Burning the Candle at Both Ends

My host family got me a cake. It was touching. I cried.

My family in the U.S. doesn't really do birthdays as adults. My birthday is, more or less, a normal day. In Albania, however, birthdays are a huge deal. Birthday parties can rival weddings in pomp and circumstance. My school takes birthdays very seriously. That's where I learned that the birthday person gives others gifts. If a student has a birthday, they give energy drinks (or Bravo juice, etc) to their class and all teachers. If a teacher has a birthday, they bring other teachers energy drinks and Belino croissants or cake. Well, my birthday rolled around recently. I had this brilliant idea that I'd merge Albanian culture with my own. I decided to spend my birthday baking cookies - an American specialty - as gifts for 17 teachers, 6 host family members, 10 neighbors, a friend in town, and the 12 school spelling bee kids. Excited to give back to the people who have given me so much, I had the day planned out. Wake up at 8:00 AM, bake until 1:30 PM, deliver cookies to my friend in town at 2:10 PM, and return to deliver the remaining cookies.

On my birthday, I awoke feeling abnormally refreshed. I thought "Wow! I feel great AND awoke before my alarm!" As I lay there basking in glory, I realized that it was unusually light out. I had set my alarm wrong, and it was 11:00 AM. At the loss of 3 precious hours, I barrelled out of bed and frantically began baking. Most of the cooking supplies are kept in the Grandfather's house, so I was running back and forth between two houses like a chicken with its head chopped off. Around 12:30, my counterpart started calling me about a package arrival that required my signature at school. Being in the middle of baking dressed in nothing but pajamas, that was not the best news. Around 1:30, I managed to finish two batches, refrigerate the third, and clean the counter in case my host mom should need it in the interim. I arrived to school wearing outside slippers, causal clothes, no glasses, and cookie dough all over my hands. Some of my students sweetly sang me "Happy Birthday" (in English!). My counterpart thankfully drove me to town so I didn't run too late. By the time I returned, my stress limit was breached. My host family offered to go out to eat, but all I could think was "I don't want them to feel obligated to do that, it should be me giving them something, I have another batch of cookies, I have to clean the kitchen mess, I don't have enough cookies for everyone..." Incredibly overwhelmed, I also couldn't handle more stress (I have food restrictions, so restaurants can be scary). So, I told them "no, I'd rather eat at home." I thought my host family would be relieved but then realized that they genuinely wanted to go out. I felt absolutely terrible. After a day of trying so hard to integrate, I hurt and disappointed the very people for whom I was trying to show appreciation and love. I had a bit of a breakdown, but the day ended with cake, dancing, and two hard-earned lessons.

Lesson one, Albanians care about my birthday. They love to party, so accept it. Lesson two, I thought the most vital expectation was gifting, and I was beyond stressed that I'd let the people I love down. So driven in my mission to fulfill said norm, I didn't enjoy and accept the love that people were trying to show me. All I could think was "there isn't time to do this with you, I HAVE TO MAKE YOU COOKIES!" In reality, my host family would have been fine with getting cookies a day - even a week - late. Next year, I won't be as blinded by my overachieving integration efforts. Mirupafshim, tunnel vision.