So as most of you know I enjoy cooking. Recently I stumbled upon a great Thanksgiving-for-one. No, it's not anywhere near Thanksgiving. No, I didn't plan on eating a "Thanksgiving-ish" meal. It just kinda came together. Earlier this week I boiled a chicken (for some mole' a friend had given me.... ohhh mole') and saved the broth. I didn't have a whole bunch of mole' so there was a lot of chicken left. Enter: creativity.
A friend, who also loves to cook (http://parsnipsaplenty.com), came to visit a couple weeks ago and re-introduced me to polenta, it's like grits kinda. So as it came time for lunch and my stomach started to growl I thought to myself "What do I have to eat?" The following recipe will show you what transpired after this:
Chicken and Basil Polenta
1/2 cup water
1/2 cup chicken broth
1/4 cup milk
2 Tbs. fresh basil, finely chopped or 1 tsp. dried
pinch of sage
1/3 cup coarse yellow cornmeal/yellow grits/ качамак
salt and pepper to taste
Bring water and broth to boil. Add milk, basil, and sage then return to boil. Whisk in yellow corn meal and turn down heat to medium-low. Continue to whisk until very thick then remove from heat.
Now for the pseudo-Thanksgiving dressings! Heat up chicken or turkey (I just used part of the chicken I had boiled). Spoon polenta onto a plate put the chicken on top then sprinkle with dried cranberries, I really like Craisins with Orange Flavor(r). And that's it!
Friday, June 20, 2008
Monday, June 16, 2008
The Абиторински Бал
... or Prom on crack.
Last weekend I went to the Ball for the 12th graders. In my town in Bulgaria the 12th graders go on an excursion for a couple days with all their 12th grade class-mates from their high school. Then they have a Ball, or Prom, in town for all the graduates city-wide. I didn't get to go to the beach with them on the excursion, but I did make it to the Ball.
The students invite the teachers that they like to the Ball. The students all have custom-made dresses and suits and dress up very fancy for this occasion. It's one of the biggest events in town every year.
I showed up at 8 pm to the restaurant where the festivities were to take place. I was nervous and apprehensive... was my dress too nice? was it nice enough? would I be able to find my students? what other teachers were going to be there?
Shortly after entering I found the table where my colleagues were sitting. I knew all of them... thank goodness. I was not over-dressed and not under-dressed... fears relieved. I hadn't found my students yet, but I was sure that sitting with all the other teachers from my school would solve that issue shortly.
But as I did say before, this is no ordinary Prom... it's Prom on crack. They served a 5- course meal. There was music and dancing during, between, after, before, all the time. There were two different singers that came and went and a band and a DJ. My conservative American nature was not too shocked to find that alcohol was part of the menu (I'm becoming Bulgarianized). It does still surprise me when I see students drinking with their teachers though. All students are of age (which is 18 here), but still nothing I am used to seeing in the States.
So these reasons make for a crazy Prom but not quite a Prom on crack, just wait. So I arrived at 8 pm, by 10 pm we had spent two hours on our first course and the students had spend an hour and a half dancing with DJ music. Then the shirts came off.... literally. I don't know what song, I don't know why, but all the sudden over half the guy students in the room had their shirts off. I tried to hide my complete shock at this turn of events. Thankfully the shirts went back on after a couple of songs... I was worried. Then came the balloon popping, out of the blue someone would pop one balloon then 10 more pops would follow. This happened several times during the night. The table dancing was always a cause for concern. When students were particularly fond of a song one or two of them would get up on their table and sing along. This seemed to be monitored carefully by the table of observing teachers, because if the glasses on the table shook they all shot horrible looks to the student and told them to get down.
I did get to dance with my students and I loved that. It was really neat to be asked by the kids I had taught all year to come to the dance floor and do the dance circle (a very inter-cultural concept). I also got to talk to a few of them more as friends than as a teacher. I think it's a lot easier to make that transition here. Towns are small, friendships varied.
Around 1 am I was tired and ready to go home, as were two of my other colleagues. So we packed up and left just as the rest of the town was arriving. After a certain point in the evening, or rather early in the morning, anyone in town who wants to is welcome to join the festivities. A friend told me it went on 'til 5 or6 in the morning.
Overall it was a very fun and interesting experience. I was glad I went.
Last weekend I went to the Ball for the 12th graders. In my town in Bulgaria the 12th graders go on an excursion for a couple days with all their 12th grade class-mates from their high school. Then they have a Ball, or Prom, in town for all the graduates city-wide. I didn't get to go to the beach with them on the excursion, but I did make it to the Ball.
The students invite the teachers that they like to the Ball. The students all have custom-made dresses and suits and dress up very fancy for this occasion. It's one of the biggest events in town every year.
I showed up at 8 pm to the restaurant where the festivities were to take place. I was nervous and apprehensive... was my dress too nice? was it nice enough? would I be able to find my students? what other teachers were going to be there?
Shortly after entering I found the table where my colleagues were sitting. I knew all of them... thank goodness. I was not over-dressed and not under-dressed... fears relieved. I hadn't found my students yet, but I was sure that sitting with all the other teachers from my school would solve that issue shortly.
But as I did say before, this is no ordinary Prom... it's Prom on crack. They served a 5- course meal. There was music and dancing during, between, after, before, all the time. There were two different singers that came and went and a band and a DJ. My conservative American nature was not too shocked to find that alcohol was part of the menu (I'm becoming Bulgarianized). It does still surprise me when I see students drinking with their teachers though. All students are of age (which is 18 here), but still nothing I am used to seeing in the States.
So these reasons make for a crazy Prom but not quite a Prom on crack, just wait. So I arrived at 8 pm, by 10 pm we had spent two hours on our first course and the students had spend an hour and a half dancing with DJ music. Then the shirts came off.... literally. I don't know what song, I don't know why, but all the sudden over half the guy students in the room had their shirts off. I tried to hide my complete shock at this turn of events. Thankfully the shirts went back on after a couple of songs... I was worried. Then came the balloon popping, out of the blue someone would pop one balloon then 10 more pops would follow. This happened several times during the night. The table dancing was always a cause for concern. When students were particularly fond of a song one or two of them would get up on their table and sing along. This seemed to be monitored carefully by the table of observing teachers, because if the glasses on the table shook they all shot horrible looks to the student and told them to get down.
I did get to dance with my students and I loved that. It was really neat to be asked by the kids I had taught all year to come to the dance floor and do the dance circle (a very inter-cultural concept). I also got to talk to a few of them more as friends than as a teacher. I think it's a lot easier to make that transition here. Towns are small, friendships varied.
Around 1 am I was tired and ready to go home, as were two of my other colleagues. So we packed up and left just as the rest of the town was arriving. After a certain point in the evening, or rather early in the morning, anyone in town who wants to is welcome to join the festivities. A friend told me it went on 'til 5 or6 in the morning.
Overall it was a very fun and interesting experience. I was glad I went.
Sunday, June 15, 2008
Field Trip
There's been a few little field trips in the past weeks and I feel like commenting on some of the language differences in the small country of Bulgaria. Keep in mind that Bulgaria is the same area as Tennessee but shaped more like a square than a rectangle. I could drive(if I were allowed to drive at all) from the Black Sea in the East to Western most point of Bulgaria in 7 hours (provided the roads were like interstate roads, which they're not, but just for comparison's sake we'll say they are).
I started in the Southwestern region, three hours south of my town, where I was taught the language made things a little difficult because I can't really tell the regional specifics there very well since that's what I learned. It was easy to tell that they talk slower than in my region and they don't enunciate quite as much. Next I went to the South central region, three hours southeast of my town, where my Bulgarian friends have told me they replace the letter "A" with "IA". The language was also much softer there than in my town as well and I was starting to get the sneaking suspicion that maybe my region had the harshest speech in Bulgaria. Then it was on to the Northeast, about three hours east of my town, where the differences were apparent from the second I set foot off the bus. Almost half of the population spoke Turkish, a language completely different from Bulgarian and unintelligible to me, and that rubbed off on their Bulgarian skills. Turkish is more fluid and less harsh than Bulgarian, therefore the Bulgarian spoken in that region was really slurred and not very harsh at all. They could understand me perfectly! I found out that my region is definetely the harshest speaking place in Bulgaria. Every "H" is said gutturally, every letter with staccato. When i say the word for bread, hle- ap, I have to spit out the "H" and "P" to be understood. Talking becomes a physical activity. With every word I have to use my whole upper body to provide the force for each consonant. Today I spent an hour with my tutor going over the different pronunciation for hour and o'clock, which are the same word with a different stress. I am usually understood, unless people can't get over the fact that I'm not Bulgarian, but now I'm trying to work on the specifics and I think I might retreat! Bulgarian's a harsh-sounding language to begin with and to add more harshness... well maybe it's not necessary.
