We had a 75% solar eclipse today. I know I must have seen an eclipse before, I can not recall it. This one I watched laying down on my balcony, looking at the reflection of the sun in the window of my balcony door. Some of my students were below me with those glasses things and for sure thought I was nuts for laying on my balcony like that, but I don't care because I saw it! I watched the black semi-circle move across the sun...The world got a little dimmer...And then it was over. And I was covered in dust.
This morning, a beautiful morning by the way, I went to the school for two orders of little business: 1. get my director's signature on a form and 2. to pay for my ticket to Greece with the 12th grade in May. Since I was going to be fast, I wore my 2-sizes-too-big jeans, LVC sweatshirt and no makeup (did I mention I haven't showered since Monday?) What could possibly happen?
A photo shoot. THAT's what could possibly happen.
I walked up to my school to find my director outside with a woman with a camera. She pulled me up to stand next to her without even so much as a greeting, then told me to go upstairs and unlock the super-nice English room a previous volunteer built. They followed me up the four flights and grabbed a bunch of my eighth graders from the hallway to pretend to be my class. I pretended to teach them, and they pretended to learn, for a few minutes while the lady walked around snapping photos. The director took the cloth that was resting on the broken television away, showing the prosperity of the school.
After the shoot, I asked them what the pictures were for. They, apparently, will be used in a presentation on the school's holiday at the end of April. Super. Here is our Peace Corps Volunteer, in all her scrubby glory.
Anyway, I'm sick of writing. Haven't been in the mood for a while. Hopefully this will pass soon, and I will find joy in storytelling again.
Wednesday, March 29, 2006
Tuesday, March 21, 2006
Ladies and Gentlemen, my roomie
What you see before you: My heater (there are bricks inside that I heat with electicity all night and then they radiate all day through the metal and the holes at the top), my gjuveche I put water in to humidify the air, and my cat cooking herself.
Friday, March 17, 2006
a collection of minor oddities
Oddity 1: The Creepy Kids Who Speak Neither English Nor Bulgarian
The first time it happened was a few weeks ago...A young girl saw me walking home from school and as is normal with the local kids who I do not teach, she crossed the street to grill me. Her opening line -- "Hello. My name is."
I waited for the follow-up. There was none. So I asked, "What?"
"My name is."
What is this girl talking about? I asked her, in Bulgarian, "What's your name?"
She goes, "Yes."
Again I ask, "What's your name?"
"Yes."
WHAT IS GOING ON?! In Bulgarian I explain that what she has in fact said is, "My name is yes."
She just mildly smiles and says, "Yes."
Is she serious? Is she mocking me? She doesn't have the look of a mocker.
*skip to two days ago*
I am walking through the center and this boy, about the same age as the girl, comes up to me. "Hello," he says. I respond with a hello.
"My name is," he says.
Are you KIDDING me? I ask him, in Bulgarian, to repeat.
"My name is."
I ask him, in Bulgarian, what his name is.
"Yes," he says.
I am sick of this linguistic confusion. I ask him, one more time, in Bulgarian, what his name is.
"Stoyan," he tells me. FINALLY, we are getting somewhere.
In very deliberate English I ask, "How are you?"
"Yes yes, Stoyan," he says.
I slowly walk away....
Oddity 2: A Bundle of My Pending Doom
My cat is trying to kill me. And I'm not even joking.
The other night I was hanging in the nice middle-consciousness of the last few moments before a deep sleep. My legs were slightly bent into two knobby mounds under my blanket.
Suddenly, without any sound or other warning, I feel more than see a black ball flying through the darkness, over the mounds of my knees directly towards my face. Before I have a chance to move, a furry belly has landed square on my nose, claws peircing my scalp and the skin below my earlobes, and immediately a motor-like purring commences.
Curious to see what she intends to do now, and trying to make my heart start beating again, I leave her to sit on my face. She sits there a full three minutes before I simply can not stand any more and throw her off of the bed.
Since this incident, she has taken to sleeping on the top of the heater, where it is warm. Last night she layed there for a full three hours, never turning over to warm the other side of her belly. So long as she doesn't cook herself (which, I fear, she is dumb enough to actually do), I'm okay with it.
Oddity 3: My Percieved Superpowers
I have been asked to take on a number of very strange and, frankly, miraculous tasks by the Bulgarians of this town. Apparently, I am an American, which also means I'm MAGIC.
Among these random tasks are finding medicine that isn't available in Europe for my assistant director's daughter, helping the Business Center in town convert their online payment system (me work with computers? you crazy!), finding buyers for my counterpart's husband's partially-finished house in town, and helping another teacher find a job in Rochester.
I understand that as an American, I have more opportunites to do some of these things. And I will try my hardest to fulfill, or at least aid in, most of these situations. But really, I have never had anyone put as much faith in me as these people do. It's pretty intense.
Oddity 4: The Car-Cart
It has finally happened. I have finally seen a donkey-drawn cart towing a car behind it. It was everything I could have hoped it would be.
And I know there were other oddities, but I seem to have forgotten them at the moment. Check back for more.
The first time it happened was a few weeks ago...A young girl saw me walking home from school and as is normal with the local kids who I do not teach, she crossed the street to grill me. Her opening line -- "Hello. My name is."
I waited for the follow-up. There was none. So I asked, "What?"
"My name is."
What is this girl talking about? I asked her, in Bulgarian, "What's your name?"
She goes, "Yes."
Again I ask, "What's your name?"
"Yes."
WHAT IS GOING ON?! In Bulgarian I explain that what she has in fact said is, "My name is yes."
