2005

I woke up on the first morning of 2005 in Alison's bedroom in Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania. We had spent the day before at a hockey game, eating out, eating in, destroying baked goods, banging pots in the street with crazy neighbors, and generally causing a rukus.

Through the months of January and February I was living with my parents and working as a staff writer at the Dover Post. Every week I went to the city offices to copy down all of the deed transfers and the only redeeming factor in this was there was a really hot guy who worked there. That's motivation.

There was tons of snow and tons of cold all winter. Usually I had to pour water on my car door to unfreeze it in the morning, esp. Monday and Tuesday morning when I had to go in extra early. Kelli and I ate at Quiznos or Mama's every other day. Yum.

In March I lost my last grandmother. My grandfather lost his wife of over 60 years.

In April I had a goodbye party. It was weird as three phases of life met at once -- youth, college, and Dover Post era. The last time I drove was April 21. On April 22 my parents dropped me off at the Philadelphia Airport, which was the last time I saw my dad. In Chicago I met the only people I see now who speak English natively. On April 24 we left Chicago for Sofia.

The following week I learned a new alphabet and some Bulgarian food words. On April 31 I met my Bulgarian family and moved to Krichim.

I learned a new way of life. I lived in a household where I could not understand them, nor they understand me. I got really awesome at charades. I made a new family out of 4 other Americans and our teacher. Little by little, I learned a new language.

On May 16 I found out I'd be living in Straldja. On May 17 I met my counterpart Rosie, who has become my guardian. On May 18 she and her husband and friend drove me to Straldja, and I spent the night in my very first "own apartment." On May 19 I met some of my future students. On May 20 I went home to Krichim and for two days we celebrated my birthday with family and other volunteer friends from all over. Kuchek. Wine. A professionally-handmade cake by Atidje's brother.

Through June, the "six of us" spent long sunny days at the pool, meeting for coffee in the center, practicing our Bulgarian and planning our lessons over beers after language class. We went na gosti to eachothers families. We had adventures in Plovdiv.

By the time July came, I could understand my family and they could understand me.

On July 7 we said overly-teary goodbyes to our hostfamiles in the exact same spot where we had met them. That night the Krichim folks went on an odessy through Pazardjik looking for dooners.

On July 8 we went to Sofia to swear-in as Peace Corps volunteers and my director drove there to pick me up. She brought me to my apartment, and I was alone.

For two months I was alone. I saw other volunteers, went home to Krichim, but I was alone. Very much alone.

In September I became a teacher. I'm not a teacher...not educated as a teacher...But I became one. I learned lots of discipline Bulgarian. I learned discipline Bulgarian doesn't work.

I did traveling around Bulgaria. I learned how to keep house. I learned how to cook for myself, how to shop in small and limited shops, and how to find motivation to clean up a mess after a long day of work.

My mom and aunt came. I showed them My Bulgaria...and both got an education. I got a cat that is solely my responsibility.

I had one of the most thankful Thanksgivings of my life because I was with friends and was able to speak in my native tounge. And the best thing is we made it ourselves.

I had a really rough Christmas season...my first away from Delaware. My students became crazier. The weather became much colder. I had none of my Christmas traditions (except for the stocking my mother sent), but eventually came to love Bulgarian traditions. I spent the actual holiday in a Muslim home, but with Muslims that care so much they approximated as closely as possible a Bulgarian Christmas just for me.

I heard The Good News in Bulgarian, and understood it.

I am now a different girl from the one who woke up in Alison's bedroom twelve months ago.

creative discipline and laughing at students

Okay, so I will tell the more troubling story first because chronogically it happened first AND I feel like being chronological, PLUS it's just nice to leave a happy taste in a reader's mouth.

So, as you can see from my recent photos, it snowed for the first time in Straldja a few days ago. Sunday, to be exact. On Monday, the Monday before the big Christmas vacation, the kids were NUTSO. They usually are nuts, but the snow and pending vacation heightened the maddness to fever pitch. By fifth period the thin gloss that is discipline in Bulgarian schools had completely eroded, and it was all I could do to keep my ninth-graders (my most consistantly favorite class) inside of the classroom.

Anyway, some of the jerkoff boys in my eigth grade class escaped from music, went into the empty room next to mine, climbed out of the window onto the roof, and proceeded to make snowballs. They came running into my classroom and pelted my kids, my desk, my floor, and myself with snow. And I...was...hot... Oh no no no no no...I had had enough interruptions and problems and stupidity and I was not going to take this crap. So I followed them as they ran out of my room, realized where they had gone to get snow, and once they climbed back out to get more I closed the window, locked it, then locked the door to the classroom so none of their croanies could bust them out. The said croanies were in the hallway speechless, murmuring that "Miss Rebecca has locked them out of the building! She has locked them on the roof!" (Note: this window is the only window that opens on this part of the roof).

I returned to my class and they looked at me with wonder and disbelief. After a few minutes we heard the boys on the roof throwing a fit when they realized what I had done. At the end of the period I went and opened the door to the classroom to let their croanies bring them in again. They were shivering, wide-eyed and stunned into silence. By the looks on their faces, I shouldn't have problems with them for the rest of the week, if not forever.

So I must say that I would never have even THOUGHT of doing this in America, where there are things like liability. But in America there are also things like detention, ISS and suspension. Here, they lack anything. Literally, locking my students on the roof was the only way to prevent them from decorating my room with snow! They don't listen, and why should they really? They don't give a crap about grades, and that is the only leverage we teachers have. It's a crazy, crazy system.

But now for the funny story...Not to say that wasn't a funny one. Today I was in my decent fifth grade class (they are loud, but they generally learn) teaching them nationalities: people from Bulgarian and people from America are Americans, etc...I taught them "-an" and "-ish" and "-ese," and the oddball ones like French and Swiss...Then I asked them to guess some. They did well -- "Italian miss!" "Russian miss!" "Chinese miss!" Then I asked, "Kak ce kazvat horata ot Germania? (What are people from Germany called?) One girl, one darling little girl, announced loud and proud, "Germish!" (pronounced "jermish").

I could not hold back a jerk of laughter, and they all looked at me inquizzically. I could not explain to them what "germ" is in English as I do not know the word in Bulgarian, and I could not explain the concept of "ish" as being something to make the word an adjective, so the joke was lost. But it remained with me, and I will now rename a number of English nationalities:

Italish; Turkese; Englanese; Chinish; Mexicese; Swizterish; Canadian (that one's not funny, but the people sure are!); and my favorite -- Amerikese!

And I'm spent.

oooh, purty

This is the view from my little teacher cabinet on the fourth floor. Oh, the snow makes it so pretty. The mountains in the distance are the eastern-most peaks of the Balkan Mountains.

Too bad all this pretty snow gives my kids weapons to use INSIDE my classroom.

'twas the week before christmas...

One week from today is Christmas all around the world (well, except Russia...)

I figured going into the Peace Corps that Christmas would be the hardest time of the year for me away from home. I have never in my life spent the time from December 23 to 26 outside of Dover, and this year I am on the other side of the world...

To combat homesickness, I have made it a point to throw myself into the Christmas traditions of Bulgarians, the first thing being a concert put on yesterday by groups from several towns in the area. People got dressed up in Bulgarian national dress, sang national Christmas chants and danced high-energy holiday horos. This photo is of several of my fifth and sixth-grade girls who belong to a dance class in our town. Their horo, though I may be partial, was by far the best.

Anyway, today delightful suprise No. 2 occured...I woke up to a solid 6 inches of white on the ground and a steady downfall of more snow. I took a walk around town, nearly froze to death, took a photo of one of my students and his friend making a snow man and bought some milk for cookie-making.

Now I am holed up in my apartment baking and listening to Christmas music. Ahhh, this is the life.

two cents about bird flu

So, Bulgaria HAS to have avian flu within its borders...Every neighboring country has confirmed having the disease, and I can't imagine birds going, "Oh, there's the Bulgarian border...Let's steer clear of there."

We have been joking about it since September, but now the jokes have hit a new pitch. It used to be jokes among PCVs...Now it is a joke among my students. My unwordly, uninterested-in-world-events-besides-bad-music students.

Today a number of people were absent from my 6th grade class (side note: it made for an AWESOME 40 minutes) and when I asked where everyone was, one of the funnier boys made the twisted face that indicates death and said two little words: "Petitsa Grip!" (Literally translated: Bird Flu!) The rest of the kids laughed and started making coughing sounds and death faces of their own.

I had to laugh. And I did, a bit. It's fun to joke about potentially horrible things...It's all fun and games until it morphs into a human-to-human transmitted plauge and we PCVs are evacuated from the country, denied entry into the US (cause you know they ain't letting us in when we've spent the last 8 months in an infected land) and are sent for a season of "quarentine" in Guantanamo.

Some volunteers have interesing stories about the mass slaughter of birds in their towns (this weekend in Omurtag Tia's landlady told us they had just killed 50 turkeys and she ran out of room in her freezer so she's having to boil it in jars) and even in my little town of Straldja I have seen 4 dead birds over the past two months laying on the ground with no obvious cause of death. Needless to say, I will be careful in my consumption and usage of eggs here. And I'll watch myself around the bird, uh, droppings in the street....

But as I say, it makes a heck of a joke at the moment, one even my kids get. Let's just hope this thing stays with the birds......

My Bulgarian Essay: For PCVS

So I was at the "question asking" lesson in my Bulgarian book and I had to write an essay about questions I ask myself when I am in a bad mood. The last few weeks have been very taxing emotionally, so I was pretty prepared for the exercize. Fellow PCVs, I send this out into the world to find out if you are in my boat....I think some of you are......Oh, and I wrote it in English below. The Bulgarian is just for fun!

Какво стана? Защо плачаш? Защо не можеш да го забравиш?

Те не слушат никой. Различна ли си? Ако не искат да учат как можеш да научаш? Обаче искам да учат.

