilled octopus, which looks frightening but is actually buttery, garlicky and melt-in-your-mouth tender.

We stayed at two apartments owned by a local pastor and his wife, Milt (pictured with Jeff below) and Vette. They served us coffee and crema pastries one morning and told

us about their ministry

on Corfu. Their testimonies are especially remarkable when you consider that protestant Christians endure quite a bit of persecution in

Greece, because the state religion is Greek Orthodox. The Orthodox church controls the press there, the police, the schools...you name it.

Makes it hard to reach out to the community, but Milt is a jovial, determined man, and he grinned as he told us about how he manages to circumvent all the trials he faces by combining cleverness with old-fashioned diplomacy.

Corfu has lovely beaches; a picturesque, cliff-side

monastery; and a cramped, colorful "old town," so we soaked in all of these...and we have the sunburns to prove it. Then, for our last night, we ferried back to Albania and spent a night in Saranda -- an Albanian re

sort town, which is not as sophisticated as Corfu but more like a down-to-earth beach town: lots

of street vendors, much cheaper prices and waiters who treat you like royalty.

We returned to Erseka on Saturday feeling relieved that we're not traveling from place to place each day. It is so exhausting navigating new places constantly. That said, it was a treat to see a very different part of this country and soak up some sun and surf to last through the next few weeks in Albania.

Celebrating the 4th

Yesterday was the 4th of July -- which may seem obvious to all of you, but is easy to ignore here in Erseka, Albania. We put our heads together with the Stoschers, who haven't ever celebrated Independence Day in the 20 years they've lived here, and came up with a barbecue with all the American fixings: hamburgersand hotdogs (morelike sausages, actually), grilled on Mark's outdoor wood-burning stove; potato salad, watermelon, deviled eggs, and Ruth's excellent apple and pumpkin pies. We invited all the Americans we knew in town, including our friend Natalie and her fellow camp counselors Jackie and Josh from Oregon (brother and sister), and Eric and Cathy Gundy, who are missionaries from Chicago. We gathered before the meal to sing the national anthem -- corny, I know, but a fitting tribute to our common heritage. Natalie and Jackie had found some fireworks at a local store, but they ended up launching those at the camp, so we didn't see them. All in all, a wonderful evening.

Over the last couple of days, our family has accomplished a couple of mini-mission-projects for the church and camp. We move

d large pieces of rock to an area around the camp pool, to form a small "deck" wh

ere kids can walk to and from the pool without getting their feet full of dirt and sand. Then today, we helped Mark and his kids complete a small climbing wall at the church. It was satisfying work

to drill, hammer and select the right handholds and footholds -- and then of course to have our small "focus group" of kids test it out.

Unfortunately, Jeff smashed his finger badly while removing an old basketball backboard that we were going to replace. Mark rushed him to the hospital to determine if he needed stitches, which he didn't. But the

doctor suggested a series of tetanus shots just to be safe. So Jeff got four large shots in the rear and arms, administered by a person he described as "the nurse who stepped straight out of communism." By this, I believe he means she was large, stern and no-nonsense. Anyw

ay, Jeff was quite a trooper about his injury, and continued working all day with his bandaged finger and sore bumm.

Tomorrow, we head to Greece and the east coast of Albania for a few days of sun and swim. The Stoshers are accompanying us, so we'll be squeezing 11 people in a Toyota Land Cruiser built for 8. (Don't worry, Mark says he has fit more than that many times.) I'll fill you in more when we return next weekend!

On trash and stray dogs

Since I've spent plenty of time reflecting on all the wonderful things about Albanian life, I feel liberated to comment on two things that have been hard for us to see: an overflowing amount of garbage on the streets, and a large community of scraggly, mutty, stray dogs. And these two things, as you can imagine, are often related.

From what I've gathered, people deal with trash in one of three ways. They throw it in the dumpsters conveniently located on every block, usually right next to the sidewalk. From here, the stray dogs and cats jump into the bins and drag the trash out to search for food. Thus, trash everywhere. Or, people throw their trash next to their house in a pile, and then set the pile on fire now and then to get rid of it. Thus, lots of nasty smoke. Or, third, they simply litter as they are walking or driving from place to place. Thus...oh, you get it. It's a dirty, nasty mess wherever you look.

Jeff said he thinks it would be hard to change the attitudes of an entire community, who has always lived this way. But I'm an optimist in this area. I think if you could change the minds of the children and young people -- maybe even get them involved in picking up their community -- they could eventually convince the older people to follow suit. In a sense, like my generation learned about the dangers of smoking and then nagged our parents endlessly until they quit. Maybe those of you who've seen this problem repeated all over the world, in truly every economically depressed community, think I'm a bit starry-eyed. I just hate to see this lovely town looking like a garbage dump.

