Where Are You Going? Bolivia? Bulimia? Oh Yeah, Bulgaria!

Bulgaria, This Won’t Be the Last You See of Me

2011-09-22T02:36:00.000+03:00

If history is any indication (and they say history repeats itself), I will be back in Bulgaria before too long. I’m already devising a strategy to go back, in fact.
This post won’t be nearly as long as my last. I’m back in New York. It feels like ages have past since I was in Bulgaria. (It’s been a little over three weeks.) And not a whole lot happened this last time.
The biggest news was that Angel wasn’t there. He’s currently out of the country. It was so weird to be in Rakitovo without my counterpart. He’s almost always been there when I’ve been around – just a stone’s throw away, so it was strange to be there without him. Still, it wasn’t as strange as I was expecting.
I didn’t stay with Yanko and Ani this time. They said their house would be pretty full, so I took Margarita (my former landlady) up on her offer to stay at her place. She had done some remodeling, and the house was as beautiful as ever. Even some of my old items were scattered around the house. Towels, plates, cups – even a rubber ducky in the bathroom – indicated that I’d once lived there. I wanted to just move back in.
Margarita spoiled me. I ate a lot of good food and slept late. I spent the rest of my time going and visiting people – who would also feed me well and spoil me.
I took a day and went to Sofia to see my former Peace Corps colleagues – some who had just learned when their last day of work would be. (Peace Corps is closing the program in Bulgaria in 2013, and they’re reducing the staff by half at the end of this year.) While it was good to see them, it wasn’t a good time. They were dealing with monumental news that had just been dropped on them the day before. I was imposing on their grievance process.
Again, I stayed with a former colleague and was spoiled by her family.
After a few days in Rakitovo, I had to say good-bye and go on to Plovdiv.
First, something about Rakitovo:
I won’t be able to describe it adequately in this blog, but I will make an attempt.
There’s something about a certain time of day in Rakitovo. Dusk. The light becomes soft and alive. There’s this feeling that you’re being enveloped by the stillness. The Rhodopes in the background take on a glow (it’s especially prominent in autumn). And everything is quiet. There’s a place – near where I used to live – that elicits this feeling most strongly. It’s overlooking the river – through the trees toward the Rhodopes. I always stop and catch my breath when I’m there during that time of day. But that feeling stays with me as I maneuver around the whole city for those 20 – 30 minutes. That’s when nostalgia hits me hardest. I want to live in that moment forever, and I swear to myself that I’ll find a way to live in Rakitovo – just for the sake of that moment.
On to Plovdiv. I spent a few days with my sister, the family, and some other friends in Plovdiv. I even met up with some Turkish friends and tried to practice my Turkish. A bunch of us went out to dinner the first night and just stayed late – laughing and reminiscing about days past.
The following day, I went to a monastery with my family, and we had a picnic. It was so beautiful and relaxing. I tried to forget that I’d have to get on a plane the next day and get back to skyscrapers.
When the time finally came, my sister dropped me off at the bus station in Plovdiv and we gave each other a million hugs and kisses – with well-wishes and promises to see each other again – just like we always do.

Once Upon a Time....

2011-07-22T01:40:00.003+03:00

This blog used to be something pretty special - not only to me, but to the internet. My blog used to come up pretty quickly in searches having to do with Peace Corps Bulgaria, Rakitovo, and even my name.
That time has passed now. Having not updated this blog in over a year and a half has done the trick. After all, I am no longer in Bulgaria and therefore cannot comment on my life there. The url is "aprylsbulgaria." If Apryl is no longer in Bulgaria, Apryl cannot continue to write in this blog.
So why am I writing now? Well, aside from being reminded of this “place” by receiving a random Skype call today from someone I met through this blog – someone I haven’t talked to in almost two years, I was in Bulgaria three weeks ago. I can never stay away for too long. I thought it was worthy of a post in this derelict account of a life that still feels very real to me.
So why was I in Bulgaria? I should give some background information first. I am currently attending graduate school at Columbia University in New York City. I work for the Harriman Institute on campus, which is affiliated with issues/questions/research in the former Soviet Union. The institute offers a certificate program which would be a lovely addition to my diploma. In order to fulfill one of the certificate requirements, I must speak two languages in the region. I already speak Bulgarian, so I am currently in Turkey to learn Turkish. Granted, Turkey was never part of the Soviet Union, but it’s still essential to the region. Many Central Asian republics have their roots in Turkic languages, and I suspect this may soon become a critical language. As I’ve told several people, I’m hoping to “connect the dots” eventually. It has more to do with optimistic faith in the future and a general love of languages than any real logic. Also, I knew that if I studied Turkish, I could fly in and out of Sofia and give myself at least a couple of weeks in Bulgaria. I’d be lying if I said this did not factor into my decision. So, I came to Istanbul on a fellowship from my university to learn Turkish, and I made a stop in Bulgaria. Caveat: Where possible, I will remind the reader of names and relationships, but I will not go out of my way to do this. This post is for me anyway – not you.
I was absorbed by Bulgaria as soon as I landed. It all flooded back to me in a rush, and it was like I hadn’t left the airport that day I worried that I’d be fined and detained for overstaying my visa. (I think I even saw the seat in the terminal where I made relieved calls to my colleagues to inform them that, yes, I’d be leaving the country – but that could just be in my head.) Of course, it couldn’t all be easy. Since I got in late, I had to spend my first night at a hostel in Sofia. I was hungry and had to ask the people hanging out there to give me some advice on where to go. (Thank goodness for my ability to still speak Bulgarian well enough to impress male twenty-somethings.) Once I got out in the city though, I couldn’t get my bearings. I ended up eating chips and walking around while things came back to me in pieces. Granted, Sofia has changed, but it hasn’t changed much. Of course, Sofia was never completely familiar to me even when I was living in Bulgaria. At one point, near the presidential palace, I was walking by a bar with loud music, half-naked women dancing on tables, and Azis laughing in a corner. “Ah, yes,” I thought, “I’m back in Bulgaria.”
Of course, I booked it to Rakitovo as soon as I could the next morning. The ride there was nostalgic – with female strangers oversharing personal information in a crowded cabin on a train towards the Black Sea followed by the slow “I-think-I-can” chugging through the mountains on my “toy-sized” train to the Rhodopes. I stopped in Velingrad to try and reactivate my phone, but I ended up having to buy a new phone number since I hadn’t used it in over a year. This was unfortunate as several phone numbers of friends and colleagues were on the phone book of the old card. (And I made my mother scour the house for it and mail it to me in New York before I left.) It was a trifle, however. I would just put the old card in my phone to look up the number and then use the new card to call it.
I called Angel (my former counterpart) from Velingrad and had him meet me at the bus stop in Rakitovo. When I arrived, he picked me up with a huge hug and informed me that there was a huge wedding celebration happening in the Roma mahala (neighborhood). It would have been more surprising to hear that there wasn’t a wedding. Some things never change. After a cup of coffee and a couple games of pool, we made our way up to the mahala.
The wedding was right at the entrance to the neighborhood, and Angel and I had to walk through the crowd with all my bags. I felt someone latch onto me out of nowhere and had to pull away to see a beautiful and grown-up Reneta.
We wove through the revelers and made our way to her home – where Maria was preparing dinner. As soon as we got in the door, the sisters began arguing with each other. As the yelling was in Romani, I had a hard time understanding what the problem was. Angel looked at me apologetically and tried to calm the girls down. Reneta kept apologizing to me in English in-between shouts at Maria. Maria hadn’t even glanced my way. It turned out the argument was about how long Reneta had been away at the wedding. Maria had expected her earlier and couldn’t reach her by phone. I got agitated and made my way over to Maria. “Is this why you can’t say ‘hi’ to me after not having seen me in almost two years?” She already had tears in her eyes and hugged me reluctantly. She later apologized.
Maria had returned from the states the week before. She was an exchange student and completed her junior year there. Her return has been hard not only on her, but on those who love her. Of course, we all knew it would be coming, and it’s to be expected. She and her sister were arguing over something trivial that betrayed deeper hurts and frustrations. At one point, Maria said, “See? This is why I want to go back.” My heart went out to her. I understand her pain. Reneta will leave for the states herself in a month to complete her junior year. She promises not to change, but I’ve told her I know better. To be resistant to change would mean being resistant to the experience. It would be pointless to go otherwise.
Yanko (my former boss) soon showed up and began chatting with me happily. Ani (Yanko’s wife and my former colleague) returned late from a seminar and hid from me – only to laugh as she jumped out at me from behind a wall. Valia (Ani’s sister and my former colleague) showed up the next morning, and I did the same to her. She immediately asked me about my love life. I congratulated her for getting right to the point and accepted a gift she’d made for my mother.
The reunion was sweet, but honestly it was more satisfying when I surprised them two years ago. The happy surprise and continuing disbelief (especially by Yanko) was exceedingly gratifying. This time, between a couple of Skype chats, Facebook messages, e-mails, and the effectiveness of word-of-mouth in a small town, few people were surprised by my visit.
In a town where few Americans come to live, I felt like a rock-star during my service. Most people knew me, and I took on a skin of tremendous confidence in Bulgaria. Still, I’m a self-conscious person at heart. I did not know how people would react when I came back. Two years is a long time – especially for prepubescents, and that’s the demographic I targeted during my service. There was a group of kids that used to spot me from a distance and run up to hug me and escort me through part of the mahala. I figured they’d be too big for that now. I was pleasantly surprised. Yes, they had grown, but they weren’t too big to still give me hugs. Others were more reserved. I think it had more to do with them than me. They had changed in ways that they weren’t willing to share with me, and I respected that by smiling when we made eye contact and keeping my distance. Of course, some of this was due to my own aversion to awkwardness as well. Still, some surprised me by hugging me and engaging in long periods of hand-holding as they asked about where I was living, what I was doing, whether or not I was married, and anything else they could think of. I didn’t get to see everyone I wanted to while I was there, but now it means I’ll have to take the time to see them on my way back to the states.
I had a great time. I danced the horo at the aforementioned wedding. I got sunburned on a long walk through the mountains surrounding Rakitovo with Yanko. I took my colleagues out for french fries and beer. I met old friends for coffee. I ran into a guy I used to date and fended off his advances. (More on that in a bit.) I hung out in my old office. I showed up at people’s houses and allowed them to feed me. With Angel, in Velingrad, I got caught in the rain during a walk tempered with extremely enlightening conversation. I played baseball with kids that were pestering me every day to break out the bat, balls, and gloves. I walked through the town in the cool of the evening right after the sun hides behind the mountains and the evening light is just perfect, and I revisited old haunts and memories. The nostalgia hit me hard in unexpected waves and rendered me powerless. I found it hard to leave.
Yanko wondered what must be going on in my head – what it was like to be in Rakitovo two days after having been in New York City. Honestly, it didn’t make an impression on me. I’m used to living in both places. My colleagues say it’s because I’m adaptable. Perhaps... although, I did experience some frustration when I tried to take a day-trip to Sofia.
Yanko informed me that the seven a.m. bus from Velingrad to Sofia was still running. It’s a bus at a time that, for many reasons, means it’s easier to just wait for it on the side of the road outside a tiny town in the Rakitovo municipality called Kostandovo. So, I got up in the wee hours of the morning to shiver (it was uncharacteristically cold the week I was in Bulgaria and, packing light, I didn’t bring a jacket) by the side of the road and wait for a bus that wasn’t coming. Funny thing is, I wasn’t alone. Someone else was waiting for the same bus. Finally, he said, “Looks like it isn’t coming.”
“Why is that?”
He shrugged.
A half hour after I’d gotten off the local bus, I boarded the same one and headed back to Rakitovo. I grabbed some breakfast and sat out at a café where I knew my colleagues would pass by and see me. It was so cold. I caught a glimpse of a guy I used to date and hid behind my book – hoping he wouldn’t see me. My colleagues showed up, called the bus company for me and reserved me a ticket for an afternoon bus, and took me up to the office – where they lit the stove so I could get warm… in the final days of June. I was sullen.
I couldn’t explain my mood. Yes, I had plans in Sofia, but they could be easily shuffled. I had experienced disappointment like this hundreds of times during my service. I was still indignant. I was frustrated that things weren’t working in the country to facilitate my plans. I was angry that this was something about Bulgaria that hadn’t changed. Privatization and competition between transportation services had changed bus schedules and reduced the convenience of the consumer. The prevalence of taxis that run between Velingrad and Rakitovo (faster and for the same price as the bus) has reduced the number of trips the bus takes – along with the size of the bus. A conflict between the bus station in Velingrad and bus operators to Rakitovo means that the bus now parks at the train station. Competition between bus operators of the Sofia-Velingrad line means that travel has become less expensive – but it’s also become more uncomfortable and more inconvenient. The consumer isn’t actually better off. I was angry.
Back to the play-by-play. I went to Sofia for the day to see my colleagues from Peace Corps. I met up with volunteers I used to train who were about to close their service. (Crazy! Has so much time passed?) I wandered around the office to see who I could see. Dani (Language Coordinator) gave me some Turkish language materials and the rest of the staff gave me beautiful smiles and big hugs. Zhana and Ivan (Youth Development Program Managers) took me out for food and a beer. I met up with Aleks (administrative colleague) for dinner and crashed at her flat for the night. It was fantastic. I got up early the next morning and hurried back to Rakitovo. It’s hard to stay away for long.
I promised that I would share a story regarding a guy I used to date. (I’m not sharing because he’s worthy of even a paragraph. I’m sharing because I am flattered by most male attention, and I think it’s interesting. There’s a reason lots of blogs and articles are devoted to dating and flirting. “Interesting” is a relative term of course, but it’s my blog. This is for posterity.) His name is Tsanko. He was the guy I hid from behind my book on that morning I wanted to go to Sofia. So why was I hiding from Tsanko? He and I were never a good fit, but he was cute and persistent. He tried to start things up again the last time I was in Bulgaria – living in Vratsa – and I figured he’d pursue me this time if he got the chance. I reasoned that it was just easier to avoid him entirely.
I ran into him unexpectedly at a café I didn’t think he patronized. My colleagues were sitting at a table right next to him and some of his colleagues. I tried to avoid his eyes, but he disarmed me with a smile. There was nothing to do but return the expression. Later that evening, I was walking around the town and allowing the nostalgia to wash me in waves, when I decided to walk past the house where I used to live. I came across a kitty cat. I was trying, unsuccessfully, to get the cat to come to me when a man appeared from the shadows. It took me a second to realize it was Tsanko.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“I’m tormenting a cat.”
“Ahh… a cat? How are you?”
I couldn’t figure out how he’d appeared randomly out of nowhere. I rarely just ran into Tsanko when I was living in Bulgaria. He mentioned that he was on his way to a café and that I should join him at some point.
“My car’s right here.”
I was starting to put the pieces together. We stood there awkwardly.
“Say something,” he finally said.
I shared that I was just visiting on my way to Istanbul to learn Turkish.
“Is your phone number the same?” he inquired.
No, it wasn’t. And my phone wasn’t on me, so I couldn’t give him my new number. And I really should be going.
“Oh, I thought you were staying here.” He gestured to the house where I used to live.
*Click.* It finally clicked. He appeared out of nowhere. His car was parked out in front of the place I used to live. He thought I was still staying there. He’d been waiting for me. How long had he been waiting for me? I shuddered a bit.
“Here. I’ll give you mine, and you send me a text when you get back to where you’re staying.” He found an old cigarette carton and I found a pen. He wrote down his number.
I got home and debated whether or not I should text him. Tsanko is harmless, but his stalkerish tendencies made me uneasy. It reminded me of Krum – the off kilter guy who used to follow me home and promise to build me a house… where we both could live. It was a little odd. I finally gave in and texted him. I knew he was with friends at a café, and I could use a little suspense to make the evening more interesting. Let me reiterate that I knew Tsanko was harmless. I decided to let him know I was seeing someone in the states for good measure.
I went to the café to join Tsanko and three of his friends – also named Tsanko. The waitress – a girl just finishing high school – was all over the Tsanko I used to date – who’s a year younger than me. I breathed easier. I knew he liked getting her attention in front of me, and I hoped he actually liked her. Maybe the evening would be even more benign than I hoped. After getting kicked out of the café, Tsanko insisted on giving me a ride home. As soon as I was in the car, he began touching my leg.
“I have a boyfriend in the states.” I pushed his hand away.
“Where are the states? That’s far away.”
“The waitress seemed to really like you.”
“So?”
“I think you should pursue something with her.”
He thought about this for a moment. “Maybe… but the heart wants what the heart wants.”
“Oh!” I exclaimed. “Is that what you were thinking with? I thought it was a different organ.”
Tsanko laughed as I hopped out of his car.
I had made a plan to go visit my host family a few days before leaving for Turkey. Problem was, I just couldn’t seem to tell Ani, Yanko, and the kids. I knew that I wouldn’t be coming back to Rakitovo, and I didn’t know how to leave. It was really strange. It was as if I were paralyzed into inaction. My sister finally called to ask, “Where are you? I’ve been expecting your call. Are you coming? Have you forgotten me?” I finally jumped up and pulled myself together. I told a surprised Yanko and Ani that I was leaving. I would see them again in two months. I ran into Angel and had him wait with me for a friend who would drive me to Pazardjik. As he left, he picked me up again in another huge hug.
I made it to Plovdiv and saw my sister’s new apartment. She moved in with her boyfriend, and they had remodeled the place. It was beautiful. Vili says she’s ready to start having babies. It certainly looks that way. We had dinner at her place and then met up for dessert and drinks with three of her girlfriends. I slept for hours and hours before we made our way to Trud to visit my host mom and dad. They took us to Hissar to fill up on a particular type of water. Hissar is famous for its history and variety of mineral waters. When we came back, Vili gave me a haircut, and my host parents made my favorite dish: pulneni chuski (stuffed peppers with rice). We crashed early because the three of them had to get up the next morning for a two-day excursion with their church. I got up with them to say good-bye. My host mom insisted I stay the night there if I wanted and that I help myself to whatever I wanted in the fridge. I adore my host family.
I decided to go to Sofia to hang out with some volunteers. One of them was getting a tattoo, and the others were coming along for moral support. I went along for the ride. Before that, however, I needed to arrange my travel to Istanbul. I needed to be there in less than 48 hours, and I still hadn’t made definite plans. I bought a ticket that would get me to the city three hours before my first class started. Then I bought a ticket to Sofia.
It was good to hang out with volunteers again and hear about what they’ve been up to. So little has changed, and Peace Corps is closing the program in less than two years. It’s mind-boggling. We then went to Dolna Banya hang out for the night.
It was with a little trepidation that I returned to Dolna Banya. I used to date a volunteer there (I dated a lot in Peace Corps), and I spent many a weekend in the town. Cognizant of the nostalgia that crippled me in Rakitovo, I was worried something similar might happen in Dolna Banya. My fears were unfounded, however. While the current volunteer lives right next door to where my ex used to live, and their apartments must have had the same interior designer, I didn’t give it much thought. And I didn’t see the town really at all. We hung out for the evening, and then I got up the next day and got on a train back to Trud.
My plan was to get back to my host family’s house, take a shower, take a nap, and then catch the last method of transport to Plovdiv so I could catch my overnight bus to Istanbul. As soon as I got to the house, I realized that I’d have to ditch my plan. I saw my host sister-in-law (I know it’s a weird term, but just go with me.) doing laundry through the basement window. Uh-oh. She, my host brother, and their daughter had been at the beach, and I wasn’t expecting them. I called out to her and made chit-chat. My host brother came to the door and surprised me by greeting me warmly.
My host brother and I have never really found common ground. In fact, I forget that I even have a host brother. He wasn’t living at the house when I was living with the family. My few encounters with him were touch-and-go. There were times when he took Vili and I out, and I thought he was a bit aloof, but I figured that was normal. Then there came the day that he found out I’d be working with Roma.
When I found out what where I’d be living and what I’d be doing in Bulgaria, I was ecstatic. I thought the Roma would be fascinating. It would be a challenging group to work with, but I knew it would be intensely enlightening and rewarding. I was a bit concerned about telling my host family, however. The Roma face intense discrimination in Bulgaria, and I loved my host family to pieces. I was afraid to find out that they might be bigots. I didn’t want to have that conversation – especially not a couple months into my service with a family I adored. While it was apparent that my host family was not as open-minded as some, they did not give me a hard time. They have never had anything bad to say and generally avoid the topic in my presence.
My host brother was a different story. On one of his visits to the house, he regaled me with comments on how terrible Roma are, and he did not mince words. I didn’t have enough language or interest to defend a group of people I hadn’t yet met, but I considered my host brother brutish and uncouth. I generally tried to avoid him. I went to his wedding when his family invited me, and that was a lovely affair. I saw him a few times on visits to my host family, but our interactions were limited. His wife seemed nice enough, but we never really clicked.
Since his daughter was born, they’ve been living with his parents. They’re currently in the process of building a home, and my host parents are looking forward to having their house back to themselves again. In the meantime, as I mentioned before, Vili has moved out. Vili is estranged from her brother, and they do not talk. She adores his daughter, and I think she has a cordial relationship with her sister-in-law, but she does not talk to her brother. I think she sees a lot of the same characteristics I see in him, but for different reasons.
So I’m uncomfortable around my host brother and his family. I didn’t want to go back into the house without Vili and my host parents, but there was nothing I could do. I made small talk with the host brother and mentioned that I’d be leaving soon for Istanbul so I could go study Turkish. At first he said, “Wow. You’re going to know a lot of languages.” After a few moments of silence, however, when the conversation had already died (I was walking to my room, and he was rummaging in the fridge), he added, “Turkish is a ‘gaden’ language.” I froze. Yep, I was pretty certain I didn’t like him. A million thoughts raced in my head. There’s no such thing as a “gaden” language. Language is just language. I can see someone calling a language beautiful, but “gaden” was unacceptable. I just replied, “Well, I’ve never studied Turkish, so we’ll see.” And then I exited as quickly as possible.
He may be one of my least favorite people, but his daughter is a gem. She shied away from me at first, but then she kept coming to talk to me in Vili’s room. My only complaint was that she kept getting into Vili’s stuff. She brought in a pad of paper and some markers. We colored together. It was a good way to pass time. I wanted to make a hasty exit, and I knew I still needed to go somewhere to use the internet, so I left two hours earlier than I was planning and headed for a local café. Surprisingly, I ran into Vili and her parents – returning from their trip. Vili eventually met me at the café and then took me to her apartment in Plovdiv – where her boyfriend greeted me warmly. She fed me and then took me to the bus station so I could catch my bus for Istanbul and not have to wait at the station for hours. Have I mentioned I adore my host sister?
I caught an overnight bus to Istanbul and tried to sleep along the way. I was awakened at the Bulgarian border so I could get my passport stamped. I was tired and disheveled. Basically, I was a hot mess. Of course, the most handsome Bulgarian I have seen in my life was working the border that night. As I was the last one in line with the foreigners (and looking like a hot, American mess), he casually strolled over and reached out for my passport. I avoided his eyes and handed it to him. He glanced at the passport, glanced at me, smirked, and handed it back. Then he went back to his post. The bus operator figured I was done and tried to wave me through the border.
“No,” said the guard. “She has to get a stamp first.”
There was absolutely no reason for him to look at my passport. He just felt like asserting his authority. It’s too bad he was so good-looking. I wanted to give him a quick “What was the point of that?” look/glare. Completely out of it, I thought I was in Turkey. I started to pull a $20 out of my wallet to pay for a visa to get in.
“There’s no fee,” said the agent.
“I have to pay for a visa,” I stated lamely.
“But you’re still in Bulgaria,” the agent smirked. “You’ll be in Turkey in five minutes.”
“Well, I’m not awake yet.” I retorted with a smile.
I cursed myself for not pulling it together to speak Bulgarian. It’s how I attempt to impress and let handsome people like him know that they can’t get the best of me. Too late. I got my passport stamped, and then I crossed into Turkey.

Bragging Rights

2010-01-20T05:53:00.002+02:00

Guess whose kids are featured on the homepage of the new Peace Corps Bulgaria website!

Why I'd Make an Awful Political Prisoner

2009-08-14T16:58:00.007+03:00

I'm back in the states. (sniff) I had two weeks of downtime in Bulgaria, but I kind of screwed it up. Basically, I outstayed my visa, and I couldn't stop worrying about it. It's a long, convoluted story. Maybe I'll get to it later in this post. Otherwise, it was a great two weeks.
I started out by going and visiting the host family for a few days. I was well taken care of - as always. Good, fresh food from the garden. It was so hot, however, that we didn't do much. I spent the first day just lying around, and I was tired all of the time. After a while, my "sister" and I started getting kind of testy around one another. I decided that it was time to get moving on. I told her that I would be going, and she started crying. So, I promised that I would come back. I wanted to leave a bag there anyway. I had a lot of stuff and didn't feel like hauling it around the country.
I then went to Rakitovo and stayed there for about a week. I had a good time there, but it was again overshadowed by my worries about my visa and the arrangements that were trying to be made to change my flight and get one of my cousins over here. More on that later. I saw a lot of people, which was great. I got a lot of hugs from the kids. I felt very loved. One of the groups in town even gave me this fancy certificate with a wax seal on it for the work that I had done with them during my service, and I got an autographed copy of a book one of the members published. Fancy... and most undeserved.
Probably one of the best things about the trip was seeing three of the nearby, currently-serving volunteers get together for a friendly baseball game with their kids. They used the equipment that was donated to me a few years ago. They were great with the kids as well, and they all wanted to play again once it was over. I was impressed with the volunteers. They were so calm, and the kids were calm around them. It made me think that I probably yelled too much at the kids when I was doing baseball.
I finally pulled myself away from Rakitovo, and I went to visit one of my Pre-Service Training colleagues in Dupnitsa. She and her parents were in the midst of a remodel, but they took great care of me. More excellent food. Good times. They made me promise to come back.
I then went back to visit the host family for a couple of days. In all these places, it was hard to say good-bye, but there were no tears this time around. People would ask me in all seriousness why I didn't just get a job in Bulgaria full-time. Then they would joke with me that I should have found a Bulgarian to marry. I actually did get a marriage proposal, but it was from someone that I honestly could never seriously consider marrying. I think our good-byes were tearless because I had already come back. I mean, some people had never expected to see me that soon, and I came back. I think they realize how much I'm tied to Bulgaria, and they figure that I'll be back again soon. I'm not so sure, but it was better than a second, tear-filled good-bye.
The night before my flight, I went to Sofia. I had to be up at 4 a.m., so I needed to make sure that I was there the night before. I met up with a couple of friends and had dinner, and then another friend stayed the night with me as she was scheduled to pick someone up at the airport the following day. I was a bit nervous and agitated, but I still had a good time.
So, the saga that overshadowed my final two weeks:

Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more important than food, and the body more important than clothes? Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life?

And why do you worry about clothes? See how the lilies of the field grow. They do not labor or spin. Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you, O you of little faith? So do not worry, saying, 'What shall we eat?' or 'What shall we drink?' or 'What shall we wear?' For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.
- Matthew 6:25-34

I kept thinking about these verses, but I still couldn't stop worrying. I'd wake up in the night and think about it. I'd talk to God about it. I still couldn't stop worrying. It was clouding my final weeks in Bulgaria. I hated worrying, but I couldn't seem to stop.
So, I outstayed my time in Bulgaria. According to laws regarding foreign tourists in the country, I had ninety days to spend, and then I'd have to get out. Otherwise, they could hit me with fines ranging from 500 - 5000 leva. (It's a lot of money, trust me.) Or, they could possibly put some sort of stamp in my passport not allowing me to come back for a while. By the time I realized that I needed to get my visa extended, I was three days over. Peace Corps had sent a letter over asking for this from the beginning, but I'd missed my window, and I was screwed.
It's a long, convoluted story that I won't share here. I talked with a lot of people. No one could give me a straight answer as to what would happen. Discussing it only made it worse. I even got a hold of a connection to someone who works at immigration in Sofia airport, and she couldn't even tell me what would happen. "It depends on whose hands she falls into and what that person decides to do with her." Nice.
This is why I say that I'd make an awful political prisoner. They couldn't detain me - at least not for long. All they could do was fine me and ask me not to come back anytime soon. This thought alone terrified and tormented me. It shouldn't have. This isn't North Korea - where detained journalists were recently in the news for obtaining freedom and returning to the states. This isn't Pakistan - where people are threatened with death by the Taliban. This is Bulgaria. Lighten up, Apryl. I just couldn't. I joked about being a criminal, but I really felt like one, and I felt horrible about it.
In addition to this, my cousin was wanting to come and visit. She wanted to be sure that she could fly back with me on the same flight. I had to have Peace Corps work to arrange my ticket back. They couldn't turn authorization over to me. Each passing day saw the ticket prices for my cousin go up. I was stressed, and I couldn't sleep at night. I had to change to another location, 'cause I wasn't sure that I could get back in Bulgaria. The prices for my cousin were outlandish. Finally, I got a response from Peace Corps. Changing my ticket would be prohibitively expensive. I might as well buy a new one. I couldn't guarantee that my cousin and I would be on the same flight. Forget it. I apologized to my cousin and told her that we'd try another time.
But then, a light opened up. An idea came into my head that wasn't there before. It was so simple, I wondered why God didn't reveal it to me before. I was riding a bus, and it struck me: I have a stamp that allows me to be here until the end of October!
Last year, when I was still a volunteer, I was getting my "lichna karta", or personal ID card, renewed. I would only be in the country for another month, but I had to get it renewed for an entire year. At the time, I thought it was ridiculous. Now, I think God was looking out for me in advance. In addition to the ID card, which I no longer had, I got a stamp in my passport verifying this. The only problem was that it was in my Peace Corps passport in the U.S.
I begged my mom to send me photocopies of my passport information and the stamp. She took it to my grandfather and had him do it. I couldn't believe how clear the pictures turned out. There it was... plain as day - a stamp allowing me to stay in Bulgaria until the 31st of October. I printed out some copies and prayed it would work. I also prayed that whoever I met at immigration would be understanding.
I got to the airport, checked in, and went straight through security. I wanted to be there early in case there were any delays. I thought I'd be a bundle of nerves, but I felt surprisingly calm. I looked at the booths for immigration and saw a woman looking my way. "Here goes, God," I thought and walked over to her. I said good morning, handed her my passport, and here's the conversation that ensued:
Woman: (After inspecting my passport for a while) Do you speak Bulgarian?
Apryl: Yes.
Woman: You've outstayed your tourist visa.
Apryl: I know.
Woman: So, you know that you're only allowed to come in for three months.
Apryl: Yes.
(Long pause. I was waiting to see how she would react, but she didn't seem to know how to deal with it.)
Apryl: But I have a stamp in another passport that allows me to stay until the end of October. The only problem is that I mixed up my passports (may God forgive me for this lie), and I left it at home. I have a photocopy of it, however, and the stamp.
Woman: Let me see this photocopy.
I pulled it out and handed it over - explaining that there were two pages. She cut me off. She got it.
Woman: (After inspecting the photocopies) Where is this stamp that allows you to stay until the end of October?
I probably should have been terrified at that point. What? The stamp wasn't there? I knew I had checked and double-checked. But she handed the copy back right away, and I could see it - plain as day. It practically took up the whole page, and I was wondering why she couldn't see it. Maybe she was testing me?
Apryl: Here.
Woman: But you don't have the 'lichna karta' that goes with it?
Apryl: I had to leave it behind. It's not mine. It's your government's property.
She smiled and nodded knowingly. She then shuffled some papers. I knew I was in the clear.
Woman: I don't know how long it took you to learn Bulgarian but....
Apryl: Oh, many, many years.
Woman: (After stamping my passport) When will you come back to Bulgaria?
Apryl: (Radiant smile and quiet sigh of relief) Oh, that's what I wanted to hear. I hope it will be soon. Thank you.
She smiled.
Apryl: And thank you for being so kind to me.
The smile vanished. Maybe she knew that she had let me off the hook and just wanted to be rid of me. I didn't need another invitation. I grabbed my passport and scuttled out of there - thanking God for taking care of me. Then I flew back to the states. The best thing is, I'm still able to go back to Bulgaria whenever I want. I hope it will be soon.

Back in the Ranks

2009-07-30T13:05:00.002+03:00

So, once again, I am unemployed. After the Trainees swore in and became Volunteers, we had a lot of paperwork to process. On Tuesday, we had a final debrief. All Pre-Service Training Staff was there, and we talked about PST. Mostly it was a time to pass out kudos for success. Out of the 62 Trainees who came to Vratsa to begin training, 62 were sworn-in as Volunteers. Pretty friggin' awesome. There were also many suggestions as to how training can be improved. Apparently they're expecting around 80 people to come.
I also had to give a presentation on Youth Development Technical Training as part of my debrief. It went all right. The best part were the comments afterward from the Youth Development Program Staff. The Program Manager said some really wonderful things about my work - to the point of embarrassment. Apparently I had taught her something about giving feedback to Americans. I find that interesting because I think that it's something that I need to work on. I also had an exit interview with the Training Manager, and she only had good things to say about the work that I've been doing over the past three months. Of course, I'm not perfect. I crossed some professional boundaries in efforts to befriend Trainees. It's a good lesson for any job where I might take a leading role among my peers.
After my presentation, YD Program Staff rushed up to me with huge smiles on their faces. They looked absolutely giddy, and they had a small package in their hands. There was a short speech, and then they were pushing me to open it. "Hang on a second." I pulled out a card I had made for them with a black and white picture of us from swearing-in. I had written some of my favorite "character traits" on it. The YD Staff at PC Bulgaria are honestly so fun to work with. We all share a similar sense of humor, so it works out well. They gave me a beautiful, silver necklace. It looks like a flower with pearl-like beads in the center. Very thoughtful.
Yesterday was a nightmare. The PST offices in Vratsa were being torn down around me, and I was working on final reports and running back and forth to the police station for some issues with which I'm currently dealing. It's one thing when you have a problem and it's just you who's dealing with it. You rely on your friends for moral support, and you deal with it. It's another thing when you have to bring your friends into the problem, otherwise there's no way to solve it on your own. This is very difficult for me because I hate being a burden and inconveniencing people for something that's my own fault. It tears me up inside.
So, everything is getting broken down around me. I'm printing files for my final report. I'm putting things in folders. I'm rushing about. Pretty soon, I get a message on my computer that I'm no longer attached to the server. Awesome. I was just about to transfer some files there. Guess I'll have to put them on CD and hand them over that way. Soon after, a guy came to shut my computer down. Awesome. I was just about to print a cover page and a table of contents for my report. No worries. I'll do it the "old-fashioned" way with a pen and paper. So, I did. I can't wait to see the look on the next Technical Trainer's face when they see my report from this year. "Ummm... what's up with the pen and paper? How 'ghetto' was Apryl? Did she even do her job?" Ha! Good thing this all happened after final interviews. (wink!) Hopefully someone will be able to make heads and tails of it.
We were driven back to Sofia, and I hung out in the Peace Corps office for a bit. It's hard to let people go. And it's always that awkward, "Is this the final good-bye, or am I going to see you again?" I hate that. It's better to act like you're going to see each other again - even if you might not. So, I hope that I'll being seeing PC staff again before I leave Bulgaria.
For now, I'm hanging out in Trud with the host family. I took a bus last night with all my luggage. I swear I hiked across half of Plovdiv with all my bags. I was pouring sweat by the time I caught the van to Trud. I threw all my luggage down and sat on the floor - trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. Of course the driver had to start bantering with me when I got on - much to the amusement of the other passengers:
"You don't seem Bulgarian."
"That's because I'm not."
"What are you?"
"I'm a person."
"I know that you're a person. What I mean is where are you from?"
"I'm from the U.S."
A few minutes later... shouting in the van so all the other passengers can hear:
"Where is it better? Bulgaria or America?"
"Bulgaria is more beautiful."
"More beautiful... but is it better?"
"It's better because it's more beautiful."
"Yeah, but you don't have the problems that we have here."
"How do you know? Have you ever been to America? And the women here are more beautiful."
"Ah, the women, but what about the men?"
Hesitation. "The men are better-looking, too."
"I don't know about that."
...and on and on until he dropped me off exactly where I needed to be in Trud. Sometimes it's worth the craziness that I put myself through just to have even crazier conversations like this one. I'm so sad that I'll have to leave soon.

Sworn-In and Shipped Off...