Дали са отегчени? Щяха ли да слушат ако правим нещо по-забавно? Но как можеш да правиш забавни неща ако не знаят нищо? Как? Нали това е въпроса?

Добре ли си? Свикваш ли със Стралджа? Харесва ли ти животът тук? Какво ли щеше да правиш ано беше в САЩ? Щеше ли да имаш по-добър живот? Не. Щях да бъда по-тъжена. Нима не исках да пъртувам и да опитвам друг живот? Нима не исках да стана по-силна? Да. Хайде!

Now in English:
What happened? Why are you crying? Why can't you forget about it?

They don't listen to anyone. Are you different? If they don't want to learn, how can you teach them? But, I want them to learn.

I wonder, are they bored? Would they listen if we did funner things? But how can you do fun things if they don't know anything? How? That's the question, right?

Are you okay? Are you used to Straldja? Do you like the life here? What would you be doing if you were in the States now? Would you have a better life? No. I'd be sadder. Didn't you want to travel and try another life? Didn't you want to become stronger? Yes. Well then, come on!

a blog of confusion

So I don't understand my 5b class...Take today for instance.

They came in the room screaming and cursing and carrying on in true 5b fashion. I wrangled them into their seats and told them in Bulgarian what we were going to do: I was going to spell out words for them to write in their notebooks. This was a practice in understanding the names of our letters because earlier in the day I realized my 8th graders could not do this...

For some inexplicable reason they all got out notebooks and looked more prepared than any group of students I have encountered since arriving in Bulgaria. I gave them the first letter and they looked at me silently and intensly, wrote the letter, and then looked up for the next letter and so on...All of the students did this. And I was shocked by the accuracy of some of the kids' work. Some of them who I thought had never retained anything actually seemed to know something! And they were just so INTENSLY listening...It was like I was spelling out a code that would save their lives. I almost got distracted by the efficiency of it.

But then halfway through the period some asshole kid threw a stotinki coin at the damn bell outside of my classroom (the one that NEVER rings when it ought to) and the demons took it as their cue to go nuts. "The bell rang," they told me. "We must go!" They packed up their things and began shouting to one another.

Meanwhile I was trying to communicate to them that the bell had not rung, it was just some kid throwing a coin AT the bell. But they were so loud I was inaudible (and for those that know me, I am ALWAYS audible). I had to hold the door closed with all my might to prevent them from leaving. They started fighting as usual, and since they had already packed up there wasn't NO WAY I was going to get them to unpack their books...For the second half of the period I was relegated to discipline duty, which in this class is like being a prison warden.

So I don't understand. What was it about THAT exercise that made them listen? It doesn't seem fun and different to me...We do listening stuff all the TIME and they just talk so loudly the kids who want to hear can't...I would love to know what would have happened had that outside disruption never taken place. See, that's another thing. Not only do we have to deal with crap inside the class, I am constantly having to deal with crap being imposed on me from the hallway! In America if a kid is in the hall without a pass he gets detention. Here, there is literally no set-up punishment...What an ass-backwards system.

In my opinion, which is not worth much and is strictly MY OPINION, this education system is very much in need of teeth for the teachers. The teachers need to be given proverbial whips and sticks to get the job done here...I think the lack of these things has made the educational system what it is today. They need to have class participation grades that count as test grades (when I suggested this, my director said students should only be graded on the quality of work they produce, not their behavior) god-awful detentions, suspensions, Saturday school, in-school-suspension, and any other possible punishment that might deter these little darlings from acting like assholes. The American system is not perfect by any means, but I do not remember any of my classes being like classes here...even when the teacher was a weakling and a moron. Sure people tried to cheat, but they were failed. Sure people talked out in class, but it was in whispers so as to avoid getting a detention (my students have full blown conversations like I am not even standing there and no amount of scolding from me helps this). Sure, there was even the occasional fight in school, but you better damn believe those kids were outta there as soon as they were pulled off of one another and later became the school gossip for eons to follow. Here kids can beat eachother until they are bleeding and they still roam the halls, and no one even thinks anything of it afterwards.

I do not understand how Bulgarian teachers stay in their jobs for so long. And for what it's worth, as much as I love Bulgaria and the people I know here, I would not send my child to a Bulgarian school for all the tea in freakin' China!

This is how we do...

SaturdayI got on an 8:30 a.m. bus to Omurtag, a city in the Balkan Mountains a two-hour bus ride directly north of Straldja. I was off to visit Tia, whom I had texted the day before to tell her I'd arrive around 10:50 -- information given to me by the lady I bought the tickets from.

I arrived at 10:15, much to my suprise, and decided to tell her I was early. I tried to call her. It said that "the subscriber could not be reached." I tried again and got the same message. I tried again and again until I figured something was wrong.

There was an internet club across the street, so I decided to go try and email her. But as it was Saturday morning, the club was closed and I was left to ponder my next move in the snow. I decided to text my friend Brian whom I was sure had Tia's real number.

He must have been asleep, cause he didn't reply until 11:15. Sure enough, I had a bum number. Which means she never got my message the day before...Hrm. So I called her and she came to get me.

We went back to her apartment, dropped off my stuff and then went over to her landlady's apartment to tell her Tia's boiler was broken, again. In true Bulgarian form, we were invited in, given a waffle candy bar and coffee, plus a jar of boiled turkey and a pair of knitted booties to keep our footsies warm that had been made by the family's baba (grandmother).

We stayed an hour and a half, then decided it was time to get lunch. We wandered from shop to shop gathering supplies for brownies, Christmas cookies and a spaghetti dinner.

When we returned to her apartment, the true staple of Peace Corps visiting began -- making something good to eat. I have had several inter-Peace Corps vists by now, and they all have involved lots of cooking and baking. I think this is because there is not much else to do, so we are all becoming Betty Crockers. Each volunteer has a speciality to pass on to guests or hosts, and we swap recipes like old women at Bingo halls.

Anyway, Tia and I had obtained some cookie cutters and sprinkles from an older volunteer in her town, so we found a vanilla cookie recipe online and went to it. We cooked enough for her landlady as a thank-you for the booties and her neighbor, who lent us a cooking pan. Once we were finished her landlady came by, took one puzzled look at the cookies, and asked us what they were. The sprinkles had thrown her off...What were they? She, apparently, had never seen a sprinkle before in her life. We chuckled because they must look inedible if you have never seen one, and she probably thought we were trying to poison her!

After that bit of amusement we watched a movie and fell asleep in her heated room. The next day we went to a cafe for some coffee and then I caught my bus home. I got here by 1 p.m. and FROZE in my apartment (a cold wind had set in, and I had not been home to run my heater through the night.) I turned it on to warm up the bricks even though I am not supposed to run it during the day...What could I do? My kitten was literally shivering! By the evening some heat was beginning to pump out, but it did not really warm up until today.

Hope all's well. And I hope my motivation to write comes back sometime soon...I am feeling a bit blocked or something.

The War of Apartment 31

My kitten and I are at war.

Little does she know, I will win.

We have disagreements about many things. I think my little Christmas tree looks great sitting on top of my television. She thinks it looks better in a heap on the floor next to the television. She had something against my elephant clock that was a gift from some friends in Krichim, so I will have to take that to Toschko tomorrow for some gluing. She thinks my food is her food, and I think her food is her food. My body has become a scratching post, an object to hunt, a jungle-gym and a bed (though I like the last part). My drying clothes have become pawns in our struggle -- she stares at me defiantly as she yanks a sock down with her claw. "That's right," she says to me, "I'm pulling this sock DOWN unless you get off your school-worn ass and make me stop."

But as I mentioned before, I will win. She hates punishment (i.e. flicking her with water or carrying her by the neck like her mama would), so hopefully it will eventually sink in...If it doesn't, I will be living with a being that has a teenage mentality and real claws...Interesno.

A Blog of Thanks

I am thankful I was selected to join the Peace Corps.

I am thankful I was sent to Bulgaria.

I am thankful I have a family that lets me do crazy things like move to Bulgaria.

I am thankful I was placed in Krichim for my training.

I am thankful that my time there introduced me to a family I would never have known otherwise, but now consider very much my own.

I am thankful I was placed with four other volunteers who have become an extension of that non-biological family.

I am thankful that I had a summer that really and profoundly showed me what I am made of.

I am thankful the summer is over.

I am thankful I have a counterpart who considers me a friend.

I am thankful I am able to learn Bulgarian.

I am thankful to have a lot of work. Useful work. Even if it isn't always my *real* job...

I am thankful that I know how to work my oven now.

I am thankful my mom brought me really warm socks from the states. (Man, is it COLD.)

I am thankful that I have internet in my apartment so I can communicate with my families in the states (the Grudzinas, the Buttresses, old old friends...)

But most of all, this Thanksgiving I am thankful that I get to be thankful with other Americans in this far off land...Other Americans who I would be lost here without.

God bless, and Happy Thanksgiving!

My First Bulgarian Snowfall!

Ah, the first snowfall. It's not in town, but it sure made the hills to the north purty! I took a walk bright and early this morning to grab some photos lest it all melt, but it didn't. Actually, that walk was the only time outside of my apartment I had today...The rest of the day included Bulgarian homework, letter-writing and tons of baking. Tomorrow I will introduce my colleagues to The American Brownie made from scratch with genuine Hershey's Cocoa! They won't know what hit them....

Desert Places

For some reason, the first weeks of winter (true, pure winter) always bring to my mind the works of Robert Frost. Most of the year I think him trite, but for the first few weeks of winter I find he is the poet who best verbalizes what I see in the world.

Winters in my homestate of Delaware were never very Robert Frost-like. Sure it was cold and we sometimes got snow, but there was never the really opressive blankness and loneliness that is part of Frost. The glory of a Delaware winter is a good early-morning frost on the reeds in the swamp or the town Christmas lights being lit on your way home from a late day at the office.

