New Pics!

I know it's been a while since I've put any new pictures up and that you're all wondering who I've been hanging out with over here in southeast Europe. Lucky for you, I've uploaded new pictures of the crowd I'm running around with so go check them out! Also, next weekend I'm taking a trip to Antalya, Turkey so I should have a lot more new pics up fairly soon...

On the trials and travails of the NIC Crawl...

One of the cool things about being a secret squirrel on the NATO headquarters base in Kosovo is that there are a lot of international secret squirrels running around too. And in the spirit of international cooperation, all of us here have an occasional event called a NIC Crawl. This involves going around to several of the various national compounds, eating and drinking local delights, much the same as you would do in a pub crawl. That is, if the pub crawl had different food, beer, and liquor from various eastern European countries whose natives all wanted you to gorge on their wares. (Please note: except for NORDIC, the allotted time at each location was only one hour)

This was the adventure I embarked upon last Saturday night. I arrived late, because I was driving up from Skopje, but I got to the first stop, the NORDIC (Norwegian, Swedish, Danish, and Finnish), at 5:30, halfway through their stop. I knew I needed food so first I had a plate of reindeer meat, mashed potatoes, and lingonberries. Food in belly, I marched up to the bar and downed 3 shots of Finlandia vodka and a pint of Efes beer before the NORDIC closed at 6. I was on a mission.

The next stop was the Italian House (Casa Italia) and here I had some lasagna, a cup of sangria, another beer, and then some homemade Greek firewater that was a cross between ouzo and mastika. If you don't know what either of those are, consider yourself lucky because they are brews sent from the depths of hell. Afterwards, I had to have another beer just to get the taste out of my mouth.

After Casa Italia we (about 150 people) went to the Czech House where the Czech (duh), Slovak, Slovene, Hungarian, Romanian, and Polish contingents awaited us. Somehow I first went to the Slovak (I think?) table where I was forced(!) into drinking some pear-flavored concoction. Then to the Slovenian table where I had another shot of firewater, a Slovenian beer (Union - it's great!), and some Slovenian prosciutto. I tripped past the Hungarians and Romanians and ended up standing next to the Polish table where the friendly Pole offered me a vodka with an apple juice chaser. It was delicious so I had two more! Then I had a pint of Polish beer which contained 10% alcohol. Recognizing that I probably needed some fresh air, I stepped outside onto the porch where my friends were all smoking. To my surprise, a Czech officer sat out there with a hookah, an instrument with which I immediately claimed expertise and began to lecture the nearby unfortunates on its proper usage and function. Meanwhile, Radek the Czech went inside to find us shots of the featured Czech liquor, which had a cinnamon flavor reminiscent of Goldschlager. I had 4 and hated every one. Toasted, I stumbled to the French NIC.

This is where my memory begins to become a little hazy. I remember going to the French NIC and I remember what I drank (3 bottles of Chimay), but I can't remember specifics of the conversation (or diatribe) I set upon other than I can recall expounding on the superiority of Chimay to all other Belgian Trappist ales (the expounding of which was apparently done through much slurring of the speech). Even though I love me some High Life Lite, I can be a beer snob. After converting at least one lucky soul to the pleasures of Chimay, it was time to go to the British compound.

Was I excited about this? Hell yes! For I was sure there would be some Guinness or Smithwicks or at least some Newkie or Old Speckled Hen. None of that! All they had was American shite, MGD and Heineken. I had my fair share, I'm sure, but was terribly disappointed.

Nevermind that, the USNIC was next. Here is where things started to go awry. I remember the walk, I remember a fire, and I remember making Maker's and Coke (praise Jesus!) but I remember very little else. Apparently I danced up a storm, gave a friend an awkward man-hug, spilled drinks, and comprised the entertainment of a significant section of the crowd. This is what I've been told, at least, but details I cannot recall. Several women have told me how cute I was, whether they meant this condescendingly I do not know. Eventually, it was time to go to the German NIC.

The Germans! I assume they had beer but I cannot honestly say for sure. The two distinct memories I have were of an incredibly stinky cheese that was scraped onto some bread (it was delicious!) and of arguing with a British woman while making fun of her in a horrible English accent. I was later told by my boss that she and I almost got into a physical fight, but when I tracked her down two days later to apologize, she didn't remember! I wasn't the only one who made an ass out of himself that night!

You would think I was done, and I probably was, but somehow (and I don't remember this even happening) I made it to one of the bars on base for the last hour of service. I have been told I was there and held at least two conversations but I remember none of it. Nor do I know how I got back to my room. But I did make it and was surprised the next morning to wake up in my bed. And surprised to see my jeans folded neatly on my nightstand, my coat hung on a hook, and my sweater on a hanger. But I should not have been surprised to find the mess in which I was laying, which also continued to the wall next to me and the floor. Thankfully, my pants were dry.

