The Rock is not a rock at all. It's a mixed use tower that, at 26 stories tall, will house office, commercial and residential spaces. It's still under construction, as evidenced by the crane at the top, which appears to be stabbing the visage of a man, Gjergi Kastrioti, an Albanian nobleman of the 15th Century. He also fought in the Albanian/Ottoman Wars, an earlier version of the rift between Christians and Muslims.
I'm going to go out on a limb and suggest he probably didn't like Jews.
That's neither here nor there. Actually it's there. Way over there. Why you ask (I know I did) has my daughter flown close to 10,000 miles to go Albania?
The simple answer is to go hiking.
I did the same thing, only in reverse, when I, a New Yorker thru and thru, ventured westward to California not knowing a soul in SoCal. And why my mother and her sister, left home in Glasgow to come across the pond while they were 17 and 19 respectively.
I suppose I should be thankful that Abby, and her sister Rachel, have a curious nature.
"Here, have some tave kosi, the mutton was just slaughtered this morning."
I am grateful she is willing to get out of her comfort zone. And proud. I wish she would explore her creative side and get back to painting. Or writing. (She's won't acknowledge it but she is darker and funnier than I'll ever be.)
But, I'm also her father, and will likely be on pins and needles for the next 10 days worrying about her. That's not just my nature, that's my job. And only exhaling when she lands safely back at JFK airport. Or Donald Trump Airport in honor of JFK, should he be inclined.
"Ruaju dhe shijoje kohën me Abby-n. Të dua."
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