I have been spelling the name of the capital city of Albania with and a at the end instead of how it shows up on most maps. The official spelling is, I think, Tirane. This spelling is deceiving however because the Albanian alphabet has 36 letters and the “e” at the end of Tirane actually is pronounced like “uh.” Hence Tirana. Both this evening and last I have been in the capital after the setting sun had carried with it all of its ambient traces; the moon has been spectacular. Last night I joined Pastor Alban and his father near the city center for the European Futboll Championship match between Itali and Spanje. A few readers won’t find it spoiling of me to announce Spain’s 4-0 dominant performance.
Fatjon was the only person on our job-site to forecast Spain as the winner last night. From what I witnessed there were two types of fans at the festivities in Tirana; fans of Italy, and fans of Germany whom Italy had knocked out in the semifinal. Banners and flags for Germany are still on display throughout Albania. The outdoor cafe we watched the game from was crowded with exuberant, chofta loving soccer enthusiasts. Soccer here is as popular as crawdads in New Orleans.
Around halftime, with my team down by two, and time getting away from me, I decided to leave. Catching a bus back to Sauk from the center of Tirana can be a matter of luck or luck’s evil twin; I’m not certain there is a schedule. This allowed me the luxury of taking in a few public art pieces from a new perspective. There is a monument to an unspecified partisan soldier which was erected in 1944. The fierce mountain soldiers of Albania composed the only army to defeat and drive out their Nazi occupiers without the assistance of one of the principle allied nations during World War II.
The same color as the cheap plastic army figurines that come in bags of 50 or more, I had first mistaken this powerful figure for Communist blight. Other cities like Sofia have remnants of an almost Mormon style, faceless, nameless artistic movement which at one time was meant to wrap everyone in the flag of Socialist protection. Now I see this monument as the showcase of valor to everyman. Many Albanians believe that their nation has been without solid leadership since the death of Skenderbeu in 1468. The clan, the family, the three to ten person squad one belongs to is the equivalent of one’s nation here. When the person represented by this statue gave the battle cry, he did so only for his sons and grandsons. Furthest from his mind were presidents and generals he would never meet.
Stronger than any soldier in Albania is the woman he has taken in marriage.
albaniacalling 