So I was all over the place, but as I came back up to my town and walked home some magic happened.
I was carrying all my stuff, and almost to my door, as I started to notice the way the trees hung over the street, the sun shining through their fresh spring green leaves. The air smelled like pollen and must with a light flower scent wafting through some places. As I started to enjoy the moment I walked by the pine trees and notice that they had started growing. The new, vibrant green contrasted vaguely with the deep, rich growth from other years. I smiled and looked down to see the last tulips holding on to the chilly weather and the irises looking to the warm months to come. It was an amazing five minutes until I reached my door.
*I apologize, this blog should have been posted on May 10th but due to some Euro-American date digit swaps it thought it was to be posted on Oct 5th... the metric system isn't the only confusing difference.*
I started in the Southwestern region, three hours south of my town, where I was taught the language made things a little difficult because I can't really tell the regional specifics there very well since that's what I learned. It was easy to tell that they talk slower than in my region and they don't enunciate quite as much. Next I went to the South central region, three hours southeast of my town, where my Bulgarian friends have told me they replace the letter "A" with "IA". The language was also much softer there than in my town as well and I was starting to get the sneaking suspicion that maybe my region had the harshest speech in Bulgaria. Then it was on to the Northeast, about three hours east of my town, where the differences were apparent from the second I set foot off the bus. Almost half of the population spoke Turkish, a language completely different from Bulgarian and unintelligible to me, and that rubbed off on their Bulgarian skills. Turkish is more fluid and less harsh than Bulgarian, therefore the Bulgarian spoken in that region was really slurred and not very harsh at all. They could understand me perfectly! I found out that my region is definetely the harshest speaking place in Bulgaria. Every "H" is said gutturally, every letter with staccato. When i say the word for bread, hle- ap, I have to spit out the "H" and "P" to be understood. Talking becomes a physical activity. With every word I have to use my whole upper body to provide the force for each consonant. Today I spent an hour with my tutor going over the different pronunciation for hour and o'clock, which are the same word with a different stress. I am usually understood, unless people can't get over the fact that I'm not Bulgarian, but now I'm trying to work on the specifics and I think I might retreat! Bulgarian's a harsh-sounding language to begin with and to add more harshness... well maybe it's not necessary.
So I was all over the place, but as I came back up to my town and walked home some magic happened.
I was carrying all my stuff, and almost to my door, as I started to notice the way the trees hung over the street, the sun shining through their fresh spring green leaves. The air smelled like pollen and must with a light flower scent wafting through some places. As I started to enjoy the moment I walked by the pine trees and notice that they had started growing. The new, vibrant green contrasted vaguely with the deep, rich growth from other years. I smiled and looked down to see the last tulips holding on to the chilly weather and the irises looking to the warm months to come. It was an amazing five minutes until I reached my door.
*I apologize, this blog should have been posted on May 10th but due to some Euro-American date digit swaps it thought it was to be posted on Oct 5th... the metric system isn't the only confusing difference.*
Monday, May 5, 2008
Велик Ден!
So it was velik den (which is the post title) or Easter last weekend. I promised a run-down of Bulgo-Easter events so here goes:
I ended up spending Easter in my town with a friend and her family. She told us all week that we were going to make traditional Easter bread, Kozonak, and dye eggs at some point before Sunday. But on Friday we weren't supposed to do any work all day because it was Good Friday, so we couldn't dye eggs or make bread then because that was work. So we saved all the fun for Saturday. All week long teachers at my school had been buying crates of eggs from the teachers with hens. They take egg dying seriously here. It's not just a dozen or so... it's about three to five dozen or more. Crazy! The coloring they use is also much more vibrant and works really well with the brown eggs. Saturday we all ended up at Dani's for the festivities. We started out by dying eggs. Sehee and I had received Easter Baskets from a friend in the states so we brought our ready-made American dye kits, which were quite unusual and well talked over. We had a glitter-egg kit which went over fantastically well. The table was spread with bowls of deep Bulgarian dyes, pastel American dyes, and glitter, oh and about 4 dozen eggs. Then they broke out the netting, onion peels, and leaves. Yes, in Bulgaria they wrap eggs in onion peels, flowers, leaves, and nets then stick them in panty hose and boil them. It's crazy! They make really pretty nature-looking
designs. I was impressed. Of course, being Bulgarian and always prepared for guests to have all the fun, they had already boiled all the eggs for us so Dani, Dan, Ljudmil, Sehee, and I got to have all the fun of dying with none of the work :) No complaints. After we had dyed all the eggs Dani baffled me again, she poured oil in the dyes and started re-dying. It was crazy! In my family I guess we just stuck to the plain, old boring dye jobs but here they go all out. Dani showed us how to swirl the egg as we put it in the oiled dye and make tie-dye type patterns.
So when the eggs were finished all the non-Bulgos were wondering if it was time to eat (I guess that's just what we do in America and being 4 pm at that point my stomach was grumbling). But no, no more fun to come. Food takes last place. So we finished and decided we would inaugurate the first-annual Easter egg hunt for Dani's little cousin. They don't do Easter egg hunts here so it was a fun production and there was lots of cultural exchange happening (Peace Corps would be proud). After the Hunt we started to set up the grill, which was brand new and unused. Then we put together some Shish-Kebabs, cut some pork fillets, open packages of kufte (meatball-ish things) and kebapche (sausage-ish things) to grill as soon as the fire was ready. When we finally ate there was enough food for about 20 people, but there were only 10 of us. No matter how much we ate I kept hearing "oh the shish-kebabs are done, time to eat." Finally I just had to be a rude and say "there is no way any more food could possibly fit into my body. I will not eat for days after this. I have had my meat quota for about two years." Well maybe I didn't quite say all that, but I did have to stop eating, which was rude. So after all the food was cooked and some of it was eaten we realized it was 11.30 and we were going to be late for church. Oh, 11.30 pm.
So the biggest, and to me coolest, tradition they have here for Easter is walking around the church. Perhaps this sounds boring, but when there are over 500 people with candles circling in a small church courtyard three times led by three singing priests with a big cross and big candles, it's pretty cool. So besides some wax on my jacket it was awesome. After three go-rounds we all met outside, because of course we had all been separated, and started the "egg breaking" tradition. Now, no one had sufficiently explained the "egg breaking" tradition to me. I asked several times and got a general "We try to break each others eggs" response each time. So when I hear that to me that says "Break some eggs." So I was out to break some eggs. Little did I know the object wasn't to break eggs, but to gently tap the other persons egg and see if one broke. So as I smash the egg of Dani's uncle and see the look on his face I realize I had done something wrong. You can't win 'em all...
It was a great Easter, probably the best of my adult life.
I ended up spending Easter in my town with a friend and her family. She told us all week that we were going to make traditional Easter bread, Kozonak, and dye eggs at some point before Sunday. But on Friday we weren't supposed to do any work all day because it was Good Friday, so we couldn't dye eggs or make bread then because that was work. So we saved all the fun for Saturday. All week long teachers at my school had been buying crates of eggs from the teachers with hens. They take egg dying seriously here. It's not just a dozen or so... it's about three to five dozen or more. Crazy! The coloring they use is also much more vibrant and works really well with the brown eggs. Saturday we all ended up at Dani's for the festivities. We started out by dying eggs. Sehee and I had received Easter Baskets from a friend in the states so we brought our ready-made American dye kits, which were quite unusual and well talked over. We had a glitter-egg kit which went over fantastically well. The table was spread with bowls of deep Bulgarian dyes, pastel American dyes, and glitter, oh and about 4 dozen eggs. Then they broke out the netting, onion peels, and leaves. Yes, in Bulgaria they wrap eggs in onion peels, flowers, leaves, and nets then stick them in panty hose and boil them. It's crazy! They make really pretty nature-looking
designs. I was impressed. Of course, being Bulgarian and always prepared for guests to have all the fun, they had already boiled all the eggs for us so Dani, Dan, Ljudmil, Sehee, and I got to have all the fun of dying with none of the work :) No complaints. After we had dyed all the eggs Dani baffled me again, she poured oil in the dyes and started re-dying. It was crazy! In my family I guess we just stuck to the plain, old boring dye jobs but here they go all out. Dani showed us how to swirl the egg as we put it in the oiled dye and make tie-dye type patterns.So when the eggs were finished all the non-Bulgos were wondering if it was time to eat (I guess that's just what we do in America and being 4 pm at that point my stomach was grumbling). But no, no more fun to come. Food takes last place. So we finished and decided we would inaugurate the first-annual Easter egg hunt for Dani's little cousin. They don't do Easter egg hunts here so it was a fun production and there was lots of cultural exchange happening (Peace Corps would be proud). After the Hunt we started to set up the grill, which was brand new and unused. Then we put together some Shish-Kebabs, cut some pork fillets, open packages of kufte (meatball-ish things) and kebapche (sausage-ish things) to grill as soon as the fire was ready. When we finally ate there was enough food for about 20 people, but there were only 10 of us. No matter how much we ate I kept hearing "oh the shish-kebabs are done, time to eat." Finally I just had to be a rude and say "there is no way any more food could possibly fit into my body. I will not eat for days after this. I have had my meat quota for about two years." Well maybe I didn't quite say all that, but I did have to stop eating, which was rude. So after all the food was cooked and some of it was eaten we realized it was 11.30 and we were going to be late for church. Oh, 11.30 pm.
