My day as Repunzel

Three hours on. Three hours off.

That is the type of electricity we get here in Mitrovitza, the second-largest city in Kosovo. Nights in the apartment remind me of the underground church as we sit, huddled by a flashlight talking about our dreams for this country and the school we plan to build here. I had brought a headlamp for hiking. Who knew it would get more use inside than out!

SIDE NOTE: During the frequent and ill-timed outages (why do I always need to be in the shower?!) my roommate Cherith and I were amazed to discover she was sleeping on glow-in-the-dark sheets. Electricity or not, any country with that kind of bedtime fun is a-okay in my book.

As we drove

The window from a castle tower in Kosovo

through Mitrovitca yesterday,  a plume of grayish-green smoke rising from the power company smoke stack reminded me that while the electric plant may not produce the needed power to light the city, they are certainly working very hard on destroying the environment. I’ve been sneezing since I got here and have some strange bumps on my tongue. It might be pollution. But, this is also a mining town…perhaps I have the black lung?

Rumor has it that Serbs put something in the drinking water upstream. The government actually went around using loudspeakers to tell people not to drink the water, but I used it to brush my teeth. I’m an amateur when it comes to safety in foreign countries. Woopsies. Perhaps that is why my tongue feels like I’ve been licking sandpaper?

It makes me wonder how often those rascally Serbs get blamed for things they didn’t do—or take credit for things they didn’t. I am reading a book called “Kosovo: Everything you need to know” and as I suspected, there are always two sides to every story. Unfortunately, Kosovo’s is a bloody one that reaches back for hundreds of years in hate breed by violence.

I want to look up more about the history, but the power is out and I’m waiting for our group to come back and let me out of the house. Doors here lock inside and outside with a key, so once the door is locked there is no way out. They locked the front door before they left and now I’m stuck.

I’ve considered jumping from the balcony, but I’m not really liking my chances. Frankly, I thought that the power would come on 30 minutes ago so I could make a phone call for help. But alas. I’ve got nothing.

No lights, no phone, no “how to speak Albanian” handbook to help me talk to the man in the apartment below.

I feel a little like Repunzel. Except, I guess I’m a little more agitated because I know there is no prince in this story.

I’m gonna blame the Serbs on this one. Hopefully next time, they’ll leave me a spare key. Or turn the power back on.

Maybe I can use the glow-in-the-dark sheets to signal for help?