2009-07-26T00:50:00.007+03:00

...and that time I almost went to Kazakhstan? But we'll get to that.
The trainees are now volunteers! Woo-hoo! My work here is done. You're welcome, world. Actually, I have some final reports and then I will officially rejoin the ranks of the unemployed.
The Swearing-In Ceremony was great. Outside it was hotter than Hades. Inside it was relatively cooler. Lots of hoop-la. Lots of media. Lots of great moments. Lots of important people. In fact, after the ceremony, the Deputy Chief of Mission from the Embassy asked me which site I would be moving to for the next two years. I wish. I'd do it all over again for the great health care. Afterward, I ate some delicious appetizers and ran around trying to get sweaty pictures with my trainees. Good stuff. I'm so proud.
The day before, we had our last HUB. We had this whole wrap-up session for half of the trainees, and I was scheduled to co-facilitate it. It was insane. I've facilitated and co-facilitated tons of sessions in front of these guys over the past couple months, but my heart was still pounding with nervousness like it was the first day. I confessed to them that they "terrified me just as much as they had the first day," and they just looked at me like I was nuts. I've been told that I hide my nervousness well. Maybe that's the one poker face I have. At the end of the session, I pretended like I was getting all "verklempt," and I said, "I love you, guys!" Applause.
I had the opportunity to repeat this shenanigan at the end of the day when I was speaking in front of the entire group. It just turned out that I was the last one to talk to them in their last session of the day. I tried to offer the floor to the Country Director, but she just let me have it. Odd. So I told them how fun they were and how incredibly glad I was that I got the opportunity to come back to Bulgaria to hang out with them. This was all true. Then, I said, "I already did this in front of the other group, but I'll do it for you, too. I then pretended to tear up, and I said, "I'm gonna miss you guys." Then I just walked off. Applause. I was so embarrassed. I could feel myself turning red, and I just wanted to find a chair to sit down in. Wouldn't you know it. Of course you can't find a chair when you need one. And the trainees just sit there until both the Country Director and the Training Manager tell them to go. That's it. Show's over.
The funny thing is, a few of the Bulgarian staff came up to me afterward and commented on how it's normal to feel so emotional after these 10 weeks, and then one of them confessed to me that they'd recently let loose some waterworks. Then I got really uncomfortable. Am I really that good of an actress? Did you think I actually cried? And asking this question has one of two outcomes... neither good: 1. I look like a jerk for pretending to cry and mocking the situation. 2. I'm trying to hide the fact that I cried. Well, I guess it's the former, 'cause I didn't cry. Sorry to disappoint.
I hung out with some of the volunteers after the ceremony, and then I went to one of the YD satellite sites for a last party with the town members and some volunteers. Problem was, the "party" was a real downer. Everyone was sad because the volunteers were leaving, and tons of people were crying... for real. And I was so proud of them. Crying means that the past two months have been terribly successful. Hearts have been opened and lives have been changed - as idealistic and lofty as that sounds. I saw it last night. And yet, I felt incredibly uncomfortable. I didn't need to be there. This was their moment. I had lived my own and moved beyond it. I thought back in my head to all the "see you laters" that I've had here in Bulgaria. The tears. The real tears. And I thought about having to say good-bye to people for the second time around. And I thought about saying good-bye to the volunteers I'd just dedicated the last 10 weeks of my life to. And it's so short, but it's a lifetime. And I didn't feel like that was the place for me. This was their moment. My moment lies elsewhere.
Today, we've been processing final evaluations. I loathe evaluations because I let what people think gnaw at me. The other Technical Trainers had warned me, "Your YDs really love you, Apryl." I guess they scoped out some of my feedback before I got to it. I'm astounded with the Youth Development volunteers. Either they really love us, or they got tired of filling out the forms. They gave us all wonderful appraisals. By "all" I mean YD staff. I'm absolutely delighted that they love the program staff. This is what is most important because it means that they will not feel uncomfortable approaching them over the next two years. And they were all exceptionally generous in their appraisal of me. Only one trainee had a bone to pick with me, and this person still rated me highly. Quite undeserved. It's a good thing that we can do self-appraisals so that I can give staff a vision of reality with some tougher criticisms.
T-minus four days, and I will be gainfully unemployed again. The plan is to hang out in Bulgaria for a couple weeks to visit friends and family. Then, maybe I'll be able to get my cousin on this side of the Atlantic for a while to travel with me. We shall see. For now, I'm working this weekend.
Oh! Kazakhstan! Right. I was going to mention this. For about a week there, the possibility seemed to exist that I might go and help them with their Pre-Service Training for three months. It didn't work out. Mentioned. There are more sordid details, but I would prefer not to share them in my blog. It was cool to think about the possibility of Kazakhstan for a while, and to even have staff over here recommend me to them felt like a huge "kudos" for my work. Good stuff. I believe that something even better awaits, and I'm impatient to find out what that is. In the meantime, feast your eyes on this!

The best B-25 Youth Development group Bulgaria has ever seen!

A Cautionary Tale

2009-07-19T17:08:00.004+03:00

Only one more week, and the trainee caterpillars will sprout their wings and turn into beautiful volunteer butterflies. Does the corny imagery make you want to gag? Awesome. I hope so. I can't believe it. I'm a little nervous 'cause I've been enjoying this gig so much, and I don't know what's coming next.
This last week was pretty good. On Monday, I went to one of the satellite sites to hang out for their day camp/community project. The trainees there decided to play a bunch of relay-type water games with the kids. They then separated into groups to play sports, do arts and crafts, or sing songs in English. I was really impressed with the number of kids that came, and they seemed to have a wonderful time. Kudos to the trainees.
The next couple of days were spent in the office - working on final reports. On Thursday, the three other Youth Development satellite groups decided to have their day camps pretty much simultaneously. Fortunately, I was able to go to all of them for about three hours. The first group did a park clean-up followed by some water games. Fortunately, I was able to stay long enough to see how much municipal/citizen support they got (a lot!), pick up trash, and witness how many news networks took an interest in them (three). I wasn't able to stay for the water games.
I then went onto the next site where the trainees had done a project with some of the kids in the village to paint some trash cans, paint a sign to encourage people to keep their trash out of the river, and play some water balloon games. Unfortunately, I missed most of this project, so I didn't get to help much. I remember have a delicious lunch and helping to fill water balloons. Then, they generously gave the Training Manager and myself a water balloon to take to the next satellite site.
The trainees in the final site did a lot of interesting games/songs/dances with the kids who showed up, and we had fun with all the relay races. One of the trainees and I even got into a canned whipped-cream fight. It wasn't a fair fight. Her can was full while mine was on its last legs. So, I was pretty much covered while she didn't have any on her. A successful yet exhausting day. I'm thrilled with the way the day's activities/projects turned out for all the satellite sites, and I'm especially happy that they received so much support.
On Friday, I decided to go up and visit the Close of Service Conference. I wanted to see the volunteers there (I had interacted with a bunch of them during my own service), and I also wanted to listen to a panel dedicated to re-integration/getting on with life after Peace Corps, etc. Peace Corps had invited five people to talk about their experiences of life after Peace Corps/living abroad/etc. At the last minute, the Country Director asked me to sit on the panel as well. I told her that I felt like a failure at re-integration. What could I share? So, I shared the tough time I had moving on with life when I was in the states after my service ended. One of the volunteers joked that I was "the cautionary tale." I was candid about sharing how I was pretty much listless after returning to the U.S. There was a lot of laughter, so I guess they found it funny. I know my situation is not unique. I got a lot of good insight from the other panelists. I guess I just see this return to the U.S. as my second chance to try at re-integration and move on with my life. I still don't know what that's going to entail exactly, however. God will just have to take care of it.
On Friday, right about dusk, I decided to take a walk. I ended up in the mountains, and then I came upon a clearing. While walking along a well-worn path, I found some blackberries. Treasure! I greedily helped myself to as many as looked ripe enough to be delicious. Soon, I saw a soldier in the distance. He was wearing fatigues and carrying a firearm. "This has 'international incident' written all over it," I thought to myself. I could tell that he was coming for me, but I wasn't about to just run off. It took him a good several minutes to get to me. By that time, I'd downed quite a few blackberries.
Once he reached me, I politely said, "Good evening." He returned the greeting and informed me that I needed to make myself scarce. I said, "I can't walk around here?" I found that really weird. I knew I was near a military base, but I was in a beautiful, natural clearing. Maybe the Bulgarians are really protective of their blackberries. I just lamented the fact that here was this beautiful area, and your average evening stroller couldn't go and hang out there. What's the world coming to?
Yesterday, one of my roommates and I decided to go to Pleven. I had never been there, and I heard that they had some really interesting artwork in the town. It wasn't too far away considering the fact that we caught quick international trains to and from the town. It was sweltering yesterday, though. And I didn't have much energy to do anything else than see the panoramic painting that we had gone there to see. Still, it was a nice day.
Afterward, I went out to a discotheque with some friends. I can't believe I managed to stay up until four in the morning. Because I managed to stay out that long, I haven't gotten much done today. The same roommate and I were talking about going on a walk to a nearby village and do some swimming in the river that twists through the mountains here. I think I might have blown it by sleeping too late. So now I'm just having a lazy Sunday.

Turnabout

2009-07-12T09:46:00.006+03:00

The rain has been crazy. It stopped for a couple of days to do some sweltering. Then it started up again just in time for the weekend. Two of the Youth Development training groups were supposed to have day camps over Saturday and today. Both have been postponed. So instead of running around and playing with kids, I've been cooped up indoors. Yesterday wasn't so bad. The rain just spit for a while, and I was able to go out. I called my mom and talked for a long time. I joked with the lady at the phone place and said, "My mom talks a lot." (It's not true.) She had heard me speaking English and replied, "Oh, so you're not completely Bulgarian?" I just smiled and nodded in negation. Today, I think I'll end up going stir crazy. Wind, rain, and it doesn't look like it's going to let up soon.
This week we had feedback interviews. Program staff and I went around to each of the satellites and talked individually with the trainees. The next two days, we had HUBs. It was exhausting for both the trainees and for staff. I liked HUB, though. There were a lot of currently-serving volunteers around, and the Bulgarian staff had a great (optional) session on Communism. I learned so many new and fascinating things. It was terribly interesting.
It's also nice because we've been able to hang out with the volunteers and trainees after the sessions. I've had some fun and some interesting conversations. One current volunteer told me, "Your blog is famous for being long-winded." "What? People read my blog?" Many of the trainees asked me what I'd be doing after this little experiment. One expressed surprise that I wasn't here full-time. She then offered to contact some people to give me a job/place to live. I thought that was really generous. I basically have been telling people that this is my second chance at reintegration into the United States. I hope I'll be better about it this time.
I think I've mentioned this before, but it's interesting how quickly time can change everything - outlooks, opinions, loyalties, etc. For example, I was a volunteer just eight months ago, but the trainees don't see me that way. Sure, I was a volunteer once, but now I'm "staff," and they'd much rather hear something from the mouth of a currently-serving PCV than they would from me. Also, on my end, I've become a lot more sympathetic to staff. I can see and understand some of the frustrations that they have with volunteers and trainees.
Overall, in my opinion, the training has been going well. Sure, people are exhausted. Sure, there are some frustrations and petty arguments. Sure, there are sessions that could have probably been left out of the program. Sure, it's good that swearing-in is coming up, and they'll be able to actually go to their sites and get out on their own. But I'm happy with training. I've appreciated these guys, and they seem to be comfortable with Program Staff. That's one of the most important things to me. Develop a good rapport with staff now, because they will be the ones who have your back if you get into a sticky situation in site.
On Friday, some of the trainees were exposed to Roma culture firsthand. Some leaders from the local, Roma community came by to talk to them about the Roma. Then, they went outside and played various sports with a bunch of Roma kids. There were hula hoops, jump ropes, frisbees, soccer balls, playing cards, etc., and it looked as if everyone were having a great time. Afterward, we saw some traditional dances and heard some singing. Then we all got in the action and started dancing.
After this, a bunch of us took a walk to the Roma neighborhood. The idea was for the trainees to see how some Roma live. First, we were taken to a very nice house. Then we were taken to a slightly poorer family's house. Finally, we were shown a house of the poorest of the poor. Some of the trainees had been taking pictures, and, when we got to this final house, one of the women standing nearby became enraged, "Why are they taking all these pictures? Have they come to a zoo? Do they think they're in a jungle looking at animals?" Our hosts and some of PC staff tried to diffuse the situation, but she would not be calmed down. I could see her perspective, and I thought that she was right. Who were we to come into her neighborhood as tourists? I would hate it, too. She asked, "Why don't you actually help us?"
What struck me as interesting, was that while this was going on, someone turned on some music, and there were kids dancing in the street. Some of the trainees soon joined them - shaking their hips and limbs in arrhythmic attempts to do the local dance. It was honestly hysterical. Soon, the local people started whipping out their cell phones and taking pictures. Turnabout is fair play. The only thing is, we get to go back to our privileged lives after having invaded theirs. She's right. It doesn't quite seem fair.

The Tropics of Bulgaria

2009-07-06T14:14:00.002+03:00

Every time I step outside, it rains. I've been caught in the rain every day over the past five days. It's absolute nonsense. It's July! It's like living in the tropics during the rainy season or something.
I had a really great weekend. At first, I was bummed that I was spending my fourth consecutive Fourth of July here in Bulgaria. It's one of my favorite holidays, and I love spending it with friends in the states, but what are you going to do? On Friday, I caught a ride to Sofia and met up with one of my favorite people from Rakitovo. She's been living in Sofia for the past six months or so. We met for coffee, and I ended up spending the night at the place where she's staying. She's living with a friend of hers and that friend's son. They were both really sweet to take me in. The mother is a designer/artist, and she's quite talented. I enjoyed looking at her art on the walls. The boy was excited to speak to me in English, and he wanted me to play with him on his PlayStation 2, so we played a Harry Potter game.
The next day, I woke up to my ringing phone. It was Yanko. At first I thought something was wrong, but he just wanted to wish me a happy 4th of July. My friend and I had a lazy morning getting some coffee, and then I hopped on a bus to Plovdiv.
I made it to my host family's house in time for a late lunch, and it was yummy. They then took me out in the yard and insisted that I fill a bag with apricots and plums. Their son has started building a house in the yard next to theirs, and it's interesting to see how much the space has changed. I saw some pretty, white rabbits with red eyes and a spider that would give you nightmares. Ah, life in the country. I spent a lot of time sleeping, eating, and hanging out. Yesterday, my sister and I took a trip into Plovdiv to pick up her scissors and some ice cream. I also found some clothes that I couldn't resist. Then, we went back home, and she chopped off a bunch of my hair. What a great weekend! I had fun being with surrogate family and friends.
This morning, my sister took me to the train station, and I caught a train back to Vratsa. It's been kind of a lazy day at work. I'm sleepy anyway. I don't know what my problem is. It seems that I can never get enough sleep. I think my eyes are suffering from all the time that I spend in front of the computer, too.
This week should be another long one. Tomorrow, Program Staff and I are visiting all of the Youth Development satellite communities. We'll have interviews with the 13 trainees in our program. Then, on Wednesday and Thursday, there will be sessions all day. Fortunately for me, as of now, I'm not responsible for leading any of them, so at least there's that.
The end of the training period is coming up here quickly, and I don't know what to do with myself. I spent some time looking at graduate schools, and I'm thinking that's my best option. Instead of finding a job and making money, I'll probably look into getting into debt. It might not be the best option in this economy, but God will take care of me.

Just a Comment....

2009-07-01T18:14:00.003+03:00

These daily, beautiful, flash summer storms are really cramping my style. Cracks of lightning... booming thunder... and me looking out the window of my office... wishing I had an umbrella. How am I supposed to get home? Not to mention that I was looking forward to visiting the pool....

Winding Up & Winding Down

2009-06-30T20:12:00.003+03:00

It's been busy. I thought I'd get a break with the trainees at their permanent sites, but no such luck. The trainees came back from their permanent site visits, and then we've had a couple of all-day sessions pretty much back-to-back. On Thursday, I went to a nearby town to meet up with all the Youth Development trainees. The preparation was stressful because I made it so. I'm a sort of neurotic personality. I'm a control freak. I really like having things my way. I'm also a people-pleaser. I want it my way, and I want everyone to be happy about that. Umm... this is just not possible. You see where the problem lies? This is where the neurosis starts. Let's not dwell on that. The sessions went well. We played some games. I think the Trainees liked it. Of course, you never know what people are really thinking until you see evaluation forms, but I've decided I don't care about those anymore. I know how much hard work I put into these sessions, and I'm not going to let some low (or even high) evaluation change the value of my efforts. I still love the trainees. No problems there. And I'm still enjoying my job.
I did take Friday off though... except for that hour when I was in the office. This weekend, I was in Rakitovo. I decided to go because Angel took off for a conference in Turkey for a month. I wanted to see him before he left. Otherwise, I was scheduled to go to Plovdiv to see the host family. I'm going to try and go next weekend. Rakitovo was nice. It rained a bit, and I kept to myself a lot of the time. I didn't feel like running around and going "na gosti" at people's houses the whole weekend. I did see my former landlady, and I was pleased to meet her elder daughter whom I've heard so much about. She lives in Canada, and I wasn't sure that I would ever get the chance to meet her. I was glad I pulled myself out of my funk to make the visit. I also got to see a couple of other people that I hadn't seen yet, so that was good.
On Monday, we had another session for about half of the day. I wasn't scheduled to lead out any of the sessions this time, but one of the volunteers who was got sick at the last minute. Fortunately, she had sent me all her ideas, so I got someone to let me into the office in the middle of the night so I could retrieve the e-mail she sent me. It was a team building session, so we ended up playing a lot of games. I think the trainees had fun. The session was repeated twice, and there was a good-sized groups for both times. I spent a lot of time running around in my high-heels, so my thighs are killing me today.
Afterward, some of us went on a field trip to a resource center. A resource center is a facility which works toward the integration of special needs kids into regular schools. It's a new concept to Bulgaria, but it's a good one. Hopefully, they will have much success. It was a field trip that had been requested by one of the YD trainees, so it wasn't scheduled from the beginning. I had to make a special trip to meet the staff and arrange it beforehand. I think it went well though. The staff seem really nice. They're wanting to apply for a volunteer.
We're getting here towards the end. I mean, there's a little less than four weeks left of training. A lot of the trainees have been asking me what I'll be doing after this. They always look disappointed when I tell them that I'm going back to the states. I appreciate the sentiment. They are a great group of "kids." Several members of PC staff have tried to encourage me to try to find work here. Even my grandmother is saying it might be a good option - due to the financial crisis. I joke that my grandmothers used to tell me that I couldn't find a husband here, work, etc. - anything that would jeopardize my return to the states. Now I have one saying that I might be better off if I just stayed here. I find that hilarious - of course in a sad sort of way.

Halfway Through

2009-06-21T22:54:00.003+03:00

The trainees have left for their permanent sites for the next three days, and we are officially halfway through pre-service training. I hope their visits go well. I have the duty phone today, but I haven't heard from anyone yet, so I'm hoping for the best.
It's nice to finally get a break. Yesterday was a full day. I had to lead out in a couple sessions and they had me do some interpretation from Bulgarian to English. I love interpretation though. It doesn't feel like work. The only thing that's hard is that I don't have much of a poker face. I never have. If you start to prattle on and on, my face will show a bit of terror. I start to wonder if I'll remember everything. Also, when the speaker starts to say something interesting - or something I don't necessarily agree with - my expression will change. Some of the trainees have commented on this, and one of them told me, "I always think, I wonder what Apryl will say now." Sometimes the jokes don't always translate either. We'll all laugh when the Bulgarian speaks. Then, the trainees will look at me expectantly. But, sometimes it just doesn't translate. I have become rather entertaining to one of the trainees it seems. We have a good time together, and she tells me that she has a hard time looking at me during the sessions without laughing. Great. She's also pretty hilarious. I love the Youth Development (YD) Trainees, though. They're so cool. Some of us play frisbee together. We have fun together.
The YD Program Assistant gave me another compliment. He says that my interpretation is awesome. I'm not so sure about that, but he's encouraging me to take a university exam to measure my Bulgarian and get a certificate if possible. And they've been encouraging me to translate from Bulgarian to English because, while I'm definitely no better than the rest, I'm a bit faster. We went to visit a nearby cave called "Ledenika" (I've visited it before on a trip during my service), and they wanted me to interpret what the guide was saying. Problem was, he was speaking very quickly and running all his words together. Plus, he was using some terminology that I didn't know. So, that didn't last long, and I begged them to take over for me. Oh well.
Vratsa has been an interesting place recently. Local elections are coming up, and a bunch of political parties have been putting on concerts. We've had some pretty famous names roll into town. It's always the same: flashy music, political banners, propaganda, etc. You think someone would try something different. Am I really supposed to vote for you because you brought DJ "X" into town? I just don't understand. It's the copy and paste methodology. Meanwhile, we get to enjoy some concerts.
I had a nice day today. I slept a ton and read some. I also went on a hike with a couple of my colleagues to visit the place where Hristo Botev (huge poet and revolutionary hero) was killed. The area was beautiful, and we took a lot of pictures. Then, we went to a secluded restaurant, and I ate fruit salad and drank hot chocolate while watching the impromptu soft, summer rain fall. It was a pretty great break. It's back to work tomorrow. I might be able to take a day off this week. We'll see. It depends on how well I get everything else covered.

Disconnected Ramblings

2009-06-19T23:38:00.003+03:00

I'm still busy. Today was a good day, though. All days have been good days, but today I mostly got to hang out. The trainees have now found out where they'll be living for the next two years, and they've met their counterparts. Good stuff. They seem fairly happy thus far. It takes me back to the days when I found out my site and met my counterpart. Ah, nostalgia. It's pretty cool looking at it from the other side now, though.
A couple of organizations from Rakitovo applied for a volunteer. Only one was seriously considered, but it was decided that they would be encouraged to apply again next year. Rakitovo already has a volunteer at my former organization, and there just aren't enough volunteers to go around.
The past few days have been long days. Tomorrow will be one as well. The trainees are staying in hotels (by program) with their counterparts. The Youth Development trainees are in an absolutely beautiful place, and we've been taking the time to get some frisbee in. I have been eating breakfast, lunch, and dinner with them - and then I go back home. It's really nice to be with them, but it's a long day. Today, I didn't have a specific role for any of the sessions, so I got to kick back a bit. That was nice. Tomorrow I will have to lead out in a couple of sessions. This is the norm anyway, so it's not a big deal. I need to take a day off here soon to compensate for the extra time that I've been working, but I don't know when that will happen. As soon as you get one event knocked down, another one comes up. The trainees will be leaving to visit all their permanent sites, but I have to prepare for the next round of sessions. It never stops. I'm loving it.
I talked to my colleagues yesterday. They finally got some money that was six (or more) months overdue to them. They were able to take two months of salary - otherwise the rest went to pay off loans and compensate other workers. This is from a European Union project, and it seems "coincidental" that the money should come through right after parliamentary elections. I wasn't paid my first month here in Bulgaria, and I was feeling the strain. I can't imagine six months. Makes you grateful for what you have.
Apparently the mayor of Rakitovo died yesterday. No one expected that one. Also, I wanted to take a moment to express my sadness at hearing that we lost a former volunteer from my B-18 group. Fredy was such an interesting cat, and apparently he passed away in a traffic accident in Ukiah. He was working in Mendocino at the time. I feel it for two reasons: this was a former colleague of mine; he passed away in a place I know well. It's hard to swallow.
Yanko keeps asking when I'll come to Rakitovo again for a visit, but I was just there. It's a long trip, and the only reason that I'm able to go at all is because of my wonderful colleague who lives nearby. It's time to make a trip out to Trud to see the host family. I miss my "sister" terribly.
I'm feeling very far away and disconnected from home. I'm so busy here; there's rarely time to think about the states. I'm with my colleagues here all the time. It's a good thing that I like them. And I certainly hope that they're not sick of me yet. We work together. We eat together. We live together. It's been working out really well so far. I hope it continues.
It's good to know that I haven't lost the Bulgarian. I've been learning a lot of knew words and terminology this time around. I'm in a new setting with a bunch of different organizations that are converging at the moment, and my vocabulary is growing. This is terribly exciting for me. I can't even tell you. Still, it's a bit daunting when a trainee is going on and on about their work with children who are mentally challenged or with women in domestic violence shelters or how they've been assistants to occupational therapists. Your mental "dictionary" doesn't always extend far enough. I become more and more impressed with those who work at Peace Corps for their command of the English language. It's rather inspiring. Still, I'm giddily confident in my Bulgarian. I don't like making mistakes, but I put up with them for the reward that comes from conveying ideas in another language.
I'd better end this rambling. Another long day awaits me tomorrow.

No Rest for the Weary

2009-06-16T23:11:00.001+03:00

I’m still a very busy girl. I’m going to try and catch you all up on what’s been happening, but I’ll probably miss some things, and I’ll only hit the bigger things that I remember. A couple of Fridays ago, the Youth Development Trainees and I went to visit a home for children with mental disabilities and a boarding school for delinquents. It was a long day, but most of the trainees seemed to like it. The boarding school was pretty modern and the children seemed well cared for. The director of the place was very nice. I think she might even be younger than I! The Trainees asked a lot of good questions, and we got to see how donors (like the largest mobile operator in the country) have taken care of the place. Most of the Trainees were really active and loving with the kids. That was nice to see. The boarding school was an informative visit, but only in theory. We didn’t get much time to interact with the kids. The staff was nice enough to answer all our questions, but it would have been more useful to see and talk to the kids as well. The best part was the bus that half of us took to the nearby village where the boarding school resides. It looked like an old, Russian, war-era van. I don’t even know how to describe it, but it would have been pretty scary were it able to go over 30 mph. Fun times!
Over the weekend, I decided to go to Rakitovo. Yanko had been calling and asking when I’d be coming. “How can you work so much? Don’t they know that you need a break? We need to see you.” So, I went. Fortunately, I think I mentioned that I have a colleague from the next town over, so I caught a ride with her. It was a good visit. There’s never enough time to see all the people that you want to see, and there are always others who complain that you never stay long enough, but… it’s good to feel loved. It was a good break. Vratsa is a great town, but I love my Rhodope mountains.
Last week was exhausting. We had sessions all day at HUB on Monday. On Tuesday and Wednesday, Program Staff and I traveled around each of the satellite sites to do Feedback and Permanent Site Placement Interviews. I had to go to two community meetings in two different satellites on Wednesday evening. I even interpreted for one of them. I then had another community meeting in a distant satellite on Thursday after working at the office all day. On Friday, I had to go to Sofia for the Permanent Site Placement meeting. Then, the driver raced back so that I could attend another community meeting. On Saturday, I hit my wall. We had more sessions during something we call “Clusters.” I was supposed to talk about Project Design and Management. I didn’t even know what I was talking about anymore – I was so tired. The Trainees all had a glazed-over look. They said that they were tired. The volunteer who was helping out saved the day. He did a good job. Otherwise, I think the session was almost a bust. We’re all just so tired. There’s only so much working from sun up to sundown that I can do.
After the session, I went out to lunch and did some shopping with some of the Trainees. I like hanging out with them in that atmosphere. I can’t always play the role of “Trainer” and feel so distant from them. I think they sometimes forget that I was once a volunteer myself. They’re a great group of kids, but the best compliment that I’ve gotten so far is the following: They thought that I was here for the next two years, but I informed some of them that my contract ends and I leave after training. Some of them were visibly disappointed. “Aw, that sucks,” said one. Makes me feel good.
Program Staff has been pretty good about letting me know that I’m doing a good job. I have an ongoing joke with the Program Assistant because we’ve just known each other for so long. He started out by kidding with me about how disappointed he was that I was given the job of Technical Trainer and how he didn’t like working with me. A few weeks later, he was saying in mixed company how I should apply for a job with Peace Corps somewhere as a Program Training Officer. I laughed about that and told him that I could neither believe one or the other. I must fall somewhere in the middle. Others have suggested that I start thinking about working for Peace Corps. I’m not really looking to do that at the moment, but… maybe someday.
I was on the news again. A local journalist wanted to cover one of the community meetings. It went well – except that I blanked out a couple times. She thought it was great, and I guess it was broadcast on some network. Some of the Trainees saw it, but I haven’t seen it. I joked with them and asked if I looked good. Apparently I did.
On Saturday, my friend Greg called to inform me that he’s going back to the states this week. I thought that he would be staying to the end of July. We even had tentative plans to travel together after my contract ends. It turns out that there was a bunch of misunderstandings with the school he works for, and he’s going back this week. I hopped on a train to Sofia and spent Sunday with him. I can’t believe he’s going. I’m going to miss him.
Angel was supposed to come help out with some of the sessions regarding Roma, but he’s going to Turkey for a month to study English. It sounds crazy, but it sounds like a lot of fun. I’m happy for him.
The Trainees find out their permanent sites, i.e. where they will be living for the next two years, on Thursday. I already know, and I’ve known since last Friday. They know that I know, and some of them have been teasing me about it – trying to figure out a way to get it out of me. I just hold it over their heads and relish the information I have. Knowledge is power.
And that’s about it. I’m still very busy, but I’m happy. I like my job. It can be a bit overwhelming at times and I certainly wish I had some more free time. But hey… at least I love my job.

How to Keep a Technical Trainer Busy

2009-06-02T23:20:00.001+03:00

I have been pretty busy lately. Yanko keeps asking me when I’ll be able to come to Rakitovo, and I just don’t know what to tell them. Even if my weekends are free, it’s a long trip. The job is going well, though. I still like the trainees, and we’re having a good time.
On Friday, the Youth Development trainees and I went to an orphanage in one of the training sites. I had arranged transportation for some of them from a couple of the sites, so I got up early and went to pick them up. The visit itself was great. The orphanage obviously had made sure that everything was in its place because they wanted to impress us. Even the stuffed animals on the beds were all in a specific layout. We got to see some of the kids, but only the young ones because the older ones were in school.
The trainees seemed to enjoy the visit, and they asked a lot of questions. We have another field trip to a home for kids with disabilities and to a boarding school for truants on Friday. Hopefully that will go as well and be just as interesting.
Over the past couple of days we have had HUB sessions. HUBs are basically a time for a large group of volunteers to get together and have general training sessions on a variety of topics. Since there are 62 volunteers, we decided to split them up and have our first HUB session with them over the course of two days. Two different groups came in, but the sessions were pretty much identical for both days. The topics were on Bulgarian history, key organizations in the country, the volunteer in development, PACA tools, and a dating panel. I was asked to assist with a couple of the sessions, and I did my best. The days were long, and I think today went better than yesterday. I hope the trainees liked it and found it useful.
Training is in full swing, and I am super busy. I can’t wait to get back into the office tomorrow so I can get some actual work done. I was glad to help out with HUB and interact with the trainees, but I feel like I lost some time because I have so many other things that I need to be doing.
There isn’t really anything as far as story-wise to share. I have snippets of information that I would like to convey, but that’s about it. I will talk about them here-on out.
I finally got paid for the first time since I’ve been here. That’s a relief. Drawing from my bank account in the states was lame for two reasons: 1. watching your savings dwindle sucks. 2. my bank charges me five dollars plus a currency conversion fee every time. So, it’s nice to have money.
I have been hanging out a bit with some Bulgarians that I’ve met here in Vratsa. They’re all men, so it’s been interesting. They told me that I have a nice smile and asked if my teeth are real. I appreciated the compliment.
One of my flat mates cooks good food, so I have been enjoying when she cooks for us. Other PC staff have come over and enjoyed as well, so we have good conversations over tasty food and wine.
I also eat out a lot. This is nice as well.
It’s interesting because one is constantly comparing the difference between Americans and Bulgarians. One of the comparisons that invariably comes up is direct vs. indirect communication. It’s pretty much understood that Bulgarians use a lot of indirect communication to try and convey a point. This is true for the most part. Of course, there are always the exceptions to the rule that leave you flabbergasted – like when someone tells you that you’ve been getting fatter or someone from staff informs you in no uncertain terms that a session you were involved in was flat out “boring.”
Training has been going well so far, but there are, of course, always ways to improve. The format is new for everyone, and some of the colleagues are new. It’s hard to fit everyone’s expectations. The meetings are endless. Lunch and after work aren’t even sacred. At the end of some days, we can’t even see straight. It’s stressful, but I’m liking it. The trainees are great, but we’re also up for evaluation. The tide could change at any moment.
Vratsa has been buzzing with a holiday celebration honoring one of the national heroes, Hristo Botev, who was killed nearby. During one of the sessions, sirens went off to commemorate those who died for Bulgarian freedom. It was oddly inspiring to see a room full of Americans and Bulgarians – standing in silence for a few minutes to commemorate the heroes of Bulgaria. I absolutely loved it.
My dress has come under scrutiny. I’ve been told that I need to make sure that I dress more professionally. I don’t have a problem with my dress. It’s just that they consider jeans appropriate. Flip-flops are not. I started thinking sneakers were allowed as well. Apparently not. It depends on what you’re doing/who you’re seeing that day. You get mixed signals. So now, all I have are high heels. I don’t have to wear them every day, but I’ll have to wear them often. That’s fine, ‘cause when I do dress professionally, I get a lot of compliments on my style.
During the HUBs, they gave the trainees a brochure with the staff pictures inside. They spelled my name wrong, and they didn’t have a current picture of me. So, they used a picture they have on file that they had taken of me four years ago – when I was getting my first Bulgarian ID. Problem: This picture is absolutely awful. I was told not to smile because Bulgarians don’t smile for professional documents. When I don’t smile, I look angry. So, of course, this picture of me makes me look like I’m a serial killer who will cut you if you cross me in a dark alley. At least the trainees find it amusing. I’m glad they’ve already gotten to hang around me a bit and see me before they saw this picture – otherwise they’d probably avoid me like the plague.
That’s about it. I work. I eat. I sleep. Sometimes I hang out in the amazing town of Vratsa. I’m loving it, but it’s stressful. More later.

Bulgarian Valley Girl (Hitting the Ground – Running)

2009-05-25T13:46:00.011+03:00

Sixty-two new trainees have joined us here in Bulgaria. They arrived on Wednesday, and I just got back from Initial Orientation with them in a beautiful mountain resort in the Rila Mountains. I’m pretty impressed with them already.
I went to the Sofia airport on Wednesday with a whole delegation of staff and currently serving PCVs to meet the new arrivals. Bulgarian National Television was there to film their arrival for the news, and I was asked to give an interview. After the interview, I waited to greet the new trainees and help make arrangements for their luggage. Although they were tired, most were smiling and enthusiastically greeting us at the airport. Sixty-five were supposed to show, but two did not come at the last minute. One of those was a Youth Development (YD) trainee – the program that I’m helping to facilitate – and we were a bit disappointed to see our program go down to 14 trainees.
We quickly got everyone organized and on the bus. Then I hopped into one of the nice, Peace Corps SUVs (It’s hard not to feel important when you’re riding around in one of those shiny vehicles), and we followed them out of Sofia and toward the Rila mountains. We arrived a bit before them and stood outside the hotel to greet them with bread, salt, honey, and carnations – a traditional, Bulgarian welcome. You could feel the excitement in the air.
So, the following days were filled with basic sessions on the overview of Peace Corps Bulgaria and what we expect of them during training; how they can be successful volunteers. The first morning, another YD trainee decided to go home. Now we are down to 13. I think this is the smallest YD group since its inception in 2003. I had a couple sessions that I needed to assist with and facilitate, and they seemed to go well. I was pretty nervous, but the trainees have been really understanding and optimistic thus far, and that helps. The best part was that I got to sit down with the YD Program Staff and have individual interviews with each one of them. This gave me the time to learn more about them and start making individual contacts with them. I’m hoping they’ll still like me at the end of PST. We’re overwhelming them with a bunch of different assignments.
On Saturday, they learned about their satellite sites (where three, four, or five of them will be living at a time with a Language Trainer), and we started talking about host families. It was a day full of emotion. That evening, we had an official dinner complete with traditional, Bulgarian dancing by a professional group and horo – in which almost everyone took part. Afterwards, we were allowed on the floor to do our own thing. A lot of the volunteers got up to do the “electric slide,” the “bunny hop,” and limbo. I was so impressed how their group worked together to form dance circles and lines – encouraging people to run down the middle and strut their stuff; including the Country Director and her family. I absolutely love how they’re not self-conscious, and they seem to really support and like each other thus far. They’re gung-ho about the language. They listen and take notes in each session. They laugh and ask questions. They’re super-interactive. They thank you for sharing your experience. They’re fun, and they’re absolute sweethearts. You honestly couldn’t ask for a much better beginning to Pre-Service Training. I’m praying that they will keep that optimistic spirit for the next nine weeks.
Yesterday, they met their host families here in Vratsa before spreading out in 15 different communities/satellite sites. Before their arrival, the families were ushered into a hall, and we discussed some of the cultural differences that might present themselves over this period of time. The other American Technical Trainer and I shared some stories about good times and misunderstandings within our host families and our host communities. They laughed and talked with us afterward. It made me miss my host family in Trud. After some administrative business, we waited for the trainees to arrive. The families were so excited, and you could feel the anticipation in the air.
Once the buses showed up, the excitement was palpable. The trainees started getting off the bus and, one by one, finding their host families. I grabbed a lot of great pictures of Americans and Bulgarians trying to communicate to each other. There were a lot of smiles and a lot of hugs. I was excited just to be a part of it – and I was excited for them. After a few cookies, soda, and administrative tasks, the trainees were off with their new host families. We stayed by to clean up, and then some of us went out for dinner and drinks – congratulating ourselves on a successful initial orientation and toasting the work to come.
As I mentioned before, I gave an interview for the Bulgarian National Television Network News. I didn’t see the report on the news, but there’s a link on the internet where you can see it. The video is on the right side of the screen.
I will do my best translation of the text and will comment at the end.

New Peace Corps Volunteers Among Us

Sixty-three American Volunteers from Peace Corps will work with children in orphanages, with toddlers, and also with cultural centers. This is the new addition to the current composition of Peace Corps already among us, who will dedicate two years of their lives to helping small and underdeveloped communities throughout the country. The volunteers will teach English; they will develop projects to make use of the potential and resources of the communities.

At Sofia airport today, a group of foreigners were distinct from everyone else. They are not in the country as either tourists or for business, but to assist the Bulgarian population. These are the volunteers of Peace Corps. One of the more experienced representatives of this organization, created by President Kennedy, is Apryl Gibson from Minnesota. She has already passed three years as a Peace Corps Volunteer in Bulgaria, as she’s been working on a project for an educational center.

Apryl Gibson, Peace Corps Volunteer: “Before, there wasn’t an educational center in our region, I mean in Rakitovo, and now there is, and we were all happy about that – that people can go there to participate in meetings, to have English classes, to draw, to play, to be together, etc.”

She says that one of the most satisfying moments in her work as a teacher has been when the children would start to sing songs in English, or when they showed her that they had learned something on the computer. She humbly calls these “small” successes. She even asserts that, as a volunteer, she receives more than she gives.

Apryl Gibson, Peace Corps Volunteer: “This is a big plus for me. I can already dance horo. I speak another language. I have international experience.”

Even if, at the beginning, we’ve looked at Americans from Peace Corps with a bit of suspicion, our great curiosity towards foreigners prevails, and we are desirous to converse with them. The interest is mutual because the newcomers do not know much about Bulgaria, but they have already learned: “Greetings!” “A,B,C,D,E…”

So, the interview went fairly well. The reporter incorrectly stated that I was from Minnesota, but she caught her mistake and already apologized to me before I even saw the report. You don’t always get the full story with the media, and, if I had my druthers, I would change a few things.
These are fairly minor, however, and they’re not the reporter’s fault. I just would have made sure that it was clear that I wasn’t a teacher during my time as a volunteer, and my project wasn’t the educational center. I also would have changed my comment about some of my greatest “successes” as a volunteer. I was on the spot, and she was asking me how I knew that my work had effect. It was all I could think of at the moment. I do not feel that these are my most rewarding moments during my service, but it’s hard to pinpoint which ones are for a sound bite. I also would have stated that one of the advantages of serving here is the wealth of friends and contacts you make. It’s hard to be eloquent when you’re inexperienced and you have a camera and a microphone in your face.
Another thing that I would change is that I say “nali?” twice in pretty rapid succession. It’s not translated in the text, but it’s in the video. In this sense, it means something like, “right?” or “you know what I mean?” or “don’t you agree?” I think it makes me sound like a “valley girl” – one of the stereotypes we have of Californian girls sometimes. I feel like I should be popping some gum, twirling my hair, and saying “like, don’t ya know?” in the news report.
I know I’m being overly critical. I’ve gotten a lot of compliments from Bulgarian staff on the report, and my Bulgarian came across well. I’m really proud of myself, and I’m glad the reporter included the part about “receiving more than you give.” It’s not every day that I get featured on national news.