So the biggest, and to me coolest, tradition they have here for Easter is walking around the church. Perhaps this sounds boring, but when there are over 500 people with candles circling in a small church courtyard three times led by three singing priests with a big cross and big candles, it's pretty cool. So besides some wax on my jacket it was awesome. After three go-rounds we all met outside, because of course we had all been separated, and started the "egg breaking" tradition. Now, no one had sufficiently explained the "egg breaking" tradition to me. I asked several times and got a general "We try to break each others eggs" response each time. So when I hear that to me that says "Break some eggs." So I was out to break some eggs. Little did I know the object wasn't to break eggs, but to gently tap the other persons egg and see if one broke. So as I smash the egg of Dani's uncle and see the look on his face I realize I had done something wrong. You can't win 'em all...It was a great Easter, probably the best of my adult life.
Saturday, April 19, 2008
One whole year...
I've been in Bulgaria for one whole year.The past month has been crazy. I've been all over the place. We had a break at the end of March until the beginning of April, so me and a couple of friends decided to go to Greece. Actually I just hopped onto their plans. We went to Athens for 4 days and Thessaloníki for 4 days. Athens was perfect! Everywhere we went there were ancient ruins. It was warm and sunny and everything was green, which I wasn't expecting. I hear that it all turns brown in the summer cause it gets too hot. Spring time is the way to go. This is a picture of us in front of the Parthenon. They're doing some reconstruction so it's complete with cranes.
So while we were in Athens I got my hair cut by some guy that looked German but wasn't. He was one of those crazy 'Edward Scissor-Hands' types. There was hair flying everywhere and just
when you thought he was done - BAM! - there goes some more. After all the hair was off and cleaned up he gave me a chic frizzy style and even though I don't much enjoy frizzy or chic hair I must say it didn't look too bad. I'm quite pleased with my new cut so here's a picture, even though you can't really see it well.Along with the picture comes another story... the train or should I say the second train. We traveled by train the whole time so that we could walk around and such. Well the train ride from Athens to Thessaloníki was less than pleasing. First we're on the platform and we notice we're surrounded by high schoolers and while I like high schoolers, generally, I was on vacation and didn't want to see a single person of high school age. So finally the train gets there and we pile on and claim our seats. Then, just as I had hoisted my huge and heavy backpack up onto the luggage thing, all the high schoolers come piling on too... loud, obnoxious, and sitting all around us. I couldn't even talk to Amy and Sehee right across the aisle becauase #1 I couldn't see them through the wall of teenagers and #2 I couldn't hear anything but the roar of excited kids. So finally when it looked like they had all piled in and surrounded us a teacher comes up to us and says something in Greek... I don't speak Greek. Then she says (it was wonderful that pretty much everyone spoke English) "This car is for the children. You'll have to find somewhere else to sit. Sorry if they didn't tell you." At this point we saw other angry people standing in the corridor in the back and understood we weren't the only ousted, angry people. Then we spent 30 mins trying to get out of our seats because all the excited, hormone driven teenagers were standing in the aisle, the whole aisle, every single space. It was a wee bit frustrating as most of them were looking at us with this "Why are you in my space?" glare and yet none of them would budge to let us get out of their space. Believe me we both wanted the same thing. So when we finally got out of that noisy train car and realized that there were people everywhere and seats no where...
We set our stuff down in a hallway and I went to scout out the options while the girls stood guard. I found a perfect location: an empty playroom with some big soft blocks and a padded floor. So after I hit everyone with my bag while moving down the aisles, we relocated for a second time to the padded playroom. Everything was wonderful for about an hour. Just as I was falling asleep a train attendant came in and started talking in Greek. He quickly realized our ineptitude with this language and switched to English; we had to move. So after I tried to reason with the train attendant to no avail - there are no children, we paid for a ticket, we are as close a thing to children on this train besides the high school students who kicked us out of our seats- we moved to local 3: The hall right outside the playroom with a few other Greek people. About 10 mins later the same guy came by and told us to move, even though he didn't say anything to the playroom's new residents. So we went to local 4: the entryway. We left our stuff in the playroom because, after all, he couldn't yell at our baggage. Then 15 mins later he came back and told us to move again... not happy. At this point I went to check on my bags and noticed 4 Greeks sitting peacefully in the quiet and padded playroom as I was being moved to sit... where this time??? in front of the toilet. Yes, my 5th location was in front of the toilet. I guess he felt he had sufficeintly humiliated us and put us in our place because he left us alone after that. Sehee was keeping watch though and when he got off the train we all went back to the playroom for our final 2 or 3 hours of the train ride. Amy met a really nice Greek guy who accompanied us to the playroom and gave us a Greek history lesson for the rest of the ride. Now most of the Greek people we met were amazing (friendly, nice, helpful) not like Mr. Mean Train Attendant.
It rained everyday in Thessaloníki so we didn't do much sightseeing. But we did enjoy what we
did do... and what was that you may ask? Eat, drink coffee, and dance. This is me with my BBQ cheddar burger... AMAZING! Sorry it's kinda covered up by the French's mustard (another treat). I also had a free refill coke light! This might sound crazy to you (I'm sure it does), but it was a wonderful treat for me and Amy. We also had fresh seafood and walked along the waterfront. If it hadn't been raining it would have been beautiful. We saw the White Tower, which used to be called the Bloody Tower but that scared away the tourists so they changed the name. We did lots of shopping as well. I have shoes that fit me and lots of sandals for summer! I also got that purple scarf/head wrap that I'm wearing in the picture. So overall the Greece trip was good. Great company, great scenery, great history.I think I've written enough to make up for my silence the past month. :)
Monday, March 17, 2008
March: The Trickster Month
March is very tricky. It starts out nice then turns nasty. It seems like it'll be a short month, with a long holiday at the end, but turns out to be the true Longest Month and the holiday disappears. I can't believe it's only half over! I'd swear it's already April and my calendar lies, but unfortunately it doesn't. March looms on.
I believe it's Easter this weekend in the States. Happy Easter! They celebrate the Eastern Orthodox Easter here. It isn't until the end of April so you still have plenty of time to get those Easter packages off and here on time :) The eggs here are brown so we can't dye them and they don't have that fake plastic grass. There are some neat traditions here, that don't involve fake plastic grass or peeps, and I'm excited to learn about them.
This past weekend I went to two birthday parties, one for one of my Bulgarian students and the other for two of my PCV friends. It's funny to compare parties in each culture. At the Bulgarian party I went to Petia's , the birthday girl, apartment. Her parents had left for the evening and there were about 12 people there. The tables were spread with food. We sat there talking with the TV going and music playing for about four or five hours (or until the room filled with so much smoke that my eyes turned red and I started crying). Then afterwards they went to the disco; I went home. At the 'American' party, for lack of a better label, we went out to eat and stuffed ourselves with Indian food. Then we wanted to go sing karaoke, but it turns out there's only one place in Sofia to do that. We ended up at an Irish place to celebrate St. Patrick's Day early and played "pick out the ex-pat". This game is becoming more and more easy the longer I'm here. We would look at the other tables and guess if the people at them were Bulgarian or not. Very politically correct. Then we went back to the hostel and talked for a little while. Actually they weren't really too different. One was just closer to home and much smokier.
I believe it's Easter this weekend in the States. Happy Easter! They celebrate the Eastern Orthodox Easter here. It isn't until the end of April so you still have plenty of time to get those Easter packages off and here on time :) The eggs here are brown so we can't dye them and they don't have that fake plastic grass. There are some neat traditions here, that don't involve fake plastic grass or peeps, and I'm excited to learn about them.
