Today Visi and I went for pizza instead of our usual chofta and coffee.  The waiter came to take our order.  “Nje sallam,” Visi said.  “Dhe per une, nje hardhutsk,” I said.  

“One peperoni,” Visi said.  “And for me, one lizard,” I said.  Karpudhia and hardhutsk may sound the same to me, but the waiter couldn’t seem to get his head around the fact that an Amerikan had just ordered a legged-snake pizza.

Soon after we cleared up my language stumble, Fatjon showed up.  My translator turned 15 a few months ago, and my parents sent him a birthday card.  He had never received a birthday card before.  This piece of mail brought my running total to 2 packages sent from home in 7 months.  Before the invention of mail I imagine missionaries received even fewer packages.


Tomorrow morning I will be flying to Turkey.  I am excited to visit the birthplace of Christianity.  From there I will travel on to meet with a missionary in Romania who is trying to put together a program for recovering addicts, a kind of trade school.  He has asked me to help him develop a curriculum so that the men who come out of rehabilitation can then receive training for the construction world.  Perhaps one of the subcategories for study should be the preparation of amphibious creatures for consumption as the topping for pizza.


The end of my day brought me to a road I didn’t want to be on.  The setting sun found me there and reminded me that every road is a blessing.  The sky paint was a rich ruby over black-green hillsides.  The destination was not as beautiful as that, but the road is often more spectacular than where it takes you.