She just mildly smiles and says, "Yes."
Is she serious? Is she mocking me? She doesn't have the look of a mocker.
*skip to two days ago*
I am walking through the center and this boy, about the same age as the girl, comes up to me. "Hello," he says. I respond with a hello.
"My name is," he says.
Are you KIDDING me? I ask him, in Bulgarian, to repeat.
"My name is."
I ask him, in Bulgarian, what his name is.
"Yes," he says.
I am sick of this linguistic confusion. I ask him, one more time, in Bulgarian, what his name is.
"Stoyan," he tells me. FINALLY, we are getting somewhere.
In very deliberate English I ask, "How are you?"
"Yes yes, Stoyan," he says.
I slowly walk away....
Oddity 2: A Bundle of My Pending Doom
My cat is trying to kill me. And I'm not even joking.
The other night I was hanging in the nice middle-consciousness of the last few moments before a deep sleep. My legs were slightly bent into two knobby mounds under my blanket.
Suddenly, without any sound or other warning, I feel more than see a black ball flying through the darkness, over the mounds of my knees directly towards my face. Before I have a chance to move, a furry belly has landed square on my nose, claws peircing my scalp and the skin below my earlobes, and immediately a motor-like purring commences.
Curious to see what she intends to do now, and trying to make my heart start beating again, I leave her to sit on my face. She sits there a full three minutes before I simply can not stand any more and throw her off of the bed.
Since this incident, she has taken to sleeping on the top of the heater, where it is warm. Last night she layed there for a full three hours, never turning over to warm the other side of her belly. So long as she doesn't cook herself (which, I fear, she is dumb enough to actually do), I'm okay with it.
Oddity 3: My Percieved Superpowers
I have been asked to take on a number of very strange and, frankly, miraculous tasks by the Bulgarians of this town. Apparently, I am an American, which also means I'm MAGIC.
Among these random tasks are finding medicine that isn't available in Europe for my assistant director's daughter, helping the Business Center in town convert their online payment system (me work with computers? you crazy!), finding buyers for my counterpart's husband's partially-finished house in town, and helping another teacher find a job in Rochester.
I understand that as an American, I have more opportunites to do some of these things. And I will try my hardest to fulfill, or at least aid in, most of these situations. But really, I have never had anyone put as much faith in me as these people do. It's pretty intense.
Oddity 4: The Car-Cart
It has finally happened. I have finally seen a donkey-drawn cart towing a car behind it. It was everything I could have hoped it would be.
And I know there were other oddities, but I seem to have forgotten them at the moment. Check back for more.
Wednesday, March 15, 2006
Tale of a woman scorned
Stupid Bulgarian mail.
I have been very gentle with the system.
I've dealt with the fact that I have to go to a town 30 minutes away on public transportation to get any package over 2 kilos.
I've dealt with the fact that I have to go between 10:30 and 11:30 a.m. on Monday, Wednesday or Friday (which with my schedule as an actual working adult means I can only come Wednesday) to get the package.
I've even come to grips with the fact that I always seem to receive the notifications that I have a package on THURSDAY, the day AFTER I am able to go, which means waiting another week.
I find humor in all these things. I find adventure. I write funny blogs about how I am considered a terrorist and interrogated about Victoria Secret Bandaids and children's books.
But today, dear Bulgarian Postal System, you have gone too far. TOO FAR. You have taken a sleeve of Girl Scout thin mints from me. And that, friend, crosses a line.
I will elaborate. Today I went to pick up two packages from home. One was filled with books from my father's company to give to the school. The other was *meant* to have 2 boxes of Girl Scout thin mint cookies and 2 Neutrogena foundation compacts (valued $10 a piece and priceless to me).
The last several times I have gotten packages I have been forced to open them and go over the conents with the people in the office, which I am used to by now. I showed them the books, made small talk about how I teach in Straldja, blah blah.
Then I attempted to open the second box. There was an abnormal amount of tape on it, and it took the three of us a good long time to get it open. When we finally did, I saw two boxes of cookies wrapped in bubblewrap, one of which was open. One sleeve of cookies was missing.
While this may seem strange, I figured that my dad (who is something of a cookie monster) had eaten half of them then threw the rest in the box at the last minute. I did not, however, see any makeup, which had been the original purpose of the package. This I chocked up to my mother's sometimes forgetfulness.
Since both scenerios kind of made sence, and I didn't see a banner sticker that said it had been opened for inspection, I put the cookies in my bag and tossed the box so I didn't have to lug two boxes all the way home.
Once there, I emailed my mom to see what was up with the makeup. She called and said she had included it, and did I check the bubblewrap. (This I had done very carefully.) As soon as she said that, I recalled the opened box of cookies. Again, she said that they had both been full when mailed. Which left one option.....
Some theif in Sofia or somewhere between Sofia and here is EATING MY GIRL SCOUT COOKIES! That's right, a THEIF!
So to all my friends in Bulgaria, heed my warning. When your parents and friends send you things, have them put BIG LABELS over both the upside and bottomside creases. This way, if the box is opened on either side, you will be able to tell, and if there is not an inspection sticker on it you know it was not looked at legally.
May those cookies turn to rancid Augmentin in that theif's mouth. (You guys remember Augmentin? That stuff was gross.)
I have been very gentle with the system.
I've dealt with the fact that I have to go to a town 30 minutes away on public transportation to get any package over 2 kilos.
I've dealt with the fact that I have to go between 10:30 and 11:30 a.m. on Monday, Wednesday or Friday (which with my schedule as an actual working adult means I can only come Wednesday) to get the package.