I was first introduced to Frost winters when I was in college in central Pennsylvania. We were in the rolling hills just south of the Allegheney Mountains, surrounded by patches of woods and fields that generally had snow in them all winter. Late at night, driving to and from the small town where school was, I was always struck by the emptiness of it all, by the tiredness of it all. There were no street lights, so the moon just bounced off the patches of snow and gave a sad brightness to everything. I always found myself going over Frost poetry on those rides.

Today I was reminded of my old winter friend once again, although this time the woods were on the Balkan Mountains and the empty fields were on the Thracian Plain. This afternoon I went shopping in Sliven and met the new volunteer there (who, by the by, is from DELAWARE!). The whole day had been rainy and gray, but when I got off the bus the rain had turned to wet snow and a terrible, bitter wind was raging down from the mountains. It was almost hard to walk for the wind, and it was incredibly cold. As the sun went down the snow and wind were replaced by the same kind of chill-to-the-bone dampness I had grown so accustomed to in Pennsylvania. And as the bus headed across the plain to Straldja, I watched the rocky, now-snow-covered mountains give way to smaller, wooded hills, and again thought to myself:

Snow falling and night falling fast, oh, fast
In a field I looked into going past,
And the ground almost covered smooth in snow,
But a few weeds and stubble showing last.

The woods around it have it -- it is theirs.
All animals are smothered in their lairs.
I am too absent-spirited to count;
The loneliness includes me unawares.

And lonely as it is that loneliness
Will be more lonely ere it will be less --
A blanker whiteness of benighted snow
With no expression, nothing to express.

They cannot scare me with their empty spaces
Between stars -- on stars where no human race is.
I have it in me so much nearer home
To scare myself with my own desert places.

Of course this winter for me, more than any before it, will truly live up to the lines of this poem. I was profoundly alone this summer, and slowly I am coming to love the loneliness. This winter cannot scare me...I have seen my own desert places, and now I know they are beautiful.

The state of relationships

I had not been in the house for an hour yet when Atidje aked me, with all sincerity from across the kitchen table, "Imash li gadje?" (Do you have a boyfriend?)

This is a question I get every time I come "home" to Krichim, but it is never usually brought up so soon.

Ati and Oktai pretty much know the state of romantic relationships in my life. They know there is a severe lack of young and single males in my town. They know I still have issues with the language and am pretty much the opposite of a flirtatious and outgoing individual anyway, even if I could communicate easily.

But this has not stopped the questioning, and therefore the jokes.

On one of my first trips home they asked me if I had any friends in Straldja. I mentioned that I had befriended one baba (grandmother) named Baba Radka and she gave me cucumbers from her garden.

I am, perhaps, too naive at times. After only a few minutes Baba Radka had turned into Hot-Young-Man Radko and he had given me cucumbers of an entirely different sort...

So that was the first joke. And it's stuck. Since then others have come up, including the fact that I they say I am dating Sudku (a Krichim friend of mine who is a reminant of my early days there when Ozhgun rounded up as many people who spoke English as possible to come meet us). I suppose of all the scenerios this is the most probable, as they know him and know we hang out, but they also know he has a girlfriend in Plovdiv...Apparently in Bulgaria, however, that doesn't REALLY matter.

But this trip home, the subject of my love life was even more scrutinized than usual. Every hour some joke was cracked or some remark was made. When I left with Maegen, they told us not to come back until we have boyfriends. Sheesh...It's a joke, but man, that's harsh.

I am not the only one, however. Vtora Andy (Second Andy...not the Andy from my group but the Andy from the more recent group) was there and took the same heat. Maegen took it, I know other volunteers take it.

I find this a very fascinating feature of Bulgarian culture, this obsession with joking about relationships, and I usually find it amusing too. In the states we do the same thing, but it is only amongst people you are close with...Mothers are always trying to fix up their daughters and encouraging their sons to settle down and supply them with grandchildren. But it is not something generally brought up amongst strangers in public places...Though here, every train trip I take I inevitably wind up in a compartment with some baba who inevitably has a grandson just my age who doesn't smoke, doesn't drink, is very nice, has a good job and is very attractive. They all find it very strange I am 23, single, living alone in a far-off land, and seem to be okay with this.

So, that is the state of relationships in my life...Now I look forward to meeting the baba on the train who really DOES have a grandson my age, who is nice and smart and handsome and will keep me warm on these cold Bulgarian nights...The more I meet, the better the probability gets, right? Hehehehe.

**I hearby open my comments section to my fellow BG volunteers...Please share amusing stories about potential forced relationships in your lives, if you have any. (And I mean, you are in Bulgaria...how could you LACK stories?...)

Snimki...

The new roomie...The kitten, I mean. The boy is Eric, who is a fellow volunteer an hour or so south of me. The kitten is Заека (Zaeka), which is Bulgarian for "female rabbit." Got her a few weeks ago from a friend of a friend, and she has made life much more, uh, interesting in my apartment.

Бавно По Бавно

(Bavno Po Bavno)

This is a Bulgarian phrase meaning "Slowly by slowly...", bascially the English "little by little."

This, I have come to find, is a very IMPORTANT Bulgarian phrase.

It's a phrase that I find myself turning in my mind every day now...Because truly, everything I busy myself with these days is a bit of struggle that seems pretty much never ending.

I am learning Bulgarian. I can get by, converse, even sometimes understand strangers talking to one another. But for every word I know, there are 7 million I don't. For every 30 words I understand, there are three I can produce on my own. Every week I learn a new tense, but then there is always another tense waiting for me next week. I try to construct really good sentences for my students, then they stare at me blankly and one of the "sympathetic listeners" translates it into REAL Bulgarian. Zing.

I am also trying to teach. My students, for the most part, are apathetic, ignorant and disrespectful. The students I consider "good" I only consider "good" because they try to answer questions, they don't throw things and they don't ask me to go to the bathroom 50 times throughout a 40-minute class period...Even they have a lack of consistancy and spend more time tattling on other kids and giving answers out-of-turn than actually studying and listening to me teach. I have completely resigned myself to the fact that they will not do independent work during class...I HAVE to teach constantly throughout the entire period just to manage the crowd. If I assign them an exercise to do on their own for a minute, they just start talking to one another and nothing gets done. It's EXHAUSTING. They all cheat on tests--literally all of them. Even the best of the students do nothing to discourage a neighbor from copying...I am told this is a cultural thing (you help your friends), but my American, do-your-own-work ethic will simply not reconcile itself to it.

I am also on the hunt for friends, which is something I've never been good at, and now I am trying to make them IN A FOREIGN LANGUAGE. I feel like when I meet people, I must be such a drain on them and their social gathering. When I am in a group of several English speakers and one Bulgarian, I am so distracted in trying to keep that one Bulgarian in the loop of the conversation that I can't enjoy myself, so I feel like it is the same thing to all the Bulgarians who try to interact with me. I feel like they are laboring, and thus we aren't making any progress towards being actual friends. The Bulgarians are incredibly supportive with my learning, but I don't think they really think of me as a friend...They are just being their hospitible selves.

And finally, I am trying to live on my own. I am becoming a homemaker a responsible adult. I don't think any of my aquaintences would ever have labled me as irresponsible, but now I have a kitchen to keep stocked and meals to cook for myself, water and electricity and telephone bills to pay, floors to keep clean and a kitten to care for. Until now I have been expected to concentrate on one aspect of life--getting my education. I have had side jobs and activities all along, but I have also had family or roommates to help out on the homefront. There have been other people to cook for me when I was too tired, people to wash my dishes when I didn't have time and people to generally pick up the slack when I was not inclined to do something (and vice versa). But now, I am alone. I am the only person in my home, and therefore there is no one to pick up my slack. Too tired to wash dishes? Fine Becca, go to bed. But tomorrow, you'll be sorry.

But, as I try to compensate for that whine-fest, things are looking up. This summer I was at loose ends and terribly, terribly unadjusted. I was just profoundly lost...But the whole time I knew what I know now -- slowly by slowly, I would find myself. And to an extent, that is true. I am better now than I was last month. Last month I was better than the month before...The difference may be minute and fleeting, but it is there. There are good days and bad days, but the good days are getting better and the bad ones are not quite as bad.

I am sure that by the time I leave this place, I will have completed a very important journey.

**Sorry for the abrupt conclusion. I am sick of writing, and I am sure you are sick of reading...

Here are Rosie and I standing in the middle of Bulgaria's answer to "Stonehenge."

The 22-Hour Field Trip

...was actually a 24-hour day for me.

I woke up at 2:30 a.m., brewed some coffee, found my yogurt had frozen in my fridge and settled for some Bake Rolls for breakfast instead. I got dressed in an outfit I had laid out the night before (I knew putting together a matching, weather-appropriate outfit would be too complicated for me at 2:30 a.m.) and even managed to brush my teeth and hair.

At 3 a.m. I called Rosie to make sure she was out of bed. Fifteen minutes later we met oustide of my block and made our very dark way to the train station.

The students were waiting for us...All 44 of them. The 4 other teachers took roll (I think they thought of me more as a guest than an actual chaperone) and we waited in the light rain for the train.

Before 4 a.m. the train had arrived, we got on, woke up some sleepers in the compartments to make room for all of us, and settled in for the 3-hour ride to Varna.

We arrived shortly after the sky began to lighten. Though we had left the slow drizzle of Straldja behind, the sky was gloomy and the temperature had dropped about 5 degrees making a bone-chilling cold, damp day not too unlike our previous excursion to northern Bulgaria.

Our first order of business was to eat. The kids were set to their own devices and told to gather at the planitarium at 9:30. Most of them flocked to the McDonalds (as did I) and got Big Macs for breakfast. Once 9:30 came around we retraced our steps towards the planitarium for our first activity of the day.

Most of the presentation consisted of a powerpoint presentation and a film (the presentation being in Bulgarian and the film being in English with subtitles). In the last few minutes the woman running the show did the typical (and really cool) star presentation. After using the toilets, we headed out into the cold again and crossed the huge waterfront park towards the "Dolphinarium."