Bulgarian Swimming Lesson

2009-05-19T15:46:00.003+03:00

...ask not for whom the whistle blows... it blows for you.
I decided to check out the indoor pool today with one of my colleagues. I was having a grand old time in one of the lanes - splashing around, when I saw the guard on duty come up and stand on the platform behind me. He was a spry, old man. "Hey!" he whispered, "hey!" I turned around, and he said, "Not like that. Like this!" and he proceded to show me how to do a proper freestyle stroke. I decided that I would do it like he showed me just to humor him. A few minutes later, he whistled at me and came over. "That's good," he said, "now try it like this. You gotta get your head further in the water" and he showed me again. So again, I did my best to try and impress him. Later, he whistled again and hopped over to me. "That's good. Now, how about this?" He tried to show me some moves, and then he asked me, "Do you swim?" I nodded my head in negation, and he decided he'd had enough of me. He then wandered off to coach some kids. And that was the end of my swimming lesson. Later, he came out in a shirt that said "USA Adidas," and I smiled to myself.

Hitting the Ground... Speed-Walking

2009-05-18T15:03:00.005+03:00

Some of the views from my office.

Life has been crazy here over the past week. I’ve been enjoying myself, but it’s hard to find any free time during the week. The trainees (this is how I will be referring to the future Peace Corps Volunteers) will come in a couple of days, and it’s been nuts trying to get everything ready for them. Once they get here, we will be leaving Vratsa and going up to a resort village in the mountains to do Initial Orientation for five days or so. After that, they will come back to Vratsa to meet with their host families and go to their respective villages. Then we will hit the ground running. Training will be in full swing.
Last week, I had training for the first couple of days. I didn’t have to do much except interact in some of the sessions, but the chairs were hard, and all I could think about was how much work I had to get done back at my desk. The other days, while trying to wrap up some assignments for the Youth Development trainees, I also had to make some visits to some of the satellite sites around Vratsa. The Youth Development trainees will be spread around four local towns/villages, and I needed to go to these sites to meet with mayors, school directors, cultural center directors, directors of special institutions, etc. to get to know them and inform them that they would be visited by the trainees once they arrived. It was fun and interesting work. Everyone was very open and nice. It was just time-consuming. I’d be out at a satellite or two for most of the day, and then I’d come back to the HUB center in Vratsa and work on assignments. Then, I’d go eat and return home to sleep. Like I said, it’s been fun and interesting. My Bulgarian Language Trainer from Pre-Service Training when I was in Trud (Ani), is a Language Trainer at one of my satellites, so I got to hang out with her. In fact, I got stuck in the satellite because there wasn’t a train between noon and five p.m. These are just things to keep in mind and make life more complicated.
So far, there haven’t been any difficulties. It’s just a bunch of running around and coordinating with various people. And I’ve been spending a lot of time making contacts and getting complimented on my Bulgarian. My head is swollen because people just keep saying how well I speak Bulgarian. It comes and goes. Some days I feel like I speak it like a rock star. Other days, I find myself fumbling with the most basic sentences.
This weekend, I decided to hang out in Vratsa. Gokhan, the other American trainer, and I decided to check out the discotheque on Friday night. I was sitting on a bench in the center, waiting for him to show up, when I was approached by a Bulgarian who started asking me about what was going on at the local theater. For the most part, I can get away with a few basic sentences in Bulgarian without people catching onto the fact that I’m a foreigner. Anything more complicated, and people start asking me, “Why do you talk that way,” or “Are you Bulgarian?” So, this guy continued engaging me in conversation, and it soon came out that I’m from the states. He was so excited, ‘cause he said that he loves foreigners. Gokhan and I ended up going out with him and a friend to get a drink and then go to the local discotheque. He’s one of those people that just has a zest for life and can be a bit overbearing. He reminds me of a guy in my town who was that way. He insisted that we meet up again on Sunday.
On Saturday, I mostly stayed home. One of my colleagues, Katya, is a wonderful cook and enjoys cooking for others. She has treated Gokhan and I to many a wonderful meal already. So, we hand a long lunch with her on Saturday. Then, I was still tired, so I just hung out, read, and napped.
On Sunday, I decided that I would go climb up one of the nearby hills to visit a place called “the hija.” It didn’t take long to get there, so I admired the surroundings and the views of the town. Then I took a long walk along the river. The walk was beautiful, and I even passed some rock climbers. (Rock climbing is a huge past time here in Vratsa because the mountains are ideal for it.) I walked until I decided it was a good place to stop and just lounged in some shade by the river. Then, I walked back. Gokhan soon showed up for dinner, and then he and I went out to meet the boy we had met a couple days before. He showed up with a beautiful, red rose and informed me that it was for me. So we walked around, met up with some more friends, chatted, and went to coffee. Now he wants me to call him tonight when I get off work. I’m not so sure about this whole thing. His friends have indicated that he has a reputation of being quite the ladies’ man. And so far, I’m just not interested.
Otherwise, it’s been normal to be back here in Bulgaria. Like I said before, sometimes it feels like I never left. The only weird thing is that I’m not in Rakitovo. I love Vratsa, though. It’s a great town, and it’s definitely up there in my list of favorite towns of Bulgaria. The surroundings are beautiful, and the center is laid-out well. The people that we met who live in Vratsa don’t seem to crazy about it, but then who’s ever crazy about the place where they grew up? Unless you have actually lived in other places, it’s a “the grass is always greener syndrome.”
I miss Rakitovo. Part of me wishes that I could be there as well, but I don’t think I would like to go back to what I was doing when I was a volunteer. Those days are over. My job now is very different. It’s interesting hanging out in Rakitovo, though. I forgot to mention this last time. There are people who know that I’ve been back to the states, and they ask me how it is over there. Some have asked me how it is in England. The most interesting, however, is when kids come across me. Most of them just figure that they haven’t seen me in a while. They get excited when they see me and ask me when we’re going to play baseball. It’s the same when older people see me on some roads I used to take to the stadium. They smile, say hi, and then ask me when I’m going to be bringing the kids along with me.
In other news, I thought I’d share a bit of an ego-booster. I didn’t realize how competitive this job was. I figured that myself and maybe a couple other people had applied for it. Not so. There were actually quite a few candidates. It reminds me of how privileged I am to be here. It also makes me a bit nervous, and I start thinking, “Why me?” I just hope that I do the job well.
The weather has been a bit interesting. It’ll be hot, and then the sky will cloud over. We’ll have rain and some thunder and lightening for a while. I love it. I can’t take the constant heat. I think I’m catching a cold.
So, that’s it for now. I’ll probably remember some other things that I wanted to share and left out, but I’ll have to get to it another time. I don’t know when that will be exactly. I haven’t set up my laptop at home because of some electrical issues, so I don’t have access to internet at my apartment yet. Work is busy, and I don’t usually have time to sit down and write. It’s about to get even busier, so who knows? Until next time….

...at one of the satellite sites....

Figuring It Out

2009-05-06T14:12:00.003+03:00

I am really enjoying being back here in Bulgaria. In some ways, it feels like I never even left. I love my surroundings, and the pace of life fits me well. I think I mentioned before some of the things that I was dealing with when I was in the states. One of the things I mentioned was the "big fish, small bowl vs. little fish, big bowl" scenario. In America, I felt like a tiny, insignificant fish in a giant bowl. I'm timid. I'm mousy. Here, it's the opposite. I feel important, exotic, confident. I carry myself differently. I like who I am here. I just wish I could figure out how to continue to be that person/see myself this way in the states.
I’m still trying to figure out my job, however. The volunteers will be here in two weeks, and there is a lot to do to get ready for their arrival. One of the things I must do is put together their assignments for Pre-Service Training (PST). This is in coordination with the other three technical trainers that represent the other two programs. Peace Corps Bulgaria hosts three different groups of volunteers: Teaching English as a Foreign Language, Community and Organizational Development, and Youth Development. This time, 65 trainees of all these programs will be coming into the country at once. I’ll work with all of them, but I’ll be specifically targeting the Youth Development (YD) Volunteers, and there are about 15 of them.
It’s been a bit difficult over the past few days just figuring out what to do exactly. I spent a few days revising their assignments and making contacts in the local satellite sites (where they’ll be staying with host families), but then I kind of found myself listless. All of Bulgaria and the staff in Sofia has been on vacation since Friday, and the Training Coordinator here has been off for a few days. So, I’ve been trying to keep myself occupied. I helped the Language Coordinator out a bit with some of her work, but I have generally been feeling like I should be doing something more productive with my time – but not sure exactly what that is. I keep waiting for someone to rush in and say, “Apryl, where are we with…?” and I’ll shrug and respond, “Oh, I was supposed to do that?” But I just can’t think of what “that” is. I hate that feeling.
I spent the weekend in Rakitovo. We got a ride to Sofia on Friday, and one of my colleagues is actually from Batak – which is right next to Rakitovo. We picked up her car in Sofia and then continued on our way to the Rhodopes.
I had a great time. I stayed with Yanko and Ani. I got up early on Saturday morning to go on a hike with some people from a hiking group in Rakitovo. We were only supposed to go to a place in the mountains called “Pashino Burdo.” Once we got there, after a couple hours, they informed me that they wanted to continue up the mountain to a place called “Montaritsa” and over to “Tsigov Chark” to the Batak Reservoir. I informed them that I was anxious to get back to Rakitovo as I was staying there as a guest and felt it rude to be gone all day. They wouldn’t let me go back down on my own, however, and no one wanted to come back with me.
Here comes the awkward moment where I become “the person who’s being difficult.” I informed them that they didn’t tell me that the hike would last the whole day and these other locations. I was informed that we would go to Pashino Burdo and that’s it. I said, “I don’t want to ruin the trip for you, but…” And then I was interrupted by some other guy at the lodge we were at in Pashino Burdo. “You don’t want to ruin it? Then don’t. It’s that easy.” I was frustrated. They said they would try to make it quick. Uh-huh.
So we started on our way. It turned out that a group of hikers from Sofia were waiting for us at that lodge (“hija”) and would be coming with us. They were talking about trying to find a rock formation in the fog, but it was decided that we wouldn’t do that in the prospect of saving time. One of the women from our group came up and hugged me saying, “I’m gonna kill you.” I know she was joking, but I was upset. “Well, maybe if you had told me beforehand….” Had I known it was going to be an all-day thing, I wouldn’t have come in the first place.
We started hiking quickly and were soon wet because it was rainy and cold. Plus, up in the higher elevations, we could still find places with a meter and a half of snow. There was no path, so we had to rely on the expertise of the men in our group. My socks and shoes were soon soaked. Before long, we made it up to the top of the mountain and started our descent. Again, there was no path. The woman came up to me and said, “Don’t worry. In three hours we’ll be in Rakitovo.” Fighting my inner devilish tendencies, I reached up only to brush some dirt off her face.
Man, was it gorgeous. I didn’t have a pack and could therefore just worry about keeping my balance. I moved quickly. I would think to myself, “Oh, this is so beautiful. Wait! I’m angry! Don’t forget, Apryl, that you’re angry!” We stopped briefly for nourishment which included wine, bread, cheese, meat, and vafla. We made it down to the bottom, and there were these beautiful converging waterfalls and streams. I wished I’d had my camera. And, glory be, there was a car at the bottom – waiting to take me back to Rakitovo.
When I got back to Ani and Yanko’s, they were there to commiserate with me and offer me nourishment in the form of lentil soup. I changed into dry clothes and just relaxed. Later in the evening, I met up with my friends Angel and Rumen. Krum, of former fame, is also back in the picture. He would follow me around town and try to talk to me about how much he wants me to finance a project he’s working on. He obviously wanted to spend time with me, but I felt completely uncomfortable. Apparently he’s been making overtures to the new volunteer, Emily. He said he’s going to plant a palm tree at the Educational Center in her honor. My colleagues joke that Krum is having a hard time deciding between us.
On Sunday, I met a friend for coffee, and she made me lunch. She made a lettuce and cucumber salad and scrambled eggs with leutenitsa, and it just tasted so good to me. I’m loving the fresh food. I’m eating so much and yet I can feel the weight melting off. On a TMI (too much information) note, my bowels have changed as well. I then met Emily for coffee and later met Gabe (a missionary in Velingrad) at the stadium for a soccer match. It’s been good seeing people and catching up.
In the evening, I went back to Yanko’s to wait for my colleague to come and pick me up. Valia came over with her daughter, Janet. Janet had no problem sitting right up in my lap and giving me hugs. I thanked her for a card she sent me, and she asked, “How did you know it was from me?” Then she told me a fairy tale called, “The Three Golden Apples.” “Do you know any fairy tales?” she asked me, and I was reminded of the time I stumbled in my Bulgarian to tell her the story of “Snow White” a while back.
Janet was eager to get me to come home with her. “Do you want to come back to my house? We’re having potatoes!” I informed her that I very much wanted to, but that I couldn’t because I was getting ready to leave. She then said, “I have a secret I want to tell you.” I leaned in close. “If you come to my house, I’ll give you a lollipop.” “Oh, what temptations you offer!” I told her, and everyone laughed. My colleague soon showed up, and we went to Sofia for the night. The following morning, we got up early, picked up another colleague, and came back to Vratsa.
Since then, I’ve been feeling listless. I’ve been thinking maybe it would have been better if I had just put in to get those days off. It’s been nice here, though. Quiet. Beautiful. I’ve been sharing dinner, laughs, and interesting conversations with some of my fellow colleagues. A man at the local market asked me, "Why do you talk the way you do?" I just laugh and explain. You get to know people little by little. It’s good. I’m happy. I’m ready to have a clear course for work, however. Bulgaria gets back to work tomorrow. For now, Happy George’s Day and Happy Army Day.

Back in Bulgaria

2009-04-28T17:27:00.004+03:00

Surprise! I've come back to Bulgaria. This time I'm actually working for the Peace Corps - not as a volunteer, but as a free agent. I'm not contracted by any government. I'm self-employed as a contractor, but my official title is "Technical Trainer." Crazy.
I'm going to help with the next PST (Pre-Service Training). Sixty-five volunteers will be coming through at once for all programs: Teaching English as a Foreign Language, Youth Development, and Community and Organizational Development. It's going to be chaos. Today is my second day on the job, and I'm starting to learn the ropes of the process and what I will be doing exactly.
I'm living in a town called Vratsa. It's fairly small as far as big cities go, but it's still a good size. It's definitely more populous than Rakitovo. Our training center will be at a local language school, and they recently renovated some rooms for our use. I have my own computer and work station. Plus, the view is of some high, beautiful mountains in the near distance. It's absolutely gorgeous. I've been to Vratsa twice before, and I love these mountains.
I live in an apartment with a couple other technical trainers. They are Bulgarian women, and I'm hoping that the living situation will work out well for all of us. The apartment is nice, but there's really only one real bed. One is a pull-out from a couch, and the one that I'm sleeping on at the moment doesn't have a real mattress and kind of just sags. I slept okay last night, but PC said that I would be getting a real mattress soon. We might have to find new apartments for some other people, however, as their living arrangements sound even worse than ours. I could go into some length about some of the oddities of our apartment, but I'll just share this: our landlady had covered just about all the bedroom windows with paper. We asked if we could take this down. She thought that odd as the sun apparently comes in strong, and she figured it would bug us. "What do you need to look at?" she asked. "You'll just be at work all day anyway." Still, we insisted. She was very nice about it. The thing that got me, however, is that the master bedroom has a view of the street and some ugly apartment buildings. The other "bedroom," which had never been used and is now my room, has a wonderful view of the mountains. I don't get it.
So far, it's been awesome. I got into Sofia on Friday, and my friend, Greg, met me at the airport. He took me to his place, and I informed him that I wanted to stay awake until nightfall. This was at about six o'clock. He suggested either going for a walk or playing a video game. I chose the latter. It turned out that this video game was kind of complicated, so he had to explain quite a few things to me. I could feel myself nodding off. At one point he asked, "Apryl, are you okay?" I opened my eyes. I had fallen asleep. I set down the controller and said, "I'm sorry. I just can't do this." I turned over on the couch and promptly fell asleep.
My luggage showed up in the middle of the night. As it was, I ran to catch the plane to Sofia in Munich. My bags didn't make it. The luggage service was so good about coming around and delivering my bags.
The next day, I went to Rakitovo. Oh man, was that awesome. Only four people knew that I was coming, and I'd only informed one of them. The other three were informed by Peace Corps. My former colleagues didn't know. I was walking up the street, and it was interesting. People were stopping and talking to me, and you could tell that some of them just thought they hadn't seen me in a while. "When are you coming to my house to visit?" Word spread quickly, and people thought their informants were lying to them. "How can Apryl be here? You must be confused." My colleagues were all so happy. Yanko couldn't stop hugging me. He actually cried and said, "There's a God." They all kept looking at me and touching me to make sure that I was real. Almost everyone commented that I was fatter. I love Bulgarians. There's no hop-scotching around the issue. You've gotten fatter. Some thought I had lost weight, but that's definitely not true.
I had a good day going around and showing up on people's doorsteps. Everyone was surprised, and all the reactions were good. I haven't drank so much liquid in a long time. Everyone insists that you come in, and they all have to offer you something. The hospitality is fabulous. Enyo insisted that I have a glass of wine with him. I downed it as I was late to my next meeting. In the evening, my colleagues and I got together to eat french fries and drink beer. The celebration went late into the night, and I faded, but it was good.
The next day, I went to Plovdiv and Trud to visit my host family. I walked into the living room, and my host dad was shocked. "What are you doing here? You came back." My sister was so happy that I was back, and she wouldn't let go of me. My host mom cried, but she always does that. She's so sentimental. Unfortunately, our meeting took place at the hospital in Plovdiv. She's in for some tests, and we're all really hoping that she's going to be okay. You can see the toll that it's taking on her family. They're so worried about her. Now that I know about it, I'm worried about her as well.
So anyway, I'm back in the BG. It's good to be back. I've been reminded of a couple of cultural things that were so sorely missed.
1. Buses. In general, there is assigned seating. Every seat is numbered, and you're given a number with your ticket. Depending on a variety of variables, which I don't fully understand myself (I think it has to do with the number of people riding the bus taken in relation to the number of people who just insist on riding up front), people choose to either follow or disregard these seating placements. I usually just head for the back and figure that no one who actually cares where they're sitting will get all the way to me. Of course, there are always those who disregard the seating and sit towards the front. They then get into disputes with those in whose seat they've occupied. These disputes usually end with the "rightful" owners having to find another seat. Meanwhile, both parties are muttering about how unreasonable the other is being, and I'm just sitting there wishing the bus would leave already.
2. Nothing gets done the same day. Okay, almost nothing. Today, the one other American technical trainer and I needed to get to the police to get registered. The man on duty was very nice, but we couldn't register because we needed signatures from our apartment lessors. Tomorrow. I went to re-activate my phone with M-Tel. It turns out that I'm still on contract. I wish I weren't still on contract with them, but I'm back online with my old number. Done. Yes! Then, we went to the bank to try and open a bank account. The bank didn't want to help us out because we weren't registered with the police for the address at which we're staying. Tomorrow? Getting things done in Bulgaria usually takes more than one day - especially if you're relying on the help of other institutions. Maybe that's just a foreigner thing, but I remember it from my service as well.
So, I'm back in the Bulge. Being home was nice, but I wasn't sure of what to do with myself. Instead of really integrating and getting back into things, I decided to apply for a job with the Peace Corps and interview to come back. I'll be here for the next three months. Home was great: Family, friends, French, and karate. There were also tough times. There were plenty of surprises - both good and bad. For now, I'm glad to be back. And I'm glad the blog is back. I hope that you're glad as well.

Честита Баба Марта!

2009-03-01T04:06:00.001+02:00

Today is the first day of March and one of my favorite Bulgarian holidays - Baba Marta. I've mentioned this celebration before, and I'm really missing all the hoopla. I want to exchange red and white friendship bracelets, wish my friends health and happiness, and watch the skies for storks over the coming month. Just missing Bulgaria.
I talked to a couple of my Bulgarian girlfriends today, and they were telling me a bit about an anti-AIDS/HIV concert that they had. Their idea was funded by the Peace Corps, and they got about 100+ people to come out on a Saturday (and Valentine's Day no less) to be entertained and learn a bit about HIV and AIDS. I'm so incredibly proud of them. Today also marks a year since we did our first project together: a fundraiser for a sick classmate. I only wish that I had been there to take part this time.
In other news, I'm still trying to find my way. I'm counting on God to show me what's next.

American Fifteen

2009-02-15T22:32:00.003+02:00

Have you ever heard of the "Freshman 15?" It's typically where a new college student goes away to school and quickly ends up gaining 15 pounds. The reasons for this are varied but usually boil down to the new independence colliding head-on with a lifestyle change. Well, I have gained 15 pounds in quick succession since returning to the states. It's not that scary, considering the fact that I needed to put on weight. Instead of people taking in an eyeful of me and shrieking, "Good heavens! Why are you so thin?" they don't say anything at all. This is a plus. What is disconcerting is that I don't believe the quantity of food that I eat has changed. It's the quality. Meh.
I'm still trying to get my life together and in perspective. In reality, I've only been back to the states a little over two months, but it's hard to believe. It feels much longer. I started taking a couple of classes to try and give my life some structure but karate is probably about to end since I've injured myself twice and can't afford the classes. French is going all right, but it only serves to remind me that the only way I can really learn a language is to go and study in a country where that language is spoken... lived... breathed.
I took a Foreign Service Officers Test on Friday. It was interesting. The parts I thought were going to be difficult for me didn't seem all that difficult. The parts I thought I would breeze through seemed to give me a bit of trouble. I give God the credit for getting me to brush up on the information that I needed to. As I mentioned before, the selection process is competitive, and I'm cautiously optimistic. Even if I pass the written test, there's no guarantee that they will like my answers regarding my personality. I might not be asked back for an oral interview. It seems that others have more belief in me than I do in myself - especially my Grandma. I certainly know the power of positive thinking. My grandmother is already incredibly independent after recent knee surgery. I'm just a realist. Maybe that's the "Bulgarian" in me. I need a little more belief in myself.
Speaking of Bulgaria, there's a chance that I may be going back for a few months for some work. It's so uncertain, however, that there's really not much point in mentioning it. Here I go again with the pessimism. I would love to go back to Bulgaria and have something to do for a few months, but I'm too nervous about getting my hopes up.
And this is also the problem that I have when people ask me what's going on, or what the next step for me is. I feel like I'm pulled in a bunch of different directions, and I don't know which ones will pan out. I don't want to comment on ideas I have right now (that I'm not entirely sure about) and then be reminded of them while I'm still here doing "nothing." "Hey, what happened to that....? Weren't you going to....?" It feels like I'm all talk and no action. And I'm still trying to acquaint myself with the cultural "rules" (that I know don't really exist) here in this country. Like, how long can a grown woman live with her parents and be unemployed before she starts over-staying her welcome? What's the appropriate length of re-adjustment? Two months? Five months? Nine months? A year? "Okay, so after three months and six days, you should be comfortable in the states once again. You should go out and look for a job, and you should be acting like a responsible adult." I know there are no answers to these questions, and I'm not really looking for answers. I'm looking for some concrete sign that everything will be okay. The great thing is, I believe in a God who tells me that He wants the best for me, and that everything will be okay. It's just one of the luxuries of my life: too many choices.
I've been perusing Peace Corps blogs of Bulgaria. A lot of our blogs (including mine) are filled with a bunch of navel-gazing - a conglomeration of self-righteous opinions which we tell ourselves have some kind of real importance 'cause we were insightful enough to put them into witty musings. The thing is, I find myself critiquing other blogs. I say to myself, "What are you talking about? That's not the way I remember Bulgaria at all! Correct your grammar! That's not right...." When really, there is no "right." It's an opinion. Maybe I'm just jealous that I didn't come up with it myself. I even recently stumbled upon a blog of someone who recently received an invitation to serve with the Peace Corps in Bulgaria. He's so excited, he might as well have received an invitation to fly to the moon (which may seem mundane to some astronauts). My first reaction is to mock him. Bulgaria is awesome, but does he have any idea what he's getting into? Then I think, "You're such a b****! Let the boy be happy. It is exciting." The truth of it is, I'm jealous. I'd like to go back to the days when I received my invitation and was bouncing off the walls - there was just no camera there to capture my reaction. The internet has become a crazy place. So many feel compelled to share what they're thinking at any give moment - myself included. Why is that? But it can be good at times, too. It's nice to overhear my grandfather saying how proud he is of the things I did in Bulgaria, and the only reason he can speak with authority is because he's read my blog. There is one blog that I've been meaning to get to. The entries are even longer than mine, but I've been told it's one of the best PC Bulgaria blogs out there.
I was asked a bit about my experience at a luncheon with some church members yesterday. They all asked really good questions, but one of them surprised me: "Did you have a friend over there?" I've gotten this question a few times, but usually it's dripping with amusement, and it's generally taken to mean, "Did you meet anyone special over there?" I usually ask, "Like a boyfriend?" The answer is most often a twinkle in the eye. Then I answer accordingly. This woman clarified, "No... like a friend." She was asking if I had honestly made one friend in Bulgaria. I was flabbergasted. Three years? No friends? I think I would have shot myself. I certainly wouldn't have stayed for long. Two of the three goals of Peace Corps center around making friends. Who can live without friends? I must be careful, however. The more critical I get about the questions that are asked of me, the more I find myself asking the same questions I criticize others for. We all ask questions that seem perfectly reasonable to us but can come off a bit strange to the other person.
Friendship is something that I've thought a lot about over the past few days. While in Bulgaria, I always missed my friends over here in the states. And I always thought that the number of friends I have stateside are more numerous than the number of friends in Bulgaria. I would think, "I can't wait to get back, so that I can be with all my friends." Coming here, I've realized that a lot of my friends are actually on the other side of an ocean. I guess I over-calculated the number of friends I have in the states. Or it's that we're spread out, and it's hard to keep in touch - even in the same state. Bulgaria just felt so small and more cozy. I certainly had more cordial relationships with my acquaintances. Ah, small town life. I miss it. But I certainly treasure my friends here. I'm a lucky girl. I get to miss friends in different parts of the world.

"Googleganger"

2009-02-03T07:18:00.002+02:00

Have you ever "googled" your own name to see what turns up? My name has become more common on the internet since I started the blog. Of course my blog comes up. My Facebook profile generates a hit. A PDF on an Honor's thesis I did in college generates a hit. I knew this stuff was out there. There were other things that surprised me, however: a link to my Athens marathon time (which give an inaccurate age), a few Peace Corps publications, a hunger solutions site, some friends' sites, census data (where, for a few bucks, you can pick up some misinformation on me), and a Seventh-Day Adventist blog site that decided to link one of my posts.
(Un)fortunately, my name and its unique spelling are apparently pretty rare on the internet, so there are only a few sites that truly aren't actually linked to me in some way. This makes it easy to find. At first, I was a bit miffed at finding the sites that had linked to my blog without informing me first. Then I changed my attitude. I know I've linked to sites without consulting their author's first, and I wonder what they would think about that. The internet is a free and superfluous exchange of information. No one can really keep tabs on it or hold it in check. Once you put it out there, it doesn't truly belong to you anymore. Honestly, I'm surprised this blog hasn't gotten me into more trouble. But really... a hunger site with text stolen from the USAID site? An SDA blog site? It boggles my mind that people care. But then again... some of these sites were way down on the list, so maybe they don't.
Readjustment is still a process. I had a friend tell me, "I'm not going to say 'welcome home.' I'm going to say 'welcome back.'" I thought that was smart - 'cause another friend referred to it as a "viaje." Let me tell you that I would not enjoy three years of perpetual traveling and playing the role of the tourist, which is what the word "trip" signifies in my mind.

Psych...Sike?

2009-01-20T09:49:00.002+02:00

Okay. Due to popular demand (thanks for the three of you who spoke up), I'm back with a Bulgaria-related post that I need to process. I just received word that a friend of mine lost her husband. I mentioned them before. They were the ones who went to Pakistan so he could receive some medical treatment. He came back about a month before I left and was apparently fine. I'd only met him once, but she became a good friend of mine - one of those people I befriended shortly before leaving. I'm dumbfounded. He was so young. My head is filled with the conversations she and I had about her love for him. All that time he was sick... all that hope in the possibility of a cure.... I miss her so much. I've never been good with consoling people, but at least I could be there.
I was going through some boxes, and I came across some possible Peace Corps assignments my recruiter had written down for me when I went for my interview. During the application process, you go and interview with a recruiter, who in turn nominates you for a program that they think you would be a good match for. My recruiter was gung-ho about sending me to teach English in Eastern Europe. I think it was mostly because that's what she had done, but she said it was because she couldn't see me having any other viable skills (You're a Spanish major? What can you do with that other than teach?). I was a bit skeptical, but I really wanted to do Peace Corps - even if that meant being an English teacher. I pressed her to give me some other options, and this is what she wrote down:
English Teaching - Central Europe - April 2005; Community development projects, clubs, summer camps
Water Sanitation - Central/South America - May 2005; Construct H2O systems, wells, pumps, latrines, waste disposal
Health - Central/South America (indigenous?) - June 2005; Train health promoters in basic nutrition, vaccines, HIV/AIDS, rural, no electricity
Well, we all know how that one turned out. I ended up not taking any of those assignments, but my assignment turned out to be most like the English teaching. Actually, my first assignment was that English teaching one in April. (Did I share this story already?) I would have been with the TEFL (Teaching English as a Foreign Language) group that arrived a few months before us. It was the middle of March, and I received a call at the place where I was working, and I tried to be calm. Peace Corps is on the phone offering me another job - there's nothing out of the ordinary. The woman on the other line was asking if I'd leave in a month to go to Bulgaria and teach young children English.
Apryl: A month is... wow... it's soon.
Woman: Yeah. Well, there's another opening in August. You'd be doing basically the same thing, but you'd be working with older kids.
Apryl: Hmm.... I'm better with smaller kids, but a month is really soon. Would I be going to Bulgaria for that one?
Woman: I can't say specifically, but it'd be in that part of the world.
Apryl: Can I think about it and let you know?
Woman: I'll call you tomorrow, and you can give me your answer then. But please know that this first group could really use you.
I took the evening and thought about it, prayed about it, hemmed and hawed about it. I took the second option, and the rest, as they say, is history. I don't know what would have happened had I taken the first option, but I think I made the right choice.
I have my first French class tomorrow. It's an intermediate class, and I'm a bit nervous. I'm also signed up for a beginners class. I signed up for that one first since it's been six years since I took French in college. My mom convinced me that I should go for the intermediate since she has such great faith in me. We'll see. If all goes well tomorrow, I'll drop the beginners class. If not, I'll drop the intermediate.
I've also heard from a family in France about coming and being an au pair. I was really excited about the prospect of doing that, but I'm becoming less and less excited the more I think about it. I don't think that I would thrive in that situation. The more I think about it, the more I'm convinced that I should just pay my own way to take an intensive course. Either that, or I should try and find another form of employment in France to subsidize my classes. I talk to my friends about the offer, and they throw their hands up in the air, "That's it. She's leaving again."
My karate class is going well. I'm signed up for a free month. I really enjoy it, but it will be cost-prohibitive to continue to attend. I'll shell out hundreds of dollars to travel and learn languages, but karate doesn't hold the same lure for me. I don't want to spend hundreds of dollars a month for just a few classes. Isn't it strange what we decide is cost-effective and what we decide to let go? What vices we will rationalize and what others we will give up?
So, this is me trying to readjust - trying to get into a fairly solid routine without engaging in employment. I talk to people in Bulgaria, and they ask, "Have you found a job yet?" One has to ease into these things - especially one who has the luxury of doing so.
So is the blog back? I don't know. I just don't know.

The "End"

2009-01-11T02:13:00.008+02:00

I don't know if anyone is still reading, but this will be my "final" post. As you know, I'm no longer in Bulgaria. The adventure was the basis for the blog, and I'm no longer living that adventure anymore. Words like "end" and "final" are in quotation marks because I'd like to give myself some breathing room in case I think of something Bulgaria-related that I'd still like to post on my blog and share. This includes the stories of the Irishman who complimented my English* and the Irish president** that I forgot to include in previous posts.
Not much has been going on since I've been back. The holidays have been fun. I spent Christmas with my relatives and the New Year with friends. Both were great fun. As far as telling my story, I'm always happy to answer the questions of anyone who asks. I find people are a bit more curious this time around. Someone did make the mistake of calling it a "trip" though, and I looked at him for a few, delayed seconds while I figured out how to respond. I can't allow myself to be offended by people who are genuinely taking an interest in what I did.
My days are pretty mundane. I hang out with friends when I get the chance, and I enjoy being around people - which is good. I've gone through a few boxes to try and get my room in order, but I find that I lose interest easily and want to move onto something else. I spend quite a bit of time on the internet and watching TV.
On the job front, I have a few, vague prospects. I went into my old place of work last week, and my former co-workers were excited to see me. Job offers were hinted at me, but I feel as though I would be taking a step back if I went there. The money would be good, but it's not what I want to do. It would just prolong my search in looking for the next step. I'm signed up to take the Foreign Service Officer Exam in February, but the practice tests have been pretty challenging, and the process is extremely competitive. I mostly just want to see how well I do. I'm studying, but I'm cautiously optimistic. I also contacted a travel guide publisher who's looking for returned Peace Corps Volunteers. I got a response back. They'd like to see something put together, but I'm not sure if I want to go back to Bulgaria just yet. I haven't even begun to check in on the thing that I really want to do, which is go to France. I don't know. It's just so easy to distract myself.
As for reverse culture shock, I haven't noticed it too much. I definitely miss Bulgaria, and there are times that I wish I could just pop over for a visit, but I don't feel like I'm in shock here or anything. Being in Target or Wal-Mart is weird and overwhelming at times (too many choices, too little personal touch), but it's been something I can handle. Maybe this lethargy is how I deal with shock. I was talking to an RPCV friend of mine, and she said that she only noticed her culture shock in hind-sight. "Yeah, I was really weird last year," she said to herself... after the fact. I wonder if that's what's going on with me. My mom says she thinks I'm normal though. Bummer. I'd almost feel better if I were bouncing off the walls or something. Then it would make sense. C'mon! When is the breakdown coming? My RPCV friends say it will hit me eventually.
Oh wait! There are a few things that are really weird here and are messing with me. Let me just post them quickly. Er, not so quickly.
1. The sounds. It's never ever really quiet here. I can always hear some distant noise on the freeway, a far-off train whistling down the tracks, or a plane flying overhead. Plus, my neighborhood is ghetto. There's a siren going by at least once a day in the area, or a helicopter flying over head. A few weeks ago, we actually were awoken by a SWAT team raiding our neighbor's house. They literally said, "We know you're in there. Come out with your hands up." Full gear, armored vehicles.... It was like some television drama.
2. The food. I don't eat as fresh as I used to. I see all the crazy crap that's listed on the boxes of the food I eat, and I think, "Why am I eating this? I should go to the store and get all new food." And let's not even mention restaurants. In Bulgaria, everything was so fresh. You felt like it took the shortest route possible to get on your plate. Here you have no idea where your food came from or what happened to it in the meantime. My bowel movements have even changed. It's enough to give you the heebie-jeebies.
3. I'm overwhelmed by too much information. In grocery stores and on TV, I'm constantly being targeted by ads. Weight loss programs, celebrity gossip, credit consolidators, reality issues, anti-aging tactics, etc. It's starting to turn me a little neurotic. You know what gets me? All the ads for drugs on TV. It's enough to make me think I have PAD, RA, Alzheimer's, diabetes, asthma, depression, and erectile dysfunction. I'm really starting to think that I'm going to succumb to illness if I happen to do the wrong thing. Should I be using this plastic? Are my electronics slowly destroying my cells? Is the very air poisoning me? I'm slowly dying, aren't I? The above-mentioned food is doing nothing to help. A little more ignorance would be more helpful.
4. I no longer feel special. Okay, I know I'm special, but let me just explain. In my small town, I was "the American." I know I complained about lack of anonymity at times and sometimes I craved to fade into the background, but I've faded too much here - to the point where I don't have any more color. In Bulgaria, I felt different: confident, intelligent, interesting, and beautiful. Even though I was surrounded by hundreds of gorgeous Bulgarian girls, I didn't feel inadequate because I was "exotic." I do not feel the least bit exotic here. I don't feel like a unique individual 'cause I'm swallowed by all the people around me. I think this might be the hardest to deal with. An RPCV friend identified with this and said, "Yeah, it's the fish in the pond syndrome. It's great to be a big fish in a little pond, but it sucks to be a little fish in a big pond."
I keep in contact with friends and acquaintances in Bulgaria through Skype. They seem to be doing well. They miss me like I miss them. My former colleagues informed me that they bought a camera (with a bunch of extras) with the money I raised for them by teaching English. Apparently, they've named the camera "Apryl." That's nice, but who names their camera? They also received a package of holiday goodies my Grandma and I baked. They seem to be doing well. One of them, Fatme, got married, but there's nothing else to report it seems. It's good that I still get to practice my Bulgarian. I also met a Bulgarian man and a Colombian woman at my church. They're the perfect couple for me to practice my languages with, and I'm determined to make them my new best friends. Other than that, I still listen to Bulgarian music. Oh that Chalga - it never dies.
Well, here we are at the "end." I want to thank all of those that followed through this journey with me. Two hundred fifty-three posts are not easy to get through, so I want to thank those of you who made the attempt. As I've stated many times before, this blog has been mostly for me - as part of my digestion process. Writing helps me analyze and understand what happens in my life. It was extremely useful in Bulgaria, but I have no desire to continue it or start a new one here in the states. Someday I will read through this blog again - and others' blogs - and I'll smile. For now, I'm saying "farewell." And thanks again.
Oh yeah, I delayed so long in getting this post up because I also wanted to share my last round of pictures with you. There are so many, I doubt you'd care to see them all, but pick and peruse. I promise there are some good ones. There are five albums there - in no particular sense or order.