I've even come to grips with the fact that I always seem to receive the notifications that I have a package on THURSDAY, the day AFTER I am able to go, which means waiting another week.
I find humor in all these things. I find adventure. I write funny blogs about how I am considered a terrorist and interrogated about Victoria Secret Bandaids and children's books.
But today, dear Bulgarian Postal System, you have gone too far. TOO FAR. You have taken a sleeve of Girl Scout thin mints from me. And that, friend, crosses a line.
I will elaborate. Today I went to pick up two packages from home. One was filled with books from my father's company to give to the school. The other was *meant* to have 2 boxes of Girl Scout thin mint cookies and 2 Neutrogena foundation compacts (valued $10 a piece and priceless to me).
The last several times I have gotten packages I have been forced to open them and go over the conents with the people in the office, which I am used to by now. I showed them the books, made small talk about how I teach in Straldja, blah blah.
Then I attempted to open the second box. There was an abnormal amount of tape on it, and it took the three of us a good long time to get it open. When we finally did, I saw two boxes of cookies wrapped in bubblewrap, one of which was open. One sleeve of cookies was missing.
While this may seem strange, I figured that my dad (who is something of a cookie monster) had eaten half of them then threw the rest in the box at the last minute. I did not, however, see any makeup, which had been the original purpose of the package. This I chocked up to my mother's sometimes forgetfulness.
Since both scenerios kind of made sence, and I didn't see a banner sticker that said it had been opened for inspection, I put the cookies in my bag and tossed the box so I didn't have to lug two boxes all the way home.
Once there, I emailed my mom to see what was up with the makeup. She called and said she had included it, and did I check the bubblewrap. (This I had done very carefully.) As soon as she said that, I recalled the opened box of cookies. Again, she said that they had both been full when mailed. Which left one option.....
Some theif in Sofia or somewhere between Sofia and here is EATING MY GIRL SCOUT COOKIES! That's right, a THEIF!
So to all my friends in Bulgaria, heed my warning. When your parents and friends send you things, have them put BIG LABELS over both the upside and bottomside creases. This way, if the box is opened on either side, you will be able to tell, and if there is not an inspection sticker on it you know it was not looked at legally.
May those cookies turn to rancid Augmentin in that theif's mouth. (You guys remember Augmentin? That stuff was gross.)
Tuesday, March 14, 2006
Back to Good
I could not leave the faithful readers of Becca's blog stressed about her welfare, could I?
As expected, the clouds from yesterday have passed. The rain has turned to a light snow (which is better because at least you don't get as wet.) The headache appears to have worn itself out after a night of good solid sleep WITHOUT drugs. Yar, today was better.
I don't know if the kids were markedly better today or if my outlook was, but I actually found myself laughing and smiling in two of my classes (and this time not AT the kids.)
In my 8th grade class all the boys skipped with the exception of the two who are not jerks, which made for a very pleasant hour. Kaloyan, one of the boys, would simply not sit and I asked him what the beef was and he said he was antsy, so I decided to have them all do stretches. As soon as all the girls stood to do them, Kaloyan and Atanas (the boys) sat down in the back row and, in Bulgarian, willed the girls' pants to fall down. It was a funny moment, and I appreciate Kaloyan's sense of humor when it is not being plain disruptive. He speaks decent English too, but he is just so darn distracted and lazy and defiant (a typical boy his age) that he frustrates me. Usually if I tell him I am dissapointed in his behavior during a lesson he shapes up for a while.
I don't know if this is just me becoming a better teacher or the loosening my standards to prevent the onslaught of madness, but I am learning to kind of follow what the kids want to do in a lesson so long as it is mildy productive. The 4 girls in that class who speak pretty well wanted to take this Boy Quiz someone had made up rather than do the lesson in the book, so I told them that if they asked the questions in English they could do it. They tried to cheat and slip Bulgarian questions in, but I pounced on that. I also taught them "Knock Knock" jokes and they made one in Bulgarish:
Knock Knock
Who's there?
Tih. (Bulgarian adjective for "quiet")
Tih who? (sounds like "Tiho!" the Bulgarian command for "Be quiet!")
Geez, I wasn't even being loud!
I think on Thursday I will teach them MASH if they get through the lesson.
Then I had my 5a class...the huge, slowly-getting-out-of-hand class. There is a massive dichotomy in that class between the kids who know a good bit of English and will probably track out of this place after 7th grade to go to Yambol and those who still can't read the alphabet, despite my offerings of extra help and classes. I was in a good mood today, so the chaos was not as wearing on me.
We were going over new words from the chapter and I was writing the English and Bulgarian on the board. One of the boys yelled, "Hey missus! Your handwriting is better than mine!" to which I quipped, "I know!" and we all laughed. Sometimes I messed up a word, and the kids all chuckled and rushed up to the board to help me. I hate getting bumrushed even in the best of moods, so I had them call out the letters to me if I didn't know the word. With 30 kids yelling at you in a foreign language, it's hard to understand anyone and we had some laughs trying to get me to figure out the correct spelling.
In the middle of the class, one of the other boys yelled, "Missus, this is the first time you've laughed in our class!" This might be true, and I told them that it would happen more often if they made me happy. They contemplated this, so perhaps I will have my happiness to use a weapon (I think they won't like to see me upset now that they know I have a nice smile. Teehee.) I am not blindly optimistic though. It's all very day-by-day here, if you couldn't tell.