This past weekend I went to two birthday parties, one for one of my Bulgarian students and the other for two of my PCV friends. It's funny to compare parties in each culture. At the Bulgarian party I went to Petia's , the birthday girl, apartment. Her parents had left for the evening and there were about 12 people there. The tables were spread with food. We sat there talking with the TV going and music playing for about four or five hours (or until the room filled with so much smoke that my eyes turned red and I started crying). Then afterwards they went to the disco; I went home. At the 'American' party, for lack of a better label, we went out to eat and stuffed ourselves with Indian food. Then we wanted to go sing karaoke, but it turns out there's only one place in Sofia to do that. We ended up at an Irish place to celebrate St. Patrick's Day early and played "pick out the ex-pat". This game is becoming more and more easy the longer I'm here. We would look at the other tables and guess if the people at them were Bulgarian or not. Very politically correct. Then we went back to the hostel and talked for a little while. Actually they weren't really too different. One was just closer to home and much smokier.
Thursday, March 6, 2008
Almost
For three weeks the weather was... perfect! Sun shining to wake me up every morning. Temperatures in the sixties, or seventies even. For three weeks my clothes dried in hours instead of days. I woke up at 7:30 naturally. The temptation to go for a daily walk couldn't be resisted. My students were happier and less restless in class. And then yesterday the clouds came again. And today the temperature dropped rapid and steady until it settled around freezing.
Oh March! why did you bring the cold? They say it won't last that long and that it's not going to get much colder than this. I hope so! I was ready for spring.
To be fair, it's only March and the weather shouldn't be all that warm yet. It was only by freak chance that we had the 3 weeks of premature spring and I did enjoy them throughly. So I am grateful for the break from the cold and the preview of coming attractions that the end of February and beginning of March gave us.
Oh March! why did you bring the cold? They say it won't last that long and that it's not going to get much colder than this. I hope so! I was ready for spring.
To be fair, it's only March and the weather shouldn't be all that warm yet. It was only by freak chance that we had the 3 weeks of premature spring and I did enjoy them throughly. So I am grateful for the break from the cold and the preview of coming attractions that the end of February and beginning of March gave us.
Thursday, February 21, 2008
Break it down
Today, as frequently happens, one of my co-workers brought lunch to school for whoever cared to join. I think this is one of my favorite things about my school and the teachers that I work with. Let me set the scene:
Simova brought in lutenitsa*, pork fat**, fried pork fat, pickled veggies, bread, and cheese. After she was done with classes she pulled out the white "it's time for lunch" table cloth and put it over the gold fringed red velvet "smoker's room" one. Plates of deep red homemade lutenitsa, bite-sized pickled cauliflower, carrots, peppers, and tomatoes, creamy white hunks of cheese, and salted (cheese-looking) pork fat decorated the table. (the first, and only time I ate the pig fat was when I mistook it for cheese... quite surprising!) She told me excitedly earlier that day that we'd drink Rakia*** after classes were over. I was looking forward to the hours of conversation about nothing important that, as always, ended in people getting excited and yelling at someone two feet away from them about how much eggs cost this week. I wasn't disappointed. It was fantastic.
Sometimes I forget how lucky I am to have such a warm and open school. They accept me with open arms, look the other way when I do something culturally insensitive, and always include me in everything that is going on.
Emel sat on the other side of the table and translated anything she felt was important, a joke or new word. Simova and Galya flanked me and we made side comments when conversations rose to a roar. I haven't seen Costa in weeks and he looked so happy, with his cigarette in one hand and his hand other tucked under his arm. Venci got new glasses which were discussed extensively. And Sashka acted out her story of the week, then just acted silly for the amusement of all. Rainie was in and out, as usual, working on something- who knows what. Vacileva asked me if I could cook with pumpkin...
"Yes! of course. I love it."
"Well, I'll give you another then. What do you make with them?"
"Pie, bread, soup, curry..."
I don't think this had ever been heard. There was a definite gasp around the room. Then discussion of whether these things could be made with pumpkin or not and more importantly, would it taste good?
My classes ended a little before one and now, here it is almost four. Half the time I just sit back and think of how much I enjoy these, almost weekly, occurrences. Then someone will ask me, "What are you thinking? Why are you quiet?"
*lutenitsa is a tomato and bell pepper spread that is put on just about anything... think of it as the most amazing tomato sauce you've ever tasted.
**pork fat is eaten here like a meat. it's almost a delicacy... although I don't partake.
*** Rakia is the national drink of Bulgaria. It's made from fermented fruit that they can't eat during the summer. Today they asked me what kind of fruit we have in the US. I said in my state really only peaches and apples. Then they wanted to know what we did with all the left overs, since we don't have Rakia. I tried to explain that we have huge farms where these fruits are grown and then sent to different places to sell them. "Yes, but the trees in your yard. What do you do with all the extra fruit from them?" I wish I had fruit trees in my yard.
The differences just don't translate most of the time.
Simova brought in lutenitsa*, pork fat**, fried pork fat, pickled veggies, bread, and cheese. After she was done with classes she pulled out the white "it's time for lunch" table cloth and put it over the gold fringed red velvet "smoker's room" one. Plates of deep red homemade lutenitsa, bite-sized pickled cauliflower, carrots, peppers, and tomatoes, creamy white hunks of cheese, and salted (cheese-looking) pork fat decorated the table. (the first, and only time I ate the pig fat was when I mistook it for cheese... quite surprising!) She told me excitedly earlier that day that we'd drink Rakia*** after classes were over. I was looking forward to the hours of conversation about nothing important that, as always, ended in people getting excited and yelling at someone two feet away from them about how much eggs cost this week. I wasn't disappointed. It was fantastic.
Sometimes I forget how lucky I am to have such a warm and open school. They accept me with open arms, look the other way when I do something culturally insensitive, and always include me in everything that is going on.
Emel sat on the other side of the table and translated anything she felt was important, a joke or new word. Simova and Galya flanked me and we made side comments when conversations rose to a roar. I haven't seen Costa in weeks and he looked so happy, with his cigarette in one hand and his hand other tucked under his arm. Venci got new glasses which were discussed extensively. And Sashka acted out her story of the week, then just acted silly for the amusement of all. Rainie was in and out, as usual, working on something- who knows what. Vacileva asked me if I could cook with pumpkin...
"Yes! of course. I love it."
"Well, I'll give you another then. What do you make with them?"
"Pie, bread, soup, curry..."
I don't think this had ever been heard. There was a definite gasp around the room. Then discussion of whether these things could be made with pumpkin or not and more importantly, would it taste good?
My classes ended a little before one and now, here it is almost four. Half the time I just sit back and think of how much I enjoy these, almost weekly, occurrences. Then someone will ask me, "What are you thinking? Why are you quiet?"
*lutenitsa is a tomato and bell pepper spread that is put on just about anything... think of it as the most amazing tomato sauce you've ever tasted.
**pork fat is eaten here like a meat. it's almost a delicacy... although I don't partake.
*** Rakia is the national drink of Bulgaria. It's made from fermented fruit that they can't eat during the summer. Today they asked me what kind of fruit we have in the US. I said in my state really only peaches and apples. Then they wanted to know what we did with all the left overs, since we don't have Rakia. I tried to explain that we have huge farms where these fruits are grown and then sent to different places to sell them. "Yes, but the trees in your yard. What do you do with all the extra fruit from them?" I wish I had fruit trees in my yard.
The differences just don't translate most of the time.
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Listen
I love it when I can hear my food. The crackle of my egg-n-cheese sandwich hot from the pan. The gulp of my oatmeal as I stir in water. The sigh of my tea as the water starts to heat. I think that's why I liked Rice Crispys as a kid. They just sounded right; it made up for the lack of sparkling flavor.
Today after fixing my lunch I found myself warming my hands by the burner and laughed. It's now warmer outside than it is in my building. My apartment is about even with the outside temperature... lucky me. And I have to think February, you're not so bad.
The sun is out. It's around 50 degrees, at least for the rest of the week. I just got back from a one week conference to have all my students skip classes two days in a row. (You might think this is bad, but I look at it as a three day week and two days of lesson planning already done.) I'm not sick. I have a birthday celebration to go to this weekend in a even more beautiful city. Oh and I got to take a bath last week. I also swam in a pool, sat in a hot tub, and sweat in a sauna. It's amazing how big the little things in life are.
Today after fixing my lunch I found myself warming my hands by the burner and laughed. It's now warmer outside than it is in my building. My apartment is about even with the outside temperature... lucky me. And I have to think February, you're not so bad.
The sun is out. It's around 50 degrees, at least for the rest of the week. I just got back from a one week conference to have all my students skip classes two days in a row. (You might think this is bad, but I look at it as a three day week and two days of lesson planning already done.) I'm not sick. I have a birthday celebration to go to this weekend in a even more beautiful city. Oh and I got to take a bath last week. I also swam in a pool, sat in a hot tub, and sweat in a sauna. It's amazing how big the little things in life are.