* I actually did include this story, but I didn't write it the way I wanted. After I finished translating at the church ceremony for the Bulgarian/Irish wedding back in May, I was approached by a young Irishman. "You speak English really well," he complimented me. I smirked. "You must have studied in an English academy or something." I smiled at him, "I'm American." His mouth opened in disbelief. I smiled and got into a cab to the reception. I've never been complimented on my English by an Irishman before. I must speak pretty well. Now, if only a Bulgarian would compliment me on my English, I'd be set!
** My mom and I were actually on the same plane as the Irish president, Mary McAleese. The cabin crew made sure to point her out and delay us while she debarked. It makes you wonder: Do I want to be on a plane with an important dignitary?

First Impressions of Home

2008-12-12T05:56:00.005+02:00

Disclaimer*: Nothing in this entry will be "right." I'm going to blame it on the jet lag.
I'm back in the states. I got back yesterday. I already miss Bulgaria. I haven't even been here 48 hours, but if the first few moments are any indicators, this whole "re-entry" thing is going to hit me hard. I already signed up for a mentor. I'm hoping connect with another Returned Peace Corps Volunteer (besides the ones I already know) to try and get through it. Plus, Peace Corps gave me mental health vouchers before I left. If I can find them, I can go talk to a specialist a whopping three times! I'll be cured!
Ireland was great. My mom and I visited a lot of great spots. We went to the following places: Dublin, Enniskerry, Kilkenny, Killarney, Blarney, and Liscannor. We also drove through a bunch of amazing locales. If these places mean nothing to you, let me just saw that we saw a lot of green, toured a few castles, visited some amazing cliffs, entered some enormous churches, drank a bit of Guinness, and we kissed the Blarney stone! Mom did a really good job of driving on the "wrong" side of the road, and I played the role of navigator since the GPS wasn't working. We saw a lot of southern Ireland that way - by driving all around it. We divided our time between hotels and bed & breakfasts (some not actually including breakfast), and the people were amazingly friendly and nice. We had people come up to us on the street and give us directions when we were lost. A bus driver even pulled up alongside us and asked if we were okay, 'cause I'm sure we looked utterly confused. The accent is great. Some of their sayings we found extremely amusing and now want to use in daily conversation. Plus, Irish boys be cute. I had a really good time with my mom.
My bags and my belongings made it stateside - intact. Only the lid of one ceramic cookware broke, which is an incredible shame, but is amazing considering all the breakables I packed. Considering the price I paid to haul it across Europe, I'm feeling very grateful that only one thing broke. I'm already unpacked - sort of. A lot of the things that were sitting in my bedroom here have been packed away since my mom has taken on a remodeling project with the help of some family members. The house looks amazing. It takes some getting used to, but I love it. Nice, new things are usually easy to get used to. It's the presence of Mom here that makes it feel like "home," - otherwise I'd probably feel like I was staying in some stranger's house.
So, I've started working on going through plastic crates and slowly transfer my clothing back to my closet. I use "my" as an adjective, but I'm trepidatious to start thinking of this place is mine. I don't want to get too comfortable here. American culture is not as accepting as Bulgarian culture on the whole "living with my parents into my late 20's" thing. "Hi. I'm Apryl. I'm 27. I'm unemployed. I'm unmarried. I live with my mother." This may have worked for George Costanza in "The Opposite" episode of Seinfeld, but I doubt it's going to work for me.
So, yeah. I miss Bulgaria already. We landed in San Francisco, and the city was nice from the plane. Once we were on the ground, however, the only beautiful thing I saw were the smiling faces of my grandmother and grandfather. The city was brown, hazy, and it lacked that sparkle I remember San Francisco having. Maybe it was just the day. We soon hit bumper-to-bumper traffic on the freeway as we were driving toward the haze. It's not as quiet here as it was in my tiny, mountain town. I saw some friends last night, and I saw my uncle today. Other than that, I haven't really been out, and I don't know what to do with myself. I'll have to busy myself by getting my space in order, followed eventually by my life.
I woke up early and flipped through infomercials of every kind - telling you what was wrong with you and what you needed to do to "correct" it. I zoned out and stared at the opposite wall. I'm so lost that I don't even know what I'm thinking when I do that. It may hurt people to read this, but I miss home. Home is a state of mind, but for me (for now) home is Rakitovo. I don't want to sound ungrateful, 'cause I'm from an amazing place with a loving family. It doesn't mean that I want to go back. I just miss her.
P.S. I got this note from a friend of mine in Rakitovo. She's in high school. This just makes it all worth it:
Thank you, Apryl!
Hey, Apryl! I just wanted to say: Thank you for being here, for wasting ur time on us, for always being that nice and helpful, for changing Rakitovo and our ways of thinking... For the 3 years u've been here u have done soo much for all of us and most of all you became part of our lives.
At first when I thought of writing to you I just wanted to thank you for the recommendation u wrote for me and which helped me win the scholarship I was applying to, but that made me think also of all the things you've done and what a great volunteer was sent to us. Благодаря ти за всичко и няма да те забравя! :)

Ireland!

2008-12-03T13:32:00.003+02:00

I made it to Dublin last night - with all my luggage. I'm in an internet cafe. The queen is on TV. Apparetnly she's giving a speech at Westminster. I want her crown. It's pretty awesome.
I'm in Ireland! I've dreamed of coming her for quite some time, so I need to make this short. The flight over was a bit emotional. I was talking to my former colleauges and getting teary-eyed in the airport. Then I met a talkative, Irishman who'd had quite a bit to drink, so the flight was good. Walking through Dublin with all my bags was quite the adventure, but I made it all right.
I went to C.E.G.A. (Future Foundation's partners in Sofia) yesterday, 'cause I needed a printer with internet, and I couldn't think of a place where I could get that. They hugged me and gave me gifts to take with me. Awesome. More luggage. They were small. Anyway, then Greg took me to the airport - where I ate a huge fee 'cause I just have to bring loads and loads of things back with me, and now I'm in Ireland! I don't know what to say. I'm just - here. My mom is coming tomorrow, and I hope we're going to have a great adventure.
The "saga of the painting" had a happy (and completely misinformed) ending. After asking Yanko to get in touch with the lady at the courier firm and then getting in touch with her myself, no one called me to let me know what the status was on the painting. I finally got a hold of her again yesterday. She let me know that it had been delivered on the 25th of November. Super. My dad hadn't contacted me to let me know that he had gotten it, so I wrote to tell him that it was supposed to be there, and could he please check again? This is the e-mail I got back from him:

Apryl-O!
Yes – The painting arrived. I love it! It’s been hanging on my wall for several days and every time I look at it I think about how far it traveled. The artist will probably never know that their sailboat traveled all the way to Hawaii!
So sorry. I know I was supposed to report right away. I was wanting to get a picture of me holding it – perhaps by the ocean.
Thank you so much for all the effort to get it here.
MAHALO APRYL!!
Love,
Dad

I'm going to kill him. Meanwhile I'm sitting here thinking - after all that effort, all those frazzled nerves, the painting just "disappeared." He has two choices: Death by hug suffocation or... I'll think of another method later. I gotta go. I'm in Ireland!

One Last Ditch Effort

2008-12-01T22:51:00.014+02:00

Welcome to my 250th post. Can you believe it? Two hundred and fifty posts. I'm writing this under the influence of 200 grams of rakia. Should be awesome.
Thursday was Thanksgiving - for those of you who may not know.... During the morning, I was here with Greg and his girlfriend. We went to Dunkin Donuts for some bagel sandwiches in the early afternoon. They then left for Dimitrovgrad to visit the girlfriend's parents. Angel showed up later in the day, and we went for Indian food. After attempting to call my family several dozen times (they thought their phone was going crazy and actually called the phone company, but I think Skype/Greg's computer was on the fritz), I finally got through to my Grandma's house. It was nice to talk to them. My grandma gave me good advice: "Don't be so hard on yourself." My uncle "Ra-Ra" actually had the best comment of all:
Rob: What are you doing for Thanksgiving?
Apryl: Well, actually, it's past mid-night here, so it's technically no longer Thanksgiving, but I went and ate Indian food.
Rob: Let me get this straight: For an American holiday, you celebrated in Bulgaria by going for Indian food.
Apryl: (laughs) Exactly.
It was an international holiday. At least I wasn't alone, and that's the important thing. There were other English-speakers in the restaurant. It wasn't so bad.
My colleagues called me to wish my a happy Thanksgiving. They were eating a cake that the new volunteer had made. Ani asked why I didn't come over and hang out with them. Honestly, I don't have much time anymore. But even if I did, how lame is it to say "good-bye" and then say, "Oh, psych!" and show up again. Lame! That's why I didn't even really entertain the idea a couple weeks ago. I almost saw Yanko this week, but it didn't work out. He says that he's going to come to the airport to see me off, but I find that kind of a stretch. Ani and Reneta both had birthdays this week, and I called them. I'm here, but I'm not here. It's so weird. It's hard to admit to people that I'm still in Sofia, 'cause it doesn't really make sense - to either them or me.
I took an "I'm depressed - again, so I'm doing nothing - again" day on Friday. I was supposed to go to Plovdiv and meet my "sister," but I decided to just hang out in Sofia. I had the place to myself, and it was nice. I didn't feel well, and I didn't feel like going anywhere.
On Saturday, in the afternoon, I went to Plovdiv to meet my sister so that we could go to Kurdjali. We hadn't made concrete plans, but, fortunately, we found a bus. I used "Couchsurfing" once again, and we connected with a great host. Rado came to pick us up at the bus station, and he took us to his place so we could meet his parents and drop off our stuff. Afterwards, he and a friend of his took us on a night tour of Kurdjali. The town is a really great place. Vili and I had never been there before, so it was interesting for both of us. Plus, we had really great and talkative tour guides.
Rado then took us to a traditional Bulgarian restaurant to meet up with some more friends and listen to live music - again provided by people he knows. The food was great, we danced various horos, and they even sang "Hotel California," in my honor - at which point one of the guys at the table asked me to dance. Plus, my Bulgarian was complimented endlessly throughout the whole weekend. I couldn't have asked for more.
The next day, Rado was gracious enough to take my "sister" and I to Perperikon. We had planned not to disturb him. We had said good-bye to his parents and everything (without waking him), but he chased us down as we were leaving the house, and he informed us that he would be hanging out with us - if we accepted the pleasure of his company. Fantastic.
Perperikon is about 20 km from Kurdjali, and there are no buses there, so it was really awesome to get the ride and the personal tour guide. We walked around the ruins and took myriads of pictures.
Afterward, we visited a monastery in Kurdjali and then went to a restaurant that was sitting out on Lake Kardjali. The lake was absolutely beautiful and very calm. You could even feel the restaurant bobbing a bit. Plus, you could see fishermen catching and slaughtering fish out the windows. Haha. It had a great atmosphere.
We then went to a coffee shop that had an interesting interior and various flavors of thick hot chocolate. Then Vili and I caught a bus back to Plovdiv. It was the first trip that I've taken with my "sister." I honestly hope that it's not the last. We had a great time.
I then accompanied Vili back to Trud. We ate dinner, and then we slept for hours. It was great. My host dad asked me if I'd returned from America. We joked about that for a while. My host mom made my favorite Bulgarian dish, peppers stuffed with seasoned rice, and we looked at pictures from our trip. Plus, my host niece was running around and being cute. It was nice to be with them once again. I hung out with Vili at the salon where she works, and then she and a friend dropped me off at the bus station. It was difficult to say "good-bye" to her, because we honestly don't know if this will be the end. She's thinking about coming to Ireland with me for a couple of days, but that's a stretch. I have to check some things here on the internet, but I honestly doubt it will work out. It's worth a try though. Other than the company, it would be nice to have an extra "pack-mule" for my luggage. No, really. Her company would be awesome to have.
I got back to Sofia this evening. Greg and I went out for my last, Bulgarian meal. He treated me to a couple of rakias. Awesome.
So, I'm leaving for Ireland tomorrow. In 24 hours, I'll be in Dublin. I can't believe I'm actually leaving Bulgaria for who-knows-how-long. It's been so hard for me to go. I imagine, however, that it'll be like every other "good-bye:" unreal. I haven't come to terms with the fact that I've been saying "сбогом" to people here. Many have the feeling that they'll be seeing me again, and I have that feeling, too. There are so many other places in the world to visit before I come back, but I might be back regardless. After three years, it's hard to leave a second (or third) home, saying it's "forever." That just seems absurd. In the meantime, I should set this aside and welcome a new adventure with open arms.

P.S. By the way, the "saga of the painting I [sent] to the states" has taken a turn for the inevitable, that's-what-makes-this-story-so-good, worst: It hasn't turned up stateside, and it was supposed to be there two weeks ago. Of course! Should I have expected anything less? Grrr and double grrr....

Mac Attack

2008-11-26T23:10:00.004+02:00

I just got back today from a fantastic trip to Macedonia. I started out by catching an afternoon bus to Skopje. The border crossing was a bit interesting as a guard on the Macedonian side informed me that the medical insurance cards that I presented to him were unacceptable, and I would be needing to purchase insurance for my stay. It sounded like a scam to get three euro out of me, but I didn't give the money directly to him. Rather, I gave it to a sleepy guy in another building, and I received a few papers saying I now had health insurance for six days in Macedonia. Whatever.
The rest of the journey went without incident, and I arrived in Skopje around 9:00 p.m. I tried to send a text to the guy I was staying with only to find that my cell phone refused to work, so I set about trying to get some funds and use a pay phone. It turned out that the pay phone only accepted a certain kind of phone card, so I had to go and find one of those. It's a good thing that Macedonian and Bulgarian languages are so similar. I was finally able to contact my host and then take an overpriced, but entertaining, cab ride to his place.
My host, Igor, was my first couchsurfing experience. The idea of couchsurfing is to connect travelers with local communities, which will hopefully lead to an increase in cultural understanding. In basic terms, however, it's a chance to crash on a stranger's couch. It sounds a little scary, but I had only heard good things about couchsurfing. The site tries to minimize risk to its users, but one just never knows. I was nervous for several reasons. That being said, Igor was a fantastic host. I started asking him right away about former Yugoslavia and tried to figure out how Macedonia and Bulgaria were similar. He patiently answered my questions to the best of his ability. His mom made macaroni for me and put a spicy ketchup and oregano on top. They also gave me juice, coffee, and some chocolate wafers. I gave them a bottle of Bulgarian wine.
The next day, sleet was falling, but that didn't keep Igor from showing me around Skopje. We went to the old part of town, saw some mosques, saw some bazaars, saw some cultural objects, saw some malls, etc. We had some lunch, and I ate some beans in a traditional, Macedonian dish. We were kind of at a loss for things to do, but we didn't want to give up and go back. We tried to go bowling, but they were closed. We ended up going to an art gallery. Then we went for coffee. While at coffee, we ran into another friend of his who was having coffee with a Canadian couchsurfer. We then walked around with them. We had an interesting tour of a mosque and stumbled on a Macedonian wedding at an Orthodox Church.
Wet and cold, we retreated back to his place where I had a lovely conversation with his father. As I mentioned, Macedonian and Bulgarian are very similar. At first, the father thought I was Bulgarian. There were only a few sentences that I had to ask him to repeat so as to understand them. He shared his wine with me, and there was pizza to eat as well. I sat and warmed myself by the stove while Igor tried drying our sneakers by rotating them around in the oven.
Later that night, we went out again for a meeting with The Hospitality Club, which is basically the same concept as couchsurfing. There were drinks and people dancing tango. I met a lot of interesting people (there was a sweet, Hungarian girl who latched onto me for a bit) who spoke amazing English, and I enviously observed the tango dancers. We were invited out to a dance club, but Igor had other plans for the evening, and I tagged along with him.
We ended up going to a rock club and meeting up with the friend we had run into earlier in the day. We didn't stay there long, however, because Igor had some other friends that he wanted to hang out with, so we left and went to a club with harder rock. Igor's friends were friendly and great. They seemed to have a lot of Macedonian pride. I was told that it was better to speak English with them, and I was asked which was better: Bulgaria or Macedonia? I responded by saying I'd spent the last three years in Bulgaria and the last day in Macedonia. "Okay, okay, but we have better beer, right?" I conceded that their beer was better. I don't care much for beer anyway. They responded by getting us three rounds of tequila shots. "I think your friends are trying to get me drunk," I told Igor. He just laughed.
It was a long day. We got back to his place at about 3:30 a.m., and then we stayed up talking until about 6 a.m.
Four hours later, we were up and eating breakfast. Igor asked me if I'd like to go and check out an aqueduct nearby. I agreed, and we walked a few kilometers out to go see it. I walked on top of the aqueduct, but Igor was a bit more cautious. We chatted there a bit longer, and then we went back to his place. I told him that I wanted to catch the 3:30 p.m. bus to Ohrid, but he convinced me to take a later one. I stayed and ate with his family, and then it turned out that he took me to the bus station right after the 4:30 had left. I ended up having to wait until 6:30 to catch the last bus to Ohrid. I wasn't too happy about that, but it could have been worse.
Ohrid was awesome. Once I got into town, I caught a taxi to my next couchsurfing destination: a Peace Corps Volunteer's residence. The only problem was, I wasn't exactly sure where I was going. I gave the taxi driver the directions that I had, but I couldn't figure out where her house was from there. He didn't want me to get stuck somewhere, so we ended up calling her. She appeared within a few minutes and even covered my fare when I didn't have small change.
I hung out that evening with her and another PCV. We stayed up late comparing PC Macedonia and PC Bulgaria stories. The next day, I got up and Karen, my host, made me coffee. She also gave me a detailed itinerary of what to see while in Ohrid. I grabbed my things and set out for some alone time.
Ohrid was absolutely beautiful. First, there's the gorgeous, clear lake that's shared by Albania. In addition to this, you can run into historical beauty just about every five minutes. I saw many beautiful churches, an amphitheater, a fortress, and old city walls. I snuck into the "closed" fortress when no one was around, and I even walked through an excavation site. There were lush trees and snow-covered mountains. It was amazing. I'm including a picture here, but I wish I could include tons more. There were so many beautiful sights.
In the afternoon, I went for a fabulous lunch with the two PCVs. The waiter kept bringing us traditional food to sample - telling us that it was on him. We also met a friendly English couple who had recently moved to Ohrid. After a few hours of conversation in the restaurant, Karen and I went to get some coffee. We then went back to her place so she could get some work done, and I could watch CNN.
The next morning, I got up and hit a few more sites in Ohrid. Then Karen and I went to another town on the lake called Struga. She wanted to pick up some items from a COS-ing volunteer there, and she had a meeting with a colleague. I had planned to visit some cave churches and then continue on to another town where I could catch a bus back to Sofia. All those plans fell through. Her colleague was busy with another project, and I found out that the bus schedules weren't conducive to my plans. We ended up getting some lunch and walking around Struga. We then went back to Ohrid. She and her colleague did some project development while I was happy to read/doze on the couch.
That evening I caught an overnight bus back to Sofia. There were no problems at the border, and I arrived here at about 6:00 a.m. this morning. I was able to get back to Greg's before he left for school, and I crashed for several hours on the couch. It was snowing today in Sofia, and I made a few calls to my former colleagues. Ani had a birthday the other day, and Reneta's birthday was today. I might be seeing Yanko on Friday. My former landlady, Margarita, asked if I would be coming back for a visit while I was here. Angel's supposed to be coming out to Sofia tomorrow. I miss those guys. Otherwise, part of me still wishes I were in Macedonia.

Progressing & Raising the Bar

2008-11-20T23:59:00.005+02:00

It has been an interesting week. I've figured some things out, but a lot has been lost as well. I've spent much of my time sitting in my friend Greg's apartment while he's been away at work all day. Greg gets up early and comes home late. He works 11-12 hour days. I've asked him if it's a recipe for burnout. Every day, when I ask him how his day was, he answers, "Long." Who can keep up that pace?
Anyway, Greg goes to work, and I stay in the apartment alone. I'm so grateful for the place to stay, and the freedom to "readjust," but I get lonely. On Monday night, I took him out to dinner and we went bowling with a couple of his colleagues. On Tuesday, he and his girlfriend went out with some of their friends, and I stayed in. Yesterday, we went out to dinner again. Tonight we stayed in and had dinner. Sometimes we play video games. Other than that, I haven't been getting out much. The weather hasn't been enticing. Today was sunny, so I decided to go and buy a bus ticket to Macedonia (a neighboring country for those who may have missed a recent geography lesson). Actually, the technical name is Former Yugoslav Republic of Macedonia (FYROM), but that's a history lesson for another day. Afterward, I walked around a bit, but I felt pretty lonely.
Originally, I was going to take a solo trip up to Romania, Hungary, Croatia, and Bosnia and Herzegovina. I bailed for three reasons: 1. I took another look at my financial situation and decided that it would be a stretch. 2. I was pushing it on time. 3. Winter in these places wasn't particularly appealing. There is a fourth reason, which is a little harder to admit: I'm scared. I'm not scared of other people or striking out on my own. I'm scared of being lonely. I wish it didn't bother me, but I know how I am. I would have a hard time making friends with other travelers, and I'd be experiencing a lot of things alone. I don't really enjoy traveling alone. I tell myself that it shouldn't stop me from visiting these places, but it's just who I am. I have intense respect and admiration for those who strike out on their own (one guy from my group traveled alone for almost a year after his COS), and I wish I could be like them. I'm not. I think of myself as pretty brave. I don't mind going out on my own when I have a specific objective to accomplish. In fact, sometimes I even prefer being alone in those cases. When it comes to sightseeing, however, I don't really like to be alone. So I decided to back out. I'm not too surprised, but I'm a bit disappointed in myself.
I have to get out of Sofia, though. I'm planning on taking a trip to Macedonia for a few days. Then I'll come back for a couple days. My "sister" and I are going on a trip to Perperikon next weekend. Then I'll be flying out to Ireland the following week to meet up with my mom. It's nice to have a plan after a week of drifting. I appreciate Greg's patience. He's basically said that I can stay here as long as I need. It's good to have friends like that.
I've thought about going back to Rakitovo to visit, but that would be pretty much pointless. I had to pull myself away from there. Plus, I've said "good-bye" to everyone. How lame would it be to go back? "Yeah, I know we hugged and had this tearful good-bye. I still haven't left yet." I think that would just mess with people. It's no less awkward when they call, "Where are you now?" "I'm still in Sofia...." Seeing my "sister" again wasn't something I was planning, but we're both excited that it's going to work out.
A year ago today, I got on a plane and flew back to the states for about six weeks. I eagerly got on the plane because I was dying to see everyone there again. That and Mexican food was waiting for me. I had a fabulous time. I also knew that I was coming back to Bulgaria. This time, I'm dragging my feet. I have no desire to leave Bulgaria. Leaving does not guarantee a return this time. I'm terrified. It's not something I consciously think about. It's just there in the back of my mind. It's for the best that I now have a plane ticket which will take me away. Inevitability needs to consume me.
I had a dream the other night. I dreamt that I was back in the states. I remember thinking about Bulgaria and experiencing this heart-wrenching feeling that she was so far away from me. I could literally feel the distance. It made me sad. I haven't been feeling that way about the states, but that's probably because I know the states are waiting for me with open arms.
My luggage is the new saga of my life (although no word yet on whether the painting made it to my dad safe and sound), and I don't know whether to ship it or to try and take it on the plane with me. Originally, I was going to send it on ahead while I was traveling. Now that those plans have fallen through, I'm wondering if it would be cheaper to check it as excess baggage on the plane?
On a tangent, I have to brag about this: Peace Corps pays for the flight home. The volunteer can either take a ticket outright to the nearest airport to their home-of-record, or HOR as us acronym-happy people refer to it, or they can take cash-in-lieu. Peace Corps calculates the current cost of a ticket home and then give that to the volunteer if they choose the second option. I probably should have changed my HOR to my dad's place in Hawai'i. I could have taken you taxpayers for all you're worth. (Actually, I'm looking at airfare, and it's about the same as to Sacramento. Oh, well.) Anyway, I'm spending about a fourth of the amount they gave me to get back to the states. I wonder if this is a record or something.
So, yeah. You've probably understood that I've been frustrated with myself for still being here - for stalling while trying to figure out how to function again. I've been assured that this is normal. I've appreciated the words of encouragement that I've gotten from my fellow RPCVs. I know that it's normal. I think I just wish I dealt with it in a different way than holing myself up in a friend's apartment. Why can't I be the person who deals with it by drinking and partying every night? Haha. If I did that, I'd definitely want a different way of dealing. Well, there went one week. It could have been a bit more productive, but it wasn't a waste. Next week will be filled with Macedonia, more Sofia and non-Sofia Bulgaria, and then Ireland will be soon behind followed closely by the U.S.A. It's good to be on track, but I'm also still nervous. It's been nice to observe the United States from several thousand kilometers away. I've been simultaneously proud of and frustrated with her while sitting on my perch. Now I have to be a part of her. Meh.
Thanksgiving is coming up next week.. I've been trying not to think about it because I might actually be alone. Let's continue not to think about it, shall we? I'll figure something out.
I'm not sure what to do with this blog after I get back stateside. I'll probably read it just to digest, laugh at my naïveté, and reminisce. I think I might also write down a few things as I remember them - part of the process of digestion. I think I'll have a hard time letting go of this blog as well. It's been a very cathartic method of processing my experiences. Basically it's been a good friend.
I wanted to write down something Yanko said to me as we were driving to Sofia. He kept grabbing and squeezing my shoulders. He didn't want to let me go. "Apryl, you really raised the bar. You accomplished things in Rakitovo that I would never have imagined possible before I met you. It would be hard for anyone to fill your shoes." High praise. "Raising the bar" was a phrase Angel had used the day before, but for entirely different reasons. By the grace of God, I have affected people. They have affected and blessed me more.
Many people have told me that I will be missed - that I was really loved in Rakitovo. I was talking with a friend of mine who told me, "It's going to be hard. We're really going to miss you here." "Yeah," I said, "but you all get to just miss one person. I have to miss all of you. I think it's going to be harder on me." Her answer was, "I don't know about that. We're really going to miss you." I still think I'm going to miss them more.

The Aftermath

2008-11-17T13:31:00.005+02:00

This post will consist of chaotic ramblings. I blame in on the Coca-Cola Blak. More on that later. I am still in Bulgaria. I've made it out of Rakitovo, but I've only made it so far as Sofia, and there's no definite date for departure. Basically, I've got to hit that magic number of days between getting done what I need to get done and not wearing out my welcome. It's a bit difficult falling in that role between house guest and "squatter." I am slowly trying to get out of here, and it honestly sucks. Getting questions like, "So, when are you leaving Bulgaria?" from my friends in Rakitovo are difficult (like Maria just asked me on Skype.) Everyone asks me - whether it's on the phone or Skype - and I just don't know. Maybe they wonder why I'm dragging my feet. Maybe they wonder why I'm not with them. I just don't know. Argh!
I was in Rakitovo until Friday of last week. It took me that long to get all my stuff together, clean up the apartment, and say final good-byes. The weirdest/most awkward part was running into people I had told that I would be leaving on Monday. "Oh, Apryl. You're still here." That look of confusion was something I just didn't want to deal with. The explanation was that I needed to be home in my apartment and get my stuff together. I just couldn't do it in those weeks leading up to my COS. I was too busy running around doing other stuff and trying to get my "good-byes" out of the way. Then, after saying good-bye, I was still there. (sigh)
My colleagues said that they would help me pack, but I just couldn't figure out how exactly they could help. Yanko got mad at me that I wasn't calling him for more help, but I just didn't know how they could help me out exactly. I did call him a few times to help me get rid of items I no longer wanted. I gave away tons of stuff, and then I still had too much stuff. I looked at everything and got mad. But then I realized that all this stuff was an accumulation of things people had sent me because they cared about me. I didn't want to let it go. I still have way too much stuff.
Angel did come and help me clean on Friday. I was so grateful to have someone vacuum my apartment/clean my fridge/make me brunch. It was a huge load off my shoulders while I was trying to get other stuff done. Those are good friends.
A few more coffees, a few more dinners, a bunch more hugs and kisses, a few more gifts, and then I was finally able to say, "Okay. I'm leaving on Friday." Yanko arranged some type of transportation with Enyo. We used his taxi, and my luggage and I caught a free ride to Greg's apartment. Before leaving Rakitovo, however, I was driven up to the Educational Center for last hugs with my colleagues and some of my girls. Breath-taking hugs, tears, promises of return. Ужас! Several people have told me that they have a feeling that we'll see each other again. I have that feeling, too. It's hard to deal with it, however, when I'm still in Bulgaria.
So, I've come to Sofia, and my bags are still too big. I'm waiting for Greg to get another bag for me so that I can repack my belongings - maybe give some more stuff away. It's going to be expensive to ship home. Why do I have to be so attached to stuff? Other than that, I've been trying to plan out my route for travel after I finally do get my act together. For now, I'm drinking a Coca-Cola Blak - which is basically Coke mixed with coffee. It's awful. Ah, Bulgaria. I just can't leave you, can I? Every couple hours or so, I get a call or a message on Skype, "Where are you? When are you leaving Bulgaria?" Augh!
Have I ever felt so lost? I'm not sure. I was talking to a friend the other night, and she said, "I envy you. You are a free-floater with no obligations." She's right. I need to see the bright side of this. They also have other terms for such people: "slacker" and "bum" are a few that come to mind.
Other images are coming to the mind that I want to share with you. Bulgaria has been good to me. I'd just like to leave so that I can appreciate her a bit more. Maybe I should just leave my luggage here with Greg and buy a ticket for the next train out of the country. Grow up, Apryl. Stop whining. Anyway, as I was saying, I will never forget some of the images of Bulgaria that are burned in my mind. Along with the people and the warm memories, I will remember trucks spilling over with cabbage, horses and carts running down the middle of the road, donkeys bathing in dirty rivers, and old man dragging an old refrigerator down the street - he was pulling it along by a rope tied around its middle, and it was making the most horrible scraping sound, getting caught in the middle of a herd of goats.... These are the images that might come to mind when people think of Eastern Europe, but I hope you've gotten a more "accurate" picture of Bulgaria from my blog. This is part of the reason why the address is "aprylsbulgaria." It's not your Bulgaria. It's not even an accurate view of this beautiful country. It's my view of things here.
Living in Bulgaria has given me a clearer picture of life in my native homeland. I will always be grateful for the good and bad. I've grown, I've learned, I've experienced a wide range of emotions. I wonder who I would have been had I never come. There's no way of knowing that girl anymore.
I'm rambling. I'm going to go. I'm just frustrated with my circumstances right now, but I have no one to be frustrated with except for myself.
P.S. Oh yeah. We had an earthquake the other day. Well, either we had a couple earthquakes, or we had an earthquake with an aftershock. I didn't feel the first one, but I woke up in the middle of the night when the earth shook again. Greg lives on the eighth floor, so the couch I was sleeping on was bouncing when it hit. Whew! I've never felt an earthquake in Bulgaria before. That'll give you goosebumps.

Вече не съм доброволка от корпус на мира (I am no longer a Peace Corps Volunteer)

2008-11-11T21:15:00.002+02:00

I am a free agent. I can't believe it. In about an hour and a half yesterday, I was able to finish up all the paperwork that tied me to Peace Corps. I feel like a lost kitten. I'm back in my town - finishing up packing and basically avoiding the inevitable. Sometime over the next week, I'm going to have to leave. Again, I can't quite believe it. I feel so lost.
I'm in the internet cafe 'cause I no longer have internet in my home. I have been spoiled having internet at home. I can surf the net in peace and quiet - and in my pj's! Now I'm surrounded by a bunch of boys playing various video games and yelling the few curse words they know in English. I miss my internet.
I went and visited my host family over the weekend. Vili had work on Saturday, so I hid out in her room - watching movies and sleeping. That night we went out with an acquaintance of hers in Plovdiv. We got home at a reasonable time and then slept late into the next morning. My "mom" made my favorite meals for me, and we spent a lot of time hanging out. The next day, Vili spoiled me buy getting me a bunch of souvenirs from Plovdiv. I bought her a necklace. We went to eat. Then we had an almost-tearful good-bye at the bus station.
When I got home - late. Some of my colleagues were waiting for me. They fed me (I've been doing a lot of eating) and gave me gifts. Reneta was mad that I had shown up late. She thought that I had flaked on them. She perked up once I showed up. It's interesting to see how much Reneta has changed. When she was younger, she used to cry when I didn't show up when she thought I should. Now she gets angry. My colleagues were happy to hear that I wasn't ready to leave right away. I don't think they really want to deal with it either. Ani even offered to let me live with them for a month! What would I do, though? Until now, I've been living like a volunteer. Now what? I should live like a cat?
Closing my service (COS-ing) was easier than I expected. I had to fill out some documentation, see some people, and get some signatures. Considering how chaotic my life has been recently, I wasn't expecting it to go so smoothly. I guess I was better-prepared than I had expected. I thought I would have to spend the night in Sofia, but I was able to come home.
Today, I spent most of the day inside. I've gone "na-gosti" (visiting people) a few times. There are still people I need to spend time with. I still expect someone to see me accidentally and to call me out for saying that I was leaving on Monday. Mostly, this time is for me. With everyone wanting to see me, I couldn't pack and get my things in order. Now I'm able to do that. Only I'm still having a hard time 'cause people have felt the need to give me large, breakable gifts. I'm not complaining that people love me. I just can't figure out how to get these "symbols of their affection" home.
Meh. I'm in limbo. I don't know when I'm actually leaving, but it's going to have to be sometime soon. People who do know that I'm still here ask when I'm going, and I know it sucks to be telling them, "Maybe tomorrow... maybe the day after...." They can't get closure that way. I feel like a ghost walking around town. I have to get moving on.
In more entertaining news, I was offered a marriage deal yesterday. He said I could stay in Bulgaria and live in his nice apartment in Sofia while he goes to America and lives in California. I could even have lovers! This would fall in line pretty well with my goal to become a trophy wife. If only it weren't a joke, I'd have to give it some more thought....

This Might Be It. What If This Is It?