After them I had my sixth graders, and they were okay until the three toxic boys came in late. Like most of my classes, they'd be fine if I could just get rid of those three boys...Well, one in particular who drives the other two astray. This is where In School Suspension would come in handy. That class is almost entirely male, and I have found that boys are much easier led into loud, disruptive behavior than girls. While in play situations I prefer the rough-and-tumble boy life, I definately like teaching girls en masse more.
And that was that for my Day Proper. I had a SIP that no one showed for (no doubt it's too cold for them) and a lesson they also didn't show for (again, it's cold). Now I am home, chilling with the cat who is pissed because I cut her fingernails this afternoon. Tomorrow the Peace Corps doctor is coming to town to do a Medical Site Visit, so I suppose I ought to clean a bit for him lest he report, "PCV Rebecca Grudzina lives in absolute squalor which will no doubt result in her contraction of avian flu and cockroach infestations." (No, I am really not that gross. It was only a rhetorical device. However, Dr. Robert does not need to see my drying underwear all over and a pile of dirty dishes in my sink.)
Oh, and by the by, check out the link under the my Go Here! section for my Flickr page....In the future I will put my awe-inspiring photos there because it is way easier and more asthetically pleasing than having them strewn about on this blog.
As expected, the clouds from yesterday have passed. The rain has turned to a light snow (which is better because at least you don't get as wet.) The headache appears to have worn itself out after a night of good solid sleep WITHOUT drugs. Yar, today was better.
I don't know if the kids were markedly better today or if my outlook was, but I actually found myself laughing and smiling in two of my classes (and this time not AT the kids.)
In my 8th grade class all the boys skipped with the exception of the two who are not jerks, which made for a very pleasant hour. Kaloyan, one of the boys, would simply not sit and I asked him what the beef was and he said he was antsy, so I decided to have them all do stretches. As soon as all the girls stood to do them, Kaloyan and Atanas (the boys) sat down in the back row and, in Bulgarian, willed the girls' pants to fall down. It was a funny moment, and I appreciate Kaloyan's sense of humor when it is not being plain disruptive. He speaks decent English too, but he is just so darn distracted and lazy and defiant (a typical boy his age) that he frustrates me. Usually if I tell him I am dissapointed in his behavior during a lesson he shapes up for a while.
I don't know if this is just me becoming a better teacher or the loosening my standards to prevent the onslaught of madness, but I am learning to kind of follow what the kids want to do in a lesson so long as it is mildy productive. The 4 girls in that class who speak pretty well wanted to take this Boy Quiz someone had made up rather than do the lesson in the book, so I told them that if they asked the questions in English they could do it. They tried to cheat and slip Bulgarian questions in, but I pounced on that. I also taught them "Knock Knock" jokes and they made one in Bulgarish:
Knock Knock
Who's there?
Tih. (Bulgarian adjective for "quiet")
Tih who? (sounds like "Tiho!" the Bulgarian command for "Be quiet!")
Geez, I wasn't even being loud!
I think on Thursday I will teach them MASH if they get through the lesson.
Then I had my 5a class...the huge, slowly-getting-out-of-hand class. There is a massive dichotomy in that class between the kids who know a good bit of English and will probably track out of this place after 7th grade to go to Yambol and those who still can't read the alphabet, despite my offerings of extra help and classes. I was in a good mood today, so the chaos was not as wearing on me.
We were going over new words from the chapter and I was writing the English and Bulgarian on the board. One of the boys yelled, "Hey missus! Your handwriting is better than mine!" to which I quipped, "I know!" and we all laughed. Sometimes I messed up a word, and the kids all chuckled and rushed up to the board to help me. I hate getting bumrushed even in the best of moods, so I had them call out the letters to me if I didn't know the word. With 30 kids yelling at you in a foreign language, it's hard to understand anyone and we had some laughs trying to get me to figure out the correct spelling.
In the middle of the class, one of the other boys yelled, "Missus, this is the first time you've laughed in our class!" This might be true, and I told them that it would happen more often if they made me happy. They contemplated this, so perhaps I will have my happiness to use a weapon (I think they won't like to see me upset now that they know I have a nice smile. Teehee.) I am not blindly optimistic though. It's all very day-by-day here, if you couldn't tell.
After them I had my sixth graders, and they were okay until the three toxic boys came in late. Like most of my classes, they'd be fine if I could just get rid of those three boys...Well, one in particular who drives the other two astray. This is where In School Suspension would come in handy. That class is almost entirely male, and I have found that boys are much easier led into loud, disruptive behavior than girls. While in play situations I prefer the rough-and-tumble boy life, I definately like teaching girls en masse more.
And that was that for my Day Proper. I had a SIP that no one showed for (no doubt it's too cold for them) and a lesson they also didn't show for (again, it's cold). Now I am home, chilling with the cat who is pissed because I cut her fingernails this afternoon. Tomorrow the Peace Corps doctor is coming to town to do a Medical Site Visit, so I suppose I ought to clean a bit for him lest he report, "PCV Rebecca Grudzina lives in absolute squalor which will no doubt result in her contraction of avian flu and cockroach infestations." (No, I am really not that gross. It was only a rhetorical device. However, Dr. Robert does not need to see my drying underwear all over and a pile of dirty dishes in my sink.)
Oh, and by the by, check out the link under the my Go Here! section for my Flickr page....In the future I will put my awe-inspiring photos there because it is way easier and more asthetically pleasing than having them strewn about on this blog.
Monday, March 13, 2006
Shades of Blue
I don't know what it was about today -- the drizzly rain we are going to have from now to infinity, the headache I haven't been able to kick for 3 days, or the fact that I haven't seen a person who was not Bulgarian in 8 days.