Monday, January 28, 2008
Winter Doldrums
I think I've hit the winter doldrums. Life is coasting along slowly... oh so slowly.
I'm sick, nothing major, just the flu.
The semester is wrapping up this week.
And those are about the only two things going on. It's not even very cold anymore. The snow is starting to melt. I still have to walk by piles of it on the sidewalks, but the paths and roads are dry. We've actually had several days in a row where it was above freezing. The sun has been shining and it's actually pleasant outside!
What is it about winter though?
Have you ever heard of 'summer doldrums'? Well I've never had 'summer doldrums' and I don't know anyone that has. But if I say 'Winter Doldrums' everyone understands. Time has seemingly stopped, in my head at least. Today I had a reminder that time is indeed marching on, towards spring(!!). I looked at the sky and thought I'd be rather early for my coffee date at 5:30. After all it was light outside and the sun was still in the sky. Then I took out my cell phone to check the time and I was already late. The days are getting longer, and noticeably so! Time is passing, so why doesn't it feel like it is?
Others before me warned me of this. From a compilation of evidence and statements I can deduce that the insipid feeling I'm having will last for about one month. (read: all the PCVs said February was the longest month filled with boredom, so I should get out the knitting now.) Luckily during February we're going to have a conference in a town known for mineral baths and ancient Roman ruins. This should make part of the month go faster... I hope. Plus there are only 28 days in this long month (which is actually the shortest month of the year). So logically this won't be the longest month at all, it will be the shortest month and it will bring with it spring in the month that follows. Really I think I've talked myself out of the winter doldrums at all. It's pointless to feel like you're having the longest month of the year during the shortest month of the year.
I'm sick, nothing major, just the flu.
The semester is wrapping up this week.
And those are about the only two things going on. It's not even very cold anymore. The snow is starting to melt. I still have to walk by piles of it on the sidewalks, but the paths and roads are dry. We've actually had several days in a row where it was above freezing. The sun has been shining and it's actually pleasant outside!
What is it about winter though?
Have you ever heard of 'summer doldrums'? Well I've never had 'summer doldrums' and I don't know anyone that has. But if I say 'Winter Doldrums' everyone understands. Time has seemingly stopped, in my head at least. Today I had a reminder that time is indeed marching on, towards spring(!!). I looked at the sky and thought I'd be rather early for my coffee date at 5:30. After all it was light outside and the sun was still in the sky. Then I took out my cell phone to check the time and I was already late. The days are getting longer, and noticeably so! Time is passing, so why doesn't it feel like it is?
Others before me warned me of this. From a compilation of evidence and statements I can deduce that the insipid feeling I'm having will last for about one month. (read: all the PCVs said February was the longest month filled with boredom, so I should get out the knitting now.) Luckily during February we're going to have a conference in a town known for mineral baths and ancient Roman ruins. This should make part of the month go faster... I hope. Plus there are only 28 days in this long month (which is actually the shortest month of the year). So logically this won't be the longest month at all, it will be the shortest month and it will bring with it spring in the month that follows. Really I think I've talked myself out of the winter doldrums at all. It's pointless to feel like you're having the longest month of the year during the shortest month of the year.
Tuesday, January 8, 2008
Conversions
Here are a few conversions I've been doing:
1) -27 degrees Celsius = -17 degrees Fahrenheit
That's the low for the day I came back to Bulgaria. Incidentally -13 C ( or 9 F) was the high.
2) 70 centimeters = 2.3 feet
That's the amount of snow that was on the ground when I got off the bus in my town. About 30 cm more fell within the next couple days to round it out to a full meter or 3.28 feet.
3) 31 points out of 100 = a C
On one of my English tests the average was a 36... so I had to try and pass more than the three kids who scored over 60 points. I ended up making a shifted bell curve where only half the class failed instead of 90%.
4) 2 radiators + 2 huge electric heaters = 55 to 60 degrees Fahrenheit
In my apartment... that's 4 heating devices and I can't even keep it above 60.
5) 6 days = 1 website
At least I hope it does! That's how much time my school has to come up with a website.
and my final calculation:
6) 1 cat = scars on hands, 10 degrees of extra warmth, waking up at 6 am to meows, and hours of entertainment.
I hope everyone had a great Christmas, a wonderful New Years, and a good start back to school, work, or just to the new year!
1) -27 degrees Celsius = -17 degrees Fahrenheit
That's the low for the day I came back to Bulgaria. Incidentally -13 C ( or 9 F) was the high.
2) 70 centimeters = 2.3 feet
That's the amount of snow that was on the ground when I got off the bus in my town. About 30 cm more fell within the next couple days to round it out to a full meter or 3.28 feet.
3) 31 points out of 100 = a C
On one of my English tests the average was a 36... so I had to try and pass more than the three kids who scored over 60 points. I ended up making a shifted bell curve where only half the class failed instead of 90%.
4) 2 radiators + 2 huge electric heaters = 55 to 60 degrees Fahrenheit
In my apartment... that's 4 heating devices and I can't even keep it above 60.
5) 6 days = 1 website
At least I hope it does! That's how much time my school has to come up with a website.
and my final calculation:
6) 1 cat = scars on hands, 10 degrees of extra warmth, waking up at 6 am to meows, and hours of entertainment.
I hope everyone had a great Christmas, a wonderful New Years, and a good start back to school, work, or just to the new year!
Sunday, December 2, 2007
A Few of My Favorite Things
Remember those teachers you had in high school and middle school (and maybe even elementary school) who shaped you as a person. The ones whose names you can still remember and sometimes you feel yourself transported back to their classroom when someone says "What was that conversion factor?" or "How do you spell that word?" Perhaps I'm stretching the nostalgia a bit too far, but there are teachers that helped you become who you are today. Maybe they nudged you into working a little bit harder so that they could show you just how good you could be. Maybe they encouraged the pants off of you and acted like you were a super-star in the classroom, even though you felt like a loser outside of it. Maybe they just did their job and it was really your desire, passion, and skill that made them so influential. You still remember them though.
Then there were the teachers who made you feel quite insufficient. You just couldn't do good enough. You talked to much, or too little. Maybe they never noticed you, or only noticed you to hand out a punishment or critique. Maybe instead of encouraging you to work harder they told you that "You'd never get any better, so why try?" Maybe they didn't do anything particular and you just sucked at that subject, and they knew it and you knew it. Maybe they were just a bad teacher who couldn't explain anything sufficiently. Their names are forgotten, but their tactics remain.
There are all kinds in every school, all kinds in every child's education. For me the first group, the great teachers, were mostly made up of my Math and Science teachers. After 7th grade I think I could tell you all my Math teachers' names and many of my Science teachers', but I won't bore you with that. Not all of them were extraordinary, but many were. Most of my favorites were non-traditionalists. Mrs. Williams (the only English teacher in the bunch) let us have paper ball fights if we were good; she'd even join in. Mr. Paar would use fishing analogies to teach Algebra. Miss Genie would get so excited about Math she would start jumping up and down, one time she even climbed on top of a desk. Now that I think about it they were all pretty nuts. At the time, sitting in their classrooms, we (the students) would just look around at each other and say "Wow! They're soooo weird." But we loved it. They were passionate about their jobs and they were passionate about helping us learn. We'd have never admitted it back then, but those were our favorite classes. Those are the teachers I want to emulate, not just their crazy behavior but their zeal.
The second group of teachers included most of my English teachers, thus the incessant use of spell check and dictionary.com now-a-days. To ALL my English teachers (and it was pretty much all of them) who said, "You need to work on your writing. It's not very good. Your spelling is atrocious, and there are comma splices every where. Now look at Katie's paper, that's what you should be writing." I am teaching your subject now! How do you feel about that? *Also I would like to take this time to note: my mom thinks I write very well, and has complimented my blog writing skills numerous times. I assure you she is a very unbiased source.* Now I know most of you are thinking (or should be thinking), "What in the world are you doing teaching English if your least favorite subject was English and you still use spell check without default?" And also the question begs to be asked, "Why did you get a degree in 'The English of Tech' when you were at an engineering school in the first place, obviously suck at English, and enjoy Math?" The answer is: Through many random events and strange happenings, but really God only knows. But I loved my major, I'm glad I'm teaching, and I'm ok with the fact that my students catch my spelling mistakes. I was never very good in those English classes because I felt that all they wanted you to do was copy another man's style and pass it off as your own. And for the most part that is exactly what they wanted, and exactly what I refused to do. Thus the conflict, and my inability to get an A in English. These teachers, the ones that stifle and come down hard on you, are the ones I hope I am for no student.