2008-11-08T01:38:00.003+02:00

I'm nowhere near ready to get out of Bulgaria. I know that Monday is my last day as a Peace Corps Volunteer, but I just can't believe it. This week has been rather exhausting, but I'm running on adrenaline, so I'm good. I don't think I'll actually be getting out of Rakitovo on Monday. Whether I'm ready for it or not, I'll no longer be a PCV come Monday at midnight. This doesn't mean that I have to be out of my site by then. I don't think I'll have my stuff together by then.
After a long week, I got a lot of stuff done today, and I'm feeling really accomplished at the moment. Every single day has been a chore, however. Let's start with something that I did that wasn't so smart. I don't know where my head was, but sometimes I do things that really go against good common sense.
This last Saturday, when I was waiting for a bus to take me to Velingrad to meet up with my colleagues, I was approached by a guy here that I know. I've talked to him a few times, but he's a few cards short of a deck, if you know what I mean, and I've maintained my distance. He asked me when the bus was coming, and I said it should arrive any minute. Well, the bus never came, and the only taxi left for Velingrad. He said, "Come on. I'll give you a ride." I mulled it over for a half-second before I agreed. The bus obviously wasn't coming.
Once I was in his car, and we were driving to Velingrad, I thought, "That was really stupid, Apryl. What are you doing in this guy's car? Why was he just hanging out at the bus stop?" It turned out that he was waiting for a friend and had nothing better to do. He was driving pretty slowly, and he started to ask me, "How is it that you trust me?" He then started talking about how I know his sister and his nephews, and for this reason he could never do anything to me. He then insinuated that, did I not have this relationship with close family members, he would have... what? Taken me out back and beaten me? I tried to get him to stop talking about it and tell him that he couldn't do bad things - even to a girl he didn't know, but he just kept bringing it up. Fortunately, he drove me to the hotel without incident. I'm an idiot.
I had a good time with the colleagues. We ate, talked, listened to music, drank, danced, and laughed. I don't think I've ever drank so much, so I figured that I'd be struggling the next day - or even during the night. I had a headache when I woke up, but that was it. Maybe I wasn't as "mermeloskena" as I thought.
I went home at a reasonable time the next day, and I started getting some stuff together. I cleaned a bit since I was planning on having guests over, and then I went to meet up with some kids to play baseball for the last time. It was fun, but it was also a little frustrating. I have a hard time dealing with bad sportsmanship, but I think we're all programmed to be bad sports - especially when we're kids. We also played a bit of frisbee. As a final gesture, I told the boys there that they could have my frisbee. That was a mistake. They couldn't agree on who should be in charge of holding onto the frisbee, and I heard the next day that they pratically "broke" it. Nice. I'd actually like to see how they could accomplish that.
That evening, Emily, Reneta, Petya, and Jeina came over to make Mexican food. I was annoyed that Maria didn't show up, but what could I do? We had a great time. I mostly delegated and made sure that everything was going smoothly. The others played the role of sous-chefs. We talked, laughed, and ate good food. It was fantastic, and I'm glad that we were able to do that one last time.
On Monday, I spent the whole day in Pazardjik for nothing. Enter the continuing saga of the painting. I went because I was informed that I would have to go to the customs office there and get a customs declaration. I wasn't informed, however, that I would be needing any sort of documentation when I went. I was just told to go. So I went and checked on my "lichna karta," or personal ID card. It wasn't ready yet. Big surprise. "Come back on Friday - after lunch." I kind of don't understand how your ID card can expire, and you don't get a new one right away (even when you applied over two weeks before its expiration), but who am I to judge? This will be important later, however.
So, I walked across Pazardjik to get to the customs office. They were really helpful, but they couldn't do anything for me because they wanted to see the document I had obtained from the National Art Gallery stating that it wasn't a cultural object. Nice. That document was attached to the painting - which was somewhere in Sofia. One of the men talked to the woman in my town that works for the courier firm, and they came to an understanding. He told me, "Nothing will get done today, though." By then, that was obvious. "So, how much is this painting worth?" When I told them, they were incredulous. "You're going through all of this nonsense for some run-of-the-mill, inexpensive painting?" I hung my head, "I know. I know."
I was irritated. I had gone to Pazardjik for nothing, and I lost the whole day. On top of this, I received a super-disappointing phone call about an unrelated issue. I grabbed some food and then went to a bus stop to wait for my bus back to Velingrad - except that the bus never came. It turns out that the bus no longer passes through the street where I was waiting. Nice. I walked to the bus station to wait for the next bus - which would leave an hour and a half later.
The bus station was crowded, so I decided to go to the train station to try and find a place to sit down. The train station was crowded, so I went and just sat on some cement near the train station. Worst. Most. Pointless. Day. Ever.
I was soon approached by a young, Roma boy. "Do you have the time?" I just wanted to be left alone, so I told him that I didn't. He soon came back and asked if he could sit with me. It's a free country. He sat down and started talking to me, but I was aware of his entire family looking at me with amused expressions. I pretty much gave him one-word answers. Honestly, I was very aware of my belongings. I couldn't figure out his agenda. He seemed like a nice boy, however, and it seemed like he just wanted to chat and entertain his family. I finally told him, "I'm sorry. I've just had the worst day, and I don't feel like talking to anyone." He was quiet for a bit, then his train came and he offered me his hand, "You never know. We could see each other again."
I got home, and I called the lady from the courier firm. I was beyond frustrated, and she was embarrassed by the situation. She would have to get the certifcate from the National Art Gallery, and then I could go back to customs. That would probably take another couple days. I asked her if I could go to the customs office in Sofia - since I would be there on Wednesday and Thursday anyway. Meanwhile, I was thinking, "Why am I still dealing with this? Why am I not being told exactly where I need to go and exactly what I need to do? Honestly, why am I being asked to run around - losing time, money, and nerves?" This is the part in the story where I tell people to never use the courier firm "Citi Express" - if anyone cares. I don't know what their deal is, but I'm extremely irritated with their service. I only dealt with the lady in my town, but she's representative of a firm that had me running around like a chicken with my head cut off.
That evening, however, Maria invited me to her birthday party. Plus, the women of our informal women's group had a party to send me off. There was so much food, and they all chipped in to get me a great gift. We laughed and had a good time. They really saved the day. Otherwise it would have probably gone down in history as one of my "lost" days in Bulgaria.
Anyway, I was waiting for documentation to be sent back to me on Tuesday, so I decided to go to Velingrad. I went there to get four things done. Only one did I actually succeed in accomplishing. First, I went to the bank to try and close my bank account. The lady who ended up helping me wasn't so bad, but she was kind of cold to me in the beginning. "Why do you want to close your bank account?" she asked in a flat, cold tone. Um... because I want to. Because it's my bank account and I can do whatever I want with it? I responded that I would be leaving Bulgaria. "Oh, well, in that case...." In the end, however, I couldn't close my bank account because I didn't have a valid "lichna carta." Nice. "Come back on Friday when you get your 'lichna karta.'"
I then went to the mobile operator M-Tel and tried to close my account with them. "You can't close your account because your contract isn't up." Okay. I had figured they would just make me pay the tax for those months until my contract expired, but she told me to leave money with someone to cover the next couple of months - and then my contract would expire anyway from lack of use. At least, that's what I understood. I was 0-2. Meh. I then had to go to a bank and pay a tax. The hardest part was finding the bank, otherwise they were eager to take my money. 1-2. I then went to a local phone service. I am trying to get the programmed M-Tel network off the phone that Thomas sent me so that he can use it in the states. But the guy wasn't in the office. 1-3. Grrr....
I met a friend later that evening for coffee. I've been frustrated because, instead of meeting people for coffee and saying my good-byes, I'm running around trying to get the smallest details done. However, it's probably good that I'm running around like this. Otherwise, I'd probably be pretty sad.
On Wednesday, I went to Sofia. I had been asked to participate in an event including various volunteer organizations here in Bulgaria for European Youth Week. I went with pictures and brochures - to represent the Peace Corps. Three other volunteers and one of my program managers were there, and we had a pretty good time. I even got to talk for a few seconds to present Peace Corps Bulgaria.
Before that, however, I met up for coffee with a friend of mine who's studying at a university in Sofia. Rumen is a young, cute, guy who likes to walk around holding my hand. He dropped me off at the event - giving me a huge hug and multiple kisses on my cheeks. "Who was that?" asked my program manager. Arm candy can be fun sometimes.
After crashing for the night, I tried to get a few things done in Sofia. I went and dropped off some materials at the Peace Corps office. I also had a good conversation with the staff there. Then, I went to customs office at the airport to try and figure out how to obtain a customs declaration. The girl at the agency I was told to visit really couldn't grasp what I was talking about. She took me to a colleague at another agency. They couldn't believe that I was filling out a declaration for such an invaluable piece of art. Yeah. By that point, I couldn't believe it myself, but it was necessary. Anything with material value over 22 Euro needs a customs declaration. My painting fell right above that range because I arbitrarily assigned it the value for which I had actually paid for it three years ago. "Bravo na men," as they say here. Plus, I got the impression that the mere fact that I was trying to send it to the states was another reason for the required declaration. I don't know if that's really true.
Finally, after a lunch break, I was able to find someone who would fill out the declaration for me. Enter the next problem. Yanko's name was actually on the certificate I took from the National Art Gallery. The migration declaration would ahve to be in his name as well. Plus, only he would be able to submit the documentation once it was filled out. Otherwise, I could approve this guy to do it - for 70 leva. What? I was already paying 20 for the declaration itself. Why would I want to give this guy another 70 leva for five minutes work? No. If Yanko had to submit the documentation, then Yanko would be submitting the documentation. He suggested I go ahead and try it saying, "No one ever really pays much attention to these things anyway." I went to customs and tried to submit the documentation to a woman who was already looking at me rather sourly. It didn't take long for her to ask, "Where's Yanko? His name is on this declaration, and it's obvious that you're not him - nor do you have the authority to submit it on his behalf." "Fine. Give me my papers back." I started tearing up then and there. I was reaching my threshold for this lunacy.
I came back to Rakitovo, and I had dinner with my landlady. I then had dinner with my ex-landlords. It's all part of my campaign to get everyone in while I can. While I was getting my documentation taken care of in Sofia, a guy from Rakitovo called, "Apryl. Are you free tomorrow night? A group of us want to get together with you." I started to get frustrated because I had wanted to make other plans, and I hate promising people that I'll be able to squeeze them in. He started to get pushy on the other end of the line, and I told him that I had to go. He insisted that I keep a couple hours open the next evening. Fine. Okay. I'll see what I can do. I was turning into a brat. It's not that I don't want to see people. It's just that it's all very stressful for me. I thought I had taken my leave of this group of people when, before I left for Sofia, we had coffee with the other Americans in the region. They had a bigger surprise in store for me.
I asked Yanko to come with me to the customs office in Pazardjik today. I figured that we could leave the declaration there. Another problem reared its ugly head, however. Since Yanko's name was on the certificate and the declaration, his name needed to be on the invoice as well. In essence, Yanko needed to be the one who was sending this painting. Because the invoice would change, the number on the invoice would change, and the number on the customs declaration would change. I needed to get a new customs declaration. My work in Sofia was all for naught. I lost it. I started stamping my foot and thrashing around like I'd gone mad. This was the last straw. I started throwing documents around. Yanko was trying to calm me down, while everyone else in the office just looked at me like I'd lost my mind.
To make things worse, I had just introduced myself to the latest employee to join the organization. We were having a pleasant conversation, when it was ruined by a ringing phone informing me that I would have to pay another fee/lose more time getting a new customs declaration. This employee, however, said that she had heard really good things about me. She wouldn't let this side of me damage her impressions of me - which apparently she had received from others. Plus, she understood what it's like to be frustrated by Bulgarian bureaucracy. Right. I know she'll always think of me as the crazy girl who lost it five minutes after we met - especially since I'll probably never see her again. Good job, Apryl.
Yanko and I went to Pazardjik, and things got better from there. We finished some work he had to do, and then we went to the customs office. "Hi. Do you remember me?" Of course they did. I explained the situation to them, and they said that it wasn't necessary to get a new declaration. They would correct the already-existing one. And they did it for free. Yanko and I were floored. After getting a bunch of stamps and convincing the agent there to give me back the certificate from the National Art Gallery, "Um... I'm no expert, but I think I'm going to need that...," we went and grabbed some coffee. Then I went and picked up my "lichna karta" without a hitch. Our bus back to Velingrad was late, so I was unable to get the telephone situation taken care of, but I was able to close my bank account. They even went out of their way to bend the rules and shut down my debit card as well. Otherwise, it's not protocol to do both on the same day. Man, is it weird to be cut off financially from Peace Corps. I officially have no more income coming in - even if it's just a living allowance which covers my basic expenses. That money is gone, and it's a scary feeling. I then made an imporant phone call and was treated with respect by the person on the other end. Honestly, I expect people here (from whom I'm trying to extract information) to be rude to me on the phone. Many people in customer service positions aren't actually that pleasant. How dare you call them and ask them your "trivial" questions. People who are nice to me - especially on the phone - have made great impressions on me. I appreciate those who answer my questions patiently and clearly. They deserve a special place in Heaven.
Today I got things done. It felt so good. I left the documentation for the painting at the rep's house, and she says the painting should travel on Monday. I told her to not take it personally, but I hope that I never see again before I leave Rakitovo. I've been at her house nearly every night this week - trying to figure out what the next step is - after several missteps.
I then met up with some friends for dinner tonight. They went all-out. We had delicious food and drinks. Plus, they gave me a giant gift, which I have no idea how I'm going to transport. We talked about history, rakia recipes, and sang songs. It's nice to be appreciated. What can I say?
Obviously, Bulgaria has been frustrating me recently. I still love her. There are some great people here who make me feel special and who definitely go out of their way to help me out. Yanko is taking care of my telephone situation tomorrow so that I can go to Trud and visit my "family." He even switched his shiny, new phone for mine so that I wouldn't be without a phone while I'm away for the weekend.
Yanko and Angel have both said something to me that struck me this week. "Apryl, through you, America came and lived with us for three years. America is no longer an abstract concept for us - something you read in storybooks about heroes. America came to us and gave us something to aspire to." I can't imagine a more flattering compliment. Even when I'm losing my mind, and I'm at my wit's end, I'm fulfilling the second goal of Peace Corps.
Anyway, this might be my last, official post before I'm no longer a Peace Corps Volunteer. I still don't know, however, how long it will be before I actually get out of Bulgaria. I can feel her pulling me back - trying to keep me here with her. I once had a friend talk about Bulgaria - how there wasn't much about her to really fall in love with. At the time I agreed. Bulgaria wasn't like Spain, for example. I fell for Spain the moment I met her. Bulgaria took her time while trapping me in her clutches, but she's done it. Now that she's done it, "escaping" her won't be easy. I don't think I'll every really "escape."

The Plot Thickens....

2008-11-01T17:40:00.007+02:00

It seems like every time I get things together and wrap up something, there's always one more thing left to do. One more stamp to get. One more signature to obtain. I HATE IT! I'm so over this painting. Dad, I love you, but no one should have to go through this much red tape to send some brush strokes to the other side of the world. It turns out that now I have to go to Pazardjik to get a migration declaration with a stamp on it. I just asked the lady, who works with the courier firm, if I need to have the painting with me, and she doesn't know, but she believes that I can show up without the painting. I'm not doing so well with "belief" right now. I want an answer. Doesn't really matter 'cause the painting is apparently just sitting somewhere in Sofia. I'm so irritated. Why can no one tell me the correct process from beginning to end? Why do I have to go to five different sources to get the correct answer, and even then I still need a stamp, a signature, maybe I'll have to dance some horo. Argh!
I'm sitting here at home updating the blog when I should really be on a bus to Velingrad to meet my colleagues for a party we're having tonight. I had a lot to do today. Yanko sounded irritated when I told him that I'd be lagging another hour to get on the bus, but that's what happens. I have things that have to get done. Parties can wait.
The Halloween party last night was a smashing success. I'm attaching a picture of my cowgirl outfit.
There was a rock band, a DJ, and food enough to feed a small nation. Some of the costumes were pretty awesome. It was basically put together by a small band of students at the school - led by a couple of girls. I'm intensely proud of them. Plus, I had a blast. I hope they will continue to be responsible for student life activities such as these. They could make that school a really fun place to be.
I had my last English class the other day. We had a good time, and people are starting to give me gifts. Meh. I don't really want to transport the breakable things that they give me, but I'm overwhelmed by the gesture. Most people don't want to say "good-bye" at this point 'cause they think they'll still run into me over the next week. I can't promise my time to anyone these days.
I'm starting to feel pretty stretched. People need me to be in five places at once, and I'm having to decide which things I can just ditch out on all-together and which things I'll just have to show up to a few hours late. I'm feeling the time weigh down on me. I could talk more about this, but I really need to get ready to go.

The Saga Continues....

2008-10-30T23:16:00.000+02:00

So, it looks like I spoke too soon in proclaiming the happy end of the saga of "the painting I want to send to the states." It was stopped at migration. Apparently I have to fill out some kind of document. The lady at the courier service here was able to obtain one - otherwise I would have had to have gone to Pazardjik to get it. I just hope it doesn't involve spending more money. Meh.
I had my last English class today. Crazy. Last English class in Rakitovo, Bulgaria. No more teaching English. No more reasons to use the Educational Center. Otherwise, I'm still packing up and giving things away. I helped with decorating for the Halloween party tomorrow. I think I'm going to be a cowgirl. Apparently my colleagues found an appropriate hat for me. In other news, I made an excellent "kitchen sink" soup tonight - as in it had everything in it but the....

Lagging Tenacity

2008-10-29T21:53:00.002+02:00

There's this funny, little bug flying around my room. It has this armored body in the shape of a shield and a tiny, little head. I used to flick bugs like this off my clothes all the time in the last couple places that I lived. I don't think I've seen them before coming to Bulgaria. I think I might even miss the little buggers. They were always good for an unexpected scream.
The past few days have entailed a lot of looking around my house and not knowing where to begin, or doing a couple things and then not knowing where to go next. The "saga of the painting I want to send to the states" has come to an end. I have done all the steps to send it there. Whether it will get there or not is another question entirely. No. I have faith.
I think Yanko is more excited about this painting than I am. My colleagues are all impressed with the lengths I went to to get it sent. Nevermind that shipping it cost me three times the price I actually paid for the painting.... I just had to get it stateside. When I saw that painting, I saw my dad. Yanko said he wishes he had a daughter as "tenacious" as I am. Yeah, well, I know my dad will enjoy the painting... as long as it makes it through customs.
I've been going through my books, papers, and documents. I'm super-excited that there's a canister near me in which to recycle paper. You have no idea how liberating it is to dispose of Peace Corps Manuals as green waste. :) Today, I got up and got rid of over three-fourths of my clothes. I didn't even hem and haw about giving them away. Usually I'm a pack-rat who's attached to her clothes - especially shirts tied to a particular event. It was time to let go of some things, and I'm proud of myself for doing it.
This afternoon, I had a farewell lunch with some of the teachers that I've been teaching English to over the past year. We've had a lot of fun and many good memories together. They gave me a small souvenir - saying they were keeping in mind the amount of luggage I probably have. That was really considerate. They had a lot of nice things to say. One of the women didn't know any English when she started with me, and now she puts basic sentences together rather beautifully. She said that she would always remember me for helping her get to this point. These women are amazing, and we had a fun, final class with them yesterday. I will miss them, and I will never forget them. Fortunately, Emily is going to continue with them for the time that she is here. I would love to come back after that and see the progression that they've made.
I also packed up all my Spanish materials and a few English ones that I had borrowed from my colleagues. I added some lotions and candles that I had hanging around, and I headed for the office. I tried to give Ani back a Bulgarian book that she had loaned me, but she said that I could keep it. It was a really sweet gesture. She's had that book since she was in sixth grade. I just wasn't able to get around to reading it, but I want to. I have to. I started to try and explain to them what was in the bags and what they could take, and Ani just started crying. Then I started crying. Then I changed the subject.
This weekend is probably going to be filled with a lot of tears. There's a lot going on, and it's honestly overwhelming. Some of the high schoolers are doing a Halloween project. Let me take that back. Calling it "Halloween" is apparently "too American" for some people here in town. These same suggested calling it a "Pumpkin Holiday." The kids decided to call it an "Autumn Ball." It's still Halloween. There will be candy and kids dressing up in costumes. I have no idea what I'm going to wear, but I'm looking forward to it. I just hope there are a lot of people there. The kids in charge have worked hard on this one.
My colleagues are planning a party for us this weekend. One of my colleagues will be leaving the foundation next week as well, and another will be getting married soon. It's time to have a party. I'm sure I'll cry. There will be alcohol. I'll be crying for sure.
You never know what kind of impression you're going to leave people - especially people you don't know. Yesterday, I was walking by this beautiful yard that I admired all through the summer because of its gorgeous varieties of flowers. I noticed that most of the flowers had been uprooted, and it made me sad because I'd always told myself that I would eventually take a picture of these flowers. This older women in the yard called out to me, "We're neighbors." I smiled and said, "Yep." We live right across the street from each other. She then went on to tell me that her granddaughter used to go to the stadium to play baseball, and she said that her granddaughter really loved it - said I explained things well to the kids. That made me feel really good.
Not three hours later, I was dumping a bunch of paper into a recycle bin in town, when I caught a lady looking at me. I smiled. She smiled back. Then she asked, "Why don't you play baseball in the stadium anymore with the kids?" Nevermind that the time has changed, it gets dark much earlier, and it's gotten a little bit colder, I told her that I was leaving soon and that I needed to get things together. Oh, really? We then got into a quick conversation about where I'm from and how long I've been here. I don't remember ever seeing this woman before, but I'm guessing she must have seen me somewhere with my baseball stars. It makes me wonder what other impressions I'm leaving people. I imagine that for every handful of people who think well of me, there must be at least one who's not so enthused. Oh well. As Elbert Hubbard once said, "To escape criticism, do nothing, say nothing, be nothing." So true.

Two Weeks Notice

2008-10-27T23:00:00.000+02:00

I officially have two weeks until I am no longer a Peace Corps Volunteer. I can’t believe it. It still hasn’t sunk in. How will I define myself? What will I do now? I feel as though I’m going through the motions – preparing for something that isn’t really going to happen. It’s hard to feel motivated when you’re neither excited by it – nor do you feel that it’s real. Don’t get me wrong. I’m looking forward to going back to the states. I certainly don’t want to stay in Bulgaria indefinitely. I just…. It’s sad, and it hasn’t really hit me. I don’t know how to tell myself that this is really happening.
Milka, my former landlady, asked me tonight if I had felt this way when I was coming to Bulgaria. “No,” I said. The awesomeness of a new adventure and the profound change that it would bring to my life was too big to ignore. Now, I’m returning to something familiar, and it’s hard to be adventurous about it. I know it will be an adventure, but it will be familiar territory that might terrify me if I’m unable to navigate it as before. Does this make any sense? Meh.
I was gone all last week, and I went into the office this morning for a bit. My colleagues told me that they missed me, and that it would be hard when we said our last good-byes. Yanko wanted me to pass on a lot of information to Emily about the things that I’m involved in for the organization, and so I took her to my house for a few hours today to do that. I still have a lot to do/decisions to make before I get out of here, so I’m starting to limit my time in the office, and I’m ending my classes this week. It’s just hard ‘cause I still want to hang out with my colleagues and be involved in the things they’ve got going on. This feeling doesn’t help me be productive at home. I just want to curl up and watch things like fake news commentary like “The Daily Show” instead of actually dealing with “the end.” Today, Valia commented that we would have “a lot of crying to do,” and then she started tearing up. Then I started tearing up ‘cause she started tearing up, and… sigh. I’m not ready for this. It’s good that it’s coming whether I’m ready or not.
Last week was a nice week. It was a trip away from reality. I touched on it a bit in my last blog post. I had my pre-COS, which basically meant medical appointments, site evaluations, writing a Description of Service, and an exit interview. I think I was tired in my last post, and I didn’t get into some of the details of that, but there are still some things that I want to share.
I’m in good health. I caught a cold on Wednesday, but I’m fine other than that. The doctor wanted me to show her where I had fallen on my leg (a little over a month ago), and I warned her that I hadn’t shaved my legs in a while. She said, “That’s okay. We don’t check for that.” I had to laugh. My weight is down. She didn’t seem concerned. It’s better than where it was at mid-service, but it’s lower than it was last year. I’m concerned. I have a barrier that I don’t like to fall under. After my physical, I met up with Greg and couldn’t get enough to eat. First, I had chicken and rice, broccoli, and leftover “shopska” salad at his place. Then, when we were out later, we got gelato. Afterwards, I was hungry again, so we went to a restaurant where I got pizza. Then, I made Greg come back with me to the gelato place to get some chocolate mousse. After eating the mousse on the way back to Greg’s place, I picked up a bag of chips. The only reason that I stopped eating was because it was time to go to sleep. I just couldn’t get full. I wonder if I’ve put on any pounds.
I saw the dentist on Tuesday, and the hygienist said that she liked the color of my teeth. “Do you bleach them? What do you use? You’ve achieved a good color, here.” I get a lot of compliments about my teeth here in Bulgaria. Thanks, Mom, for the braces. Thanks, Colgate®, for the whitening strips. Thanks, God, for the good genes. As far as I know, whitening strips haven’t caught on yet here in Bulgaria, and bleaching is prohibitively expensive. Only a few people get braces. I get the impression that the dentist is someone to be feared. Some people have said to me that they’d rather have their teeth fall out than go see the dentist. I feel fortunate for the oral care which the contracted dentist gives us – generally supported by your taxpayer dollars. In three years, I’ve only received cleanings. My fillings are so good, he thought he had done them. Healthy teeth, healthy smiles.
The exit interview was an interesting experience. I sat down with the Country Director (CD) and answered a few questions about how I feel with regard to my service and my close of service. She asked, looking back on my service, would I see Peace Corps service in Bulgaria as a “blip” in my life, or as a major stepping stone to the rest of my career. A “blip” in my life?! How can I call this fresh, crazy ride that has been one-ninth of my existence-so-far a “blip?” As I mentioned before, we had a discussion on whether the U.S. Peace Corps should be viewed as a development agency or as a goodwill organization. Two of the three goals of the agency would point to more of a “friendship/ambassador” role. One goal, however, is related to development. We Americans really hone in on this goal. We want to get things done. It’s how we fill out our reports and evaluations. It’s how we show that we have value. It’s how we justify our investment as taxpayers. Anyway, the CD also told me to keep in mind the new volunteer training for next year. Peace Corps Bulgaria might encourage me to apply for a job position as a technical trainer. Hey, I’d do it for three months if I hadn’t found my next adventure by then. My ten year high school reunion is coming up, and I’d like to be able to add, “…but I’m going back to Bulgaria to train new volunteers next month,” if I have to confess to everyone that I’m unmarried, unemployed, and still living at home.
I went and talked to my Program Managers at Peace Corps – Ivan and Zhana. Ivan always likes to give me a hard time, and this last conversation was no exception. I was telling them that people in my town were lamenting the fact that they were unable to find a Bulgarian for me over the course of three years. Ivan said, “But you lost two of those years with an American.” I corrected him by telling him that it was one year – and I didn’t “lose” any time with him. He then proceeded to give me advice. “You want to meet someone? Stop scaring men. And stop wearing those shoes.” I looked at my ratty, old sneakers with paint stains on them. Scaring men? More like men scare me. “Go out to the discotheques,” he continued. I rebutted, “Well, I can’t imagine meeting the guy I’m looking for at a discotheque.” He wasn’t fazed, “Then go hang out at the library. Go to the art museum.” I could do nothing but laugh.
On Thursday, I took off on a mini-adventure. I wanted to go and see the Russian church in a village called Shipka. It’s beautifully ornate with golden, mushroom-like tops. I loved getting a look at it. I then wanted to take a hike up the mountain beside the church to visit a monument that was built in honor of the partnership forged between Bulgaria and Russia to drive out the Ottomans. I asked a woman at an over-priced food stand how long it might take to get there. “Well, that depends,” she answered. “Worst-case scenario?” She told me that it would take about half an hour. I don’t know if she understood that I wanted to hike to the monument, but I was encouraged by her answer. It was almost three-thirty when I set out.
An hour and a half later, I had lost the path and was fighting brush and thorns to try and bust my way to the top of the mountain. I constantly thought that the monument would be “just around the corner.” I eventually turned around and found the trail again. It was probably another half hour before I caught sight of the monument again – on a distant hilltop. The sky was starting to turn to evening. “Okay,“ I thought. “I’m not going to get there, but I want to get closer to an open clearing where I can get a good shot to take a picture.” Another half hour or so, and I was suddenly next to the hill where the monument stands. I couldn’t turn back then. The clouds were getting menacing, however, and that blue cloak of dusk was starting to settle around me. I still couldn’t turn back. I saw the monument. I saw some other monuments. I had to walk up the hill to be next to the monument.
No one else was around, but a security guard soon drove up. “Looks like no one else is around,” I told him. “Yeah,” he said. “Everyone has gone home for the day.” It was a little after six, and the monument closed at five. The guard then proceeded to ask me a bunch of questions like, “Where are you coming from? Shipka? The village? Wow. Bravo. Where are you from? How are you going to get back down?” He followed me while I snapped some more pictures. Then, he invited me into a room that had obviously been set up for personnel – couches, sink, coffee-maker, TV, ashtray. I thought that he would eventually offer to give me a ride back to the village, but he just kept asking me questions. “You’re an American? How old are you? You want a cigarette? You like chalga music?” I could see that this was getting me nowhere, and I was starting to get increasingly uncomfortable. Meanwhile, the sky was getting darker. I abruptly stood up and announced that I was leaving. I had to get to the village before dark. “I wouldn’t risk it,” he said. “The forest can be dangerous at night. I can see that you’re not scared, but you can stay in a hotel here.” He then walked me outside and pointed to two hotels several hundred meters away. He suggested that I stay in the more expensive of the two. I pondered it for about two seconds and then turned and ran down the mountain.
As I was running, I thought, “I’m stupid. This is stupid. I’m an idiot. If my colleagues knew what I was doing, they’d freak. If my mom knew how stupid I am, she’d freak.” I just kept running – stopping only when the terrain was too rough to safely take at that speed. I slipped a few times; fell once. I didn’t injure myself. I am an idiot. I made it down the mountain in half an hour and basically got back to the village five minutes before the sky went irrevocably black. Then I caught a bus to Kazanlak and stayed with the volunteer there.
The next day, I went with the volunteer to the orphanage/children’s hospital where she works. The facility was nice, but the cases were sad. We went into a playroom with several workers there. Handicapped children would lie motionless on their backs and stare with vacant eyes rolled back into their heads. Children suffering from Down’s Syndrome would drool and bite their hands and tongues. There were those who opened their mouths in silent screams; those who lay curled in awkward, twisted positions; those who hit themselves, those who made strange, insect-like noises; those who were unable to walk, and one whose legs were entirely useless. He propelled himself around the room by moving his torso with his hands. He also liked to be touched and hugged. There were also healthy, bouncy children. It was hard not to focus all of my attention on them. I don’t have much of a maternal instinct. I’m even worse around children with special needs because I’m afraid that I’m going to do something to make their situation even worse. Apparently a lot of the more handicapped had, until recently, spent long periods of time in their beds with minimal interaction. Since an independent, American missionary has come to the facility, that has changed. It’s now the policy that every child get out of bed on a daily basis. More needs to be done. The people there aren’t bad people. They’re just not trained to work with these kids. The volunteer and I spent a lot of time touching kids, holding babies, playing and talking to those who could respond. I admire the volunteer, the missionary, and the staff there. I don’t know if I could be in such a place day-in and day-out.
Afterwards, the volunteer took another American and myself up to see a Thracian megalith. Basically, the ancient peoples of Bulgaria had set up a pile of rocks in such a way as to view the summer and winter solstice. It was an easy hike (I was still sore from my run down Shipka peak the night before), and it was really cool to see. We had great views of the valley below and the towns scattered across its surface.
After that, I caught a bus to Shumen. I’ve wanted to visit Shumen for quite some time. The volunteer there from my group had told me that I needed to see a monument visible from space. He was exaggerating, of course, but it was a huge marvel. The currently serving volunteer took me around. We walked up to the statue (1300 steps), but there was so much fog. It was a little hard to see. It gave the place an eerie, mysterious feeling though, and that was pretty cool. We also visited the largest mosque in Bulgaria. We went bowling, hung out, ate good food. It was a good weekend.
The next day, the time changed in Bulgaria. We “fell back” an hour. My host and I knew this, but we couldn’t figure out if the electronic clocks we were using on our cell phones automatically updated or not. It was 4:30 a.m. She called a cab for me. When I found out the real time, I wanted to tell him to come back in an hour, but he got all weird and frustrated on me. He readily agreed when I kiddingly suggested he take me at that moment, and I would just wait at the bus station. On the way there though, he kept asking what I would do for an hour since it was dark and nothing was open. I wasn’t amused. He asked me if I wanted to pass the time by accompanying him to buy a bottle of whiskey for a friend. No, thank you. I spent about nine hours getting back to my site. It was a long day, but it could have been worse. I was just happy to be back home.
Tonight, Emily and I were invited to have dinner with the young missionary couple in Velingrad. We had a good time chatting and sharing stories about living here in Bulgaria. I talked a lot ‘cause I get verbose when other service providers ask about my experience here. Today I was reading a comical list entitled “You know you’re Bulgarian when….” I was laughing and nodding my head at a lot of things that are included in that list, but the last thing I read stopped me dead in my tracks: “You prefer your neighbors’ suffering more than your own happiness.” It was so truly profound. Let me preface this by saying that Bulgarians are lovely people who will always hold a place in my heart. I am eternally indebted to them for this experience. But this statement is so true. Let’s think of society as a ladder. The higher up you are, the more you know, and the more you can turn around and help up the person behind you. In Bulgaria, it seems as though the person “behind” you is constantly trying to pull you back down. Forget about helping me up later. I’d better pull you back down here with me just in case. If I’m going to be down here on this level. You’re going to be here, too. Do you think you’re better than me? It’s very, very sad. Yanko has told me the following many times: Picture that we’re all in Hell, and we’re separated by countries. Each country has its own cauldron. A devil has been posted at each pot to make sure no one gets out. In the “Bulgaria cauldron,” however, no guard is needed. You know why? The people themselves fulfill the job by pulling down anyone who attempts to escape.

A Few Steps Closer....

2008-10-22T16:02:00.003+03:00

I'm in Sofia at the moment doing Pre-Close of Service responsibilities. It mostly involves some paperwork, some medical check-ups, and an exit interview. I came in on Monday and went through a physical. Yesterday, the dental hygenist scraped all the plaque off my teeth, and I got a clean bill of dental health from the exuberant dentist with shiny gems in his teeth. I also met an acquaintance for a magazine interview. I was rather trepidatious considering the last time I offered to do an interview, but it was fairly painless. There weren't many questions. I honestly wonder if the guy will have enough material to do a story. Maybe one day I'll actually get to see the articles.
Today I had my exit interview with the Country Director. The most interesting thing that came out of that was a debate on how to look at the Peace Corps. Should we market it as a development organization or a diplomatic organization which promotes peace and friendship? Other than actually being here for pre-Close of Service, nothing is really helping me figure out that I'm actually leaving Bulgaria in a few, short weeks. I'm the worst procrastinator. Unless I'm being forced to figure something out, I won't deal with it.
Other than these visits, I've had to fill out my Final Site Evaluation and my Description of Service. As for the Description of Service, it's a little difficult to sum up three years of service in two pages. How many people did I impact with this activity? What were the results? Is it worth mentioning? It's almost sad to see three years come down to two pieces of paper. It will be the only official, written record of my Peace Corps service.
Administrative stuff aside, it's fun being here in Sofia. I can get away from my site for a bit, hang out with my friend Greg, and eat good, ethnic foods. That's basically what I look forward to the most while I'm here in Sofia. Greg and I have been playing a Star Wars video game with Lego characters. We've been having fun. The days have been relaxed - with really only one or two things needing to get done per day. Of course, I could have been more productive had I wanted, and I did get some other things done, but I've mostly been knocking small things down one by one.
This weekend, I took a fun trip with my landlady, Margarita, and her daughter, Katia. On Saturday, we went to this amazing cave called Ledenika. The interior had tons of stalagtites and stalagmites. It was beautiful. We then continued on to a town in northeastern Bulgaria called Belogradchik. Ever since I saw pictures of the rock formations in Belogradchik, I knew that I wanted to go and see them for myself. It was great. We visited a fortress there and saw the rock formations. I also ran into other Peace Corps Volunteers who were visiting as well. The next day, we visited a nearby cave called Magura. Magura was very different in design from Ledenika, but it was no less beautiful. Afterwards, we went up to the town of Vidin, which is on the Danube River next to Romania. We visited Baba Vida - a fortress on the banks of the Danube. We looked over at Romania and then made our way back to Rakitovo. I was grateful to have been able to make the trip. These are things I probably would have never seen otherwise.

Rockin' Frustrating Quasi-Sagas

2008-10-15T20:26:00.009+03:00

Life here is a bit frustrating. I feel like I've turned into some sort of ghost in limbo. I've got one foot in, and I've got one foot out. I'm here, but I'm not really here. I'm trying to wrap up my life here, but I can't seem to get anything finalized. My COS (close of service) date looms ever closer, and I haven't done much to prepare for it. Yet, in a way, it feels like I'm already gone.
I've been trying to end my classes, but either they don't all show up so I can inform them that we will no longer be meeting, or I can't bring myself to bring down the hatchet. In the meantime, I find myself cancelling a lot of commitments to try and finish up other commitments - which only get half-done. It's all so discouraging.
I have gotten something rather monumental done, however. I mentioned before the "saga of the painting I want to send to the states." It turns out that the most recent portion of the saga has been fairly painless but a bit of a hassle. So, I mentioned that I had to go to the National Art Gallery to get a seal of approval that basically said that I wasn't stealing Bulgaria's precious art.
My colleagues and I were going to Sofia anyway for a meeting with C.E.G.A., one of our partners. I hauled the painting along with me. Before the meeting, Yanko and I swung by the National Art Gallery. A woman basically asked me a few questions about my painting, then I got a certificate and a stamp. Afterwards, I paid three leva. The whole process took about five minutes. The most annoying part was just carting the painting around with me everywhere I went.
The past couple days, as I mentioned, we've been in Sofia having meetings with C.E.G.A. Basically, we gave an account of what we've accomplished over the last few months and what we still have to do before the end of the year. I found it fairly interesting and participated in the session fairly actively. Plus, we went out and ate some fairly delicious Chinese food. I think Emily had a pretty good time as well, but it's difficult when you're still at the beginning stages. I imagine she must have been pretty bored throughout the meetings, and I'm sure she zoned out. I did the same thing three years ago. Five minutes have gone by, and I don't know what you're talking about? Yeah, I'm going to go somewhere else in my mind.
We got back yesterday and Yanko, Emily, and I went straight to the "chitalishte" (cultural center) to discuss a library project that's being funded by the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation. Basically, the idea is to make the library an attractive and informative place for people to visit. Also, the goal is to get the community to really invest in the chitalishte and help it to flourish. In other towns, the chitalishte is an active,thriving part of the community. In Rakitovo, unfortunately, the chitalishte is fairly inactive. It would be super-fantastic if that could change, but it's going to take everyone working together instead of taking the time to try and finger-point to lay the blame. Blame me. I'm leaving in a few weeks anyway. Now that you've found a scapegoat, what can you do to make it better?
Again, I was able to participate fairly actively by sharing one idea that I had to get kids to read. In fact, one of the other participants spoke up and said that she didn't agree with my idea. That's how you know that it's a provocative thought! Basically, I suggested a reading rewards system. She didn't like the idea of giving rewards to kids who, in her words, are already spoiled. The facilitator followed it up by sharing some basic psychology: Most kids don't have a natural, internal desire to read. The idea is to offer external stimulation until the external becomes internal. How you decide to do that is the debate. Discussion! Thought! Disagreement! Psychology 101! I love it! Now I'm waiting for... action!
This morning, Yanko and I had an informal discussion with the project facilitators to try and reach some sort of conclusions about how the project could work. Basically, the Gates Foundation would provide funding for computers, software, and training. These computers could be used to access the internet for information or contact other libraries for inter-library loans. The municipality would be responsible for remodeling the library to make room for these computers - along with making the library a more attractive and inviting place to visit. The community would be responsible for finding people to be trained to use these computers and help others find the information their looking for. It's also the responsibility of the community to work on programs to revitalize the library and give everyone a greater access to information. These members/partners would also be responsible for pushing the municipality to pay more attention to cultural activities - thereby securing more funding for the chitalishte. If everyone works together, it should be a win-win-win situation. If not, there will just be twelve more computers sitting abandoned in a room.
Today, we went to start the process of getting Emily's "lichna karta." A "lichna karta" is a personal, Bulgarian ID. Every citizen of a certain age has one, and foreigners residing long-term are also required to get one. We Peace Corps Volunteers have to renew ours every year. We wish we could just get one for two years, but I think someone somewhere likes torturing us with bureaucracy. The United States is certainly guilty of such things as well.
Yanko and I dragged that poor girl around Velingrad. It wasn't our fault, but it still must have sucked for her. She was a good sport. We went between the police station and a couple banks three times, and she had to fill out the same document three times. There was always a mistake to be found somewhere, so... yeah. It didn't get done today. We'll have to go back tomorrow to present all the documentation and then, in about a month, she will finally have her "lichna karta." Once we get done with her, I will have to do the same as well. (sigh) I have to go through the same process to stay in the country for ten days 'cause my card expires at the end of this month. (double sigh) I don't even want to talk about it anymore.
How about rocks in your beans? Rice? Flour? In Bulgaria, you gotta sift through these staples to make sure there aren't any in your packages - ones you've bought in the store. I'm not complaining. It's really not that difficult to sift through and search for foreign objects. My problem is that I'm lazy. I made beans the other day. Before I cooked them, I found a tiny rock, which I duly threw out. The problem is, I didn't look too hard. I ate beans for a few days 'cause I made a lot. Boy, were they yummy. On the last day that I ate beans, I chomped down on a rock in my last bite. Crack! What a way to ruin the last morsel!
On the topic of rocks, check out what a friend recently wrote to me:
Your blogs rock!
Seriously. There's always something in there that makes any reader feel they're a part of what's going on, and there's always parts in there that just makes me laugh and to not take the world so seriously. You really have accomplished so much there. Just thought I'd mention that.
Thanks, Tom. I'll credit you when I try to convince editors to publish my forthcoming book - based on my blog.
P.S. In spite of allusions made in my previous post (okay, outright declarations), we did not get drunk out of our skulls the other night. Two of the women went to bed without even having a drink, Yanko monitored his alcohol intake, and the rest of us nursed a glass of wine. We're lame. Or we're really smart. Take your pick.
P.S.S. I have yet another reason why I want to work for an embassy abroad. Holidays. Not only do you get to take of American holidays, but you get the ones of the country that you're serving as well. For example, I got a memo here from the U.S. Embassy in Bulgaria. They have 16 holidays this year, and that doesn't even count the four that fall on weekends. I'm going to take a survey of all U.S. embassies. I'm going to find the one with the most holidays, and then I'm going to scratch and claw my way in so that I can have the most days off. It's an ingenious plan.