Talk about random activities...We saw a dolphin show. Not only did we see it, one of my sixth grade students got to participate. They put her in a raft and sent her across the pool and the dolphins had to push her back. She was delighted, and everyone was snapping photos on their mobile phones.

Once the show was over, we boarded a bus and headed to the Aladja Monastery. I didn't even knew it existed...It is a monastery that is carved into the face of this stone hill where monks lived in the 12 to 13th centuries. It was a truly bizzare spot, but very attractive. Some gardener found us and told us all about the monks' cells (which were little more than round indents in the rocks) and the bigger indent that had served as the chapel.

Once we had exhausted all of the views from the monastery, we got back on the bus and I finally asked Rosie where we were going next (up until that point I had simply been following and arriving.) She told me the name, but I didn't understand what it was. "It's like Stonehenge," she said.

Okay, so there is a Stonehenge in Bulgaria too. Go figure.

We arrived at the next site and I found out what she was talking about. It was an entire field filled with huge, naturally-made, weather-worn rock formations and sand. The kids took to climping the rocks, and the adults just tried to stay warm in the bitter wind.

After some time, the kids began complaining of hunger, so we again boarded the bus and headed back to the city of Varna. Again we split up, and the 5 teachers found a pizzaria. Let me just say it wasn't the best pizza I've had here, and it was by far the worst price.

With full bellies we met again and went to see The Legend of Zoro in this discount movie theater. I must say there was a certain amount of internal gloating on my part when some of my worst students watched me enviously as I watched the movie, not reading the subtitles. In my head I said, "Wish you had actually studied now?..."

The film was over shortly after 8, so we headed back to the train station and hung around the train sucking down coffee and hot chocolate for warmth and energy. The train left at 10:20, we got back home at 2 a.m., and I absolutely and profoundly crashed.

A Very Bulgarian Halloween

(In Bulgarian) "Miss! Are we going to have Halloween today?!"

Child after child yelled this to me as I entered school today. "Miss! Miss!"

They have no Halloween in this country, but this town has had several Americans in their midst over the years, and THEY have Halloween.

I was prepared. Rosie had shown me where she kept the masks she collected from previous volunteers, and mom and Aunt Kay had brought candy corn and candy pumpkins from the states when they visited. But, as usual, "prepared" is only a misguided concept in this country.

The Halloween celebrations began in my sixth grade class. I brought the masks and the candy, and promptly handed them out. I didn't know how slim the mask selection was until I saw an entire class of Zoros and Batmans looking back at me. One by one they came to the front of the class where I was holding the bag of candy and hollared 'Trick or Treat!,' rolling their "r"s and overpronouncing their vowels in their thick Eastern European accents. One by one they ran back to their seats and tried to eat the treat without having to remove their mouthless masks.

Though it was not organized, it was managble. The next period was fifth grade, and it is safe to say all hell broke loose.

I combined both classes (almost 40 kids all tolled) and gave the limited number of masks to the best-behaved students first. They put them on, I took a photo, they "trick or treated" and I took back the masks. I then called the mediocre-behaved students to the back to go through the same process. Meanwhile, the worst of the students got fed up with waiting and leaked out of the room into the hallway, yelling at me that I was unfair. (I promptly reminded them that in the contract they signed, it clearly stated that those who did not follow the rules would not participate in holiday celebrations.)

By the time I was through with the second group, the students were restless to the point of destruction. In my ideal vision of the day, I had talked about taking the kids "Halloween Carolling" around the halls, but my 40-kid mob scene was not my ideal. The students, however, called me on it and I could not find a decent way to fink out on my promise that would not have resulted in a riot, so I gathered the herd and headed downstairs to the classes of some collegues.

They didn't know what hit them. These 40 kids dressed in masks (and some in homemade costumes) barged into the classrooms and began singing "One little, two little, three little pumpkins..." at the tops of their voices. Once the initial shock and confusion wore off, all of the teachers and students were smiling and enjoying the diversion.

When I could no longer take the noise and mob-i-ness of it all, I herded the kids back up the stairs and penned them in the room, praying for the class to just be over. Finally the bell rang, and I ended the period with a reasonably in-tact classroom and shreds of sanity.

Thus passed my first Bulgarian Halloween...Next year, I will *truly* be prepared.

When Worlds Collide

Sorry for the lack of postage, but I have had a very busy week. My mom and her sister were here! And now, as the title of this post might indicate, my two lives (for lack of better lables "My American Life" and "My Bulgarian Life") have met one another.

They arrived on Friday, Oct. 14. I got permission to skip school and go to Sofia on the 3:45 a.m. bus because I had to get my flu shot -- thanks, Uncle Sam, for trying to protect me from Bird Flu. Once that business at the office was done, I met a friend of my Aunt Kay and he took me to lunch. We then headed over to the airport with my "Welcome to Bulgaria" signs in Bulgarian and English to meet my guests. They arrived and we literally *packed* ourselves into his hatchback (the bad news: there were 9 suitcases that weighed roughly 300 lbs. for us to lug across the country. the good news: I now have winter clothing and will not freeze to death. Plus, I can make rockin' sugar cookies.)

They got their first taste of my Bulgarian skills when I had to fight with the folks on the bus to let us board and go to Plovidv. Ivcho (the aformentioned friend of my Aunt Kay) was there to help, but I don't mind saying I was suprisingly forceful in demeanor and speech. Needless to say, we made it to Plovidv, I organized our *two* taxis to the hotel, and there we all crashed.

The next morning we set out for the center of the city and killed some time waiting for former language trainer/current friend Ivan. He took us to a very nice, very traditional Bulgarian eating hole and after close to 3 hours of meal, he suggested going for a cup of coffee. As mom and Aunt Kay found, "going for coffee" actually meant taking a tour of Old Town Plovdiv, hiking to the top of the hill, wandering back down, and THEN drinking some coffee. But, it was good for them.

By the evening we crashed again in the hotel and prepared for an early day. Sunday was Krichim Day, probably the most important day of their visit for everyone involved.

At 6:30 a.m. we lugged our stuff to the bus station, left it in the luggage room (man, THAT woman did not like me much...though I TOLD her the day before that I had, "Nine really big bags.") We grabbed a bus to K-Town, and they met my "Family Phase 2."

Though I have always known the great hospitality of my "family" in Krichim, I could not have imagined the depths of it which they showed towards my biological family. I know life has been trying since I left, but on that day there were no shadows of problems. Oktai was back to being the Oktai I had known before his illness -- wild, loving, absolutely hyperactive and adorable. With him in high spirits, it seemed all the wear on Atidje and Berin had been alleviated, and life was just as it had been. Ati slipped into the role of dear friend, and Berin the role of beloved kid sister. Only Ozhgun seemed altered, pained. (Later that day she had a tooth pulled, which I am sure played some role in that.) From what I hear, she is working far too much at the moment.

Anyway, the whole day involved food, going na gosti, more food, and lots and lots of talking (which I was left to translate, except when Oktai told me to shut up and he acted it out for himself. I now realize how I survived in that house before I could utter a single word.)

Unfortunately, we had a bus to catch. Ati and Oktai dropped us at the bus station, and proceeded to follow the bus to the edge of town, waving. I really need to get back there soon.

By 10 we were in Yambol, dear Rosie and lifesaving Nikolai got us from the bus station in a station wagon, and we ended the day at home in Straldja.

The following days included me teaching, mom and Aunt Kay teaching, and na gostis at Rosie's, Nikolai's restaraunt, and Binka's restaraunt. Actually, the most consistant theme in the week was food.

I took them exploring in the town, and to the Black Sea. I took them to my apartment to play on the internet, and I took them to Sliven for an afternoon. They got me a coffee maker and then used it to make American-style coffee for themselves (Aunt Kay was not in love with the Bulgarian variation of the beverage.)

On Friday, after school, we took a train back to Sofia and Ivcho again met us and took us to yet another very traditional Bulgarian meal. Our hotel was nice, if not slightly sterile (though with down comforters, I don't think I can complain much.) Sunday was a trip to the Rila Monastery, my first time, and we really dug the fresh mountain air. In the evening I took them to sites in the center of the city, and they packed for their trip home.

When 5:15 a.m. came, we loaded into a taxi (yes, we finally fit in one!) and headed to the airport. After a short goodbye, they went through the security checkpoint and I got in another cab to go back to the hotel, where I slept a little more and then checked out.

I passed the day as I usually do in Sofia--sitting at some cafe, emailing in the Peace Corps office, etc. I took the 3:30 p.m. bus home, and here I have been since.

Today was a typical Monday with the added work of an observation by my PC boss and several meetings about his observations. Now I am relaxing and readjusting to my "normal life" here.

Learning by going

So, I am currently reading Dreamcatcher by Stephen King, and in it he quoted one of my favortie poems by Theodore Roethke, the most pertinent part being the last line "I learn by going where I have to go."

Though I am a literary purist and do not generally appreciate people taking bits of poems to reflect meaning (the whole poem reflects the meaning, I tell you!), I realized how much my current life is reflected in that one, single line.

Never before in my 23 years have I taken my education with such blind progress as I have here. Literally, every day I awake like a child, not really sure what the day will hold or how I will live it. I have no plan, no ultimate event I am preparing for. I get out of bed, get dressed, and experience an entire day of suprises only to go to bed again and awake again, prepared for nothing, and everything.

Up until now, I have generally followed a tried-and-true path toward typical adulthood -- getting things done in primary and secondary school to get to a decent college, doing decently in college to get a good job, and then BOOM! I landed myself smack in the middle of Bulgaria and found myself trying to become a teacher (for which I have no formal education) in a country I'd never been in (hell, I'd never even HEARD of Bulgaria till I got the Peace Corps letter saying I'd be sent here), operating almost entirely in a language I had never heard with an alphabet I had never seen. As the Aussies would say, WTF mate?