Now comes the idealism, if you haven't already felt it. As a teacher now, looking back on my experiences as a student is hard. The roles are reversed. I see how challenging each day is for the Teacher. I feel the propelling desire to make the biggest difference I can in each student's life. I know the difficulty of meeting challenges with patience and quick solutions, however many it takes to find the right one. I come home in the afternoon with a headache and a hounding question, "Did I make a difference?" I hope that at some point, while I am a teacher, I can answer that question with an unequivocal "Yes." But for now, all I can tell you unequivocally is that the students make a difference in my life every day, my fellow teachers make a difference in my life every day. That for me is enough right now. That for me is everything I need to know. No matter how much I give it will never be enough to return what I have received. One day though, I'll be able to answer my question with a "Yes" and on that day I'll be jumping up and down in the streets (or maybe I'll just climb on top of a desk).
Then there were the teachers who made you feel quite insufficient. You just couldn't do good enough. You talked to much, or too little. Maybe they never noticed you, or only noticed you to hand out a punishment or critique. Maybe instead of encouraging you to work harder they told you that "You'd never get any better, so why try?" Maybe they didn't do anything particular and you just sucked at that subject, and they knew it and you knew it. Maybe they were just a bad teacher who couldn't explain anything sufficiently. Their names are forgotten, but their tactics remain.
There are all kinds in every school, all kinds in every child's education. For me the first group, the great teachers, were mostly made up of my Math and Science teachers. After 7th grade I think I could tell you all my Math teachers' names and many of my Science teachers', but I won't bore you with that. Not all of them were extraordinary, but many were. Most of my favorites were non-traditionalists. Mrs. Williams (the only English teacher in the bunch) let us have paper ball fights if we were good; she'd even join in. Mr. Paar would use fishing analogies to teach Algebra. Miss Genie would get so excited about Math she would start jumping up and down, one time she even climbed on top of a desk. Now that I think about it they were all pretty nuts. At the time, sitting in their classrooms, we (the students) would just look around at each other and say "Wow! They're soooo weird." But we loved it. They were passionate about their jobs and they were passionate about helping us learn. We'd have never admitted it back then, but those were our favorite classes. Those are the teachers I want to emulate, not just their crazy behavior but their zeal.
The second group of teachers included most of my English teachers, thus the incessant use of spell check and dictionary.com now-a-days. To ALL my English teachers (and it was pretty much all of them) who said, "You need to work on your writing. It's not very good. Your spelling is atrocious, and there are comma splices every where. Now look at Katie's paper, that's what you should be writing." I am teaching your subject now! How do you feel about that? *Also I would like to take this time to note: my mom thinks I write very well, and has complimented my blog writing skills numerous times. I assure you she is a very unbiased source.* Now I know most of you are thinking (or should be thinking), "What in the world are you doing teaching English if your least favorite subject was English and you still use spell check without default?" And also the question begs to be asked, "Why did you get a degree in 'The English of Tech' when you were at an engineering school in the first place, obviously suck at English, and enjoy Math?" The answer is: Through many random events and strange happenings, but really God only knows. But I loved my major, I'm glad I'm teaching, and I'm ok with the fact that my students catch my spelling mistakes. I was never very good in those English classes because I felt that all they wanted you to do was copy another man's style and pass it off as your own. And for the most part that is exactly what they wanted, and exactly what I refused to do. Thus the conflict, and my inability to get an A in English. These teachers, the ones that stifle and come down hard on you, are the ones I hope I am for no student.
Now comes the idealism, if you haven't already felt it. As a teacher now, looking back on my experiences as a student is hard. The roles are reversed. I see how challenging each day is for the Teacher. I feel the propelling desire to make the biggest difference I can in each student's life. I know the difficulty of meeting challenges with patience and quick solutions, however many it takes to find the right one. I come home in the afternoon with a headache and a hounding question, "Did I make a difference?" I hope that at some point, while I am a teacher, I can answer that question with an unequivocal "Yes." But for now, all I can tell you unequivocally is that the students make a difference in my life every day, my fellow teachers make a difference in my life every day. That for me is enough right now. That for me is everything I need to know. No matter how much I give it will never be enough to return what I have received. One day though, I'll be able to answer my question with a "Yes" and on that day I'll be jumping up and down in the streets (or maybe I'll just climb on top of a desk).
Baby It's Cold Outside
It's cold outside. I know this because 30 seconds after stepping out the door my eyes start to water. Two minutes into my fifteen minute walk home from Dani's my throat starts to itch. Four minutes later my nose is running and my eyes now itch as well, all orifices function as water spikettes. Three minutes from my front door I start to cough, with no apparent benefit. As I walk in the door I notice my chin is numb, but that is the least of my worries. I gulp down a glass of water, wipe my eyes, blow my nose, and breath in the clean air of my apartment. Winter is here. They did warn me.
Most families use a wood (among other things) burning stove to heat their houses in Bulgaria. At first I thought this was "nice" and "cute," to have a fire burning to heat you. Now I know otherwise. Every night, and sometimes day, the air fills with smoke from these household warming devices. Everything is burned in them: plastic shopping bags, diapers, food scraps, papers, wood, books (ok, so no one is really burning books...), any other trash that might need to be disposed of. It really cuts down on the garbage. My predecessors did tell me, "Just wait for winter, when the fires start burning. The air will barely be breathable." Did I believe them? Maybe. But how was I to know just what they meant by this; I had never experienced a Balkan winter. Now I know. The Bulgarians feel it too. As much as we all love the warmth we hate the smoke. But there is a trade off for all things and this one is just more visible and immediate than most.
Coming to Bulgaria there were many trade offs. Some I haven't yet experienced, some I'll be experiencing my whole time here. I left my family. I have a large family, most of whom read this on a semi-regular basis (thanks!). At least one grandmother, two parents, two brothers, one sister, two nephews, two nieces, four aunts, four uncles, nine cousins, and assorted other relatives I don't see on a yearly basis were at home celebrating Thanksgiving the other week. I missed that. But I did get my trade off: a Bulgarian-American Thanksgiving Extravaganza! Two Bulgarian Teachers, six American Fulbrights, two Bulgarian Boyfriends, seven American Peace Corps Volunteers, two turkeys, four kilos of mashed potatoes, two kilos of glazed carrots, two kinds of stuffing, numerous amounts of other food, and a guitar all fit into the confines of Roz's two-bedroom Vratza apartment. It was wonderful! There is no day designated for giving thanks in Bulgaria, but the concept is not foreign here. We cooked and talked, ate and drank, and then we sang. We sang, or rather, I should say one of the Fulbrights studying traditional Bulgarian music sang a few traditional Bulgarian songs for us. Roz sang a couple songs in Hebrew from Isreal for us. Then we all joined in for traditional American folk songs and Christmas carols. It's funny just how few people actually know the words to the carols. After hearing the same songs for years and years you'd think we'd be better. Second verses were the most challenging and "Do songs even have third verses?" was the response after a few mind boggling rounds of the same verse of Silent Night and Joy to the World. But we all stumbled through together and had more fun for it.
I guess this is the easiest trade off to tell you about, especially since it's so recent and confined to one day. But there are so many others that may be more complex, but are all the more beautiful. Too bad words don't go far enough.
Most families use a wood (among other things) burning stove to heat their houses in Bulgaria. At first I thought this was "nice" and "cute," to have a fire burning to heat you. Now I know otherwise. Every night, and sometimes day, the air fills with smoke from these household warming devices. Everything is burned in them: plastic shopping bags, diapers, food scraps, papers, wood, books (ok, so no one is really burning books...), any other trash that might need to be disposed of. It really cuts down on the garbage. My predecessors did tell me, "Just wait for winter, when the fires start burning. The air will barely be breathable." Did I believe them? Maybe. But how was I to know just what they meant by this; I had never experienced a Balkan winter. Now I know. The Bulgarians feel it too. As much as we all love the warmth we hate the smoke. But there is a trade off for all things and this one is just more visible and immediate than most.