Gimpy Gibson

2008-10-12T21:41:00.005+03:00

I've just come back from coffee with a friend who recently returned from Pakistan. She told me about her experience there, and I was fascinated. I don't know if I'll ever visit Pakistan, so I was happy to get her impressions. Most interesting impression: how decorative and sexy burqas can be. Mostly, I'm just happy that she's back. I hadn't heard from her in a while, and I was getting worried about her.
Emily joined our ranks on Thursday. She and Yanko met me up in the Roma mahala, and then we went to dinner. She came into the office on Friday, and we put her to work right away. She helped clean out the new office. Afterwards, we had a festival for the European Year of Intercultural Dialogue. I was in charge of dressing our helpers in theme t-shirts and getting them to pass out brochures. A lot of kids came to help, and that was great. We didn't need 15 people passing out brochures, however, but I was impressed by their enthusiasm. Some even took the message to the streets.

Unfortunately, not people showed up for the event. Honestly, I think our PR was lacking. I made a couple posters, and they along with some small fliers were put up the day before. Oh, how we fought about that festival. I don't want to go into specifics, but I was so over it before it had begun. The lack of people in the chitalishte (cultural center) made it all the more disheartening.
Afterwards, Emily and I walked around the streets of Rakitovo - just talking. There wasn't much else to do. We heard some music in the distance, and after I dropped her off, I met up with Angel to see my thirtieth Roma wedding. Okay, I don't know how many I've actually dropped in on, but it feels like at least that many.
The next day, we had a workshop on Gender Equality with the informal women's group that's supported by the organization. Attendance was good. The discussion was interesting. The topics ranged from dolls to gender discrimination in the university application process to domestic violence. I was ecstatic to take part in such enlightened conversation. Poor Emily didn't understand much of what was going on, but that's normal for a new volunteer. I remember sitting in meetings and workshops and thinking, "I have no idea what's going on here. I wonder how long this is going to last." Everyone goes through it. We all went to lunch together, and we also took part in a couple of interactive exercises which were fun. One was facilitated by yours truly, and the women seemed to really enjoy it. Well, I enjoyed it. There was a lot of discussion.
Later that evening, Emily and I met up with Angel, and we went to a cafe. Emily had already made lemon bars. That girl's smart. She's got a lot of qualities that are going to make poeple here love her. One of them is the ability to bake. I wasn't really in the mood to interact at the moment. I listened to them work to understand each other and tell each other riddles. It's interesting watching the new volunteer interact with my counterpart. I try to remember what it was like when I had no idea what was going on, but it's been so long. I worry that I don't have enough empathy for Emily's situation - even though I've been through it myself.
Today, Emily and I met up with a couple guys from a hiking club I've been associating with lately, and we went to Belmeken. Belmeken is a beautiful location with a beautiful reservoir. It's not too far from Velingrad. We hiked up a nearby peak and got a view of Musala - the highest peak in the Balkans. We were actually supposed to hike Musala, but it didn't work out. We had planned to take the lift part way up, and the lift isn't working at the moment. But the day was still nice. There were a few snow drifts, but the sun was out, and it was warm. We had a nice picnic while taking shelter behind a pile of rocks.

We're leaving for Sofia early tomorrow morning. We have a working meeting with C.E.G.A. over the next couple days, and the plan is to get sloppy drunk. I don't think I've ever really been drunk. My colleagues and I have shared so many good times, but we've never sat down and drunk ourselves under the table. We all in. We're doing it because Fatme, one of my colleagues, will be getting married in a month or so. We're also doing it because we've never done it, and, for some reason, we think we should. I'm a little nervous. I don't know what I'm like drunk. I've definitely drunk enough to feel like it's oozing out of my pores while I sleep. I'm not looking forward to vomiting - if it comes to that. Look how ridiculous that is, and yet I'm planning on doing it. I love and trust my colleagues.
In the past, they've hinted that I should do something to remember them by. Their big thing is that they want me to get my ears pierced. I have declined. I don't know. I have no desire to put holes in my ears. I think it's because just about everyone does it, and I want to be unique. Plus, I have just never felt like wearing earrings. They're pretty on other women, but they seem pointless in my own ears. I told them that I'll get a tattoo with the name of the organization across my back, but we know I'm not doing that.
My colleagues are starting to get a little sad that I'll be going soon. Ani asked if she could lock her arm in mine, and I told her that she could. Ani's not usually a touchy-feely person. Valia mentioned that the realiztion was sinking in that I would be leaving soon, and she was feeling a bit sad about it. A few weeks ago, they made it clear that I should come to them if I needed anything - even money. I almost fell over. I told them how grateful I was at the gesture, because money is something that they can't afford to give.
I have a lot of acquaintances here in Rakitovo. Yanko pointed that out to me the other day. A lot of people know me here. A pastor commented, "A lot of people love you here." I get a lot of comments like, "We're really going to miss you here." I'm grateful for these. Sometimes I tell myself, "So people know me. What's that? Has it changed their lives for the better?" I tend to be pessimistic about this, but I hope I'm wrong.
I try and smile a lot. I can't smile to everyone. It would get tiresome and even be a little two-faced in some cases, but the smiling experiment is an interesting one. Sometimes I smile at babas (older women) that I don't know, and they figure that they must know me from somewhere. I've gotten a few of, "Aren't you the daughter of...?" questions in my time here. So yes, people know me. In fact, I was just informed by an acquaintance that he met a woman in Stara Zagora (a town in the center of Bulgaria) who had read an interview I had given. She wanted him to tell me that she was impressed with the interview, and she said "hello." Small world. Apparently, I'm also known in Peace Corps as "the one who speaks Bulgarian well." Emily told me this, and I had to laugh. I told her that it's better than being known as the "slut" or the "slacker."
Telling kids that I'll be leaving soon has proven to be a little complicated. When I tell them, many think that it means I'm leaving that very day. I get disappointed looks, huge hugs, and declarations that they don't want me to go. I did some special tutoring for a girl recently, and I've been getting a lot of kids coming up and asking if they can sign up for English classes. I try and explain the situation, but they don't really understand. I imagine it will make sense to them when I actually go. For some of them, I've been here for a significant portion of their lives. My not being here anymore... ever, at least in the same capacity, is not something they can really wrap their minds around. "Okay," they say, "but then you're coming back, right?"
On an offhand topic, I wanted to go back to some comments I'd made in the last post about health care culture here in Bulgaria. My perceptions are not the end-all of truth about Bulgaria. They are just that: perceptions. In fact, if I could go back to my earlier posts, I would probably change several things that I wrote - just because I've been here longer and now feel differently about them.
Anyway, I wanted to share something that I find a bit disturbing here in Bulgaria: bribing. Average people bribe police officers here, and the officers take the bribes. Average people bribe doctors here, and the doctors take the bribes. In fact, I've heard that some doctors have come to expect money or gifts on the side. When we were at the eye clinic, I finally saw it first-hand. An elderly couple brought a beautiful cake in with them and presented it to the doctor. "There's no need to do that," said the doctor, but she took the cake. I'm not saying she did it because she felt like she was entitled to it (or even agreed with what they were doing). She might have felt that it would be rude to refuse, but she took the cake. I don't know if that changed their level of care. I certainly didn't witness that. However, I was still a bit frustrated. It propogates this broken-down system. I couldn't imagine bringing my doctor gifts. I couldn't imagine slipping him ten bucks after the visit was over. I would be angry with people who did because they would be setting a precedent that I should as well. Listen, medical care is expensive enough as it is. If I have to start bringing my doctor chocolates for her to pay more attention to me, I think I'd rather ignore whatever was ailing me.
Speaking of ailing me, I am a klutz as of late. I mentioned that I fell and injured my knee pretty badly. Well, I pulled a dumb stunt in the chitalishte during the festival, and I reinjured it. Man, did that hurt for a few hours. Then, yesterday, I missed a step while walking down the stairs in my home, and I messed up my foot. It's still a bit sore. I'm falling apart. I look in the mirror, and I'm getting older. Some of you are probably rolling your eyes 'cause I'm still a young woman, but I see myself aging, and it freaks me out. Okay, I'm going 'cause I need some serious beauty sleep.

Neapolitan AmeriCAN Dreams

2008-10-09T00:05:00.006+03:00

It's been a week and a half since I've updated. This means that it should be a long post. However, it's late here at night 'cause I've been catching up on the latest presidential debate. As an aside, you know what I like about these debates? I like when the candidates say things like, "Americans can do anything they put their minds to." That really resonates with me these days. I think a lot of our view of the world lies within our own minds. Anyway, some look at the affluence of America and feel disgusted. We're far from perfect, and we have been exploiters at times, but I look at the affluence of America and feel incredibly blessed. Anyway, I'm getting tired, but I really wanted to get a post out. A lot of things have happened this past week. It actually feels like it's been over two weeks.
A week ago Monday, I was hanging out in our foyer with my colleagues when a local pastor came up and asked me, "Are you ready to go?" Now, I'll have to give you just a bit of background. A few months ago, a group of evangelists were here visiting Rakitovo to host a working meetings and theological discussions. Apparently a young couple fell in love with a Roma girl here in Rakitovo. This girl suffered an accident a few years ago and has lost vision in one of her eyes. The young couple offered to help. It was decided that this girl should visit an eye specialist to see if anything could be done for her. I was asked to go along to listen to the doctor's verdict on the eye and relay the information to those who had agreed to help.
So, I went to Sofia that Monday. It was a long, tiring day, but I was glad to be a part of it. The girl really is a beauty, and she has a winning smile. I could see why this young couple fell in love with her. For the sake of confidentiality, I'm not going to share the outcomes of this doctor's visit, but I can tell you that it was just one of those days where I came home exhausted and sad.
What was interesting to me was the way things were handled in this eye clinic. It was obviously a newly-remodeled, well-functioning facility. It was just run a bit differently than what I'm used to in the states. I want to stress that this is not criticism of how it was run. I just want to point out differences that I found interesting... even if my observations may not be 100% correct.
First, there wasn't exactly a waiting room. There was a waiting hall - where all the medical personnel were walking through and coming in and out of doors. There was a constant flurry of activity - as there should be in such a workplace. It's just that those who were waiting were all privy to this activity and to the conversations the medical staff was having. In the states, patients are kept in a separate room apart from the medical staff until someone calls their name.
Secondly, the chart stayed with the patient. Medical personnel would come to fill in sections and notes on the chart, but the chart was ultimately left in the hands of the patient to carry to the next doctor. This was also true of medical records. Previous decisions regarding illnesses and treatments were typed up on official documentation and left in the hands of the patient. It's up to the patient to hold onto their medical records and take them to another doctor - even years later if need be. I believe that medical records in the states are faxed to other institutions if need be. I also believe, however, that I will be responsible for bringing my own medical record from Bulgaria back to the states with me - well, the x-rays at least.
We spent a lot of time going back and forth - waiting in the hall until we could go on to the next step. Visiting the doctor in the states is definitely not the most time-efficient activity one can partake in. However, once you're in your white room with your dressing gown and your magazines (no dressing gown was necessary for this visit), you're in for the count. You may have to visit other rooms and wait for the doctor to come back to you, but you're always holding onto your own room. Here we were sent back out into the hallway to wait. I'm not saying our method makes it go any faster. Psychologically, however, you don't feel like you're starting back at square one.
But the thing that made the biggest impression on me was that confidentiality didn't seem to be an issue. Medical personnel, while they spoke in hushed tones, still carried on conversations about patient care in the hallway with other patients sitting nearby. Once we were ushered in to see the doctor, we found ourselves in a room with three or four other patients while she performed examinations on them. We were privy to their complaints and treatment, and they to ours.
The doctor was quite knowledgeable. I was impressed by her, but I was also a bit uncomfortable with the situation. She took a keen interest to me when she found out that I'm from the states. She began speaking to me in English and called me over to see an example of a glass eye on another patient. Later, she mentioned that she needed funding for a new microscope. She again called me over to look into the eyes of another patient to show me what was plaguing him. I'm not a doctor. I didn't understand, and I don't feel that I should be privy to others' ailments. I should have declined. All I did was hesitate, which made her more insistent. Of course, I must admit that curiosity and a desire to be agreeable won out.
Patient confidentiality is a huge issue for many in the United States. We don't even want our most benign illnesses shared with others unless we choose to do the sharing. In fact, Peace Corps Volunteers fought to get our pictures taken off of the outside of our medical charts. We didn't even want our likenesses attached in a visible location to our patient files. There are still issues with the soundproofing of the examination rooms at Peace Corps, but anyway.... I wonder how these people felt. What would they say if they were asked, "How would you feel about having some strange girl, who isn't a doctor, stare into your eyes right now while you're sitting in an examination chair?" However, they weren't asked. I felt quite voyeuristic.
Tuesday was an interesting day. It was Bairam - an important Muslim holiday. A couple of the girls from my office took the day off. I went to a couple of schools in nearby towns (Kostandovo and Dorkovo) with my colleagues. (*As a huge, pointless sidenote, I'd like to say that the pronunciation of the town of Dorkovo is exactly how it looks, and I think we need to send a volunteer there so we can tease this person relentlessly. Also, I'd like this volunteer to be named Bob.) The thing was, my boss was mistaken about when the bus leaves for these towns. I tried to catch the bus five minutes after it had already left. I ended up having to take a taxi to meet up with them. It was either that or go back home and sleep. I should have gone back home and slept.
We visited schools in our municipality because we're hoping to apply for a project (I say "we," but I'll probably be gone by then) which will need to include inter-school activities. Basically, we were going around presenting our ideas and asking the schools to become active partners for our project. Yanko did most of the talking, so my other colleagues and I felt like decoration. We don't like feeling that way. You can learn a lot from observation, however.
After the meetings, Valia, Ani, and I went to their sister's house in Kostandovo. I basically sat there the whole time and wished that I had made more of an effort to learn the local Roma language. Afterwards, we went to Velingrad and walked around in circles - trying to get stuff done. We all had a lot of things we wanted to do there. I was there because I needed to pay my phone bill and figure out if I can get Thomas' phone to work in the U.S. for him. I also wanted to find out if I could get a courier service to send a painting home for me. Thus begins the saga of "the painting I want to send to the states."
The Saga of the Painting I Want to Send to the States is the not-so-compelling story of a girl trying to send her dad a painting she bought for him three years ago. Problem is, this girl has to get formal documentation and a stamp showing that she is not trying to steal a cultural object/Bulgaria's heritage, otherwise this painting will be stopped at customs. She agrees with this practice. She just wishes that it weren't so difficult. She went to three different agencies in Velingrad before she got the response that a call would be made to find out what needed to be done - then she could come back the next day and find out what this was. Long day.
So, I went back to Velingrad the next day, and I was told that I would definitely need this documentation - even though it was a painting from the street and obviously not some priceless work of art. Problem was, no one was giving me a clear answer about what I needed to do and where I needed to go. I finally called the National Gallery of Art today, and a very helpful person told me exactly what I need to do: bring the painting to the gallery in Sofia along with two postcard-sized photographs of said painting. A commission which meets for two hours, three times a week, will consider my painting and render their verdict. I'm just wondering if the cost of getting it certified and sending it to the states will be more than the cost of the painting itself. I wouldn't be surprised if it is.
Let me digress about phone conversations. I have had some very pleasant phone/e-mail conversations here in Bulgaria when I have needed to get information. I have had some that were downright nasty, however. I am always impressed when Bulgarians are courteous and prompt with me because I get the feeling that customer service isn't always a priority here (not that all customer service representatives are angels in the states). I think the worst is with transportation - especially on the phone. I almost always feel like the tone that I'm getting is, "How dare you call to interrupt whatever I'm doing to ask me a question?" It's especially painful when I have a complicated question. I once asked about train schedules from Sofia to Septemvri and then from Septemvri to Velingrad. The lady asked me rather nastily, "Why didn't you just ask me about trains from Sofia to Velingrad?" I calmly replied, "Because I need to know both train schedules."
On the other hand, I have to commend Bulgarians for their treatment of me on the phone when it's obvious that Bulgarian is not my first language. I have never been admonished for my broken Bulgarian. I feel like we're always quick to jump on people and say, "Why don't they learn English," even when they speak English well enough to be understood. I think we are a bit snobby when it comes to English being spoken in our country. Okay, I think we are a lot snobby about that. I think people should learn English as well as they can in the United States, but I don't think we should belittle those who speak it well enough to be understood. Many Americans only speak one language, and I think it's silly to try and feel like we're somehow superior to those who speak two or more - just because our English might be a little better than theirs.
On Wednesday, I went to visit a local pastor's family. I've only been to their house once before, but being there again reminded me that I wish I had invited myself over more often. His wife speaks perfect English, but we spoke Bulgarian to each other because her four children are still learning. Four beautiful children. And the youngest, a little less than a year old, has the same winning smile as everyone else in the family coupled with some fairly serious health problems. My being a frequent guest to this household probably would have caused more stress than good, but they're a fantastic family. I was well-fed, there was good conversation, and the children had to show me everything that they were into - including their favorite books which include classics like "Little Women." At the end of the evening, I was asked to read a continuation of Disney's take on Sleeping Beauty. I muddled through it somehow, but I still don't read Bulgarian with confidence. My fault completely.
One of our computers in the office caught a virus. Yanko clicked on something he shouldn't have clicked on, and we found ourselves with a trojan virus. The first two days of the week, I was away from the office on other business, so I couldn't take a look at it. They asked our local "specialist" to have a look. (I like the guy, but you're going to see in a second why I put "specialist" in quotes.) He fiddled around and then ended up telling Yanko to back up all our files on CD and then call him back to reformat the hard drive. Boo. When I came back to the office, I sat down and used pretty much the only weapon I have for such situations. It's called "System Restore," and I think it's the greatest thing that Windows has come up with for non-specialists like me. It basically takes your computer back to a previous point in time - getting rid of possibly troublesome programs like viruses while saving files. I figured this would have been the first thing that the "specialist" would have done, but he must not have. Doubting it would work, I told the computer to go back to a point right before it caught the virus. It rebooted and then informed me that it had recovered from a serious error. Yanko informed me that he loves me even more now than he did before.
We acquired the other office that resides on the same floor as ours. It used to be occupied by a couple of elderly accountants. They hadn't used that office, however, in about a year. Yanko was pressuring the renter to give it up to us. We finally got it. So, we spent Friday painting it. At first the consensus was that it should be white. I didn't agree with that, but I'm not super-ecstatic about how it turned out either. Two of the walls and the ceiling are white. One wall is mint green, and one is a dusty rose. All we need is a dark brown color, and we could have a neapolitan office. Yanko asked my opinion several times about the colors on the walls. All I told him was, "Don't ask me, 'cause I won't be working there." This would be followed by him hugging me and telling me that I was "bad."
I'm more excited about the office itself as in space. This means that not all my colleagues will be jammed in a small office with two computers. Of course, computers still have to be acquired for the new office, but we're going in the right direction. We have some ugly furniture and some ugly chairs that will do for now. Beggars can't be choosers. This is good stuff for the foundation. Growth is good. We've now taken over an entire floor.
This weekend, I went to Blagoevgrad to visit a friend of mine who studies at one of the universities there. Blagoevgrad is definitely a student town - with apparently over a third of the population comprised of students. I had been once, briefly, as a trainee. I had always wanted to go again, and I wanted to visit my friend, Fanka. I wasn't able to get to her as early as I had hoped. Transporation to that part of the country from our part of the country is decent but also not always convenient. Still, I'm glad that I was able to stay and hang out with her and a couple of her friends. I'd been wanting to visit since she started attending school there last year.
The weekend was good, and then I came back to Rakitovo Monday morning. Yanko was excited about the office. He and a friend had stayed to paint over the weekend. He couldn't stop smiling, and he couldn't stop hugging me about it. He insisted that I go home and rest, and I took him up on it. I had gotten up way too early to catch a bus back, and sleep sounded good. I had crawled into bed and had just about dozed off when Enyo, my former landlord, called. Peace Corps was supposed to come that morning to check on the apartment for Emily, the next volunteer, but there was no word from them yet. He wanted to go back to work - which would require him to go to Velingrad. I called Yanko. Sure enough, no word from Peace Corps. I told Enyo to go to Velingrad, and I would call him when I had word. I was about to nod off again when my phone rang. It was one of my program managers from Peace Corps. A representative had been there for twenty minutes, but they hadn't made contact with anyone from my organization. Could I get ahold of someone? I called Yanko, threw on some clothes, called Enyo, and ran to the center. Somehow, in the span of twenty minutes, Yanko and this representative had missed each other. The rep was on a tight schedule, and Enyo was already on his way to Velingrad. Milka, his wife, was stuck in a meeting. After an awkward delay, we went to see my old apartment. It was weird being there again. It's going to be even weirder seeing Emily living there. Anyway, I got an e-mail from the program manager thanking me for helping with the apartment and apologizing for having woken me up. How do they know?
Yanko has sure been hugging me a lot lately. I'm used to it by now. It weirded me out the first time he did it. It was the same week that I came to the organization, and I remember that I froze and pulled back. He understands that it's based on a cultural difference, but there's no problem with him hugging me now. It's never a frontal hug. It's a side hug. Anyway, he's always hugged me in general, but the hugs have increased exponentially over the past few days. I think it's hitting him that I'm leaving. Emily has her swearing-in ceremony, and then she moves to Rakitovo tomorrow. It hasn't hit me yet. I think it'll hit me when she's actually sitting in the office with us.
This week has been a busy one for my colleagues. Ani has been up in the mahala because a well-equipped ambulance, financed by the European Union, has been in our town this week. They're giving free gynecological exams to women, and they're also giving free, overall check-ups to children. It's great, but part of the battle is just in convincing people to go. Hello! Free health exams! Why wouldn't you want to go? Well, a lot of reasons: fear, shame, laziness. There are also free condoms available. Unfortunately, in the mahala, taking a bunch of condoms is like saying, "I'm a slut who sleeps around and cheats on my husband." The idea is that faithful women shouldn't be worried about STDs, and husbands don't like using condoms. Abortion is an appropriate method of birth control. Again, cultural differences exacerbated by a lack of, and unwillingness to learn, new information.
We also have a festival on Friday to celebrate the European Year of Intercultural Dialogue. I'm in charge of rounding up some high schoolers, dressing them up in theme t-shirts, and having them hand out brochures. I'm also supposed to take pictures during the actual festival. Then, once it's over, I'm taking down the art and essay exhibition that we'll be showing in connection with the theme. The media should be coming, and Emily will be here. It's kind of interesting. My first day on the job also included a foundation-organized festival which took place in the town's cultural center. History repeats itself.
I've been annoyed this week. Two weeks ago, on a hike, I met this guy. He was nice enough, and we chatted a bit. I thought he might like me, but I wasn't sure. I mostly ignored it 'cause he's 15 years older than I, and I wasn't interested. A few days later, over coffee, he got my number, my e-mail, and my Skype 'cause he wanted to keep in touch and send me pictures from the hike. He works for a magazine in Sofia, and he called me a few days later to try and arrange an interview. I didn't answer my phone 'cause I was in a meeting at the time. A few minutes later, by the time I got out of the meeting, two other people got ahold of me to let me know that he had been looking for me.
Later, on Skype, he started flattering me with all this talk about how charming I am, how much he likes me, and how he doesn't want me to go back to the states. He was going to find a way to keep me here in Bulgaria. He told me that he would take me for a wife. I had no response to that. The next day, he called me. I was busy and told him that I would talk to him later. Later, on Skype, he asked, "Since you don't want to stay in Bulgaria, do you want me to come to America?" I was floored. Really? Two weeks? You want to follow me halfway across the world 'cause you like me? Right.... Get. In. Line. He's not the first to ask me such a question. I'm cute and charming, but I'm not that cute and charming. I am beyond annoyed.
Fortunately, I was able to leave that conversation and meet another guy for coffee. I think this one might have a mild crush on me as well, but at least there has been no talk about following me to another continent. He's a talented artist, and he showed me some of his art. He even ended up giving me a couple pencil drawings. One was of a valkyrie on a horse. A mutual acquaintance of ours has said this valkyrie is a likeness of me. It honestly doesn't look much like me. I just hope I won't have to get special certificates for these drawings.
I'm certain that there's more that I wanted to write, but it's past my bedtime. I just wanted to post before the world changes tomorrow.

Killing the Waiting/Head Examinations

2008-09-28T13:54:00.008+03:00

"Pizza" is even printed on the plate in case you get confused as to what that might be.

I made a fabulous pizza last night. This whole, "teaching myself to cook while I'm in Bulgaria" has succeeded - to a point. I can make four or five pretty good dishes that I'd never made before coming here. Even Angel commented that I've grown by leaps and bounds in the kitchen. Still, I'm far from my goal of really teaching myself to cook. This is due only to my laziness. Cooking for myself does not encourage ingenuity. I have to thank Thomas, who always preferred me to cook for him (or to help me cook) than to going out to a restaurant in town. Living by myself has made me a bit more domestic, but I have a long way to go.
Getting out of here and the presedential elections have been on my mind a lot recently. I'm not going to comment on the race for the presidency. Getting out of here is something I'm dealing/not dealing with all the time. All I do is sit around and let all the things I need to figure out before I COS bump around in my head:
1. Should I do some traveling afterward even if it means traveling alone? If so, where should I go?
2. What should I do with my luggage?
3. How much luggage will I have?
4. What's the best deal on a plane ticket?
5. How do I transport big things home?
6. What do I need to do before I get out of Bulgaria?
One could argue that it's a bit early to think about these things, but it's really probably not. As I mentioned in an earlier post, "Няма време," which means that there isn't any time. The thing is, I can't bring myself to get up and get anything pinned down for sure. I just sit here and freak myself out.
In the meantime, I still have people asking me why I'm leaving, encouraging me to stay, and even jokingly informing me that they're going to find a way to stop me from going. My usual answer is, "If I stay, my mother with come to Bulgaria and beat me." Mom, they get that it's a joke. Or I tell them, "Take it up with my mother," and this is followed by a "We'll get her to stay, too." I'll also tell them that "every beginning has an end." I knew I'd be leaving when I came to Bulgaria. Staying another year isn't going to change that. Even my invitation came with an end date.
It's flattering that people don't want me to go. Giving them an honest answer as to why I'm leaving isn't always the easiest. To some it seems to come down to a question about whether or not I like Bulgaria. "Don't you like Bulgaria? You're sick of it here now, aren't you?" The answer is not that easy. I've only given a couple of people a straight answer, but even I can't articulate it all that well. The simplest reason is, "The time has come for me to go." The more involved answer is, "I've given just about all I have to give. There's no more room for growth/self-development here in Bulgaria." Both the selfish and unselfish reasons for why I'm here have reached their apex.
Mostly, I just want all these things figured out. It's the knowing that I'm going in a little over a month and waiting for it that's killing me. I honestly think that I'm still going to be taken by surprise, "What do you mean I only have two weeks left? When did that happen?" Again, there's an awesome Christian song that slightly relates to this: It's Alright by Third Day.
I love this song and what it says about God. Everything feels so overwhelming and scary sometimes, but it just brings us one more day closer to when we get to go HOME.
I'm floating along here pretty well (other than damning my own unproductivity), but there are a few things that are getting me down other than the fact that I'm leaving: I have a friend in Pakistan in the moment. She's there while her husband is having an operation they could never afford here in Bulgaria. I got a text soon after the operation was over, but that was the night before the bombing in Islamabad. I haven't heard from them since then. I tell myself that there was no way they could have been there, but I'm not sure if something else has happened in the aftermath. My e-mails and texts have gone unanswered.
There's also something else that's breaking my heart at the moment: I'm not sure if I've talked about Mitko before, but I probably have. Mitko is the most amazing little boy in Rakitovo. He's about thirteen, but he looks like he's eight. I think I met him at church, and he used to come to my English classes. Basically, he used to hang out with me whenever he could. He was the most helpful little boy ever, and he was always ready and willing to do just about anything I asked of him. He was also one of my most faithful baseball players. Learning and loving God was of utmost importance to him.
Now, I rarely see him. When I do see him, he's hanging out with boys who also used to play baseball with me, but the rumor is that these boys smoke. I see them cutting class and ducking into corners (probably to light cigarettes), and I've seen them hanging out at the noisiest cafe in the Roma neighborhood (where older kids go to drink, dance, and flirt). Just a few months ago, Mitko commented to me, "Apryl, those boys don't want to play baseball anymore. They'd rather do bad things." A week later, he was hanging out with them instead of me. Once, when he and another boy walked to the stadium with me (and then ran off when we got there - inspiring my head to almost explode), I found them later and sat down to have a chat with him. He nodded the whole time, but it's one of those things where you know that nothing you say is going to reach these kids. Break my heart wide open.
Last night, I was reading an article in a magazine by an RPCV (Returned Peace Corps Volunteer) who was here in Bulgaria. I've mentioned her writing before in this blog because she has a great style. She basically wrote about watching a promising and bright child/friend succumb to schizophrenia. The epilogue shared that this girl's closest friend got pregnant and dropped out of school. It's an awful story, and yet it's so realistic. Many times, we're shown the "happy side of life." Every story has its "happy ending" where someone overcame all odds to succeed. People have told me that they should take my PC experience and turn it into a film. I think, "It wouldn't work 'cause my PC experience is not a 'conquering' story." For some PCVs, their story works out that way. Mine did not.
She also makes a provocative statement about leaving:
When you leave a country, you can't tie up every loose thread. You have to leave what's done, undone. You are not leaving a job. You are leaving a life. You are leaving children you spent years with - they were little when you met, you remember when you couldn't understand one another, but you'd smile, and they'd smile, and there was always a way to say I think you're wonderful.
It's easy to cut the fraying edges, hem neatly the distance between what happened there and your life here. It is so far away, there's nothing you can do now. You tell yourself that; it must be true.
I just had coffee with the guy who's probably the most frustrating person for me to talk to in town. I've mentioned him before - the one who throws English words at me like spaghetti, hoping something will stick. Mostly it just comes out as a jumble of confusion. I don't know what he's talking about, and I get frustrated. He asked, "So, will another English girl come here and work for the foundation?" I finally lost it. "No, but another American girl will come." I gave him a hard time. "I've never been to England. Please. If I'm English, you're Russian." He took it pretty well. "Sorry, I just... I have so many things on my mind. I got confused." I apologized for giving him a hard time, but it was a half-hearted apology. C'mon. You've known me for over two years. Get it straight. Still, I shouldn't have been so hard on him. We had just come from church. Plus, he's leaving for Slovakia this week. He kept confusing it with the Czech Republic. Poor guy really has got a lot on his mind.
I went with Yanko to continue the search for an apartment for Emily, A.K.A. the next volunteer. We have a couple options already set up, but we're keeping them open. Yanko is one of those guys who wants the best, and that's a good quality - especially when it comes to the comfort of the volunteer. I've been a big benefactor of that relentlessness. He had a lead on an older gentleman who lives in a rather large house. After five minutes of talking to him, however, it was clear that he wasn't quite all there upstairs. He asked Yanko who he was. Then, he asked, "So, whatever happened with that girl who decapitated her husband?" After trying to figure out who he was talking about, Yanko just pretended he knew what was going on. It turned out he wasn't offering the place - which was just as well, 'cause we weren't going to take it.
Afterwards, we walked around for a bit and stopped at one of the cafes for coffee. We had a pretty good conversation, and Yanko said something that was very flattering. It was something to this effect: "I regularly look at your life and use it as a guide for mine to determine whether or not I'm on the correct path. You're a catalyst for so many things, 'cause you live in the world of my dreams. I would like to live there - even if it were just for a year." Whoa. Earlier in the day, I told him I was in a funk 'cause I felt like so many things were coming up on me, and my problems were too big to handle. He tried to help me crack them one by one, but it really comes down to the fact that I'm leaving, and it's that big change itself that's looming over me. He said, "I would love to have your problems. Why don't we switch?" Good point.
It hit me again when I watched the first presidential debate between McCain and Obama. Barack Obama said the following:
"My father came from Kenya. ...in the 60's he wrote letter after letter to come to college here in the United States because the notion was that there was no other country on earth where you could make it if you tried. The ideals and the values of the United States inspired the entire world. I don't think any of us can say that our standing in the world now... is the same."
I agree with him, but my boss is obviously still star-struck by the United States. I explained the "glass ceiling" to him, and he just stared at me with his mouth open. "I can't believe it." I share other shortcomings about the U.S. with him, and he says the same, "I can't believe it." To him, the U.S. is the epitome of the "ideal country," and California is its "ideal state."
Yanko has said that there's one thing he doesn't like about me: my stubbornness. He tells me that I need to learn to be more flexible. I don't know. I've always considered myself pretty flexible, but there are definitely some things that I'm hard-headed about. He'd like me to change that, but I tell him that it's good to have one thing about me that he doesn't like. If he liked everything about me, that wouldn't be interesting in the least. Perfection is so boring. Also, he keeps trying to get me to start thinking about settling down and starting a family. His interest in this confuses me, but maybe he'd like to see me come back to Bulgaria with a couple of rugrats in tow.
As I mentioned, the weather has taken a turn for fall. And it's not one of those nice falls, where you're crunching in leaves, eating apples, and wearing a light sweater over a long-sleeved shirt. This is Jack Frost disguising as whatever term we use to anthropomorphize autumn, and he's making us hunch over and want to hide in our houses. I hate this time of year 'cause it means lighting stoves. Lighting stoves is my kryptonite 'cause it means that I have to do it in the Educational Center to hold my classes. Meh. Hey Weather! Can't you just hold out a bit longer? We had an agreement here! I actually cancelled my Thursday English class 'cause I thought that it might be too cold in the center. The system needs to be checked out before we start lighting the stove.
Work is work. We started writing a project, and I've been calling the schools in the region to try and set up some times when we can meet, present our ideas, and get feedback about any ideas that they might have. Other than that, we've had a couple of meetings with women and young girls that I've invited to take part in the women's group. Now, we're thinking it'd be great if they formed a girl's club that could help us out with some of our activities. For example, we're having an ethnic festival in October. We'd like them to wear shirts promoting the event and pass out flyers. Also, an ambulance will come to our town and give free gynecological examinations to women. There will also be check-ups for children. We'd like them to encourage people in the Roma neighborhood to go and get checked out. So far, they've agreed to everything. We had a nice meeting on Friday where we talked about the different ethnic groups that live in Rakitovo. I'm encouraged by this progress, but it's up to the organization to keep up with them. I've seen promise before - only to watch it fall apart, which is followed by disappointment, finger-pointing, and hurt feelings. It's hard to be inspired about anything these days. Or maybe I get inspired about the small "victories" these days.
And here's your random, cultural difference for the day: I was walking to the self-service supermarket the other week. I had a lot of things to buy, and I decided that I just wanted to go and pick them out myself. I ran into someone I know along the way. I really like her and her son, but they're struggling financially. Many times she will stop to tell me the state of her finances. She once told me that she thought I was the answer to her prayers because God had sent me to take her back to America with me. What do you say to that? It's not just her though. Others have encouraged me to take them back to the states or to find jobs for them once I'm back there. Anyway, I like her, but it's almost always awkward for me to talk to her. Here's the conversation we had:
Apryl: Hi.
Woman: Hi. Where are you going?
Apryl: To the supermarket here.
Woman: Do you always come here to shop?
Apryl: No, but I wanted to come 'cause I can pick out my own things. It's a bit of a more relaxed environment.
Woman: But it's more expensive here.
Apryl: Yeah, but I like the calm environment.
She looked at me like I had two heads. I must have been out of my mind. Why would I spend more just so I can pick out my own stuff when I can pay less to have someone else get it for me? I was thinking about it, and it truly is ridiculous in a way. However, that's how we Americans are sometimes. Sometimes we'll pay more just to avoid having to interact with others. We probably do need our heads examined.
As a final thought (before I probably think of something else to add that's been bumping around in my head), I'd like to thank those who still read this blog. My good buddy Andy has become a "follower" on this site. Thanks, Andy! I've met amazing people through this blog. Thanks, Misty! And I just got this message the other day:
Hey Apryl,
I've been reading your blog [for] a while and now I learned that you're leaving soon... as you said "няма време"! I just wanted to say that when I found your blog you made me laugh and this made me visit "you" pretty often. It's funny to see your own country through [an] American's eyes:) I found so many истини that I didn't [notice] before or I just was used to those истини so in a way you opened my eyes. Thank you for that!
Thanks, Blaj! It's people like you that make me feel good about purging my feelings for everyone to see over these three years. It's as if all my excitement, tears, frustrations, elations, fears, and guts have been *splortched* all over a wall to create a beautiful picture in words. I'm proud of myself for keeping up this public journal for three years - for better or for worse.