But whatever the reason, today I suffered from a profound desire to speak English.
I am a Bulgarian champion. I'm not saying I'm great at it, I just use it a lot, and usually with a joyful heart. I love learning Bulgarian (though I don't study like I ought to) and I love using it. I teach about 70% of my classes in it. The only person I can use English with as a real communication tool is Rosie, and most of the time I like my dependence on my second language.
But today, oh today, I was suddenly overcome with this overWHELMING desire to speak English and be understood by everyone. I wanted to be understood, without having to work it out in my head beforehand and then pray for the patience of the listener. I did NOT was to speak Bulgarian at all. I just wanted to be understood.
As I was walking home from school I realized that today I became sick of being a foreigner. I was overpowered by a desire to be one of the masses...To be just another person here. I got sick of being picked out of the group that was walking home for the kids to yell, "Hello!" to, regardless if it was meant kindly or mockingly. I got sick of the little girl who kept turning around, looking at me and saying random English words. I got sick of being SideShow Becca, the American Wonder. Look how she hardly understands you, folks! Look how she puts one foot in front of the other as she walks!
I think I will take an aspirin and go to bed early. Tomorrow this will have passed, or at least be lessened. When I get back to America I will undoubtedly go through the painful process of becoming unspecial. But today, today, I just hated being foreign.
But whatever the reason, today I suffered from a profound desire to speak English.
I am a Bulgarian champion. I'm not saying I'm great at it, I just use it a lot, and usually with a joyful heart. I love learning Bulgarian (though I don't study like I ought to) and I love using it. I teach about 70% of my classes in it. The only person I can use English with as a real communication tool is Rosie, and most of the time I like my dependence on my second language.
But today, oh today, I was suddenly overcome with this overWHELMING desire to speak English and be understood by everyone. I wanted to be understood, without having to work it out in my head beforehand and then pray for the patience of the listener. I did NOT was to speak Bulgarian at all. I just wanted to be understood.
As I was walking home from school I realized that today I became sick of being a foreigner. I was overpowered by a desire to be one of the masses...To be just another person here. I got sick of being picked out of the group that was walking home for the kids to yell, "Hello!" to, regardless if it was meant kindly or mockingly. I got sick of the little girl who kept turning around, looking at me and saying random English words. I got sick of being SideShow Becca, the American Wonder. Look how she hardly understands you, folks! Look how she puts one foot in front of the other as she walks!
I think I will take an aspirin and go to bed early. Tomorrow this will have passed, or at least be lessened. When I get back to America I will undoubtedly go through the painful process of becoming unspecial. But today, today, I just hated being foreign.
Thursday, March 09, 2006
The Mystery of Martin Kelly
The following story is true but if you need verification, contact Matt Kelly, Scott McCartney or Ned Hawkins. None of the names have been changed to protect the innocent.
In the beginning of September, several of my Peace Corps friends and I met in Plovdiv to enjoy the fall weather and pass a mini vacation.
Ned and I arrived first and found a hostel for us to stay in. Then we met Matt and ate dinner. Upon returning to our room we discovered we were sharing it with a Northern Irish lad named Martin Kelly.
Martin Kelly was a young guy, about our age, who looked like a bit of a punk who could enjoy a rave. Nonetheless, he was a friendly dude and we invited him to spend the evening with us. We ended up staying out until 4 a.m. listening to Bulgarian professors rant about the history of the Balkans in this off-the-wall, western-style pub.
The next day we ate breakfast together, and we all gave him our contact information in the event that he happened to come to our various regions in Bulgaria (he was looking for property.) By noon we went our separate ways.
About a week ago, Matt wrote me a message on AIM.
"Hey," it said, "Have the Northern Irish police contacted you?"
"No," I said. "Why?"
"Well, you remember that Martin kid we met in Plovdiv? Apparently he's missing."
"What?"
"Yeah. He went missing on New Years Day and they went into his apartment and found the piece of paper with our info on it. I told them all I knew about him..."
We both thought it was odd, but then it sort of slipped our minds.
Tonight I was at Rosie's having my Bulgarian lesson when my GSM rings. I answer it with my best Bulgarian, "Alo?" because it is not a recognized number and I assume it is some Bulgo calling.
"Hello?" asks a confused voice with a bit of a lilt. "Do you speak English?"
"Yes," I say.
"Is this Rebecca Grudzina?" the voice asks.
"Yes, it is," I reply.
"This is Nicola from the Belfast Police Department. [I then recognized the accent.] Do you know a lad named Martin Kelly?"
Had Matt not alerted me to this a week ago, I would have had no recollection of the name.
"Why yes. I met him once in Plovdiv," I say.
"Well, he's gone missing," she says, in a tone that would imply he had won the lottery and they were trying to find him. "Do you happen to know where he might be?"
"No ma'am. I only met him the one time in September."
"Well, do you happen to know any of these people?..." She proceeded to sound out names like Bug-Gus and Slaiven...For a moment, I am lost.
"Oh!" I say, "Those aren't people. Those are names of cities near my village. I wrote them down in case he came to my area. Yeah, those are Bourgas and Sliven."
"Oh," she says, over a line that is rapidly deteriorating. "Well, if you hear from him, could you please call us?"
"Of course," I say. I take the number and hang up.
Rosie has heard all of this and is bewildered. I tell her the story, and she immediately starts thinking up the missing parts...Parts that include heists and get-aways and identity changes (she is the one to whom I give all of my Agatha Christie and Mary Higgins Clark novels when I have read them.) The obvious links are to the recent bank robberies in the UK, and we assume he has gone into hiding in the area of Smolyan (ironically, the same area I was in this past weekend.) Or he has been killed. But in the event he is hiding, Rosie is putting a friend of hers on the case who sells properties to folks from Ireland and the UK...Maybe they know someone who knows someone.
