Why Macedonia
“Why did you come to Macedonia?”
My host cousin asked me (in English).
I hesitated. “That’s a big question.” I
said, preparing my standard reply to
why I joined the Peace Corps (e.g.; to
help people, to teach English and have
an adventure abroad). “No, it’s not,”
she replied. “Why didn’t you go somewhere like France?” I then explained a
bit about the process from applying to
getting sent to a PC country.
This question “Why Macedonia?” is
one that I believe I’ll be asked many
times during my service. In fact, given
the time and opportunity, I suspect that
many more locals would ask me this
question. I feel it burning behind their
stares as I walk down the street, as if
silently asking me, “Why are you
here?”
People are often surprised to learn that
I didn’t decide where the Peace Corps
would send me. Not only that, I had
requested and was nominated for Asia.
Why Asia? I’ve always enjoyed going
to new places and it’s a part of the
world I haven’t really explored (yet).
When given the choice, I’ve always
preferred to go to a new place, rather
than return to a previous location, despite having friends and fantastic experiences there. I thought I already
knew Europe, I’d already “been there”,
including Greece. Close enough, I erroneously thought. I’d quickly dismissed
the region, as if three days each in
Paris, Rome, Athens and Brussels was
a sufficient illustration of Europe.
My first impression is that Macedonia
is like a weird and wonderful combination of South America and Greece, especially in terms of physical characteristics. The red tile roofs, pockmarked
asymmetrical sidewalks, street vendors
and ubiquitous taxi cabs zipping around
VOLUME 3 ISSUE 2
Something in the
Ajvar
remind me of the place I called home
for a year in Ecuador. Some of the
food, the village babas, donkey-pulling
carts and some traditional dances and
music remind me of Greece. But this is
not Greece, or Ecuador, or Paris, or
some time-warped town in the US either. Three minutes in language class is
one potent reminder of this. Or biting
into a tasty ajvar sandwich. Or the fact
that, at times, I am reminded that this is
an “adolescent” nation. I think it’s
pretty exciting that this may well be the
only time in our lives we’ll be living in
a country this young and personally
witness its “growing pains” as it matures.
There’s more unique art, music, history, language and culture of Macedonia that I could mention, but much of
it I still have yet to discover, having
just been here for a month now. I know
that during my service I’ll discover
even more wonderful, interesting and
surprising uniquenesses that Macedonia
has to offer. And this will be even more
fuel to the fire of how I will answer the
inevitable question, why Macedonia?
Why not!
I wonder if there's something in the
ajvar that makes me feel this way,
some secret combination of ingredients
that's easing my synapses into new patterns. I've been to a lot of places and
I've met a lot of people from a lot of
cultures, but I've never had feelings like
these and, being an analytical person,
I've been trying to use logic to figure
out what's happening to me.
I've ruled out the honeymoon phase of
culture shock. I've been through that
before and this is different. I'm not
enamored of everything here. I see
p l e n t y
o f
f l a w s .
It's not just the great people I've met
here, although I've met quite a
few. I've met great people other places
too, and I’ve never felt these feelings.
I don't think it's because I have a great
host family, although Fuad and Semra
are clearly the most adorable children
in the world, and Emine, my host
mother, has cooking and hostessing and
general homemaking skills that might
impress even my grandmother. I've
never met anyone who could really
compete with Grandma, but Emine
could make it into her league. I've
known great families in other places,
though, and I've never felt like this.
The feeling is hard to pin down. It's
part appreciation, part affection, part
attachment. It's a pull I feel in my
stomach, the same kind of pull I feel
when I think about my family or America or my hometown of Los Angeles. I
know there are plenty of things wrong
with them, but they're mine and we
belong together and don't try to tell me
otherwise. I'm beginning to feel something similar about Macedonia. Maybe
it's love, or maybe it's something in the
ajvar.
Erika Steiger, MAK 10
Jesse Warner, MAK 10
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