Parents, please don't judge me. Brothers, please don't imitate me. As an American I had to put these internationals in their place. Just because neither they nor I can remember me doing so doesn't mean I wasn't successful. But it does mean I don't want to attempt that feat again for a long, long time.

New Job!

I know everyone's been wondering where I've been with this whole blog thing but a lot of stuff has been up in the air for the last month and a half so you'll just have to forgive me.

As some of you may know, I had been a little anxious about the future of my job status over here in Kosovo. CACI, the company I worked for initially, lost the re-compete on the contract we were working under, losing out to a relatively new company called SOSi. SOSi decided to subcontract the Kosovo positions to Northrop Gruman who in turn was supposed to make offers to us analysts who were already on the ground to stay. That was supposed to be done by Thanksgiving but we heard nothing. Two weeks later, still nothing. New Years and still nothing. Meanwhile, I had heard through the grapevine that another company had an opening at a different base in Kosovo, the NATO KFOR Headquarters base. I sent in my resume, made some phone calls, and two weeks later I had an offer that I couldn't really refuse. Two weeks after that I was working somewhere else.

"Where is that?" you ask. Well I now work on Camp Film City in the KFOR Headquarters building, preparing daily update briefings for the KFOR Commander, an Italian 3-star general. It's a pretty cush job, and although it's not quite the position I originally came here for, it seems like this job was made for me. It's a little bit farther to drive to my weekend apartment in Skopje, but the base is smaller here, it's filled with internationals, and there are multiple restaurants where I can get great food and have a beer! Sometimes, it's the little things that count.

Happy New Years! And other assorted news

I am now back at work (but hardly working) after my second 4-day weekend in a row. I could get used to those. Unfortunately this will be a full week for me.

New Years was fun but nothing too exciting. Fireworks, alcohol, and the new incarnation of ABBA in downtown Skopje. Saturday night I gambled a little on my cooking skills and attempted to make chicken fried steak for the first time ever. The end result tasted good but bore little resemblence to the gold standard, chicken fried steak as cooked by my mother. I think I had too much oil in the frying pan because I couldn't get the crust as crispy as it should have been. My gravy was just so-so - I didn't add enough milk so it turned out thicker than I wanted.

The sky dumped loads of snow all over Macedonia and Kosovo this weekend as well. When I got ready to drive back to Kosovo on Sunday, my Jeep was buried in snow. It probably took 15 minutes to clear it all off. Unfortunately, idiot me forgot to take pictures of it. When I got back to Kosovo my parking lot was full of snow as well so I had to fight my way through that. Once I got to where my room is, I had to shovel 18 inches of snow out of the way to get to my door. Trudging three quarters of a mile to work through the snow isn't fun either. I think I may need a snowmobile or at least snowshoes. Thankfully I have a pair of winter boots my mother bought me when I was back home which have turned out to be one of my smartest decisions ever.

The snow-covered landscape is pretty though. It covers the dirt and trash that line most of Kosovo's roadways. Little snow-covered villages with smoke rising from the chimneys are very picturesque as well. My only complaint is that it is now getting damn cold as well. Today's low is 14F which I thought was pretty bad until I saw the forecast for tomorrow - 8F.

On the Registering of a Jeep in Kosovo...

This morning I finally got off my lazy ass and set off into the wilds of Kosovo in order to register my Jeep so I can drive it legally. I thought this would only take two or three hours tops but little did I know what kind of shenanigans I was getting myself into. I drove into the center of Ferizaj, found an insurance company and, in broken Spanish (the guy knew Italian) and Albanian Engrish, attempted to buy an insurance policy. This was actually the smoothest part of the day and went pretty well.

After getting the policy I had to get the Jeep inspected and here was where the fun started. The inspection place is on the other side of town so I followed the sales guy and another customer through the streets of Ferizaj. The inspection itself went fine but while preparing my paperwork, the inspector noticed that the Customs officials (I had cleared my jeep with Customs a few weeks ago) had entered some incorrect information on the import documents, the correct information being necessary to register the jeep.

To fix this, I had to drive 30 miles south of Ferizaj, through the mountains, to the customs terminal at Hani I Elezit. I fought my way through a crowd of unbathed Albanian truckers and asked the first uniformed officer I saw, "Anglisht?". No Anglisht. But 5 minutes later and English speaker showed up to help me. Unfortunately their station chief was needed in order to correct the documents because this guy didn't have high enough computer privileges so I had to wait an hour for the chief to return from lunch.