Coming to Bulgaria there were many trade offs. Some I haven't yet experienced, some I'll be experiencing my whole time here. I left my family. I have a large family, most of whom read this on a semi-regular basis (thanks!). At least one grandmother, two parents, two brothers, one sister, two nephews, two nieces, four aunts, four uncles, nine cousins, and assorted other relatives I don't see on a yearly basis were at home celebrating Thanksgiving the other week. I missed that. But I did get my trade off: a Bulgarian-American Thanksgiving Extravaganza! Two Bulgarian Teachers, six American Fulbrights, two Bulgarian Boyfriends, seven American Peace Corps Volunteers, two turkeys, four kilos of mashed potatoes, two kilos of glazed carrots, two kinds of stuffing, numerous amounts of other food, and a guitar all fit into the confines of Roz's two-bedroom Vratza apartment. It was wonderful! There is no day designated for giving thanks in Bulgaria, but the concept is not foreign here. We cooked and talked, ate and drank, and then we sang. We sang, or rather, I should say one of the Fulbrights studying traditional Bulgarian music sang a few traditional Bulgarian songs for us. Roz sang a couple songs in Hebrew from Isreal for us. Then we all joined in for traditional American folk songs and Christmas carols. It's funny just how few people actually know the words to the carols. After hearing the same songs for years and years you'd think we'd be better. Second verses were the most challenging and "Do songs even have third verses?" was the response after a few mind boggling rounds of the same verse of Silent Night and Joy to the World. But we all stumbled through together and had more fun for it.
I guess this is the easiest trade off to tell you about, especially since it's so recent and confined to one day. But there are so many others that may be more complex, but are all the more beautiful. Too bad words don't go far enough.
Sunday, November 18, 2007
The Table
Thanksgiving is fast approaching, of course I'll have to celebrate it on a different day because we don't get the holiday off, but thanks will be given only a couple days later than traditional. I'm actually quite impressed at what we are able to rustle up for Thanksgiving dinner here. I think many packages were sent with fillings for pies and makings for casseroles, and because of this the all important Stove Top stuffing will make its appearance and be scarfed down, I'm sure. Thanksgiving is a really fabulous holiday though. Usually, as a family, we sit around the table and say what we are thankful for that year. It's pretty much like a movie... almost nauseatingly so. I think, since this is my first blogging Thanksgiving, I will give my thanks online this year at the chimerical internet table. We can all sit 'around' our computer screens and give thanks at our cyber table.
I'll go ahead and start. I am thankful for:
my family and the fact that I get to see them in about a month!
7 continents and new experiences on each one.
cabbage. There is so much you can do with it... and I'm finding out just how much.
my kitty Mila (sweetheart in Bulgarian), who is also finding out just how useful cabbage can be. (That is Mila sniffing the 3.5 kilo-> cabbage I bought at the market. The cabbage weighs about three times as much as she does.)
wonderful colleagues who make me banitsa and also make me laugh.
the internet.
copy machines.
nice sheets.
and last but not least... Peanut Butter.
So thank you for joining me at the table. Please share what you are thankful for too, if you feel so inclined. I hope everyone has a wonderful Thanksgiving! Enjoy the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade, Dog Show, and Georgia-Georgia Tech football game for me. GO TECH!
I'll go ahead and start. I am thankful for:
20 cm of snow that I saw falling and made a snowcaptain, snow angels, and much more snow mischief in last weekend.
the amazing, loving friends that I have: in Bulgaria, in the States, in Mexico, and all over the world.
the amazing, loving friends that I have: in Bulgaria, in the States, in Mexico, and all over the world.my family and the fact that I get to see them in about a month!
7 continents and new experiences on each one.
cabbage. There is so much you can do with it... and I'm finding out just how much.
my kitty Mila (sweetheart in Bulgarian), who is also finding out just how useful cabbage can be. (That is Mila sniffing the 3.5 kilo-> cabbage I bought at the market. The cabbage weighs about three times as much as she does.)
wonderful colleagues who make me banitsa and also make me laugh.
the internet.
copy machines.
nice sheets.
and last but not least... Peanut Butter.
So thank you for joining me at the table. Please share what you are thankful for too, if you feel so inclined. I hope everyone has a wonderful Thanksgiving! Enjoy the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade, Dog Show, and Georgia-Georgia Tech football game for me. GO TECH!
Friday, November 9, 2007
Getting to know you.
Here is a link to an article in a Bulgarian magazine for ex-pats (people that have moved from different countries and now live here) it's in English, of course. The article is about Peace Corps Bulgaria and it might help make what I'm doing here a little more understandable.
Check it out:
http://www.vagabond-bg.com/index.php?page=live&sub=19&open_news=659
Also, if you'd like to help feed the hungry and practice vocab go here:
http://www.freerice.com/index.php
It's very useful if you like to sound smart or are studying for the GRE, SAT, and other standardized tests or if you have lots of free time and find suduko can only be entertaining for a short time.
Check it out:
http://www.vagabond-bg.com/index.php?page=live&sub=19&open_news=659
Also, if you'd like to help feed the hungry and practice vocab go here:
http://www.freerice.com/index.php
It's very useful if you like to sound smart or are studying for the GRE, SAT, and other standardized tests or if you have lots of free time and find suduko can only be entertaining for a short time.
Thursday, November 1, 2007
Teaching Again, but not The End
My school is teaching again! Yay! I now have something to occupy most of my days and a purpose for being in Bulgaria! But the strike is not over, unfortunately. I'm not sure when it will be, if ever. They keep getting so close to deals and then the day they are supposed to sign the teachers always back out. I really want them to reach a conclusion soon, but I don't know how realistic that is.
We started teaching just in time for Halloween which was brilliant, and I'm sure that they planned it that way just for me (since they don't celebrate Halloween here). So my first week back to school (which is this week) I get to tell ghost stories and talk about little kids in costumes. Very easy lesson planning! So for homework I asked them all to write a ghost story based on parameters we set up in class. My large, smart, and unruly class chose to set their ghost story in a castle in New Jersey in 1861 with Frankenstein, his wife and son, as the antagonists, and our class as the 'normal' people. Then my smaller, eager, off-to-college class went a bit more traditional and set their story in a small town in the 18th century with vampires and once again I asked that our class be in the story too. The twist in the latter class was that one of their elements to a good ghost story was that good people had to die. So we'll see who they kill off from the class. Ha ha! These kids have been in the same class with the same students for 5 years. It's remarkable how well they know each other. In some schools kids will be in the same class, with the same class teacher and the same classmates, for all 12 years of schooling. I can't even imagine.
We started teaching just in time for Halloween which was brilliant, and I'm sure that they planned it that way just for me (since they don't celebrate Halloween here). So my first week back to school (which is this week) I get to tell ghost stories and talk about little kids in costumes. Very easy lesson planning! So for homework I asked them all to write a ghost story based on parameters we set up in class. My large, smart, and unruly class chose to set their ghost story in a castle in New Jersey in 1861 with Frankenstein, his wife and son, as the antagonists, and our class as the 'normal' people. Then my smaller, eager, off-to-college class went a bit more traditional and set their story in a small town in the 18th century with vampires and once again I asked that our class be in the story too. The twist in the latter class was that one of their elements to a good ghost story was that good people had to die. So we'll see who they kill off from the class. Ha ha! These kids have been in the same class with the same students for 5 years. It's remarkable how well they know each other. In some schools kids will be in the same class, with the same class teacher and the same classmates, for all 12 years of schooling. I can't even imagine.
Saturday, October 20, 2007
My kitty 'n me
I just got a new kitty. She's little and docile, for the most part. The last cat went kinda crazy and attacked me while I was sleeping. So I'm still feeding him, but he's not allowed in my apartment. The new one'll keep me warm and give me company for the winter. Speaking of winter: It's freezing! Seriously. This weekend is the start of true winter. I was at a dental appointment in Sofia on Friday and when I came out of the office at around 3 pm it was 4 Celsius. It's cold!
Oh, and in case you're wondering, the strike is still on.
Oh, and in case you're wondering, the strike is still on.
Sunday, October 7, 2007
Stachka! Stachka! Strike! (not a reference to baseball)
Well. The title says it all.
I am not allowed to strike, but that is of little matter anymore. The teachers are striking in Bulgaria. Many schools aren't actively striking, or only part of the teachers in the school are, but my school is actively on strike. This is quite interesting, seeing as I'm not allowed to strike and have to continue to offer my classes despite not having any students. My school just joined the strike Sept 27th. The teachers all show up at school every morning on time and sit in the teacher's lounge or smoking room until the school's regular hours are over. So for 8 hours teachers come to the school, sit there, work on school lessons (that they aren't teaching) during the period they would normally be teaching the lesson they are now working on, do paperwork, smoke, talk, and watch soap operas. The students don't come to school at all. I've seen perhaps 3, out of 500 students, come in and out of the school since the strike began.
This is a short article about the strike and news on how it's going: http://www.novinite.com/view_news.php?id=86057
I would like to correct one of the pieces of information in the article though: I have NEVER met a teacher whose salary is over 400 leva (200 euros) per month. Therefore the average salary of teachers is probably more like 300 leva (150 euros) per month. That's, on average, $212.14 per month for a full-time teaching position. There's a part-time teacher at our school that makes about 100 leva per month, 100 leva = $72. That is the lowest salary I've heard of though.