But day by day, it dawns on me why I am here...I am here precisly because I wanted to learn by going where I have to go. I wanted to wake up every morning with my only goals being to teach someone some English, learn a little Bulgarian (or Turkish, or Roma), manage to cook a meal for myself, find myself deep in a coversation I don't understand with a total stranger, and generally throw myself in the deep end to see if I can float.

And day by day, I find I can float. Sure, there are moments when it is not a happy thing (this trying-to-survive and learning-by-going), but it is making me the person I will be. I can feel it. Even if I find myself trudging through the mud of a messy day, I am still going. And I feel that so long as I am going, I am learning and, most importanly, I am becoming.

I look forward to seeing the result of these two years, but I also intend to enjoy the ride.

Another Day...

So it is still dark when I wake up from a comfortable, rakiya-aided sleep (my Bulgarian lessons tend to turn into "na gostis" from which I cannot leave without a glass or two of Bulgaria's national drink.)

The various animals around my bloc have been particularly loud the past few mornings...I vaugely wonder if they are protesting the slow onslaught of winter. This, however, is helpful as it will not let me fall back to sleep in the hour it will take for my hot water boiler to produce enough for a shower.

(I will admit that as the week wears on, it becomes more and more difficult to find my way to the bathroom and click the dial until the heater catches...Maybe I ought to get to bed earlier.)

With task one of the day completed, I find my way to the kitchen to accomplish task two: the procreation of breakfast. But today, WHAT?! No yougurt?! Oh no! No musli! What has happened to the world?

Spoko Becca, I tell myself. (Yes, I speak Bulgarian to myself now.) Take a chill pill. You can buy something to eat at school for like 40 stotinki. Contrary to your initial reaction, a morning without musli is not the end of civilization.

So right, no breakfast yet. Shower first, then go to school early and buy something there. And so I do. Leaving the cafe, some kid I do not know from Adam wanders up to me and, in the most perfect English I have heard out of a child at that school short of my top-level tutorees (who are 18 and this kid is like 15), "Hey Rebecca. Are you going on our trip with us next weekend?"

I no longer notice when strangers call me by name or when they string together random English words by way of greeting. I am, however, still taken aback when someone speaks actual English to me, so I cannot even find it within myself to speak English with this kid. In Bulgarian, I tell him no, I cannot come as my mother and aunt will arrive that weekend.

In English he says, "Oh, okay." In Bulgarian I say, "Maybe next time. I do want to come sometime. Where will you go next?" In English he says, "Oh, probably somewhere around Sofia." And he trots off with friends, thus ending our aquaintence.

And up I climb, up the four flights to my classroom. But, what's this? My classroom is locked. But my classroom is never locked! I didn't know there WAS a lock. Who has the key? I scurry into the supply closet to ask some of the other teachers where the key is. They answer with exaggerated shrugs and pouted bottom lips accompatied by nods (which means "No" here) and tisks of the tounge. It is the Bulgarian equivalent of an entire roomful of highly educated individuals saying, "I dunno..." in the low, sing-songy tones of various stupid cartoon characters.

Okay then. Suppose we'll have classes in the room nextdoor, if no one kicks me out of it.

So the start of today has totally thrown off any perception of reality I have created for myself here (which, though weak, was at least something.) To further confuse my personal cosmos, the "Demons Spat From the Depths of Hell Class" (aka 5b) is silent and attentive, and my "Thank God For These Kids Class" (aka 6a) has learned the phrase, "Eat my shit motherfucker," and is using it generously. (My solution: stare at them and ask them to repeat it as if I have no idea what they are saying, throwing in the occassional "Kazhi na Angliski!" -- Say it in English! -- until they transform the accent so much in trying to get me to understand that they are now saying, "It me shite mudderfooder.")

But, by 11:30 my teaching for the day is over and I take a bus to Yambol, where I meet up with a friend I met in Krichim who is in my neck of the woods performing an organic farm inspection. Together with the farmer, we drive to a random field south of the town, wander around taking pictures, then make our way back to the steel factory where the farmer works during the week. They are currently filling and order for chewing-gum sales racks, and we are given the full tour of the works and a detailed description of the process involved.

Then there is lots of paperwork, and Sudku (my friend) drives me back to my apartment in Straldja on his way to the beach. Sudku, a face I associate with Krichim, is sitting outside of my apartment. Two of my lives -- my current and my most recent former -- have collided for the first time...With this as the preview, I can only imagine what it will be like next week when I see my MOTHER and my aunt sitting in that exact spot...

Phew. Back in the hovel of my apartment, where the oddities of today cannot reach me. Cosmos of Rebecca Grudzina, calm yourselves.

*Though I am sometimes prone to exaggeration, I hereby swear that all stories related on this blog are true, without exaggeration. Yes, my life has truly become this random. Fitting, eh?*

Wacky Wednesday

So I have no idea what arrangement the stars were in today, but the result was a happily productive and social day for me.

Last night I went for my Bulgarian lesson with Rosie, and instead of a traditional lesson she taught me how to make this really versatile cake she is known for in these parts. It coincided with our chapter on Bulgarian imperatives, so basically she bossed me around in Bulgarian...

We finished the hour-long tutoring session, she brought out some rakiya made by her husband (who, I must say, is a master of the drink) and we chatted for a while waiting for it to finish baking. As we had to let it cool for several hours before removing it from the pan, we decided to turn it into a breakfast party today (our day off).

So at 9 a.m. today I headed over to her apartment. Her husband, Toshko, was there, as was her neighbor who I have met on a number of occassions (the one I really like because she speaks very clearly and I can understand her.) And sure enough, it was a breakfast party! We ate cake and drank coffee, and I gave my language skills a workout.

By 10 a.m., however, I decided it was time to shower (how long had it been? 2 days? Opah!) So I headed home, turned on my water boiler, and suddenly realized my apartment was gross. I hadn't swept in probably a week, and in these blocks you really have a lot of dust (and friendly home-loving pests) to contend with. So, I swept the big room and scrubbed the kitchen up a bit (dishes will have to come in my second wave of motivation) and THEN showered.

While I showered I recieved an SMS from one of my guy friends in Krichim (well, actually he lives during the week in Plovdiv and weekends in Krichim) giving me his ICQ address. I added him to my list (I now have a wapping two friends on it! Sudku and Rosie) and no sooner had I clicked "add" than he imed me. We talked for almost an hour -- I told him about my updates here in Straldja, he gave me gossip from the folks back in Krichim. It was overall a very productive conversation.

But, I eventually had to run to the post office to send my schedule to the Sofia office. That task completed I wandered to the business center in town to check up on an email I sent with some work I had done for them. Dichko, one of the few young people in town, was in his office and invited me to sit and chat for a bit. He asked me about school and how I was adjusting to life here. I asked him about his work, as I didn't fully understand it. It's important work -- he links traditional Bulgarian artisans with consumers all over the world. What I do for them is write up descriptions of products in English that they can put on their website.

I spent almost an hour there, and then wandered home, where people from the states and other friends in Bulgaria continued to IM me...It's just been a strangely social day for me. Good, I need days like this.

Now the evening stretches out in front of me. I have a really interesting book (Stephen King's Dreamcatcher) calling out to me, I have a pile of dishes longing to be washed (and just enough motivation to do them), I have some eggs and kashkaval I intend to make into an omlet for dinner, and fine weather to take a walk in. I think this clearness will lead to a very nice sunset over the mountains if I get my butt to the north end of town.

Overall, this breather in the middle of the week is very satisfying. Though in one way it'd be nice to have 3-day weekends (mostly for travel) I am finding that I enjoy two days of intense work, then a day to myself, then two more days of intense work before the weekend. Indeed, life is growing on me.

The Salon

It seems to me that there are few rooms in my history that illicit as much contenedness in my memory as the salon of Villdane Djanalieva my 17-year-old host cousin in Krichim.

My introduction to the room, which occupies a converted bedroom on the second story of the family house, took place on the day after my 23rd birthday, May 21. I had been living in Krichim since the first of the month, but I had never had cause to go into that particular room. The afternoon of May 21, however, was an afternoon of preparation. My host family was planning a big birthday party for me that night, and Villi insisted that her gift to me would be a makeover for the occassion.

It was one of those really beautiful spring days, so we kept the outside door to the terrace open and enjoyed the slight breeze. Maegen, the volunteer who lived with their family; Berin, my host sister and Villi's cousin; and Gulchen, Villi's 14-year-old sister, joined us and also took advantage of the mirrors, hair dryers, and other girlie tools.

Villi is a meticulous hairdresser, and took great pains to curl my then-shabby brown hair into a decently-stylish do. She then took out an overflowing bag of makeup supplies and painted away at my face.

Midway through the makeover, two visitng volunteers arrived from their other towns and joined us in the salon (yes, even boys are welcome at Villi's.) Though it is a small space, it never seems crowded when friends gather there.

From that day on, not a week went by when I did not find myself in that salon for whatever reason -- either for personal beautification or simply to visit the hairdresser.

Conversation in that room has always been interesting (but, in its own way, very comforting to me). It takes place in a hybrid of broken English, Bulgarian and Turkish, depending on the demographics of those present and their current level of language ability. Usually all three languages are going on at once, and you just listen to whichever you understand.

Since I have left Krichim, the comfort of the salon (and the people there) have come to mean so much to me when I "go home" to visit. My favorite hours are often spent there, and I can always count on feeling better when I leave than when I entered.

I think that over the next few weeks I will write about different times spent in the salon. It is something pleasant for me to think about, so I want to spread out writing the vignettes...Keep posted.

Me and the most disgusting model of a hamburger ever to be used as an ad...In Yambol this afternoon.  

Picking Grapes

Last night, as I am leaving the apartment of my counterpart (who is also, incidently, my Bulgarian tutor) after a particularly rousing Bulgarian lesson (Pila li si nyakoga rakiya predi chas?/Have you ever drunk rakiya before a class?) she hollers down the stairs, "Tomorrow classes will be 30 minutes!"