If this kid is in Bulgaria, he will be found. Mark my words.
In the beginning of September, several of my Peace Corps friends and I met in Plovdiv to enjoy the fall weather and pass a mini vacation.
Ned and I arrived first and found a hostel for us to stay in. Then we met Matt and ate dinner. Upon returning to our room we discovered we were sharing it with a Northern Irish lad named Martin Kelly.
Martin Kelly was a young guy, about our age, who looked like a bit of a punk who could enjoy a rave. Nonetheless, he was a friendly dude and we invited him to spend the evening with us. We ended up staying out until 4 a.m. listening to Bulgarian professors rant about the history of the Balkans in this off-the-wall, western-style pub.
The next day we ate breakfast together, and we all gave him our contact information in the event that he happened to come to our various regions in Bulgaria (he was looking for property.) By noon we went our separate ways.
About a week ago, Matt wrote me a message on AIM.
"Hey," it said, "Have the Northern Irish police contacted you?"
"No," I said. "Why?"
"Well, you remember that Martin kid we met in Plovdiv? Apparently he's missing."
"What?"
"Yeah. He went missing on New Years Day and they went into his apartment and found the piece of paper with our info on it. I told them all I knew about him..."
We both thought it was odd, but then it sort of slipped our minds.
Tonight I was at Rosie's having my Bulgarian lesson when my GSM rings. I answer it with my best Bulgarian, "Alo?" because it is not a recognized number and I assume it is some Bulgo calling.
"Hello?" asks a confused voice with a bit of a lilt. "Do you speak English?"
"Yes," I say.
"Is this Rebecca Grudzina?" the voice asks.
"Yes, it is," I reply.
"This is Nicola from the Belfast Police Department. [I then recognized the accent.] Do you know a lad named Martin Kelly?"
Had Matt not alerted me to this a week ago, I would have had no recollection of the name.
"Why yes. I met him once in Plovdiv," I say.
"Well, he's gone missing," she says, in a tone that would imply he had won the lottery and they were trying to find him. "Do you happen to know where he might be?"
"No ma'am. I only met him the one time in September."
"Well, do you happen to know any of these people?..." She proceeded to sound out names like Bug-Gus and Slaiven...For a moment, I am lost.
"Oh!" I say, "Those aren't people. Those are names of cities near my village. I wrote them down in case he came to my area. Yeah, those are Bourgas and Sliven."
"Oh," she says, over a line that is rapidly deteriorating. "Well, if you hear from him, could you please call us?"
"Of course," I say. I take the number and hang up.
Rosie has heard all of this and is bewildered. I tell her the story, and she immediately starts thinking up the missing parts...Parts that include heists and get-aways and identity changes (she is the one to whom I give all of my Agatha Christie and Mary Higgins Clark novels when I have read them.) The obvious links are to the recent bank robberies in the UK, and we assume he has gone into hiding in the area of Smolyan (ironically, the same area I was in this past weekend.) Or he has been killed. But in the event he is hiding, Rosie is putting a friend of hers on the case who sells properties to folks from Ireland and the UK...Maybe they know someone who knows someone.
If this kid is in Bulgaria, he will be found. Mark my words.
Tuesday, March 07, 2006
The result of sloth, but a good story nonetheless
This entry is just cut and pasted from the mass email I wrote about the weekend. I am too lazy to rewrite something here. Have fun.
On March 3 the Bulgarians celebrated their independence from the Ottoman Empire and we had the day off. To celebrate I agreed to meet my friend Sarah on her night train from Varna to Plovdiv (she lives in the middle-of-nowehere northeastern Bulgaria and always has harrowing journeys when she wants to go somewhere.) The train from Varna on the coast to Plovdiv stops in Straldja at 2 a.m., so I made my way through town at 1:30 to get on it. I managed to find her, and we spent the three-and-a-half-hour train ride chatting and looking at the stars.
It was still very dark when we reached the city. It was creepy actually...Plovdiv is usually very bustling and sunny and happy. But in the wee hours of dawn it is absoluetly silent and dead. We hiked up the hill in Old Town to watch the sun rise over the Rhodope Mountains and eat our sandwiches we had packed. It was one of the clearest days I have ever seen from that spot above the ancient Roman ampitheater...Every crest of every mountain in sight was clear and defined. We enjoyed our breakfast and view until a storm started to blow in and it got cold. We headed back into town, found a bakery that was open and ate cake. Once we had exhausted ourselves there, we went to our favorite duner stand (a Middle Eastern wrap sandwich with chicken and french fries brought to this country by the Turks) and kept warm for quite a while. (One of the great things about Bulgaria is that the purchase of 2 duners at the cost of 80 cents buys you a table for as long as you want it.) By the time we were done the rest of the world had woken up and we played.
Since it was the Bulgarian national holiday we bought two little flags and ran around the city taking photos of ourselves in front of old communist monuments and statues. It was insanely windy but the said storm never arrived and the sun was bright. FInally at 1 p.m. we decided it was time to catch a train to Devin, a town about an hour-and-a-half south of Plovdiv in the Rhodopes. We happened to meet two other volunteers going to our party, Kellen (the volunteer on the coast near me) and Matt (from Long Island). Our host, Rachel, met us in Devin and we ate. Once the rest of the friends arrived (Gokhan, Scott and Scott's girlfriend Dobromira who all live in the eastern Rhodopes) we bought some food and caught a bus to Rachel's secondary site of Beden...She has a house there because she teaches three times a week and can't commute. It is a typical Bulgarian mountain village...Very very beautiful.