Putting the “Pro” in Procrastination

2008-09-22T23:10:00.000+03:00

I am a time-waster. There. I've said it. I'll talk more about that some other time....
It's cold! In the span of a few days, I went from short sleeves to three layers. I went from sleeping in shorts and a t-shirt, with a couple blankets lightly tossed around me, to sleeping in a couple think layers and having three blankets pulled up and tucked around my throat. What has happened to the weather? Where was this mild transition into cold weather that we call "autumn?" I'm supposed to start stylishly wearing long sleeves with a cute sweater during the day - not look like an "oompa-loompa." I refuse to turn on any heaters at this point. We had an understanding with the weather: It's not supposed to snow until after I COS. At this rate, we'll soon be in booties and look like this kid. The funny thing is, it's supposed to warm up again in a few days.
Last Monday was the first day of school. I was invited to attend one of the local schools for the ceremony. This school was thisclose to closing, but they were able to keep it running for at least another year. In all honesty, it should probably be closed, but this would lead me into a diatribe about the educational system here, and that wouldn't be pretty. I'm glad I'm not a politician. I have friends who work at that school.
Anyway, I went to the ceremony for the first day of school, and they pushed me up front to stand with the priest, the chairman of the town council, some deputy official from Pazardjik, and some teachers. I thought they were going to ask me to say a few words, but they just had me stand there awkwardly while others said many words. I was officially introduced as an official "guest" and given flowers, but I wanted to crawl under a rock and die of shame. I didn't expect them to do that. I don't even think that they expected them to do that. I was the only one up there wearing jeans. Highlights: Other than standing there awkwardly, the director referred to me as English - as in from England, the priest sprinkled me with holy water, and I had a prime view of the backs of people's heads as they sang and performed. Honestly, the program was good. I could have enjoyed it just as much had I just been lost in the crowd.
I don't talk much about local government. Government basically exists so that we all have something to take for granted and complain about. This administration that came into office last year certainly gets its fair share of criticism. However, I want to take the moment to praise this administration for a moment. I certainly am not their biggest fan, but they have a few visible projects that have pleased me. One is finally getting around to putting recycling containers in the town. I now have the option of dumping my paper, plastic, and glass into one of three color-coordinated containers posted conveniently around Rakitovo. Before, I used to have to go to Velingrad if I really wanted to be "green." (I only did this once to recycle a bunch of glass, so don't think of me as too much of a tree-hugger. Before, I used to throw everything straight in the garbage.) Now, my town has given me the convenient option of going "green" locally. This is monumental. I only wish they had held some kind of campaign with students from the local schools to educate people in town about them. Of course, it probably doesn't take a genius to figure out what it's all about, but a good campaign can't hurt. If I see one of the containers smoking, I think I'll go ballistic. (My town has a habit of lighting the trash in certain containers on fire if the municipality doesn't get around to emptying them quickly enough.)
Yesterday, I went to the second-highest point in the Rhodope mountains. It's a place called "Syutka," and it's several kilometers from here. At first, when I was called and invited to come, I thought about my bum leg, and declined. Then they said that we'd be taking cars most of the way. The walk was only a few kilometers, but it was mostly straight up and then straight down again on the way back. My leg didn't like that too much. Peace Corps probably wouldn't like it too much either. Just a few days earlier, we had spent ten minutes on the phone (me doing every leg exercise in the book), to try and determine if just, perchance, it was something more serious than a bruise.
I had a great time up at Syutka, though. We took our time and came across several patches of blueberries. I had the blue tongue and lips to betray my gluttony. Once we got to the top, everyone brought out the various breads, meats, cheeses, fruits, jams, vegetables, and alcohol that they had brought for the occasion. Bulgarian hikes are always the best 'cause they build a fire pretty much anywhere they please and get down to the eating and drinking. It's simple food, but it's always good. If there's another group nearby, we must engage them in conversation and song. In the states, we'd probably give them a nod and make some comment about the weather or the difficulty of the hike. Not in Bulgaria. You must join us for some alcohol and a song about how proud we are that we aren't Greeks! Afterwards, we might even take a picture together! It's awesome. Of course, I always get introduced as being the "token American" that gives the group its "international" credibility. This is followed by someone looking me up and down, making a frowny face, and saying, "But... does she understand Bulgarian?" I kid a lot, but honestly - Buglarians are some of the most hospitable people that I've ever met. I wish I had found this group earlier to enjoy other such hikes. I might even have learned some of the songs!
Today, is Bulgarian Independence Day. I had to work. My colleagues decided that it would be a good time to get some project development done. They're right, but I really didn't feel like working on a national holiday. Nevermind that I don't get U.S. holidays off. I rarely get Bulgarian ones, either. I shouldn't whine so much. It's not like I'm constantly working. It's just that I find myself constantly dipping into my lunch hours and evenings to work as well. This is not my colleagues' fault. I do this to myself. The problem is, even when I'm just sitting in the office listening to my colleagues talking about all the work that awaits them, I feel drained. As the days dwindle down to my COS date, so does my desire to be productive. Honestly, as far as the office goes, I'm ready to leave tomorrow. As far as actually getting ready to leave, I've done nothing.

Time Differences

2008-09-14T20:35:00.005+03:00

Bulgaria is about the size of the state of Tennessee, but there is so much to see here. I'm sure there's a bunch of stuff to see in Tennesee as well, but it amazes me how much history and beauty is contained in one, small country. I've been spending some time checking out some things that I just haven't gotten around to checking out thus far. It's been good.
On September 11th, I went to visit the mosque in town. I hadn't planned it that way. And I didn't even realize the coincidence until I had already been there for an hour. I had always wanted to visit our local mosque. I can hear the calls to prayer from my home. I had just never found a good "in." Well, some of the boys I play baseball with will run off with the excuse that they have to go to the mosque. On Thursday, when I saw them, I asked if it would be possible for me to visit sometime. At first they were confused by it. "Why? Do you want to convert?" I just said that I was interested, and they were really great about it. "You want to come tonight?"
I went to the mosque, and I hung out with the boys for about an hour until the last round of prayers. I was dressed in a long robe and my head was wrapped in a scarf. I sat to the side while a small number of people prostrated themselves several times. Afterwards, they came up and started asking me questions about why I had come. They made sure to let me know that I was welcome to come back anytime. I don't know if I'll go back. I just had to experience it once.
I admire the discipline of true Muslims. The getting up early, praying five times a day, fasting during daylight hours for a month - it's pretty intense in my book. Their dedication makes me self-conscious. Wouldn't I do the same if I loved God that much? Of course, there are a few things I just can't accept, and they mostly have to do with gender issues. The women are separated from the men. The women were wearing long coverings and headscarves while the men wore street clothes. For many women who practice Islam, this is not a problem. I respect their views, but it's a problem for me. Anyway, I'm glad I went. I'm not sure if there are more in this town, but at least I can say that I've been to all four of the services of the religious groups I know to exist in Rakitovo. It makes me feel more "cultured" somehow.
Today, I went to the ruins of a medieval castle/outpost called Tsepina. I've been wanting to go for the longest time. It's only a few kilometers outside Dorkovo, - a town with the coolest name in our municipality - and I've had no excuse except that, until now, I haven't really had anyone to go with. I figured I would walk there. It would have been a long walk. A few weeks ago, I helped a tourist group clean up a local chapel in town. When they found out that I hadn't yet been to Tsepina, they said that we should take a trip. They made good on their promise, and we checked out the ancient ruins and cisterns. It was awesome. I didn't realize that such a place of important history and power was located in our region. The entry I've linked up above doesn't do it justice according to what people in my group shared with me today. It used to be the political center of a far-reaching kingdom. Eventually, it was just handed over to the Ottoman Empire. Anyway, it was great - except that I misjudged the height of a wall and totally busted my leg when I tripped onto it in front of a bunch of people. My best moment to date....
After the hike, we had a typical, Bulgarian picnic: cucumbers, tomatoes, various cheeses, various roasted meats, and various sodas, and various forms of alcohol. I was encouraged to put rakia (a strong alcohol) on my leg injury. It burned like the dickens, but we can be sure not a microbe survived. I'll be hobbling around for the next few days, though.
Once again, I was getting attention for my Americanism. They were marveling at my ability to pass for a "Rakitovka," and they asked that I make a toast for them. Meanwhile, the group of pensioners next to us started to sing traditional songs, and our group eventually joined in. When I was introduced to another pensioner as an American, he paused, "Well, there's nothing wrong with that." Haha. I think some people are still used to the times when we were diametrically opposed to one another.
Of course the picnic had bread. I'm not sure what Bulgarians would do without bread. Here is another one of the random thoughts that I want to share - not knowing if I've shared it before. For Bulgarians, bread is the staple of any meal. The thought of eating a meal without bread is unfathomable. I've heard that part of the reason is because bread is a cheap, but filling addition to any meal. I've been admonished many times for not eating enough bread. I've also been asked how I can eat certain foods without bread.
Bread is also a measure of living standards. "Uh oh. Bread has gone up in price. We must be living in hard times," or "We haven't had enough snow this winter. There won't be enough ingredients for bread, and the price will go up astronomically. How will we survive?" I often use it as a standard for ratio when measuring standards of living. "Yeah. We make more money in the states, but bread is around $2 a loaf." Really, I should be talking about housing. "Yeah, we make more money in the states, but we have to pay astronomical prices for rent." Most people in my town own their house. Of course, it's usually passed down through generations.... There's really no comparison. Many people in Bulgaria do not make enough money. I just feel like I'm constantly being asked to justify that there are people struggling to make ends meet in the states as well.
I hate talking about money! It seems like it's one of the first topics on people's tongues when people find out that I'm from the states. "What's the average salary there? How much do your parents make? How much does your mom pay for electricity? How much is your grandparents' retirement? How much do you make here in Bulgaria?" I am not comfortable talking about these things 'cause I feel like it's taboo in the states. Plus, I honestly don't know the answers to many of these questions. I am met with stares of disbelief. "How can you not know how much your own mother makes?" "Um, it's not something we talk about." I'm met by more stares of disbelief. "How can you not know how much your closest friend makes?" Many times I've been written off as just incompetent or uninterested. A few times I've lied about my salary here in Peace Corps. Otherwise, if I can get away with it, I just say, "I live well," and let them come to their own conclusions. For me, it's none of their business. For them, it's all their business. Cultural differences are fascinating.
I forgot to mention something in my last post when I talked about Trud. I wanted to lament the loss of my "family's" garden. Donka and Kostadin are my "parents," and their children, Vili and Kiro, would be something like my "sister" and "brother." I talk about Vili all the time in this blog and mention her as my "sister." I don't talk much about Kiro. I've never been close with him. He lives in the same house, but I don't see much of him. He's married and has a cute daughter who's about two now. Well, he's decided to build a house on his family's property. So, from what I understand, his parents have sold some of their property to help him build this house. Really, it's none of my business, but it seems to me that the current generation is making extreme sacrifices to help out the next. This seems typical of Bulgaria. I admire the closeness of family ties. I do not admire the dependence it breeds. Our culture of tossing kids out of the nest as soon as they come of age is seen as pretty heartless in some cultures. I see it as necessary to get the kids to "fly." Of course, I say this knowing full well that I'll be moving in with my mom again in two months. Hypocrite! Anyway, the point of this was to mourn the loss of my "family's" garden. My "family" used to have the most beautiful garden with potatoes, tomatoes, peaches, strawberries, plums, raspberries, and just about any other fruit and vegetable you can imagine. There were grapes and overhanging vines everywhere. It was a yard of beauty. Now, it looks like a desert wasteland. Everything has been uprooted. A number of cars are parked where I used to pick strawberries. It breaks my heart.
I want to share something that is inherent to Rakitovo. Well, I don't know if other citizens in Bulgaria do this, but we sure do. Despite the fact that we have some very nice, pristine sidewalks, we really like walking in the road. It can be along the side of the road, in the middle of the road, what-have-you, we are determined to walk on the asphalt. It's hilarious. It's as if we say, "Your sparkling sidwalks be damned! Build the prettiest sidewalk you can imagine! We will preserve it by walking in the street." Even I have developed an aversion to walking on the sidewalks here in Rakitovo. I think it's a "When in Rome..." thing, but it also has to do with regularly walking streets that either don't have sidewalks, have cracked or overgrown sidewalks, or have sidewalks that are obstructed every few meters by planters with large trees growing in them. I would think it was a Bulgarian thing - except other Buglarians have commented on it, "So, are those people in Rakitovo still walking down the center of the road?"
I've been seeing more foreigners coming through our town. They're usually easy to pinpoint with their huge backpacks and confused expressions. Many times, I've wanted to go up and ask them if they need help. By the time I get up the nerve to approach them, however, they've usually made the appropriate gestures to someone else, and they're on their way. It's so odd to see them in our town, but it's a good sign. In theory, we are a good tourist center for this region. There are a lot of things of interest around us. I'm still bristling at the fact that I haven't been able to find Rakitovo in any guide books. I have to share one thing I'm proud of. Apparently, one of my older English students saw some Germans coming through and asked them, "Where are you going?" This may not sound like much, but it's monumental. She used present progressive tense correctly, and she isn't even one of my strongest students!
I've mentioned that my organization will soon be starting a huge project with the Ministry of Education. For this project, they have created a job position called a "mediator." This person would be required to walk the Roma kids to and from school. They would be expected to be in constant contact with both parents and teachers to resolve any issues or problems that might come up. Also, they would be expected to work together with the team to identify parents that can take part in other activities of the project. My colleagues have tried to offer me this position. "Why don't you come work for us?" Um.... I once said, flat out, "I don't want to work for you." I think this was a bit blunt, but it was true. I could never actually work for my organization. The cultural differences in working habits are just too big to overcome. I think I've mentioned before (in this blog) that, were I actually working for my colleagues, I would quit. And, in case there are any ethnic Bulgarians reading this, this has nothing to do with them being Roma.
My boss mentioned it again to me over this last week, and I said, "How would I survive? Half my salary alone would go to rent." He answered, "Yeah, but can't you come to some agreement with Peace Corps?" Yeah, right. I'll be a "volunteer" with the Peace Corps half the time, and the other half I'll receive a salary from you guys which should really be going to some other, more-qualified resident in town. That won't blur the lines or anything. We're not asking for problems with that.... I don't think so. I told him that, despite the difficult moments I have when thinking about my departure, it's time to go. I want to go. It's time to move on.
Here's another interesting tidbit about Bulgarian culture. It has to do with the time when Emily (the next volunteer) was here. I mentioned that we had dinner with "guy who never bothered to learn my name." I should give him a name. From here on out, he will be known as Tsanko. This works because I actually bothered to learn his name before we even arranged to be at the same place at the same time, and this is his actual name. So, Tsanko was walking Emily and I back to Emily's hotel. He was asking me why she was staying in a hotel. To him, it seemed so rude that no one had offered to take her in. "Why isn't she at least staying with you?" In the beginning, Yanko had considered having her stay with him, but I said, "Put the girl up in a hotel. Peace Corps will pay for it." In Bulgarian culture, it seems rude not to open your home to a guest if they need a place to stay. In American culture, many of us would rather stay in a hotel than with strangers - especially if we can't even really communicate with those strangers. Cultural differences strike again! We're dealing with it again at the moment since Emily and I will be living in the same town for a month. I've been asked a few times, "Can't she just live with you?" I think, "Well, she could if we were hospitable Bulgarians instead of 'give-me-my-space' Americans." These are times when I really think our American independence and individuality is a little ridiculous. Of course, I don't complain 'cause it means I still get my own space.
Yesterday, I went with Angel to go and find his horses. Some of them hang out in a wooded area between Rakitovo and Velingrad. Once we found them, I helped him get a few of them rounded up so he could put medicine on their legs and retie some of their binds. Mostly, I took pictures. They were such sweeties! And they were so beautiful! Angel has been promising me, since basically the moment that we met, that he would take me out to see his family's horses. He finally made good on his word yesterday. I've been giving him a hard time over the years, "When are you going to take me to see your horses? You keep promising, but you never take me." I'm like a broken record. Finally, I asked him outright if he would take me the next day, and he did. Finally. We took quite the walk, but it was worth it. I must have seen about 12-15 horses. He now says that he's going to put me on a wagon and take me out to see them the next time. Um... you've been promising for three years that I would see your horses, and I just saw them. How much faith do you think I have in the prospect of hopping on a wagon with you in the next two months?
This is the new/old thing that's frustrating me once again in my final days in Bulgaria: "Има Време." (Ima vreme.) This translates to, "There's time." I hear it all the time now that life as I know it as winding down.
"When do you leave again?"
"In two months."
"Oh! Ima vreme! We'll see each other and hang out before you go."
People I haven't had coffee with once in the past three years are telling me "Ima vreme" and that we'll get together to drink coffee before I go. Um... what? I know 60 days sounds like a lot, people, but it's really not. Think how quickly the last two months went. Think how quickly the last three years went!" This is nonsense. "Няма време." (Nyama vreme.) "There's no time."

Built Apryl Tough

2008-09-10T20:36:00.003+03:00

I've been playing with the Advertising Slogan Generator again. I just got this one that I'm using as the title. This one is also good: "Eight out of ten owners who expressed a preference said their cats preferred Apryl." How about this one? "Nobody better lay a finger on my Apryl." Ah, Random Slogan Generator, you make me smile.
I'm posting again 'cause I wanted to be random. I've got a lot of thoughts bumping around in my head. I thought it'd be great to get some of them out of my head and write them down.
1. I'm really going to miss Bulgarian fruits and vegetables. Have I mentioned before how wonderful, delicious, and natural they are? I'm going to miss being able to walk to the local fruit stands and any of the various grocery stores near me to pick up one or two items. The thought of getting in a car just to go get salt or something is going to appall me to no end. I can start cooking now, and if something is missing, I can leave the food on the stove and make a quick trip to the store. I'm going to miss that.
2. Future Foundation is really privileged to be getting another volunteer. I talked to a bunch of other volunteers who are not getting replaced. Fewer volunteers came this time around, and competition was tough. Rakitovo was lucky to get one. Maybe it's good they didn't pass this one up and wait until next May.
3. Yesterday was September 9th. On this date in 1944, the Bulgarian government fell under Soviet influence. Talking to Bulgarians about communism is almost always interesting. I remember very little of the Cold War, but I definitely recall a time when we were diametrically opposed to many of the countries in this part of the world. I remember the jubilance and hope that surrounded the fall of the Berlin Wall. I remember being told how awful and scary the Soviet Union was. Of course, they were being told the same things about the United States on this side of the world. Many people here remember those times fondly. Others long for the stability of those times while embracing a capitalist system. Of course, a generation is now coming into adulthood who have no way of making the comparison. Many times I've heard Bulgarians make the comparison to Moses wandering around the desert with the Israelites for 40 years: "Well, the old generation had to die out in order to raise up a new generation that was ready for the promised land." I don't know what I think of that per se, but there is definitely something to be said about being raised to think one way all your life. All of the sudden, you're told that this way is "wrong," and we're going to try something else. How quickly do you think you would adapt?
4. I notice so many thoughts that bump around in my head and are typical American: "Nothing is impossible if you put your mind to it. Don't just stand there. Do something! I am in control of my life. If something goes wrong, it's not due to outside forces - it's something wrong with me." I've been reading through the Peace Corps handbook about working together with volunteers. There are many good tips on how a majority of Americans think. They've got us "pegged" pretty well. In addition to those mentioned above, they share that we tend to look down on inherited wealth. We're more of an "I pulled myself up by my own bootstraps" kind of people. We love "rags-to-riches" stories. Of course, if you take the "pull myself up by my own bootstraps" mentality, it's total nonsense. I, along with other Americans, admire those who aspire and achieve material success, and there are some great stories out there, but no one could possibly "pull themselves up by their own bootstraps." Somewhere along the way, someone helped you out. No man is an island. Along with our other various sayings, I really have come to appreciate one of Kennedy's while I've been here: "Ask not what your country can do for you - ask what you can do for your country."
5. Many times during my service here in Bulgaria, I have had the overwhelming urge to call up family members and former teachers to just scream, "THANK YOU!" I'm far from perfect. My life hasn't been ideal. It's still been pretty great considering the alternatives out there. I'm so thankful that I've been instilled with the "You can be anything you want if you put your mind to it" mentality. It's just so much easier to get through life if you feel like the system is designed for you to succeed. It might be blind idealism, but I'd rather be built to take risks and believe in the "If at first you don't succeed, try, try again" mentality.
6. Many times my mom has said, "If you complain about America, I think you should be required to live in another country for a while." I agree with her to a point. I think we are required, not only to complain about oversights within our government, but also to take action to change them. This is active citizenship. Bulgaria is slowly moving beyond the complaining stage to the "what are we going to do to change it?" stage. But my mom is right. Americans (not all, but many) have it good. We're perpetual consumers, and we have a standard of living that is envied in many parts of the world. I haven't lived in the states for the past three years, but I remember having it good. As I said before, the system is designed to help me succeed... or at least help me out. Social services, for one example, may not be perfect, but they exist and are developed. I'm now grateful for so many things that I always took for granted. Angel has said many times, "If you want to love America more, come to Rakitovo." I love both, but I'm grateful for what Rakitovo has taught me about living in the U.S.
7. I'm going to miss small town trust. A number of times I have happened to be somewhere where I forgot my wallet, or they couldn't give me change. "Come by later today, tomorrow, or even next week to pay me." Awesome. I'm always sure that I do 'cause I don't want to lose that trust. Plus, you gotta pay for a service. There's also another saying here that I like, "C'mon. Neither you nor I are going to get any richer or any poorer." I hear this when I can't give a friend or an acquaintance a few stotinki (cents) for exact change - or even when I had to tell my former landlady that I had already paid her for a previous electric bill and needed her to return the 40 leva I'd given her a few days before. I see Bulgarians as materialists, but they're definitely not stingy.
8. I still get a lot of people trying to convince me to stay. "You're so used to it here. You already know the language. All you have to do is find a husband. Don't you like it here? What will the foundation do without you?" The last question is particularly frustrating. I have given a lot of myself to my work here, but to insinuate that I've raised the foundation up to great heights is just ridiculous. I think it's people's own blindness to how things really are. I mentioned in a previous post that the foundation won a huge project with the Ministry of Education and Science for European structural funds. We also received a certificate for writing the "best developed project" out of hundreds of candidates. My role in this was small, but still significant. However, I doubt my presence mattered to a degree where the outcome would have been any different. They still would have won the project. Most likely, they still would have taken "first place." Talking to people around town though, you would think that it had everything to do with me. I tell them it was a team effort, but they brush it off. "Yeah, yeah, but...." Maybe people are enamored with this idea of "the American - who just knows how to do everything 'better,'" or maybe people honestly still have a hard time seeing a Roma organization take the lead. I wish they realized just how competent my colleagues really are.
9. I have taken some pretty great strides since I've been here - mostly in regard to the language. I feel blessed that God has given me the ability to learn languages. I'm definitely not the best out there, but my talent makes me lazy. The idea of sitting down and studying a language out of a book while I'm alone is not appealing at all. People here compliment me on my language as if I had everything to do with it. More like it's just a mix of things: I have a natural knack. I listen and try to parrot people. I spend a lot of my day in the target language. This more has to do with what God has handed to me than any "pulling of the bootstraps" that I've done. I'm actually pretty lazy by nature. It would be like taking credit for having blue eyes or two legs. What I am pretty proud of is that I've learned to type in Bulgarian. I've memorized the placement of the cyrillic letters on the keyboard, and I can type at a decent rate without looking at my fingers. I can type dictated letters almost as well as any of my colleagues. That's pretty cool. I have a cyrillic option on my keyboard laptop, but I don't have cyrillic letters on my keys. I have to work by memorization. There's also a phoenetic option where the cyrillic letters match up, more or less, with their latin counterparts. This, however, only confuses me. I have a hard time typing Bulgarian quickly with latin substitutes even though I have our QWERTY down. Weird, huh? I've had both Americans and Bulgarians complain about trying to type Bulgarian on my keyboard. Suckers.
10. I made peppers stuffed with rice again tonight. This time I made them with my landlady. I'm hoping I can replicate them once I get back stateside. They really are yummy.
11. I know that there are other thoughts bubbling in my head, but they're not coming to the surface at the moment. As I think of them, I'm sure I'll be back to share.

Turning Points

2008-09-09T23:40:00.003+03:00

So, I met the new volunteer last week. Her name is Emily, and she's great. She seems pretty laid back, and I hope that she and Rakitovo will make a good fit. I had her over for dinner on Wednesday, and Angel came over later to meet her. The next day, she met her new colleagues (besides Yanko and me), and then we went to the Thursday bazaar and then up to the segregated, Roma school for a meeting with the teaching staff. After a break, we took a walk around the town with Yanko. That evening, after coffee with my colleagues, she came with me to an English class and baseball. There were tons of kids along with four Americans (plus one American baby), and it was chaos, but it was fun. After that, we went to dinner. It worked out that we ended up at the same restaurant as "guy who didn't bother to learn my name" and some of his friends, so we ate with them. That was a little odd, but I spent most of my time talking to Emily and ignoring the stares of the boys who wished they knew what we were talking about.
The following day, we took her to meet one of the pre-school directors and the director of the main, integrated school. We then took her for a walk around the Roma mahala. After a quick break for lunch, we went to a cafe with a couple English-speaking girls who've been active in the town. We then took a walk up to the local park. After a break, she went to Yanko's house for dinner. I decided to leave her with them since I'd been by her side almost non-stop since she got there. I wanted her to hang out with them alone - be the center of attention. I found out later that Ani had made my favorite dish (peppers stuffed with seasoned rice) and even marked the veggie ones with toothpicks just for me.
On Saturday, we took her on a basic tour of Velingrad. Then, I went with her to Sofia so that she could be sure to find her bus back to her training site. I also managed to show her the location of the Peace Corps office while we were there, so it worked out well. Hopefully, she'll remember how to get around if she needs to get to the office and NOT take two years to find the best way like I did. I feel like such a dolt when I think about the way-out-of-the-way route I used to take to Peace Corps Bulgaria headquarters. Silly girl.
Anyway, I like Emily. She was a trooper to say the least. You can see from the above program that we dragged that poor girl everywhere - introducing her to all sorts of people that she could barely communicate with. It must have been exhausting for her. Many times, I thought back to my first visit to Rakitovo. How much did I really understand? How much did I rely on the few people who spoke English to clue me in on things? Looking back, it's easy to believe that you understood more than you really did - that you spoke the language better than you really did. Hindsight is pretty much always skewed. I remember a lot of things, but mostly I remember doing a lot of walking around with Angel. Plus, our visit was shorter. I only had one full day in Rakitovo. Emily had two.
What else can I say about it? My emotions were a rollercoaster all the time. I had a good time - especially on Thursday when we were all running around doing various activities with the kids. Seeing Emily reminded me of how far I've come in the past three years, and it was a good feeling. Playing interpreter was tiring at times, but it also reminded me that my language skills are more than just "decent." There were also times when I was struck by the transition, and I felt sad. Explaining to people (especially kids) was difficult. Kids take it to heart and sometimes react with anger. You feel like you're betraying them in a way. All the way to baseball, some of the kids were singing songs in English that I'd taught them, and it made me feel good to know that they still remembered a thing or two from me. Kids surprise me with what they remember.
This weekend, I went to Plovdiv and Trud. September 6th was Bulgarian Unification Day, and the president gave a speech at Unification Square in Plovdiv. I told my "sister" about my interesting week. She said, "But that doesn't mean you're leaving, right?" "November 10th." She got tears in her eyes, and I gave her a hug. "I'm sorry. I should have waited until later to tell you." I can't cry yet. I'm flattered when others are affected so strongly, but it still hasn't hit me in a way that incites tears. I know the day will come when I will shed tears as well, but September 6th, 2008 was just not that day. Later that evening, we ended up running into another group of volunteers, and we followed them to a local discotheque. We were having such a fun time, that we were the last of the group to leave. I don't get the opportunity to hang out with large groups of volunteers very often these days, and I was reminded how crazy they are. I love them. I got hugs and kind words from the lot of them. It was a good ego-boost - especially since they're from other volunteer groups, and I don't get to spend much time with them. I feel like I did a good job inspiring "the next generations" or something. Hahaha.
The next day, I hung out with the volunteer in Trud. Patty is COS-ing (do you know the acronyms now?) soon, and I wanted to see her before she went. It was funny 'cause they were having a cultural fair, and I ran into a group there from Rakitovo. I surprised them when I went up to the front of the stage while they were singing and playing. The accordion player almost lost track of his fingering. "What are you doing here, Apryl?" Afterwards, Patty and I listened to people from Trud and Rakitovo go back and forth saying, "This is our girl." "And this is our girl." Plus, I ran into a few others from Trud who still remember me, and that's always great.
My sister treated me to a manicure and a haircut, but we mostly spent the day lazing around and recovering from the night before. We went out with Patty that night, and Patty and I did a good job keeping the conversation in Bulgarian to make sure that my "sister" was included. The next morning, I got up unreasonably early to accompany my "mom" on the van into Plovdiv so that I could catch a few buses back to site. My "mom" also began crying when I told her I was leaving soon. At first, I didn't think she was going to cry. She said, "Well, we knew this was coming. It's time for you to go back and be with your family there." She said all this with dry eyes. I was surprised 'cause she's an emotional women. I mean, she started crying when she met me for the first time, and I stuttered out, "My name is Apryl. Good afternoon. It's nice to meet you." But, I turned around, and there they were - the tears. Yikes. I can't deal with this yet.
Yesterday, Valia's daughter, Janette, had a birthday. I went to Velingrad with Ani to eat some food and take part in some of the festivities. I bought her a princess set that came with a crown, a mirror, a comb, a wand, and some sparkley shoes. She walked around in the shoes and the crown, waving her wand everywhere. She made the perfect little princess. After over-eating, I ended up taking a nap. It wasn't bad, considering I'd been up at 5 that morning to catch transport back to my town.
I also stopped at the bank yesterday. Yanko wanted me to check on the status of a bank account we have for a project that's supposed to start any day now (and has been that way for the past eight months). I went with the account number, and stuttered something to the woman at the window about needing to check on the balance. She looked it up and asked me, "Is this your bank account?" "No. It's for a foundation I work for." "Well, there's 18,020 leva inside." "Wha? Eighteen-thousand and twenty leva?" She smiled. I'm thinking, "Is it too late to try and make up some story about it really being my account?" Anyway, it's time to get cracking. The monster project is starting with the Ministry of Education and Science. We also received word today that another (much smaller) project has been approved, and that means even more work. I'm glad my colleagues will be busy. They need to be busy. Busy is good. Yanko and I spent the day trying to calculate the activities that need to happen before the end of the year. Believe me, taking activities that were supposed to run for 12 months and cut them down to four, is not so fun. That's just on paper. What about fulfilling them? I do not envy my colleagues.
This evening, I went to a cafe with one of my favorite women in Rakitovo. She works at the photocopy place, and I see her once or more a week. Honestly, I've only really gotten to know her recently, and this is the first time that we've gone out, but I absolutely love her. She's great. It makes me sad that we're just now getting to know each other. She's leaving for Pakistan soon, but hopefully she'll be back just as soon, and we'll get some more time to hang out. As we said good-bye, she gave me a bunch of kisses. "You have to get used to that if you're going to live in France, and I'm going to come visit you." She's awesome.
Otherwise, this whole "coming to the end" thing has been good for my ego. Ever since Yanko went to the Peace Corps training to meet Emily, he's been talking about the good things Peace Corps staff has said about me there. Plus, he keeps sharing good examples of things he's learned from me that he apparently related there. Today, I sat in the office as he sang my praises to a guy who used to help out in the organization, but now lives in Spain. The guy had asked me to weigh in about why I think Bulgarians are so patient to deal with a bunch of the nonsense that goes on in the country. This was followed by a discussion about how great I am. My head must have swelled two times its size, I swear. I'm brave, responsible, smart, helpful, and I speak the language like a rock star. There will be no bringing me back to earth after this.
If Yanko's had negative things to share, he's been staying pretty mum about them. The only thing he says is, "We made a lot of mistakes in regard to our behavior toward you, and I want to make sure we do it better this time." He lamented not being more direct with me when there was some kind of problem I was causing or something. Of course this makes me think, "Okay, so what kind of problems?" But, he's right. If something was wrong, they should have taken a direct approach. I can't be a mind-reader. That's their problem.
It looks like Yanko is going to be Emily's counterpart. It's good for him 'cause he'll be privy to a lot of things that he may have never known about working with a volunteer. I have had no complaints about Angel as a counterpart. He's been absolutely amazing from a volunteer's perspective. Otherwise, Yanko has gotten it in his head that Angel should have been more communicative with the organization about some things he figures they should have known. I have no idea what he's talking about, but now he has a handbook to reference if he needs to. Angel made things up as he went along, and I honestly think I've had the best counterpart in the history of Peace Corps. Problem is, Angel thinks this as well. His head is almost as big as mine!

State of Mental Health

2008-09-02T23:35:00.000+03:00

I meet the new volunteer tomorrow. I hear that her name is Amy. Apparently she's young, she has blue eyes, and she's open to the world. She already sounds great. Let the comparisons begin... but let's not linger on them, okay? I'm both looking forward to and dreading this first meeting. I think we just need to get over it so that I can stop acting like a 12-year-old. Or maybe I can revert to someone who's even younger. I wonder how I'd look in pigtails.
I've taken the past couple days off of work. Well, I went in yesterday morning and then left soon after that. I decided to stay away today as well. I think I'm already checking out on some levels. I went to an English class, and I went to baseball. I just didn't want to go into the office. Did you know that "mental health days" have become a regular part of our vernacular? In fact, October 10th is the official World "Mental Health Day." I think I'll have to keep that in mind when my original COS date (October 10th) comes around. I am an avid believer in and supporter of the "mental health day." Only, Yanko called me halfway through it and urged me to try and get over my funk.
The Americans in Velingrad came to baseball today. They brought a few friends. Unfortunately, we didn't get to use the stadium because there was some kind of soccer match going on there, but we went to a nearby field and played. It was fun. Unfortunately, it was completely chaotic and it was getting dark by the time we started playing, but it was still fun. The guy said that he would continue to come as long as there was baseball to be played. Glad to hear it. Hopefully, it will be even better on Thursday.
I've been getting a lot of food recently. Not only have my "baba" and my landlady been giving me various dishes, but people have been giving me fresh fruits and canned items. I feel bad accepting the fresh stuff especially 'cause it usually goes bad with me. I'm not one to sit down and eat an entire bag of pears. It's just not going to happen. I try and give away as much as I can. The rest just sits around until it spoils and I eventually end up throwing it away. I love that people here are so generous, but sometimes I really think their generosity goes to waste, and I wish they would be generous to someone else.
Now that I'm leaving, I get a couple of repeating questions. The first is, "Can't you extend your contract?" This is usually asked when people see how disappointed I am in leaving. It's hard for me to answer this one. In theory, had I wanted to stay longer, I would have been able to. It's not that I don't want to. It's just that it's no longer right for me to stay longer. How long could I possibly stay? I have to leave someday. I have to move on with my life. We knew this wasn't permanent. People just figure, "Well, you look like you want to stay, so... stay." It's not quite that easy. I do and I don't want to stay. We're leaning more toward don't than do. It's just that nostalgia is hitting me hard now that we're coming to the end. I know I'm really going to miss this place.
The second question I get is, "You weren't able to find a husband and settle down while you were here?" This is just silly to me. Like I should have found a nice, Bulgarian boy and made him mine. What about respect, love, understanding? What about the chance meeting of it all. I get told, "You're a pretty girl. You're nice, and you're hard-working." Basically, they're saying that I'm a catch, and I shouldn't have been left to get away. Plus, there are some that think 27 is way past prime marrying age. I wish I could snap pictures of some of the looks I've gotten. Just picture horror, and you've about got it. I still feel so young. I turned around, and I was 27. I usually tell them that all the good guys my age are either already married or live in bigger towns far from here. This is usually met with either agreement, disagreement, a proposition to introduce me to a single friend or relative, or a suggestion that I should get over my aversion to dating married men. Nice.
Tonight, I got a phone call from a guy who could either be my father's or my grandfather's age, "I'm sitting up on this ridge, looking at some beautiful scenery, and I thought of you. So, I decided to call. There's nothing wrong with that, is there?" "Uh, no. There is something wrong with that, and I'd prefer that you didn't call me." "Oh, sorry." "Yeah." He kept trying to find ways to "accidentally" touch me the last time I was around him. I soon excused myself and left.
So, there's this aforementioned guy. Cute guy who didn't know my name still calls me every once in a while so we can get into some silly argument about nothing. Krum is a loose cannon. I haven't seen M-Tel boy in Velingrad in quite a while, and he's probably married or in a serious relationship. He's too adorable to be available. These are my prospects. Hey, people are right. I'm a catch. I deserve to be with someone my age, who's stable and happens to know my name. Am I asking for too much?