"Why?" I ask, though I have generally come out of the habit of asking that question over the past five months.

"Because tomorrow is the picking of the grapes," she says.

"It's the what?" I ask, again going against my newfound reluctance towards enquiry.

"Tomorrow everyone goes out to pick the grapes for wine and rakiya," she explains. She also explains that due to all the rain, this will be a bad year for both beverages (which, I am beginning to think, are the only two things that get Bulgarians through the winter. Could be interesting...)

Eh, I say to myself as I fumble home in the pitch black (Dark by 8?! No street lights?! Whaat?!!) During my time in Bulgaria, "Eh" has become by most-used utterance.

In the morning, as I sit in the supply closet with the other teachers, one looks at me and says, (in Bulgarian) "Classes will be 20 minutes."

Okay, I think to myself. Even less time!

First period is those pesky 5th-graders...Somehow I get through unscathed (no doubt because the class was only half as long as usual). Then I have my "window" (free period), and then I walk in to set my classroom up for my 3rd period 8th grade class...

That's funny, I think as I enter the room. There's no one here. Usually there is someone around, leaning and/or throwing things out of the window, writing obscenities or my name on the board, or generally causing some sort of mischief. But, nyama.

I check the hall. Surely they must be out there bothering other teachers. Surely they are swarming somewhere in the vicinity. But, no one there either.

Where is everyone?!

A 7th grader walks by. "What hour is this?" I ask, thinking I surely must have mixed up my window period in the confusion of the shortened day.

"Third," she says, looking at me like the little pauper boy at the end of A Christmas Carol when Scrooge asks what day it is.

Hrm, I think. Indeed, this is strange.

Low and behold, two of the calmer 8th graders come by. "Where is everyone," I ask.

"They left," the girl says. "Left where?" I ask. "Home," she says. "Oh," I say. "Can we go home too?" she asks. "Well, I guess so," I reply.

So, I guess that means no class now, huh? Okay, I guess I'll print out the essays on the printer downstairs that wasn't working this morning.

Twenty minutes later I go to wait for my 4th period 6th graders. And dammit, they show.

Nothing of Consequence

It's not that I have anything pressing to say, I just have a few odd moments and do not know how else to fill them.

The weekend after the excursion was a nice as the excursion itself. On Saturday morning I caught the 8 a.m. train west via Plovdiv (that particular train and I are quite bonded...) and arrived in Pazardjik shortly after noon to meet Ned. He was the only of my tainingmates I had not seen since swearing-in in July. Needless to say, it was a nice reunion.

The two of us took a cab into the Mahala (the Roma ghetto) to attend a fellow volunteer's Multiculture Day, the highlight of which was a concert that included Bulgarian folk songs, Roma and Indian dances, and lots of horo. Ivan was in town doing work, so he met Ned and I to make plans for Sunday. We also saw other new and old volunteers, which is always nice.

After the concert, the two of us took the bus back to Plovdiv and began a search for a hostel. We found an absolutely beautiful place in Old Town (for 20 leva a night...a tad steep for our volunteer pocketbooks) and reserved our group's 5 beds. In the process we throughly confused the woman in reception who had apparently never had to register guests with lichna kartas (Bulgarian IDs) instead of passports. But the papers were worked out, and we headed out to pick up the first of the other arrivals at the bus station. (I'm not sure if any other training group learned Plovdiv as well as we did, so we tended to lead the gang). With Matt in tow, we headed for some "awesome-for-Bulgaria" pizza and registered him at the hostel. That's when we met Martin.

Martin was the Northern Irish lad sharing our room with us, and he quickly became one of the group. When Ned and Matt went to fetch Scott and Rachel from the bus station, Martin and I found a nice jazz beer garden to chill in until we met the other 4 in the center. After more food, the lot of us happened upon a very Western-style, chilled-out bar to talk to some Bulgarians in. They were NUTS! Ranting about Macedonia and the problems in Yugoslavia...It gave our Bulgarian quite a workout. We finally left at 4:30 a.m., officially making it my latest night yet in Bulgaria. It's not something I do often, which allows me to do it at all...

The next morning I woke up early (payback, I suppose) and got as clean as I could without shower supplies...i.e. soap, shampoo or towels. At 11:30 Ned and I met Ivan at the mosque in the center and went for some salad and French fries for lunch. After that we made our way to another cafe for a nostalgic beer together and ran into the others (including Martin) so they joined us, as did one of Ivan's "real" Bulgarian friends. (I must say, it was fun to meet someone he actually chose to be friends with instead of folks he was stuck with, like us.)

However, all good times must come to an end, and by 4 p.m. I was on a train headed east again. By that time my lack of sleep hit me, and I dozed on and off on the ride. I crossed my threshold shortly after 8, and there I stayed until bed an hour later.

Yesterday and today have been more of the same as far as school goes. My counterpart translated my rules list and contract for the students, so with any luck things on the discipline front with improve. Tomorrow I have off (there are no foreign languages at my school on Wednesdays) so I will have a chance to get caught up on my housework...Paying bills, washing dishes, finishing odd projects for the Business Center in town, and planning lessons for the rest of the week. Not terribly exciting, but I enjoy a good day of catch-up once in a while.

And, I'm spent...

The Happy Krichim Family -- Vassy (new trainee), Oktai, me, Atidje and Berin. 

A cold schlep north

Here is the story of the past two days.

It began with a 7 a.m. departure Wednesday, Sept. 21. The party included my counterpart Rosie, geography teacher Naska, history teacher Tanya, Tanya's twin 12-year-old boys, the driver Ivan and myself.

The weather threatened to be cold and rainy for the whole of the excursion, but at the moment it was just a moody dawn. As soon as we began our climb up the first ridge of the Balkan Mountains at Hain Boaz (the Turkish word for The Pass of the Hans) however, the moodiness began to work against us. We stopped briefly at a river called "Stinky River" vue to the sulfur in the water. It is so sulfuric, in fact, that one can light it on fire...And we did.

That task completed, we headed on towards the Kilifarevski Monastary. It was lovely, old...Once we had exhausted the views there we went to Arabanassi, a small historically-preserved village near Veliko Turnovo. There the rain was heavier in addition to busloads of German tourists, but the Nativty Church in town was one of the most intricately-painted chapels I have ever seen...There were literally thousands of paintings all over the walls. When we'd had our fill (of the German tourists, not the paintings), it was on to Veliko Turnovo itself.

The first order of business there was to pick up an inflatable mattress I was inheriting from a COSd PCV. Her boyfriend had kept the thing, and it was from him I purchased it. Once it was procured (a transaction that took all of 5 minutes and left me 20 leva poorer) Rosie, Tanya and I headed up to Tsarevets, the ancient fortress in town.

I am in no humor to try to describe to you how beautiful and interesting Veliko Turnovo is...Just go see it for yourself. I will be curious to see it in the sunshine, as it was so cool and atmospheric in the gloom.

But we had places to go...After a few hours in town, we boarded the bus and made our way to the Dryanovski Monastary. Again, beautiful, old, and surrounded by massive stone crags.

Back in the bus, off to Pleven. Search for hotel. Sleep...or try to sleep. Беше ми много студено. Wake up next morning. Coffee in the hotel. And out in the cold rain once again.

Pleven is a very important historical town not just for Bulgaria but for the word, though not many know it. It was here that the unraveling of the Ottoman Empire became fatal after a 3-month seige that pitted against the invading Bulgarian/Russian/Romanian army tried to caputre the town from the resident Turks. As such a town, there are many, many, many monuments to the war fallen. The most impressive of them was our last stop in Pleven -- the Panorama. It is, in essence, a painting, but it is so much more...I think they said 60 meters around, 15 meters high, a perfect circle with a real 3D simulation extending out the bottom towards the railing behind which gawkers stand. Again, something you just have to see.

After our look it was on to what I call "30 Minutes in Lovech," (I will have to go visit the PCV there later...) then some time at the Troyan Monastery (the third-largest in the country) and a small amount of time at some folk art exhibit nearby. Back on the bus...This time south towards Etura...an "Open Air Ethnographic Museum."

Oh, the profound cold, damp air there. I was put in mind of Scotland on a cold day in November. Profound gloom. Profound gray. The redeeming factor, however, was the warmth from the artisan shops that make up the replica 19th-century village. The stipulation for artisans to have shops there is that they must make traditional crafts in traditional manners with traditional tools. I bought a mug...My splurge for the trip (a wapping $4!). Once back in the shelter of the bus, it was on to our final destination: the Shipka Pass.

The Shipka Pass' history is linked to (and therefore just as important as) Pleven. While the seige was going on in Pleven, it was the small band of farmers from the town of Shipka who were driving back the 10,000-strong Ottoman reinforcements. It is rumored that when the farmers, who were camped in the pass, ran out of bullets, they began to throw and shoot rocks, clothing and even farm animals at the invaders. They held the pass, and because they did, reinforcements never reached Pleven and the Turks there were forced to surrender.

I was excited to see this pass...Up the mountain we climbed, up and up. It was a winding, narrow road. And as we climbed furthur and furthur, the 30-year-old microbus lurching inch by inch, a profound fog set in. By the time we reached the summit, we could not see the hood of the car. The pass, a sign read, was closed.

(I was not too dissappointed, however, as I was assured I could accompany the first graders when they make their pilgrimage there this spring...)

So, we descended. We drove out of the cloud and soon found ourselves on a ridge facing the Valley of Roses with Sredna Gora in the distance (another, smaller mountain range). Below the storm the sky was blue over the plain, and very windy. We decended into the town of Shipka and found our way to the Russian Memorial Church, another thing of beauty I will not attempt to describe. (see below photo).

And that was that. We went home. I'm sorry for being abrupt, but I have an early train to catch tomorrow and I want some shut-eye. Ciao.