We played Risk all night and half of us slept at her house...The other half (including myself) stayed in a villa recently refinished by the mayor's brother. It was small but very very nice...new. (Though we aren't sure who else he is expecting to stay there...)
The next day we met the others at the house and worked on breakfast. They had run the space heater during the night which blew her fuses so we decided to make pancakes on the wood stove she uses for heat. But first we had to hunt down someone in the town who owns a cow and barter for milk (we agreed to do some woman's son's English homework in exchange. You see, smallllll town.) They turned out great, especially once we put on some maple syrup that Rachel's mom had sent her.
Once that was done we hired some neighbor with a minibus to drive us to Trigrad Gorge, a spot just north of the Greek border where there is a cave called Devil's Throat. This cave is said to be the spot where Orpheus came in search of the door to Hades to retrieve his girlfriend...When she was lost he spent the rest of his life wandering in the forests surrounding the cave.
The area was beautiful...One of the top 5 places I have ever seen in termsof raw natural beauty. The cliffs are massive, covered in pines and snow, and the water that formed the cave and gorge is clear mineral water drunk throughout Bulgaria. The cave itself was dark and dank and huge and it lead one to see why the ancient inhabitants of Greece and the Rhodopes thought this place was a gateway to Hades.
Once we had exhausted our views we had the driver drop us off in Devin for dinner and then went back to Beden for more Risk. (My group, the B-17s, are known throughout Bulgaria as being the "mellow" "geeky group.")
The next day was just as beautiful weather-wise as Friday and Saturday. We hired the same driver and went to another mountain town named Shiroka Luka. Shiroka Luka is actually a preserved village in which any new constuction has to follow the old traditional building codes...It's beautiful. They were having their annual Kukeri festival (where the men dress up in scary costumes and dance around to ward off evil spirits for the coming year.) I had seen kukeri in Razlog over new years, but every region has different kinds. These guys had the goat-skin outfits with huge scary masks and tall hats with bright colors and mirrors on them. The only kukeri constants I am seeing are the goat-hair and bells...Lots of bells. As always it was fascinating, and I can not accurately describe it.
Around 3 p.m. Sarah and I decided it was time to make our way back home. We had to get to Smolyan, a city near Shiroka Luka, and make our way to Plovdiv from there, finally catching the 10:55 p.m. train east. No one in town seemed to know when there would be a train, and there were no taxi drivers to be found. Finally, as we were walking out of town, we ran down a filled bus and convinced the driver to take us on. The going was slow because there was still lots of snow on the road and it had been all but dessimated by the weather. Eventually we made it and caught a bus to Plovdiv. It made several stops in the mountains and took a long time, but the scenery was just breathtaking. The Rhodopes are very rugged but in a very ancient-looking way...lots of pine, lots of rocky cliffs. Several other volunteers who had been in the area for the weekend got on the bus, which is always amusing.
We made it to Plovdiv at 7 p.m. and ate dinner, took a nighttime walk and ate some ice cream before going back to the train station for our night train. The people who ended up in our compartment with us had actually been on our Friday train but were too shy to speak to us in English then. (Yeah, Bulgaria is a small country where you run into people all the time...)
We made it to Straldja at 3 a.m. and Sarah decided to stay with me for a night and finish her trip the next day. I had to teach at 8 the next day, so that was not fun. But my tiredness was worth the fun I had over the weekend.
Today it snowed, so I suppose the nice spring weather has abandoned us again. It'll be back though.
On March 3 the Bulgarians celebrated their independence from the Ottoman Empire and we had the day off. To celebrate I agreed to meet my friend Sarah on her night train from Varna to Plovdiv (she lives in the middle-of-nowehere northeastern Bulgaria and always has harrowing journeys when she wants to go somewhere.) The train from Varna on the coast to Plovdiv stops in Straldja at 2 a.m., so I made my way through town at 1:30 to get on it. I managed to find her, and we spent the three-and-a-half-hour train ride chatting and looking at the stars.
It was still very dark when we reached the city. It was creepy actually...Plovdiv is usually very bustling and sunny and happy. But in the wee hours of dawn it is absoluetly silent and dead. We hiked up the hill in Old Town to watch the sun rise over the Rhodope Mountains and eat our sandwiches we had packed. It was one of the clearest days I have ever seen from that spot above the ancient Roman ampitheater...Every crest of every mountain in sight was clear and defined. We enjoyed our breakfast and view until a storm started to blow in and it got cold. We headed back into town, found a bakery that was open and ate cake. Once we had exhausted ourselves there, we went to our favorite duner stand (a Middle Eastern wrap sandwich with chicken and french fries brought to this country by the Turks) and kept warm for quite a while. (One of the great things about Bulgaria is that the purchase of 2 duners at the cost of 80 cents buys you a table for as long as you want it.) By the time we were done the rest of the world had woken up and we played.
Since it was the Bulgarian national holiday we bought two little flags and ran around the city taking photos of ourselves in front of old communist monuments and statues. It was insanely windy but the said storm never arrived and the sun was bright. FInally at 1 p.m. we decided it was time to catch a train to Devin, a town about an hour-and-a-half south of Plovdiv in the Rhodopes. We happened to meet two other volunteers going to our party, Kellen (the volunteer on the coast near me) and Matt (from Long Island). Our host, Rachel, met us in Devin and we ate. Once the rest of the friends arrived (Gokhan, Scott and Scott's girlfriend Dobromira who all live in the eastern Rhodopes) we bought some food and caught a bus to Rachel's secondary site of Beden...She has a house there because she teaches three times a week and can't commute. It is a typical Bulgarian mountain village...Very very beautiful.