With corrected customs documents in hand I headed back to the insurance office in Ferizaj so the salesdude could fix my insurance policy (he had copied down the incorrect customs info). Valid insurance in hand, I fought my way across town to the Kosovar Department of Motor Vehicles (not actually called this but you get the point). Fighting my way through another crowd of Albanians (they don't understand the concept of lines) I asked the harried-looking lady, "Anglisht?". No. But someone there did. And she helped me. Thankfully, all my paperwork was in order but I needed to pay various registration fees, for which she prepared two forms, and these had to be paid and receipted at a bank. There is no bank nearby. Again, I set off across town, this time fighting the afternoon rush hour traffic in a city of 85,000 but no traffic lights.

I decided to go back to the bank where I had paid for the insurance because, presumably, they would remember me and could speak some English. The cute teller took my euros while her coworkers smiled and giggled at me in Albanian. Fees paid, it was back to the registration office. Not even 20 meters away from the front door of the bank, I rear-end some guy in his "mint-condition" 1989 Volkswagen Golf. It was stop-and-go traffic; I went and he stopped. Out of the car he comes, yelling in Albanian. I smile and ask, "Anglisht?". No. But some thoughtful onlooker thinks to ask me, "sprechen zie Deutsch?". I respond with "nicht Deutsch" which was obviously a lie since I knew enough to say "nicht Deutsch". I show the guy my insurance policy but apparently he didn't want anything to do with that. I didn't really want to make a claim on the policy on the very day I bought it, either. So in the interests of a) not involving the authorities, b) getting the hell out of a very busy intersection during the very busy rush hour, and (not least) c) not pissing this guy off so much that the next time he saw my jeep he would throw a grenade at me, I gave him 50 euros which he took with a smile. Relieved, I cautiously made my way back to the registration office.

I walked through the door with less than 10 minutes to closing time. All the locals have gone and I hand my paperwork back to the nice English-speaking lady who helped me earlier. All my paperwork is in order, the fee receipts are tallied, and I'm missing the 3rd fee. For which she had not given me a form. So now it's back to the dance tomorrow...

Post-Christmas, pre-New Year's update

To everyone who was concerned my Christmas would be a depressing event, worry not! While definitely not the traditional family Christmas I've been accustomed to, it was an enjoyable occasion.

Unless you're American (or an Albanian Catholic), Christmas in Macedonia isn't celebrated until January 7th (Macedonians are Orthodox). That meant I could still get some last-minute shopping done on the 25th without looking quite the pathetic procrastinator if I had done the same back in the States. I was thankful for that because shopping opportunities on Camp Bondsteel are quite limited if you're looking for something other than the average PX crap.

After the last minute shopping, I returned to my apartment, quickly wrapped presents, and got ready for the evening's festivities.

My coworker, Dave, and his wife Billy have more or less adopted this lost American and the benefits of that adoption have included various holiday parties and dinners. Billy had cooked up a storm for Christmas - the menu included roasted chicken, mashed potatoes, salad, pumpkin pie, and homemade cookies. Not quite the spread I missed back home but definitely welcome and tasty. After stuffing our faces we exchanged presents and then watched National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation, courtesy of my mother. I prefaced the movie by explaining that it was typical of all American Christmases and as proof I showed them a picture of the Christmas light display at the Smiths' house in Wroxton. All were suitably impressed.

We capped off the evening with two impromptu fireworks displays, the first off the balcony at Dave and Billy's apartment. The explosions were awesome but were accompanied by a horrific rotten eggs/sulfur odor. We then went across town to one of their friend's neighborhoods and set off some more rockets in honor of her father, who's birthday was on the 24th. We got some dirty looks from the neighbors but he enjoyed the hell out of it, as did we.

Interspersed with the fireworks and presents and food were alcoholic beverages aplenty so Christmas this year was celebrated in the famed Kneisley style.

Wednesday night brings New Year's Eve which, minus the presents, looks to be Christmas Part Deux. Photos are coming soon!

Christmas in Skopje! Yay?

In what is probably the saddest episode of my adventures abroad, for the first time in 28 years I'm spending Christmas away from my family. Even when I was in Iraq, I made it home. This was my choice, so I have no one to blame but myself, but it's still a hard thing. I had a great time going back to the States in November and if I could have made it back for both holidays I would have. Time and money made that unlikely.

I will, however, be celebrating Christmas tonight with friends in Macedonia so I will not be missing out on my annual installment of food, booze, and presents. To everyone in Texas, Merry Christmas! And since I can't be there have a drink for me!