And as for the dogs, let me just say that in Albania you'd be much better off as a donkey, sheep or pig than a dog. Yes, there are a few working dogs -- guard dogs or sheep dogs -- that probably get fed regularly. But they are mean, vicious creatures who snarl and bark every time you get near. And the rest of the sorry breed are scattered around the town digging through trash dumps and cowering when any humans walk by. That's because they've been struck regularly by rocks that locals throw at them. (Deep breaths, you of the dog-loving nature. I know this is shocking.)

A few days ago, we were having a lovely walk through a neighboring village, all Europe-ey looking with cobblestone streets and roses pouring over stone walls. And suddenly, we saw a man rush out of his business, pick up a handful of stones and begin pelting a tiny puppy, who was innocently rolling in the street and playing with his sibling. The dog ran away yelping, and I thought Isabel was going to attack this hearty villager with her bare fingernails. Thankfully, we stopped her in time. Not our place -- especially when our Albanian verbage consists of "good morning," "good evening," and "thank you." When we described the scene to Mark later, he said it's very hard to change these mindsets. To the Albanians, stray animals are a dirty menace.

So maybe it's best to dedicate this post to my beloved yellow lab, Tawnie, and remind her that she has a pretty good life. No chicken bones to gnaw or sardine tins to lick, but lots and lots of love.

A trip to the "big city"

The nearest big city to Erseke is
Korce. Korce is a community of about 80,000 an hour's drive northeast, on the same windy roads we took to get here. Mark, Ruth and Beka invited us to come with them to Korce on Wednesday, since they had to pick up a few items there. As we learned, when one plans a trip to Korce, all friends, neighbors and colleagues feel free to put in their orders for things they need. (I find this a pleasant picture of small town life -- everyone kind of depends on one another to get what they need.) So Mark spent much of his day locating and purchasing things like basketballs for the camp, a replacement wheelchair wheel for a church member and staplers -- which we never actually found. No staplers in this part of the world, I guess.

We ate a wonderful lunch of chicken cooked on a spit and served with halved lemons, french fries, salad, bread and plentiful tzatziki dressing (the Greek, cucumber and sour cream dressing you eat on gyros). You can sense our enjoyment in the photo above, right?

But even more memorable than the lunch was our tour of the Evangelical Church of Korca (also called the Kenedi Foundation after the missionary who founded it). This church has launched

some fantastic ministries to serve the people of this area. We saw their medical clinic, where our tour guide Marlene (a warm, energetic Belgian woman pictured at right) is one of the nurses providing basic medical services for a very nominal cost. While we were there, a mother and her three little girls from Erseke arrived to receive care for second degree burns they had acquired making jam with wild figs. (I know, this sounds weird. Even Marlene had never heard of such a thing, but it's true. The fig juice reacted to their skin and burned them!) The family (in photo at right) had spent 10 days in the hospital, but the hospital was not very knowledgable about caring for the burns after initial treatment, so the doctor had referred them to the church clinic. Marlene said when they first came to the clinic days before, their bandages were so stiff she had to soak them with water to remove them. Apparently, this is the wrong way to treat burns, letting everything get dry and stiff. The skin must be kept soft and moist to regenerate. So Marlene had been applying medicine daily and rebandaging their wounds, while offering a healthy dose of love and good humor.

Marlene next showed us a group home next to the church where girls rescued from dangerous

or abusive living situations can find safe haven. The seven girls

live as a family with a house mom, and when they mature are given help finding a place to live and a job. We got to interact a bit with a few of the residents, so I took their pictures. They were lovely young girls. (Marlene says child abuse is quite common in Albania, and she suspects sexual abuse is also quite a problem, although no one will talk about it, including the victims.)

The church also provides daily lunches to a group of street children in an off-site location. And they deliver meals to dozens of elderly people who don't have family to tend to them. (Most older people in Albania live with one of their children -- usually the youngest son, I'm told.) The church is now building the city's first assisted living facility, where these older people can live safely. The entire visit to this church was very impressive and also humbling, when one considers that the church is likely pouring more of its resources into serving the community than its own members.

Our last stop in Korce was the grocery store, where we grabbed a few items we cannot find in Erseke: raspberry jam, chamomille and green tea, broccoli and honey. Funny the things you come to miss, or in some cases not miss at all, when you're traveling. Number-one on my list, in case you're wondering, is my pillow. And my dog. And all of you, of course...oh, don't get me started....

Tonight we go back to the camp to celebrate the campers' last night with skits, singing and a slide show. We're really looking forward to having Godebo and Noel back here with us, although it has been strangely peaceful without their boisterous energy!