The Russian Memorial Church in Shipka, Bulgaria. Commemorates the Russians who died in the battle to free Bulgaria from Ottoman opression. 

The First Gen-U-Ine Post

The posts previous to this one have all been cut and pasted from the mass emails I've been sending to interested parties stateside since my arrival in Bulgaria in April. This one, however, is an honest-to-goodness, bona-fide post. Check back as time passes for news (some noteworthy and some less noteworthy). Лека Нощ!

Dusk over Starra Planina, east of Sliven (northern border of Obshtana Straldja). 

What can I say, our last day at the "Coca-Cola Cafe" in Krichim (with Ethan). 

"The Six of Us" after the July 8 Swearing-In Ceremony, Sofia: Ivan, me, Andy, Maegen, Ned and Ethan. 

Me 

One Last Hoo-Ha

On Thurdsay school starts for real, and thus will end this summer. As most teaching volunteers will not have time to make it to Sofia during the school year, a huge amount of us made the trip this past weekend. While it was fun, I came home much more exhausted, and much poorer.

Last Wednesday we had a regional meeting in Yambol with the four of us in our region (which covers the Thracian Plain from Starra Zagora in the center of the country to the Black Sea coast, and from the Starra Planina -- the mountain range that divides the country into North and South -- to the Greek and Turkish border.) It is a huge region, and as there are only four of us we realized how isolated we really are. Kellen, the volunteer who lives right on the sea a few km. north of Turkey, got stranded and ended up staying the night at my apartment. He was my first volunteer guest, so that was nice.

Then on Thursday my counterpart took me to a meeting in Yambol that all foreign language teachers in this region have to attend. It is put on my the regional ministry of education, and was very very boring. She fell asleep, and we left about halfway through.

Friday I woke up at 3 a.m. to catch a 3:45 a.m. bus to Sofia. Rumor has it there will be an 8 a.m. bus come October, but as of now this is my only option as the train tracks in the west were very badly damaged during the floods this summer. Needless to say, I was exhausted when I arrived at 9 a.m. in the capital. I checked into my hostel, went up to the Peace Corps office, and got all kinds of goodies such as a smoke detector, a bike helmet, some cough medicine for the winter and some type of powdery goop to clean my water filter. It felt like Christmas.

In the afternoon I was met by Eric (my nearest volunteer) and two other volunteers and we ate lunch at this pretty good Indian food place. During lunch someone brought up the notion of eating dinner at Pizza Hut, and that immediately became the drive of our day. After another trip to the PC office, we went to the National Cultural Center to watch Charlie and the Chocolate Factory (6 leva admittance, and admittance in Plovdiv is 3 leva. Sofia is outrageously expensive for people on Bulgarian wages...) Oh, what a good movie it was. One particularly amusing incident happened when Johnny Depp made a pun on the words "heir" and "hair." We were the only people in the theater to laugh, and then we realized that the joke probably did not translate into Bulgarian. Everyone was staring at us after that. After the movie we did indeed eat Pizza Hut for dinner, and it was everything I thought it could be!

On Saturday a huge group of volunteers went to the outskirts of the city to work on the first Habitat For Humanity building project in the Balkans. It is a small apartment complex that is in its final stages. For most of the day I was relegated to leveling the rocky yards, carting away the biggest rocks and helping mix cement for the terraces. My specific task in the cement-making was carrying buckets of water around and pouring it on the ingredients as the guys mixed them up with shovels. Then I had to run a stick down the poured goop to make it smooth on top while drying. I was pretty exhausted when the day was over, but it was really cool to meet the families who will be living in the apartments. One of the little boys was my assistant, and I have never seen a kid work so hard. When we complimented him on his diligence he said, "Imam golyama rabota..." "I have big work..." which in Bulgarian means work that is personally important to someone. He was maybe 10 years old.

That night we were all too tired to do much of anything except eat dinner at the hostel with all the Aussies and Brits, and wander around aimlessly. Sunday eveyone started to head for home, but my bus was late so I took a walk to one of the big parts and happened upon an Avon rally for breast cancer awareness. I also happened upon the changing of the guard at the president's office, which I didn't even know happens...Go figure. My bus was at 3 p.m., so I made it home by 8 and crashed.

Now I am back at school helping the cleaning process. Three days to go...

Bit by bit, real life begins

On Sept. 1 teachers across Bulgaria headed back to school for service days...As far as I can tell "service days" include a 5-mintue meeting at 8a.m. (or whenever the teachers and administrators decide to arrive) and then about 6 hours of drinking coffee, smoking cigarettes and talking with eachother in the teacher's lounge, complete with an hour off for lunch. I don't smoke, but the coffee and the talking are fun (and quite a good workout for my Bulgarian skills.) We were supposed to clean the courtyard free of weeds Friday, but it rained and so there went that idea. Then today and tomorrow are holidays (today just because they want a holiday and tomorrow because it marks their independence from the Turkish Yoke in the 1800's). Shesti Septemvri (The Sixth of September) is one of the most important national holidays they have here, so I am looking forward to see what goes on.

As far as weather goes, I am finding that autmn is a real reward here. The air is clearer and cooler, the sun is oranger and people seem to be getting more active. I am told, however, that come winter life will stop in its tracks as Bulgarians hate the cold. But for now, everyone seems to be in better moods.

Friday night Jay, the old volunteer in Straldja, left for a few weeks in Switzerland and then he heads home from there. We had a "na gosti" (visit) Friday night for him and saw him off on his 11:30 p.m. train to Sofia. Now I am the only American in town, and I will have to answer for his absence for weeks to come I am sure (the babas are very curious...)

Yesterday I decided to take another trip to Burgas for two reasons: first, it was lovely and the train ride would not be such a miserable ordeal and second, I had to buy some books and one bookstore there has a pretty good selection of English-language novels. I bought Ivanhoe and Ethan Frome, which are decidely more classic novels than the ones I have been reading as of late. The sea was fantastic, and I could see clear to Nesebur (it is better from a distance...)

Today I met Eric from Elhovo in Sliven and we found a park with a really amazing (and brand new) swimming pool complex. Why we didn't find it two months ago when we were sweating to death and bored as crap I don't know. But at least we know about it for next summer!

I also got my schedule for this first semester. I will teach 5, 6, 7 and 9 grade. I have Wednesdays off so I can go pick up packages in Yambol (hint hint) and do grocery shopping. I also lucked through by finishing school at 11:30 Fridays so I can catch afternoon trains to weekend getaways. I was happy with that.

Other than that, I am simply looking forward to autmn. Real school starts Sept. 15, and who knows what will happen before then. I'll keep you posted.

"The Month of Solitude" comes to a close

I will try to get this email about before I fall asleep on my laptop. This weekend was not condusive to sleep, and the 3 1/2 hour-long train ride with stuck-shut windows today didn't help...

Last week I began some work, thus ending my profound boredom. Three students returned from their various summer rambles and we were able to start some essay-writing and test-prep courses for university entrance exams. After our lessons they took me out to the cafe and introduced me to some of their friends, so at least I have an "in" in the community now. When school starts I'll be with the teachers every day too, which will give me even more social interaction.

On Friday I had our writing lesson, my Bulgarian lesson, and then I caught a train back to Krichim. This was a weekend I had been looking forward to all month -- the Krichim Town Festival.

In Bulgaria most towns, no matter how small, have a gradska praznik (a city holiday) once during the year. It is basically a time to get everyone in town outside and talking with music, dancing and fireworks in the town square. When we heard that Krichim's fesitval was the last weekend of August, the 5 of us decided it would be a good time to have a reunion before the school year starts. Only Ned was unable to make it, and he was missed.

Krichim has new trainees, and they are all living with our old families. Vassy, the trainee in my family, was actually born in Bulgaria and speaks Bulgarian, so she is learning Turkish instead. I must say there is an eerie familial resemblance between us -- a number of people in town stopped to ask me if we were sisters.

On Friday evening the families, new trainees and old trainees sat at a cafe in the town center while listening to the music. It was very nice to see everyone again and meet the newbies. They were so impressed with our Bulgarian that it was a good weekend for ego-massage. (It also felt good because I remember a few months back when I was thinking, "I'll never learn this language!" and I heard other volunteers who had only been here for a few months speaking and thinking, "There's light at the end of the tunnel.")

Saturday had beautiful weather, so a bunch of us went on our favorite hike to the top of the mountain behind town. One other new trainee from Stamboliski joined us, and he was a character. He kept whining about all this stuff he missed from the states (McDonald's french fries, BBQ chicken, etc.) and I thought to myself, "Buddy, you were in the states just two weeks ago..." I hope he can get over it and doesn't end up going home early. It just seems kind of early to be complaining about missing things.

Saturday night the 4 old Krichim volunteers broke apart from the new trainees for the chalga concert in the center. Vesela, one of the chalga stars (one very very popular type of Bulgarian pop music) performed some of her songs, and then they set off some fireworks. Afterwards we met some of Bulgarian and Turkish friends at one of our favorite cafes and stayed until it closed. They were all so impressed by how much better our Bulgarian has gotten.

On Sunday I introduced two of the new trainees to Plovdiv. We saw The Island, which was a pretty interesting movie. It was a beautiful day, but hot and we came home exhausted. However, the trainee living with Maegan's family (my host aunt) had a birthday, and if there is one thing the Turks love it's a birthday party. There was the typical congregation of family members and Americans, lots of dancing kuchek, and even some Elvis songs (thanks to Husein, one of our friends/"cousins" who was home from college in Turkey.) Needless to say, it was another late night.

Monday, yesterday, I more or less spent the day on a very very hot train as the windows were stuck closed. Lots of sleep followed, and I feel back to normal today.