We played Risk all night and half of us slept at her house...The other half (including myself) stayed in a villa recently refinished by the mayor's brother. It was small but very very nice...new. (Though we aren't sure who else he is expecting to stay there...)
The next day we met the others at the house and worked on breakfast. They had run the space heater during the night which blew her fuses so we decided to make pancakes on the wood stove she uses for heat. But first we had to hunt down someone in the town who owns a cow and barter for milk (we agreed to do some woman's son's English homework in exchange. You see, smallllll town.) They turned out great, especially once we put on some maple syrup that Rachel's mom had sent her.
Once that was done we hired some neighbor with a minibus to drive us to Trigrad Gorge, a spot just north of the Greek border where there is a cave called Devil's Throat. This cave is said to be the spot where Orpheus came in search of the door to Hades to retrieve his girlfriend...When she was lost he spent the rest of his life wandering in the forests surrounding the cave.
The area was beautiful...One of the top 5 places I have ever seen in termsof raw natural beauty. The cliffs are massive, covered in pines and snow, and the water that formed the cave and gorge is clear mineral water drunk throughout Bulgaria. The cave itself was dark and dank and huge and it lead one to see why the ancient inhabitants of Greece and the Rhodopes thought this place was a gateway to Hades.
Once we had exhausted our views we had the driver drop us off in Devin for dinner and then went back to Beden for more Risk. (My group, the B-17s, are known throughout Bulgaria as being the "mellow" "geeky group.")
The next day was just as beautiful weather-wise as Friday and Saturday. We hired the same driver and went to another mountain town named Shiroka Luka. Shiroka Luka is actually a preserved village in which any new constuction has to follow the old traditional building codes...It's beautiful. They were having their annual Kukeri festival (where the men dress up in scary costumes and dance around to ward off evil spirits for the coming year.) I had seen kukeri in Razlog over new years, but every region has different kinds. These guys had the goat-skin outfits with huge scary masks and tall hats with bright colors and mirrors on them. The only kukeri constants I am seeing are the goat-hair and bells...Lots of bells. As always it was fascinating, and I can not accurately describe it.
Around 3 p.m. Sarah and I decided it was time to make our way back home. We had to get to Smolyan, a city near Shiroka Luka, and make our way to Plovdiv from there, finally catching the 10:55 p.m. train east. No one in town seemed to know when there would be a train, and there were no taxi drivers to be found. Finally, as we were walking out of town, we ran down a filled bus and convinced the driver to take us on. The going was slow because there was still lots of snow on the road and it had been all but dessimated by the weather. Eventually we made it and caught a bus to Plovdiv. It made several stops in the mountains and took a long time, but the scenery was just breathtaking. The Rhodopes are very rugged but in a very ancient-looking way...lots of pine, lots of rocky cliffs. Several other volunteers who had been in the area for the weekend got on the bus, which is always amusing.
We made it to Plovdiv at 7 p.m. and ate dinner, took a nighttime walk and ate some ice cream before going back to the train station for our night train. The people who ended up in our compartment with us had actually been on our Friday train but were too shy to speak to us in English then. (Yeah, Bulgaria is a small country where you run into people all the time...)
We made it to Straldja at 3 a.m. and Sarah decided to stay with me for a night and finish her trip the next day. I had to teach at 8 the next day, so that was not fun. But my tiredness was worth the fun I had over the weekend.
Today it snowed, so I suppose the nice spring weather has abandoned us again. It'll be back though.
Wednesday, March 01, 2006
A Baba Marta MIRACLE
March 1 is my favorite Bulgarian holiday...Baba Marta. She is a slightly mean grandmother who chases away winter, but who can also make some pretty horrible weather through the month of March. To ward off the bad luck she might send, Bulgarians give eachother "Martenitsas" (shown above) made of white and red thread (white means luck and red means health). They wear them until they see a stork, at which point they tie them to a blooming tree and make a wish...
Today I didn't teach but I went into school anyway because on holidays there is always banitsa, wine and fun times. First, however, I had to go to Yambol to get a package.
The package was the miracle. Back in October my dear friend Katie sent me a package. Said package never came, never came, and I was beginning to think it had been lost at sea. Last week, on Thursday (the day AFTER I am able to pick up packages), I got a notice saying I had a box. I didn't know who it was from, but I was NOT expecting the one from Katie.
The weather was beautiful today. It was a nice ride to Yambol, then it was nice to wander around looking at the martenitsa stands lining the road. I went to the post office and stood on the usual line. When it came time for me to sign the book and take my box away, I looked at the address and saw it was, indeed, Katie's box.
Where has this box been? I have a feeling that it went ground...which means it crossed the Atlantic and then the whole of southern Europe. This box is better traveled than I am! What has it seen? The wonder of it!
Anyway, this is my favorite holiday because it is so bright...it is so visual. None of the other Bulgarian holidays thus-far have been very visual. But with all these cool red and white bracelets, it somehow feels like winter is on the way out. It might also have been the weather...
Now for the other random photo. The top one is the view from the window in my hallway. I have taken this same picture in every season and every time of day...This one comes from last week. The moutains in the distance are the eastern-most peaks of the Balkan Mountains.
So I'm not feeling very poetic at the moment. And I'm hungry.
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