The Sound of Music:

I remember watching an episode of a popular British Sitcom some years ago when a boisterous party was ended by a furious neighbour cutting an electricity cable and so pulling the plug on the festivities. Come to think of it, this may have concluded with Richard Wilson aka Richard Meldrew blurting out, “I don’t belieeeeeeve it!” before the credits rolled. Now, twenty years on, a similar event could possibly be re-enacted in my neighbourhood any minute now.

The party music hinted at in my last posting has now reached epic proportions. It started Tuesday night and involved my nearest acquaintances in Schoze entertaining the entire street with ear-bursting decibels of Turkish songs until the early hours. That was two days ago and was repeated on Wednesday and has again been rekindled tonight. This evening it is extra loud. What’s more. I’ve since found out that it’s not next door who are sending the bricks of the houses moving with the volume. No, the culprits are two doors away!  And the reason, a wedding in three days time!

Should you ever find yourself getting married in Albania, or to any Albanian, then you will go through a similar initiation process. The most ear-splitting music will serenade your local street for at least five nights before the big day, The message to everyone is, “we’re having a wedding next weekend and we’re so happy.” In reply, the rest of the locality hide their heads under pillows or put on industrial sized ear defenders. I feel sorry for the children who’ve got to go to school early the next day. I sympathise with the people from two kilometres away who are trying to watch the nightly Brazilian soap operas. But especially I shed a tear for anyone who has to get up the next morning.

My friends, Endri and Dyshi from a street away have offered me refuge in their home. Frankly, this will make little difference as they have two very young children who can compete most generously with any loud noises. The option of driving five hours to North Albania, where the din may be a faint whisper, is tempting. However I feel I may have to sit this one out. The slow torture of death by Turkish music isn’t the worst prospect in the world. On Sunday, the bride will be taken from her home in traditional fashion, looking glum until she says her vows. I will be out to witness the scene, take pictures, wish her every happiness and hope fervently that no one else in Schoze will be so unkind as to get married in the foreseeable future. Alternatively, a timely power-cut right now would be just beautiful.