A Mundane Account of Daily Life

It recently occurred to me that although I write a lot about big things I do (my travels and adventures) I have never written about the mundane day-to-day doings of my life in Bulgaria. Since this weekend was pretty empty, here it is…

I usually wake up around 7 o’clock because the roosters are crowing loudly by then in the neighborhood by my bloc, but I can still lay in bed comfortably until 8 a.m. Much beyond then the sun is too bright and it starts getting too hot. My first order of business when I get out of bed is to check if there is water (there is a 40% chance there won’t be) and turn on my hot water boiler. I made the mistake of not checking the water one morning and I was very lucky to catch it in time before my boiler blew up…it did make a very angry noise though.
During the hour it takes to get hot water, I either doze off or eat my breakfast. I usually eat some muslei (oats, raisins, nuts and corn flakes) with some Bulgarian kiselo mlyako (yogurt that is world-renowned for being awesome). I also have a hard-boiled egg (one of the few things I can cook on my 200-year-old heating apparatus they consider a stove) and this week I’ve been eating some oranges I found at the fruit market in Yambol.
Ever since I got internet at the apartment I’ve been checking my email during breakfast. I also watch either the Bulgarian news or BBC World (though I haven’t gotten that channel this week and I wonder what happened to it…) The thing is BBC World only produces one news broadcast a day, so once you see the 30-minute segment you are done until the next day. The thing with Bulgarian news is, well, it’s in Bulgarian and they speak really, really fast. Luckily with pictures and story headlines across the bottom of the screen, I do okay.
After I shower and get dressed I try to read some of my Bulgarian vocab words. Sometimes I don’t feel like it and watch an American sitcom dubbed in Bulgarian instead. They have Mad About You and Everybody Loves Raymond in the afternoons. That helps because I can read the English lips and hear the Bulgarian words.
By the start of the afternoon I am usually stir-crazy in my apartment. It’s only one room, and one can only sit in the same chair for so long. If it is nice out I’ll either a) take a walk around Straldja or b) catch a bus to Sliven or Yambol and wander there. It’s gotten to the point where Yambol is pretty boring if I don’t have business there, like shopping, but the ride is pretty. It’s across the Thracian Plain, and you can see the mountains next to you get bigger as you head west. Sliven is a bit more of a hassle to get to, but it’s prettier and has a Billa supermarket. There is also really good hiking I still have to scout out when Eric can make it up (my closest volunteer).
The last bus to Straldja from both towns is in the 5 o’clock hour, so I am always back by 6. I try to procure some sort of meal for myself…this week it’s been tomatoes and cucumbers I got from the garden of my counterpart. As it’s just me, and my cooking apparatus is sub-par, I usually don’t keep much food in the house lest it go bad. I have mastered the baked potato and there are usually hardboiled eggs leftover.
Through the evening I alternate between reading books I took from the Peace Corps office the last time I was in Sofia, watching TV (they’ve been showing the tennis tournament in Cincinnati a few days behind, but I’m not complaining), and writing things. Now that I only talk to native speakers of English sporadically, I have to write to keep my color in my speech…Twice a week in the evenings I have my Bulgarian language lessons, which are getting progressively more challenging and useful.
By 11 p.m. it is usually cool enough to sleep, so I go to bed and start the process all over again.
This week I will start my essay-writing classes with three students from school. They want lessons 4 days a week, so I’ll have more to do. I will also go back to Yambol to speak some English with the Red Cross Director there (she is learning and wants a conversation partner.) Other than that, I pretty much bide my time until I have a very rigid, busy schedule during the school year.
So that’s it. That’s what I do right now. In one way I’m glad I had all this time to get settled, but on the other hand I am pretty bored…Soon life will be more work-filled, and I’ll be longing for a vacation! Oh, the irony.

A Weekend Out of Thin Air

On Thursday this weekend was going to be a boring one at home. I had some studying to do, some cleaning to do (the Inspector General from some branch of the US Government, not sure which, will grace me with his presence tomorrow for god knows what reason), and indefinite plans to meet Eric Brooke, my closest other volunteer in the town of Elhovo and hour away, for a hiking trip in the Starra Palnina near Sliven due west of Straldja. It had been a slow week, the highlight being a package sent from home I picked up Wednesday.
But on Friday I took the train I take so much (the one that goes through Plovdiv and on to Sofia) to Pazardjik for a Minority Committee meeting. I am not sure why, maybe because of the damage from the flood, I had to change trains in Plovdiv and board a Pontechevsky train (local, stops at all the villages and fields) from Plovdiv to Pazardjik. But I made it in one piece and quite early, so I managed to find Ivan at the hub office. He is now working as the Youth Development programs as a head trainer (a promotion) for the group of B18s to arrive tomorrow (Monday). I helped him and his assistant write scenerios for the new trainees, which was fun because I was writing the things that I have been answering for the last few months.
After a while we had the meeting (not many people showed due to travel problems no doubt). Afterwards I took the bus back to Plovdiv with Ivan, who was going home for the weekend, and one other volunteer from my area who was staying with his friend in Plovdiv.
I was going to take a late train home to Straldja, but Ivan discouraged it because of the unpredictability of train service right now and it would not be good for me to get stranded in some no-name town at 2 a.m. So he opened his apartment to me and we had a fun night in Plovdiv. We walked his weiner dog, Hannah, who is one of my favorite "people" in Bulgaria, and ate some salad in a beautiful cafe in the park near his apartment. Then we headed over to the Old City and found this Bulgarian-style beer garden that played jazz and other good American music. It was nice to hear something other than chalga (the Bulgarian pop music that is basically half-clothed women singing Bulgarian lyrics over Turkish melodies) which permeates the reast of the country.
After coffee in the morning I headed to the train station and waited half of forever for my train home. I got there after 4:30, thus destroying my plans with Eric, and relaxed in the apartment.
Then this morning I woke up to my telephone ringing. It was Jay, the volunteer who will be leaving Straldja soon, inviting me to a picnic with him, my counterpart, and her husband. The "picnic" turned out to be a day-long schlep around the Starra Planina just north of Straldja. They took me to an historic town called Jeravna and then we hiked to some waterfalls nearby. We found a very nice spot near the river to eat the food (a 4-hour process) and then found a little mountain hotel to eat ice cream at. Eventually we wandered home, and now I am relegated to cleaning my dirty apartment for this government official who will come tomorrow. I'll let you know what he wants when I find out...

A Change of Plans, Miss Turkey and the Great Flood: Take 2

So I think the title of this email pretty much sums it up. But, for the sake of a good story, I'll elaborate...and add verbs.

So for the last few weeks all of the Krichim crowd (5 trainees and Ivan) had made plans to meet in Dupnitsa, a town in the Rila Mountains where Ned lives, to go hiking in what is famed for being the most beautiful part of Bulgaria.

However, the plan began to unravel Tuesday. Ivan, who recently took a promotion in the Peace Corps (he'll no longer be a language trainer), had been traveling every day for the previous three weeks and was in no shape to travel more. As I was going to go with him in a rented car, I had to come up with a way for me to get there via public transport. I had my route down and was all set to go.

Then on Thursday Ned let us know that due to a storm that was predicted for the weekend, he thought we should postpone the hike. Though the weather forecasts in Bulgaria are even more arbitrary and inccorect than they are in the states, we decided not to risk it, as it was going to take me a lot of money and effort to literally cross the country.

I still wanted to get away and do something for the weekend, so I decided to take the smaller and less expensive trip back to Plovdiv and Krichim. I pretty much have my "Going home to Krichim" routine down: I take a 7:59a.m. train across the Upper Thracian Plain from Straldja to Plovdiv, get there before noon (on a slow day) catch a 2:30ish movie at the Flamingo Theater near Ivan's apartment, then catch a 5 or 5:30 bus to Krichim, putting me there in the 6 o'clock hour.

So that's what I did this Friday. It was really gloomy the whole day, but as soon as I crossed the threshold of the house in Krichim the sky opened up, dumping HUGE amounts of rain and scary bolts of lightning.

The storm continued through the night. When I woke up in the morning it was still thundering and lightning, which is really weird to have happen in the a.m. like that. I spent the day practicing my Bulgarian with Berin, then I went over to Maegen's old house to practice with Villdane and Gulchen, her former host sisters. I got all the gossip from Krichim, the most notable being that the 21-year-old woman who recently won the Miss Turkey contest was in town to visit her grandmother (she was born in Krichim, but moved to Turkey when she started school). As I say, Krichim is a really small town so on my way back home from Villdane's house I ran into Miss Turkey. She is 6 ft. tall with long perfect brown hair and perfect oval brown eyes. She knew who I was because she had been told about the Americans in town, and I told her I knew who she was because people mentioned Miss Turkey was in town and had shown me newspaper clippings. She spoke English and a little Bulgarian (I think I might speak more correct Bulgarian than she did) so we talked for a bit. I'm not sure what competition she was Miss Turkey for, but I know it was an international one because she had pictures of herself with "Miss"es from all over.

Anyway, Saturday night the news came on at a special time to tell everyone that the whole part of Bulgaria between Sandanski on the Greek boarder, Sofia near the Serbian boarder and Plovdiv (they make a triangle) was flooded. Of course, Krichim is right in that triangle, but due to the huge reseviour in the mountains behind the town the Reka Vucha (the river in town) wasn't swollen. It was a huge mess elswhere...They showed pictures from Kostenets and Stamboliski, both places that had trainees I visited, where the bridges were collapsed and the feilds were swamped. Residents were crying to the camera because the first floor of their homes were destroyed. Most of the water in the towns is now unpotable.

Anway, today I managed to get to Plovdiv and trains were running (slowly) to the east and I was able to get home. We crossed the Reka Maritsitsa on the way (the river that cuts Plovdiv in half) and it was a huge mess. They had huge hoses to pump the water off of the train tracks and everything. However, had I gone to Dupnitsa, there'd be no way for me to get home for the next few days...I sure called that one.

But I got home safe and sound and typed up this email. Hope all's well in the states, and now I will look for a way to get all of our extra water over to Portugal to help out with the drought and the fires. What is happening to Europe?!