What does all this mean for me?
Lots of free time... once again. I'm trying to be productive, but it becomes hard when all you want to do is teach. Needless to say, this is not what I thought would happen when I came to Bulgaria with the Peace Corps. Well, at least part of it is not what I expected.
Boredom, Challenge, Free Time, The Unexpected: expected.
A Strike (stachka in Bulgarian or really it's стачка), Not Teaching during the school year, Watching Cable, Teaching Literature (or being able to if i was teaching at all), Eating Fruit strait from trees on the side of the street, Being Friends with my students, Eating Fabulous Yogurt: unexpected.
But, if you follow my logic, my expectations are all inclusive in the end. Even though it wasn't what I thought I was expecting I must have been expecting it, because I was expecting the unexpected and I have just told you what that was. Right? Sure. It all makes sense now.
I am not allowed to strike, but that is of little matter anymore. The teachers are striking in Bulgaria. Many schools aren't actively striking, or only part of the teachers in the school are, but my school is actively on strike. This is quite interesting, seeing as I'm not allowed to strike and have to continue to offer my classes despite not having any students. My school just joined the strike Sept 27th. The teachers all show up at school every morning on time and sit in the teacher's lounge or smoking room until the school's regular hours are over. So for 8 hours teachers come to the school, sit there, work on school lessons (that they aren't teaching) during the period they would normally be teaching the lesson they are now working on, do paperwork, smoke, talk, and watch soap operas. The students don't come to school at all. I've seen perhaps 3, out of 500 students, come in and out of the school since the strike began.
This is a short article about the strike and news on how it's going: http://www.novinite.com/view_news.php?id=86057
I would like to correct one of the pieces of information in the article though: I have NEVER met a teacher whose salary is over 400 leva (200 euros) per month. Therefore the average salary of teachers is probably more like 300 leva (150 euros) per month. That's, on average, $212.14 per month for a full-time teaching position. There's a part-time teacher at our school that makes about 100 leva per month, 100 leva = $72. That is the lowest salary I've heard of though.
What does all this mean for me?
Lots of free time... once again. I'm trying to be productive, but it becomes hard when all you want to do is teach. Needless to say, this is not what I thought would happen when I came to Bulgaria with the Peace Corps. Well, at least part of it is not what I expected.
Boredom, Challenge, Free Time, The Unexpected: expected.
A Strike (stachka in Bulgarian or really it's стачка), Not Teaching during the school year, Watching Cable, Teaching Literature (or being able to if i was teaching at all), Eating Fruit strait from trees on the side of the street, Being Friends with my students, Eating Fabulous Yogurt: unexpected.
But, if you follow my logic, my expectations are all inclusive in the end. Even though it wasn't what I thought I was expecting I must have been expecting it, because I was expecting the unexpected and I have just told you what that was. Right? Sure. It all makes sense now.
Saturday, September 15, 2007
The Awakening
I've been saving this title for today or a special occasion. I don't think anyone should have any trouble identifying the author now.
Saturday was the first day of school. Basically it was a ceremony and a meeting, not much actual school going on. It was interesting though. Most of the teachers were there and less than half the students showed up. We gathered outside, sang (or more listened to) the national anthem, and watched as the flag was raised. Then the director gave a speech and poured water in front of the doors of the school. Why in the world would he pour water in front of the school (you should be asking yourself)? Well it's a Bulgarian tradition, of course. At the beginning of something new everyone takes a piece of bread (pitka) and dips it in honey or a seasoning mixture and eats it. Then the welcomer pours water on the ground for everyone to walk across as a symbol of "washing off the old and stepping into the new." So the director just performed the water part of this tradition and then all the students came into school as the janitress rang the bell.
Today was the actual first day of classes. I went into school at 7:15 am, not quite sure what time classes actually started. It turns out school starts at 7:30 am, but no one had a schedule until 7:45 or 8 am. Then there was a mad scramble to get to classrooms and find out which rooms classes were in. I ended up only having two classes later in the day, and both with the same grade. I think I sufficiently scared them. We had a lovely test and I passed out the class rules and test rules. Rules being passed out and stated is a novelty here. The students poured over them, even when they were supposed to be taking their test. All in all it was a good, successful day. The beginning is here.
Saturday was the first day of school. Basically it was a ceremony and a meeting, not much actual school going on. It was interesting though. Most of the teachers were there and less than half the students showed up. We gathered outside, sang (or more listened to) the national anthem, and watched as the flag was raised. Then the director gave a speech and poured water in front of the doors of the school. Why in the world would he pour water in front of the school (you should be asking yourself)? Well it's a Bulgarian tradition, of course. At the beginning of something new everyone takes a piece of bread (pitka) and dips it in honey or a seasoning mixture and eats it. Then the welcomer pours water on the ground for everyone to walk across as a symbol of "washing off the old and stepping into the new." So the director just performed the water part of this tradition and then all the students came into school as the janitress rang the bell.
Today was the actual first day of classes. I went into school at 7:15 am, not quite sure what time classes actually started. It turns out school starts at 7:30 am, but no one had a schedule until 7:45 or 8 am. Then there was a mad scramble to get to classrooms and find out which rooms classes were in. I ended up only having two classes later in the day, and both with the same grade. I think I sufficiently scared them. We had a lovely test and I passed out the class rules and test rules. Rules being passed out and stated is a novelty here. The students poured over them, even when they were supposed to be taking their test. All in all it was a good, successful day. The beginning is here.
Friday, September 14, 2007
A Respectable Woman
My summer has been lazy. At first it was maddening but then I adjusted and it was bliss. When we started having to go into school last week I didn't know what to do! I had been waking up without an alarm clock for so long I forgot how to set it. Well not really, but it's still a shock to my system when I hear it go off in the morning. Going in to school has been nice, albeit uneventful. We had a few meetings and I found most of the teacher's hang out spots, but other than that more cigarettes were smoked than work done.
My counterpart refuses to speak to me in English, which is very good for my Bulgarian, but can prove difficult when she's trying to communicate specifics of class books and schedules. For a week and a half I thought that there were no text books for the 11th and 12th grade classes I was going to teach. I asked several people and gleaned the same answer or got a "go ask (fill in the blank) about that". Then on Wednesday I was sitting in the upstairs lounge and one of the teachers started asking me about the 12th class. I responded and she switched over to English. I had no idea she even spoke English! She continued to tell me that she had taught the 11th class last year, who would now be 12th graders, and if I needed any help to just ask her. I asked about the books and she said she had lots of material and books she pulled from would I like to see them and use them. Yes!! This was a wonderful break through! I finally got books and, as it turned out, more books and some more books and an invitation to a na gosti (visit at her house). Right now, I have three textbooks she gave me, plus a couple work books, a literature overview, and I'm on my way out the door to a na gosti where she's promised to give me more books if I want them. Talk about going from 0 to 100.
Tomorrow school starts. Yes, on a Saturday. We won't have any classes, but it's the opening ceremonies. They'll give speeches (and maybe I'll have to too) and basically just welcome everyone to a new year. I still don't know my kids' names or what room I'll be teaching in, in fact I just found out today that there is an actual English classroom. I do feel much more confident that I can do this and I have help if I need it, which is good enough for me for right now.
My counterpart refuses to speak to me in English, which is very good for my Bulgarian, but can prove difficult when she's trying to communicate specifics of class books and schedules. For a week and a half I thought that there were no text books for the 11th and 12th grade classes I was going to teach. I asked several people and gleaned the same answer or got a "go ask (fill in the blank) about that". Then on Wednesday I was sitting in the upstairs lounge and one of the teachers started asking me about the 12th class. I responded and she switched over to English. I had no idea she even spoke English! She continued to tell me that she had taught the 11th class last year, who would now be 12th graders, and if I needed any help to just ask her. I asked about the books and she said she had lots of material and books she pulled from would I like to see them and use them. Yes!! This was a wonderful break through! I finally got books and, as it turned out, more books and some more books and an invitation to a na gosti (visit at her house). Right now, I have three textbooks she gave me, plus a couple work books, a literature overview, and I'm on my way out the door to a na gosti where she's promised to give me more books if I want them. Talk about going from 0 to 100.
Tomorrow school starts. Yes, on a Saturday. We won't have any classes, but it's the opening ceremonies. They'll give speeches (and maybe I'll have to too) and basically just welcome everyone to a new year. I still don't know my kids' names or what room I'll be teaching in, in fact I just found out today that there is an actual English classroom. I do feel much more confident that I can do this and I have help if I need it, which is good enough for me for right now.
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