My Friend, Murphy

2008-08-31T22:58:00.005+03:00

I've been having a good weekend, and I'm sorry to see this week come. This week is going to be... heavy. I don't know how else to describe it. My colleagues get back to the office tomorrow. (I was liking the whole, just Apryl and Yanko = work gets done, it's quiet, we go home early dynamic.) It's going to be chaos. Yanko is leaving tomorrow for Dupnitsa with Peace Corps-related work. He meets the new volunteer on Tuesday. He brings her back for us to meet her on Wednesday. She will be with us until Friday. My microcosm will be changed irrevocably. (sigh) That's part of the reason why I want it to still be Sunday.
On Friday evening, I went to a colleague's wedding. Silvia and Yanko (not my boss) have been "married" for quite sometime. They just never went through the whole "sha-bang" that goes along with a wedding. I bought a gift and went up to the mahala. I ate, I danced horo, I talked with people. It was great. I also saw a tradition which I had heard about, but never stayed late enough to witness. The bride's mother and her mother-in-law paint her hands and wrap them in cotton. Then, people place money in her hands. The money is wrapped in cotton, and the bride looks like a boxer. She's supposed to sleep like that all night, but I don't know if anyone does anymore.
The next day, I went and helped clean the grounds of a historical chapel here in Rakitovo. I think the original ruins are from the seventh century sometime. There's also a modern sanctuary on the site. Unfortunately, no one in town has taken the responsibility to care for this church, so the grounds have fallen into disrepair. A group of people took it on themselves to clean it up so that it can be open on a daily, or at least weekly basis. Wow. Awesome. Loving it. Best idea ever. So, I said I would help.
I spent the morning clearing brush and raking debris. We got a lot done with the good team that we had. I was just loving the idea that a group of Bulgarians in Rakitovo had gotten together and said, "This is important. It's up to us to do this - even if no one else takes notice." Wow. Awesome. Loving it. Best idea ever. What was interesting was trying to explain that to others. I saw some of my baseball boys, and they tried to get me to ditch out and play baseball. "Why do you have to do this? Who's making you?" "No one." "Huh? Then why are you doing it?" I mentioned to some other people what I had done, and I got the same questions, "Why did you do that? Who was making you?" They thought I was crazy for doing it voluntarily. Bulgaria has a lot to learn in the field of volunteerism.
I met some really great people yesterday. We just lamented how it's too bad we're just now getting to know each other - when I'm leaving so soon. Ah well, that's life somtimes. We already have plans to take a couple trips later in September to visit some landmarks in the region, so we'll get to hang out. Plus, I can introduce them to the new volunteer, and maybe they can all work on some projects together. Good stuff. These things happen for a reason. Or, maybe it's just Murphy's Law.
Yesterday was a busy day. After the church clean-up, I went for the next round of Silvia and Yanko's wedding. The first day of festivities takes place at the bride's house. The next day is symbolic of the groom taking the bride to his house. He comes and gets her, and they go to his parent's house with truckloads of gifts. There was a bit of free-time, so I hung out with my friend, Fanka, and her boyfriend. I had a good time talking a bit with them at a cafe. Once the bride was at the groom's house, we took pictures. Then, we decided to ditch out on the later festivities because there was a concert in Velingrad.
Slavi Trifonov is Bulgarian's showman extraordinaire. I would compare him to David Letterman because he has his own late night show where he has comedy routines and hosts guests, but he also sings and participates in the role of judge in various reality contests. Last night, he was in Velingrad with his "Ku-Ku Band." It was a lot of fun. I have always admired Slavi for sometime because he's a multi-talented man. I admire him more now because he's adept at surrounding himself with people who make him look good. He also showcases a variety of talent and knows how to share the spotlight with others. This is what I admire about him. He knows how to make himself look good and, in turn, make everyone else around him look good as well.... Well, except for the half-naked women, but they can dance. This is talent. I also saw a lot of people from Rakitovo there.
Today, I spent most of the time hanging out at home. I really enjoy taking a day just to myself - staying inside in the morning. I've gotten into a habit: I'll eat a late breakfast (seasoned potatoes and eggs with tomatoes, leutenitsa, and ketchup, and Kona coffee with chocolate powder mixed in), and just hang out in my pajamas. Can life get any better than that? It's my time. So, that's what I did today. I went out later this evening because there was a "Gorski Ball," which consisted of music and various girls competing for the title of "Miss Rakitovo Municipality." I also had the opportunity to meet a couple American missionaries who recently moved to Velingrad and found me through a contact who actually reads this blog. Crazy, huh? They're a great, young couple who have a three-month-old daughter. They're looking to work with the Roma and Bulgarian-Muslim populations here in Rakitovo. I had them meet my boss, and then I went back to Velingrad with them to chat a bit. They'll be coming out on Tuesday because the guy would like to play some baseball.
It's so crazy to be meeting such great people so late in my service. It makes me sad to being going back to the states. Meeting super people makes me excited and gets me idealistic again. Oh well. More people to introduce to the next volunteer.
The weather has taken a turn this past week. It's getting cooler in the evenings, and night comes on earlier. It's starting to get dark when I get back from baseball. Dusk descends on us as we're walking back to the mahala. It's sad. Dusk is falling on everything I'm doing here. Well, dusk brings a new dawn. It's just a matter of living through the night.
I had an interesting experience at baseball last time. A crotchety old woman chased us off, so we went to some nearby fields and played a bunch of other games. Later, the keeper of the stadium came and asked why I wasn't playing in the stadium. It was the first time he came and tried to make sure I was okay. "Why aren't you in the stadium? You should be playing there." I told him that the meanest women in Rakitovo had run me off. No, I didn't say that. I should have, though. This lady looks like she was born to hate everything and everyone. She goes around cursing kids all day long. It's almost to the point of comedy. I've never seen anyone so crotchety. I almost feel sorry for her. How does someone survive with so much bitterness? Anyway, the stadium keeper was engaging me 'cause he wanted to know if I was still offering computer classes. I've been getting a lot of questions about computer classes lately. It's times like this when I'm glad to smile, shrug my shoulders and say, "Sorry. I'm leaving in two months."
There were a few other things that I wanted to share, but they'll have to wait for another time. I'm tired, and I'm going to have to go to bed. As for this week, I'm just going to have to suck it up and face it.

If You Do It, They Will Come... Once

2008-08-25T20:25:00.006+03:00

I'm back with another post on the same day. I wanted to dedicate an entire post to my surprise about having another volunteer come - how I initially reacted to it - and what I was thinking those moments after I was informed. Now, that I've processed it a little, I can evaluate a bit how I feel and why. I'll talk about that more at the end of this post.
This weekend, I went to visit a volunteer in a village near the Greek border. I love my Rhodope mountains. They say they're the most beautiful mountains in Bulgaria, and I believe 'em. Not that I'm biased or anything. However, they sure are difficult to get around. You may look like you're fairly close to someone on a map, but it might take several hours to get to them 'cause the Rhodopes are tough to navigate. Anyway, I went on a lovely drive through the Rhodopes to visit a fellow volunteer. It's always nice to speak English, eat good food, and just hang out with someone who shares your situation.
I mentioned in a previous post that two girls here were trying to get people together to have a meeting about HIV/AIDS. They passed out fliers the other day and were able to attract 22 participants. Wow. It was absolutely awesome. I think the kids had a good time playing different role-playing games, and the girls did a fantastic job facilitating. I am intensely proud of them. Once, when asked to model what boys do in their free time, one of the boys looked at me and mimicked hitting a ball with a bat. He plays baseball with me. I loved it! There were only two things that bothered me. The first was that, in one of the games, they were bluntly honest about how they feel regarding Roma. Yikes. The second is that, even though they obviously liked the gathering, they were wishy-washy about getting together again.
This is what I've come to expect from people in Rakitovo. Getting someone to do something once is difficult as it is. Getting them to do it twice, thrice, etc. is even more of a challenge. "C'mon! You liked it! You know you had fun! You even said you had fun! I saw the smiles on your faces!" "Yeah, I know, but... meh." I can't count the number of times this has happened to me. Do it once, they might come. It's a novelty. Do it twice (even though you've varied it up with different games), and it'll be like pulling teeth to bring them back - no matter how fun it was. Anyway, it was all sorts of "fabulousness" even if it only happens once. The girls gave valuable information about AIDS/HIV, and at least half the kids now know that you can't get it from a mosquito bite. A good number thought that you could.
I hope that I'm wrong this time about what I've said above regarding people's attitudes to getting together again. I feel like I've brought these girls over to the dark side. They're idealistic now. They want to see an initiative like this continue and even do projects with the kids; continue to go to trainings like this with the Peace Corps. Idealism. Watch out! It'll get you! I'm glad that Peace Corps was able to "infect" them as well, but I'd really hate to see them disappointed. I hope with all my heart that I'm wrong about this one. Nothing would make me happier. If the youth kept coming and really put their hearts into it, they could turn this town around. Rakitovo would never see it coming.
So, I've had more time to process this whole... transition thing. I think my fear honestly stems from selfish motivations. In fact, I'm sure of it. I'm so ready to move on. It's time to go back from whence I came. It's still not easy. Watching someone come and fill my role isn't going to make it any easier. I'm used to being "the American" in town. I certainly haven't been the only one, but I've enjoyed a sort of novelty status - which I don't always appreciate and often complain about on my blog, but I've gotten used to it. All of the sudden, I felt like I was losing it - like I was watching myself become obselete. That's a scary feeling. I know it's not true, but I've been letting myself think that people don't necessarily value Apryl as a person... they value Apryl as an American. I don't know why I've become so neurotic to think this, but I realized what was bothering me. Somehow I've stopped thinking of myself as Apryl - a multifaceted girl with a unique personality - and started thinking of myself as "the American." So I got it in my head that the sting of my farewell will be tempered by the replacement of another volunteer. This is nonsense, and I need to snap out of it. I joke with the people here that all us American girls are the same, but they look at me like I'm nuts. I'm grateful that they don't laugh at my joke. They're going to miss Apryl. They're going to love and appreciate the new volunteer, but they're going to miss Apryl. I know this because both my "baba" and my landlady cooked for me today, I was treated twice at cafes, and I was invited another couple times. I know this because I saw the looks on people's faces when I told them I was leaving November 10th. I know this because I will miss them wholeheartedly as well.
The song "Safe to Land" by Jars of Clay has been helping me through the day. It's not an exact parallel to how I feel, but it's close. Transitions... good, but terrifying.

Surprise!

2008-08-25T11:32:00.007+03:00

I just found out that Future Foundation will be getting another volunteer in October. Yanko told me this morning, and I actually started tearing up. I'm happy for them. I'm also completely taken by surprise. I feel like the wind has been knocked out of me. I wasn't expecting them to get a volunteer until next May (when the next group comes in), and I figured that I would never even meet this person. Now, the replacement (I feel weird referring to her like that, and she probably wouldn't like it, so I won't from hereon out.) comes next week for site visit. I feel like a rug has been pulled out from under me. This all happened between Friday and now. We hadn't even heard from the Peace Corps, and... yeah. It's sudden is all. I don't want to go on too much because one day she might read this, and I don't want her to get the impression that I'm disappointed or that I don't want her here. It's far from the truth. I'm not thinking about her, necessarily. I'm thinking about me at the moment.
I just talked to Angel, and I gave him this analogy, "It's like I'm pregnant. (Oh, the poor volunteer, but just go with me on this....) I know I'm having a girl, but I don't know who she is yet. I don't know her name or anything about her, but she's going to come into the place where I have loved, hated, laughed, cried - basically had the best and worst experiences of my life. I want so badly for her to like it. I want so badly for her to be okay here - for her to be successful. I'm also scared - to relinquish "my turf," to hand over my experiences - as if I've been some gatekeeper for Rakitovo or something. Well, for the past year or so, I've been the "resident American" in town.
I remember how it felt, years ago, coming into all this whirlwind-chaos and wondering how it would be. I remember. Now I have to shift my attention to feeling this whirlwhind-chaos that is leaving. I honestly haven't given it much thought. I know I'm going back to the states in three months, but I'm not mentally prepared for it. I'm terrified. Having her here will make that even more real. It's not her fault. I hope, one day, if she reads this, she'll understand that it has very little to do with her. It's my own issues. I can't even convey clearly what I'm trying to convey. I feel a bunch of emotions at once, but mostly I feel fear.
Maybe she's scared, too. It's not easy coming in after another volunteer. It's not easy regardless - coming into a new, foreign world and realizing that you'll be living there for the next two years. It's not easy coming into a place that has already had a volunteer. One would think it'd be easier, and it probably is in some ways. That person has already given the organization an idea about what it's like to work with a PCV. However, I'm grateful that I did not follow another volunteer. It would have set my organization up with expectations.
Anyway, this poor girl. I hope she never reads this. Like I said, I don't even know her yet. None of us here do. She doesn't even know yet that she's coming here. This is about me. I'm going to meet her next week, and I'm going to look at her and see trepidatious Apryl from three years ago. Maybe she'll be stronger. Maybe she'll be smarter. I just hope we like each other. Isn't that nuts? I just really hope that we like each other - as if I'm the one who's going to have to be here with her for the next two years. I should be hoping that she and the people at my organization like each other, and I do. I'm sure they will. I have been told that she is perfect for Rakitovo. I have no doubts that she is.
Whew! Flood of emotions... brutal honestly... I want to go crawl into bed.
P.S. I just found out that my official Close of Service (COS) date is November 10. Reality is hitting me hard today.
P.S.S. My boss and I went to the hotel in town today to check out prices for when the new volunteer comes to visit Rakitovo. Yanko told the girl at the hotel that an American was coming. "Oh, nice," said the girl. "And this is the other American," Yanko said, gesturing to me. "Oh, I get it," I said, "from here on out, I'm the 'other American.'" Yanko came and put his arms around me, laughing. "No, no, that's not what I meant."

Пари нeма - действайте!

2008-08-21T22:49:00.005+03:00

I saw a kitten die today. I turned the corner of the street, and there it was - lying in the road, blood pooling out of its ear. It was twitching, and there were vermin crawling on it. Its mouth was open in pain, but its eyes were blank. It was a horrendous scene. Otherwise, it was just a sweet, little kitten. I cried out when I saw it. I covered my mouth - which remained open in a silent scream. I didn't know what to do. It continued to twitch, and I just prayed it would die 'cause I knew that I would never be able to bring myself to put it out of its misery. Once it stopped moving, I ended up picking it up and putting its lifeless body on the side of the road.
I just told my counterpart about it, and he said, "Gibson, people are dying today." It's so true. In fact, a bunch of people around the world have died today, and I can only imagine that there are others standing with their hands over their mouths in silent screams. Still, I felt belittled and stupid. I'm not going to be able to get that scene out of my mind soon, but it could be worse, I suppose.
Is it wrong to need a certain reaction from someone and then be upset with them when they fail to deliver? This is a question I've pondered quite a bit over the past few years. When you open yourself up or share something with someone and they respond with less sympathy than you had expected, do you have the right to be upset?
Anyway, we sent our project to Hungary. It's an awesome project. It won't get funded. When the guy with the money insists he's looking to fund a beautiful, stained-glass building, you're not going to win him over by expounding the glories of steel and concrete as architectural materials - no matter how wrong/right you are. The guy with the money makes the rules. Your only hope is that you got the right mix, and there's enough glass in the plans for him. Anyway, it's not going to get funded. I've stopped being optomistic about the projects I write. I think I was cursed by a former APCD (Associate Peace Corps Director) when she said I was a good project writer, and I'd be getting a lot of funding for my organization. Whatever.
The past few days have been rather quiet. Another two of my colleagues have taken time off, so now it's just Yanko and me in the office. We get stuff done, but it's not enough to fill up the whole day. I like the peace, though. No fights in the office. No arguments. No gossip. I'm honestly going to be sorry to see my colleagues come back to work in a little over a week just because of the chaos factor. I have always liked working alone.
I mentioned in my last post that a couple girls in town were at a Peace Corps workshop recently and are inspired to do an HIV/AIDS initiative here in Rakitovo. We had our first meeting on Tuesday. Three people showed up (including me), and we brainstormed on how to get more people to come. I mean, the topic should be interesting enough. It's just a matter of getting people there. They still did a fabulous job that day. It's just... Rakitovo. Angel and I were talking about it last night. Young people here talk about how boring the town is - as though all there is to do here is go to a cafe. In the end, it turns out, people act as though that's all they really want to do. It's frustrating, and it drags you down. There's hope. You just wonder how long it will last. Youth are so powerful. It's just that you wish they'd use their power for something other than smoking, drinking, flirting, etc. It makes me wonder when I turned so old? Somewhere during my time here, I turned from a kid myself into some crotchety old woman who shakes her fist and says, "Damn kids!" There are still some that give me hope. It's a powerful generation. They need to learn, however, that only in making others' lives better will their own circumstances improve. It's another one of those invaluable lessons that I've learned here. I live like a queen in Rakitovo, but something's missing 'cause I'm unable to find others who feel like royalty here. Does this make sense? Basically, I'm not doing well 'cause those around me aren't doing well - or at least they don't think they are. You want to get out of the mud? First try and help the person next to you to get out of the mud. At least then you'll (hopefully) have someone in a better position to turn around and help you. The worst is when that person goes off and leaves you in the mud. Ummm... am I getting too philosophical and preachy tonight? I think so. Yes.
So yesterday, I was walking around trying to find kids to come to another meeting. It was sweltering out, and every living thing was hiding from the heat on the streets. I ended up at a friend's house by chance. Her mom gave me tea and sweets. She had seen me from the window, and she knew it was me from the way I was walking. Good gravy. My gait gives away the fact that I'm not from around here. The meeting was cancelled, and I learned about it after I had already convinced this girl to come with me. When her mother learned that the meeting was about AIDS/HIV, she offered to give me literature expounding the sins of homosexuality. I just responded that the discussion would be focused more on the illness itself as opposed to such relationships. If people think that AIDS is a "gay disease," and it could never happen to them, then they are exactly the people that need to attend such an informational session.
We have thought up a new strategy for attracting people. We're going to pass out fliers that say things like, "Can you get HIV from a mosquito bite? How about a kiss? If you want answers to these questions (and free food), come to the meeting today." We're hoping natural curiosity will get the best of them. If not, there's the free food. Most people will show up to any event for free food. Hopefully, it will work. Otherwise, it will just have to wait until the school year - when they're forced to listen to it in a classroom.
My English classes are going along. They call this time the "dead season," and it's true. Someone is always on vacation. When they come back, someone else leaves. One of my groups wanted to take a break for a while. I talked them out of it by reminding them that I'm only here 'til November, and I advised them to use me while they can. I don't plan on taking vacation at this point. Neither does Yanko, but I think he just does it so he can wear it like a badge. "In ten years, I haven't taken a vacation." I've tried to convey to him that only he's to blame, and it makes him stupid - not cool. There are no martyrs here... says the girl who whines all the time.
Recently, when people realize that I have so little time left here, I get questions like, "What are we going to do without you? What's the foundation going to do without you? What's Rakitovo going to do without you?" I can't say questions like that don't flatter me, but they're kind of strange. Are you trying to flatter me - with empty flattery? I usually just answer, "Um... what you've/they've/it's always done - even before I got here?" This is followed up by a debate about how much I've done of value in Rakitovo - and how much of it is sustainable. Then they say, "Well, we're really going to be sad when you go." I can accept such comments from people I see regularly. It's those that I only talk to casually on the street that I find a little odd. You can say, "I'm going to miss seeing you around - bumping into you every so often," but to express actual sadness? Maybe I'm too much of a cynic. No, I am too much of a cynic. I also need more patience and understanding for the human race. It's when you leave that people realize just how much you mean to them. Chalk it up to human nature.
Today I helped my landlady hand some pieces of heavy wood to a guy who'd brought along a portable saw. There was no one else to help her, and I insisted she let me. We only lasted for about half an hour before she told the guy he needed to get someone else. It was sweltering, and my landlady is in no condition for that kind of work. She insisted he go and find some young, strapping young lad to help him. I could have kept going for a bit longer. Sometimes you need a bit of manual labor in your life to remind you that you are still vigorous. I was kind of glad it ended though. I scared myself when I almost fell into the motor, but there's nothing else to tell there.
My landlady brought me some peppers in a homemade tomato sauce - probably in "compensation." I also had some "kiselo mlyako" (sour yogurt) with some peaches tonight, and something is not agreeing with me. Еven earlier in the night, I wasn't feeling well. I cancelled baseball 'cause I just wasn't up for it tonight. I actually received a phone call, "Are you coming to baseball tonight?" The problem is, when I decide I can't make it to baseball, there's no way to inform those who have already gone to the stadium. This is the first time someone tracked down my number to call and ask what was going on. So strange, and yet cool.
Krum, my perpetual admirer, is back on the scene. He's turned a bit more aggressive recently. He keeps demanding that I give him money. Then he talks to others in front of me about how much he loves me and how I'm going to take him back to the states. To try and get him to leave me alone, Ani tried to tell him that I have a boyfriend in the states who's HUGE and will come beat him up. He's not deterred. After using various methods to try and get him to wander off, he turned on me. The next day, he was in the center saying, "I hate Americans. I hate Apryl." Then he came up to our table at a cafe and said, "Either you take me to America, Apryl, or you die where you stand." Then he wandered off. He came back to the cafe and sat at a table behind us. After a bit, he threw a matchbox at me. Yanko said, "I'm going to beat you. Watch it. Why are you throwing things?" He answered, "Because Apryl's not paying attention to me." Then he grabbed his beer (this was 9 o'clock in the morning) and wandered around the center with it in its glass mug. He then tried to attach himself to another girl. I did my best to ignore him, but I caught him looking at me in smug satisfaction like, "Are you jealous now?" He was just wandering around in circles - kind of like a bird who was looking for ways to dive-bomb our table. I later saw him run up to a kid with a wild look in his eyes. The kid and the mother he was with ran off in very real fear.
The guy is fairly hard-working and stable most of the time. He leaves me alone for the most-part, and I can deal with him when he doesn't. Every once in a while, he loses it. I think it's a combination of a few things and drinking. He goes off his rocker. Krum is rather harmless in general, but he's honestly scary when he's not. I'm glad he no longer knows where I live.
And finally, I'm going to explain the title of this blog post. Well, there's really not much point to it as far as this post is concerned. It says, "Pari nema (nyama) - deystvayte!" which roughly translates to, "There's no money - get to work!" I like it. We say it a lot in the office. It's true of many things in my life here in Bulgaria. So yeah, I've given it a place in my blog. There's also a catchy song, but it's a bit risque for a link.

My Bad Orthodoxy

2008-08-18T13:41:00.004+03:00

So, in my last post, I mentioned that I needed to make a phone call to Hungary about a project. Well, I did, and they said that they would respond to an e-mail that I sent. To make a long story short, we wrote a project for something these donors don't plan on supporting. I feel absolutely awful because I was the one who insisted I knew what I was talking about and put us all on the wrong track. We're still writing e-mails to these donors - hoping that, for some reason, they'll change their minds and make some kind of exception for our project. Meh. In short, they are looking for desegregation projects, and we wrote a project for a segregated school in our community. Super. Duper. I feel like an idiot. We wrote a damn good project, though. Hopefully there is a future for it with some re-working.
Other than that dim spot, I've been doing pretty well. Last Wednesday, I sat in on a meeting with some representives from a PHARE program who will be coordinating a project with a local school. It turns out that two of them are close, former colleagues of our foundation. One I'd met before, the other I'd only heard about. At first, I felt a little awkward in the meeting. I didn't know how to contribute (this is the way I feel in most meetings I sit in on), and I wasn't sure how to be of any use. I'm used to playing the role of wallflower, but I hate that about myself. It turns out that I was able to make a few comments and provide some insight to the discussion. So, I was proud of myself.
After the meeting, I went to coffee with one of the representatives while the other went to the municipality to prepare for a meeting with community members. In this time, I mentioned about my future goals for learning French. One of the guys informed me that he has a friend who lives in the French-speaking part of Belgium. Who knows? Maybe there's an opportunity there.
Pretty soon, a bunch of us crammed on a bench and had coffee. There was a lot of catching up to be done between some of my colleagues and these two project representatives. I was just sitting there - smooshed between the two reps and enjoying listening to the discussion about old times before I even came to Bulgaria.
After the presentation at the municipality, Yanko, the two reps, and I went to eat. I was just enjoying being around such enlightened people. It probably sounds a little elitest, but I feel like I have more in common now with people who have traveled the world a bit (even lived abroad for extended periods of time) than with someone who hasn't spent time doing these things. This isn't to say that I can't relate with someone who hasn't. It's just easier for me to jump into a conversation with a new acquaintance if they have. Otherwise I'm fighting to find something to say... especially with Bulgarians.
We spent all day with these representatives, and later that evening I went out with some high school friends of mine. One of them has a pair of twin cousins that live in the San Francisco area. They come to Bulgaria every summer, and I had never really taken the time to talk to them. This year, they came to baseball a few times with another friend of theirs to play with the kids, and I've really appreciated them. They bring up the level of skill and maturity on the field. We went out to a cafe with them for one of their last evenings here, and it was fascinating talking to them about world politics, what Bulgarians think about Americans, what Americans think about Bulgarians and Eastern Europe, and anything else we could think of to talk about. These are the times when you think, "Why didn't I take the opportunity to get to know this person earlier?"
This last session of baseball was a lot of crazy fun. Only Reneta came with me from the Roma mahala, but we ran into the soccer team on our way in. They were all excited to learn how to play baseball. Plus, there were a lot of kids who have played with us in the past. In the end, I didn't have enough gloves for everyone. It was a bit of chaos, but we had a lot of fun. One by two by three, the kids dwindled away, and we were able to get a good game going. Sometimes, when you least expect it, you have the most fun.
This Friday, some of my colleagues, a few people from the Roma mahala, and I went to a place called Krustova Gora. There's a monastery there, and we wanted to take an excursion to see it and see the celebration for "Bogoroditsa," or "The Mother of God." August 15th is the name day for Maria, or Mary, and many gather from all over Buglaria to visit such religious places. The area of the monastery was pretty isolated, and it was beautiful.
As mentioned in the article that I've provided a link to, there is a lot of religous symbolism associated with the region. There are twelve small churches (Does the word "paraclese" exist in English? I feel like I've heard it before, but I can't find it.) which are named after the twelve apostles. There is also a larger church in the name of the Mother of God. At the top of a hill, after all the little chapels, there is a golden cross which is said to mark the place where a piece of Christ's cross is buried. People gather to pray in front of that cross and leave or wipe clothing on it as the cross is said to have a spiritual power that can cure ailments.
In addition, there are several rocks scattered on the ground in the area. It is said that these are in the shape of the cross, but really, if you are looking hard enough, one can see cross shapes etched into the rock. Honestly, this takes faith, but I did see a few rocks that had a pretty clear representation of a cross (or an "X") in them.
Besides this, it is said that there are healing waters in the region. Also, one can go into the church and pick up some holy water - whether you decide to put it in a Coke bottle or a specialty bottle you buy from the church is up to you. We went into the church, and I lit a candle in the Orthodox tradition.
In the evening, we found a tree where it is said that only "good" people (meaning without sin - or maybe very little) can pass through. Basically, it took climbing up on a branch and then hanging onto another branch while you fell to the ground again on the other side. That tree is no joke. A woman told us that several people have broken limbs trying to pass through this tree. I believe it. As to whether it means these people were "sinful" or not, I'm not sure.
There were only a couple shops on the grounds - church-approved, of course. People lined up to buy icons, snacks, and coffee. Of course, there are religious reasons as to why others cannot buy/sell on the holy place, but it also works out to make a wonderful monopoly on any possible competition. After all, religion is a business. The place looked well taken care of.
That night, we camped out on the ground near the church. At midnight, the priests came out and sang a variety of prayers. Honestly, it's a beautiful sound. Sometimes it sounds so mysterious and ominous. Other times, it's tiring on the ears. I would love to find a CD with some of these prayers on them. Apparently, the service went on until 2:00 a.m., but I fell asleep again around one o'clock.
The ground wasn't too bad, and I have an awesome sleeping bag, but I woke up several times throughout the night. Always, someone in the group was awake next to me and someone else was snoring. I probably slept the best out of the group, but I was still exhausted the next morning. We came back early the next day. I ate, I showered, I slept. It was glorious.
You know partly why it was so fascinating? I went with a mixed group of Muslims and Christians. (And a few people who possibly aren't sure whether they're one or the other.) The Muslims, however, were acting more like Christians in the traditional sense than I was. In any case, they believed in the power of the place. I felt no differently, and I'm not one to believe in the sacredness of places, icons, and other material items.
I got into a very brief discussion about my faith because a Muslim woman was telling some others that they should not "cross themselves" when they go into the church. She turned to me and told me that I could, since I'm a Christian. I informed her that it wasn't in my tradition to make the sign of the cross. "Oh, are you an atheist?" "No. I'm a Christian. I just don't do that." Later, it was suggested that I go and buy some icons. I refused. "Aren't you a Christian?" "Yeah, I just don't buy icons."
So, I would make a horrible Orthodox Christian. I didn't bring any rocks with crosses back. I didn't stop to touch any sacred objects. I didn't bring back any of the healing waters. I fell asleep during the litergy. (sigh) I'm inviting the evils of the world to befall me. I stopped only to light a candle in the church and climb up in the tree - just for the "daredevil" spirit in me. Such traditions and rites are just not in my blood.
A friend and I got into a discussion about the difference between the business my church engages in and the most-influential church in this part of the world. To him, it's all the same as "indulgences" that were passed out many years ago. I disagreed. I see a difference between buying icons and paying tithe. Maybe I'm wrong.
What it boils down to is that I'm not that great of a Christian according to any religion. I wish I loved God more than I do. I wish I listened to Him more and spent more time with Him. I wish I spent more time thinking about Him than I do thinking about the foolish things that bump around in my head. Wishing doesn't do it. I'm not sure what does. I wonder how disappointed in me He is. Picking up some rocks, filling up a bottle with water, or touching some icons may make others feel better, but it isn't going to improve my relationship with Him. He complained about this many times in the Old Testament. God wants a change in spirit. It's not about what He does for me. He spoils me every single day in which He gives me life. The question is, what can I do for Him? And am I willing to take that chance and do it? I think I suck in this regard.
Yesterday was a fairly lazy day. I didn't do much except cook some food for a couple guests. A couple of the English-speaking high schoolers that I get together with went to a workshop for training on AIDS/HIV with the Peace Corps this last week. They came back inspired. They loved the training and had a great time. Plus, they said that a bunch of people there knew me and absolutely everyone had a good opinion of me. Of course, that gives me a warm, fuzzy feeling inside. Now they're looking to work with other young people and pass along the knowledge. This morning, they met with my boss. He loved their spirit and their ideas. We then went to one of the schools to ask for the use of a room for a meeting with young people. The director, of course, gave it to them without a thought. She's very positive and is always willing to work to help students. She especially loves me. Just about every time I see her, she says, "I just know that, one day, you're going to be the American Ambassador to Bulgaria." Hopefully, the meeting with the young people will go well, and their activities can grow and become even more ambitious. Long have I wanted to do something of the same, but I must have been discouraged too easily. Plus, a workshop with hands-on training like this helps - where the young people are inspired to take matters into their own hands. It's never too late.
I wanted to share another interesting custom with you. Whenever a person has a snack or anything, it's expected that this person will share with those around them. It makes it easy if you have chips, pretzels, or pieces of candy, etc. It's a little bit harder with other goodies. I've had half-eaten/half-sucked ice cream bars shoved in my face, "Take a bite," they insist. "Um, no thank you." It's interesting 'cause it's not such a custom with us to share such things. I mean, usually we do, but we don't feel obligated to if we don't want to. Sometimes I feel rude that I'm not shoving my ice cream bars in others' faces.

The Busy Boredom

2008-08-12T13:54:00.003+03:00

I have a million and a half things I want to share here. The sad thing about being busy and not updating your blog regularly is that you're apt to forget something. It's not so much for you as it is for me to write down, process, and remember what has happened during my time here. I can't believe how quickly it's all going by. I can't believe it's been so long since I updated my blog. A good friend of mine is keeping a countdown on her website that's based on a tentative "close-of-service" (COS) date. Ninety days left. I still do not have an official COS date. I should probably start bugging PC about that. I just figured they'd bug me when they wanted to know when I'll be officially ending my Peace Corps service. Wow. What will it be like to no longer be a Peace Corps Volunteer? I think I'll have some sort of identity crisis.
The weekend before last I took a hike with some friends to a hija (lodge) half-way up Hristo Botev Peak in Kalofer. It was a long hike, and I was carrying a lot of baggage (my sleeping bag, someone else's sleeping bag, and the tent), but it was so awesome. There were four of us. Two got an earlier start, and another girl and I came up later in the afternoon. She helped a bit with the luggage. Just hiking, chatting, being out in the fresh air... it was awesome. I'm going to have to post pictures soon 'cause it was absolutely beautiful. I loved it. I felt alive.
About an hour from the hija we ran into the rest of our company. They had met some very nice men who had encouraged them to keep going to the hija. We finally made it just before nightfall. We had dinner and some drinks with our new acquaintances, but we were so exhausted and soon went to bed. Camping out under the stars was absolutely spectacular - even though we didn't sleep well. Plus, there was a beautiful waterfall in the distance that just made it all picturesque. Like I said, I'll have to post pictures.
There was no way that we were going to make it to the top of Botev, so we turned around the next morning and went down the mountain. We made good time - running over and over again into a huge group of Bulgarians and exchanging a few words. They were able to give a couple of us a ride back to Kalofer once we got down the mountain, and the other two hopped in another car. That saved us enough time for me to make it back to Rakitovo. I was exhausted, but it was a fabulous exhaustion.
All of last week, I was tired. I came down with a cold, but I was good about taking my vitamins, so the symptoms were practically non-existent.
Valia and Ani (two of my colleagues) have been on vacation these past weeks. They will be gone until the end of August. The office is very quiet without them. The hours go by pretty slowly. I miss them, but... at the same time it's kind of nice not to have the chaos in the office. We don't necessarily have a lot to do, but when we do, it gets done quickly, and we go home early. Last week, I was able to finish up a big project we've been working on. I was so proud of myself - English translation, matching budgets in the hundreds of thousands of Euros. Now there's a question again about whether or not they'll be willing to support our kind of project. Augh! I feel sick inside thinking about all our work. I need to make a phone call to Hungary, and I'm putting it off.
I finally confronted the guy who originally installed our heating system in the Educational Center. I think I've mentioned before about the tirade I've wanted to lay into him - about how I would go off the handle about how he put kids in danger, how I would yell at him that we had to install an entirely new system after his shoddy work... and he still thought we owed him 20 leva. I'm not the confrontational type, and I'm definitely not the yelling type. I almost wish I were a bit more like that. I knew I wouldn't yell at him when I confronted him, but my heart was pounding regardless. I grabbed my wallet and waited 'til he was alone and could talk. I told him that we re-installed the entire system and paid 400 leva for it. I told him that I didn't want to hear his stories around town that we owe him 20 leva. I kept pushing 20 leva on him. At first he refused to take it, "Why did you have to install the entire system again? I don't have a problem with you. I've only been talking to Yanko." I was trying to tell him that I wanted him to take the 20 leva and shut up. He tried to refuse, but we just kept going around in circles. Finally, I shoved the 20 leva in his pocket, and he didn't do much to protest. "I'm going to give it to Yanko," he said. Yeah right. "Do whatever you want," I told him and walked away. I just wanted to be done with it. I can move on and forget about it. I was shaking with anger when I got back to the cafe with my colleagues. I don't always agree with lawsuits, but a guy like that would be sued in the states. Here I gave him 20 leva. I'm stupid, I know. It doesn't change anything, but I feel better.
So, there's this girl at the copy place I regularly go to. She's fantastic. If no one else is around, I find myself talking to her at length about a number of topics. I've just learned that she and her husband have to go to Pakistan in a few months for an operation. Isn't that crazy? Apparently it's hundreds of thousands of Euros for that operation here in Europe. A hospital in Pakistan will do it for tens of thousands of dollars. She says that other Bulgarians have gone and returned alive and well. Pakistan? Can you imagine? I've heard of North Americans going to South America to save money on medical expenses. Apparently Europeans go to places like Pakistan if need be. Nuts. She really is a sweet woman, and I think she's fantastic. I hope it all goes well for them.
We've had some interesting weather over the weekend. I went to Batak, a nearby town on the other side of the reservoir near us. In spite of the fact that it's so close, I've only been once. I decided that I needed to go again and check out the famous church that was one of the last strongholds against the Ottoman Turks during the April Uprising. There are still skulls in the ground and bullet holes in the walls. It was a disturbing sight. Afterwards, I visited the historical museum. Then, I just walked around the town and read until I was able to catch a bus back to Rakitovo. The clouds were rumbling over the mountains all afternoon, but fortunately it didn't rain until late into the night when I was already safe in my house. There was thunder and lightning and rain all night long, but I was snug in my bed. I love summer storms!
In Batak, I ran into a woman who works at Peace Corps. She seemed surprised that I would travel around alone. It's not always great to be alone when you're traveling. I like it about 45% of the time. I would prefer to have company, but I've decided that if I want to see the places I really want to see, I have to get out and go see them alone. I want to travel after my COS, but chances are that I would be alone. There are people that can do it for months on end. I admire them. Many are extroverts who are able to make friends on the road. I'm not quite as confident. I think I would mostly keep to myself and become very lonely after a short amount of time. We'll see. Do I let the fact that I'm alone hold me back from the things I really want to see/do?
I went and saw Enyo and Milka (the former landlords) when I got back from Batak. Enyo had met a Russian and brought him home to drink some rakia. They spoke to him in halting Russian, and I spoke to him in English. I understood most of what they were saying to him because Russian is very similar to Bulgarian. Plus, Olympic Women's Volleyball was being shown on the television at the time, and we were cheering on the American team. It was a wonderful, cultural experience. He turned to me and said, "I think this is the first time I'm cheering for an American team." It turns out that he speaks Hindi 'cause he worked in India as a diplomat for many years. I told him that diplomacy is my dream. He said I should go to India if I get a chance. It's definitely on my list of places to go one day.
Sunday was a lazy day that I needed. I eventually got bored and demanded that a friend of mine come over and visit me while I cooked dinner. We had a great conversation and I gave her a few of my recipes. Having company and being in my home cured the boredom. I hang out with people here, but I find myself enjoying it more when I can do it in the comfort of my own home. Otherwise, even when I'm out with people and enjoying myself, I find myself wishing I could just go home and be alone. It doesn't make much sense to me. Maybe I need my head examined.
Baseball has been going well. The crowd changes pretty regularly. I mean, I have some consistent regulars, but there's also a big portion of people who come and play once - seem to really enjoy themselves - and then they don't come back. I'm getting tired of getting stopped by people who ask when I'm going to be playing baseball 'cause a majority of these people honestly have no intention of coming. I feel like I'm wasting my breath. Why stop and ask me when you have no intention of coming to play? I see myself doing it in other situations, and I hate that I've taken on that quality as well. Ah well. The crowd always changes, but we always have fun. Maybe it's good. That way a larger number of kids get exposed to "America's Favorite Past Time." It's still a shame I wasn't able to work harder on finding funding to develop a team and play some serious games. It would have been a great, unforgettable experience for these kids, but I can't do everything. Maybe someone else can do everything. Hehe. On a side note together with baseball, I swear my name never gets said so much as it does in that stadium. "Apryl! Apryl! Apryl!" Everyone's demanding my attention all the time. Meh.
I wanted to share something a friend of mine wrote me, 'cause I thought it was really great:
What I meant to say was: I admire your tenacity, your willingness (even need) to help others, and I'm personally overwhelmed by your many accomplishments. Your mom was telling me that your recent posts (My link stopped working for some reason, and I have to admit using the busy excuse to prevent trying harder) seem to bemoan the partially completed projects and missed opportunities that have been left behind. Trust me, I know how easy it is to belittle the worth of things we have done, especially when we dig through our past searching for something to validate our life spent/left behind. I just wanted to let you know that (especially in a world where most people never venture far from the path between the fridge and the couch) you're a super-cool travelin' hero!
It's wonderful when you get pick-me-ups like that. I have a lot of people in my life that tell me I'm doing great things and that they're proud of me. Who can ever say how much impact we have on the lives of those around us? By the grace of God, let it be for the good. It only takes a second to drop a bomb and ruin someone's life forever. I find doing sustainable good is actually more difficult. I don't know if others would agree with that statement, but I find it saddening.
Onto another random topic: You know what else is interesting here in the Bulg? Change. No one ever seems to have enough of it. Sometimes, when you present a 20-leva bill at a cafe where your check was only a few leva, the waitress will look at you as if you've lost your mind. "Don't you have anything smaller?" Here in Rakitovo, I get the comment without the look - probably because they know me. I try to look apologetic. Sometimes I'm told to come and pay another time if they honestly can't break my bill, and I only owe a little. I make sure I do 'cause I think that's an awesome tradition here, and I don't want to ruin that trust. The other thing is when you're in the grocery store, and they're supposed to give you five or ten cents. Sometimes they'll ask if they can just stick a piece of gum or a small candy in with your groceries to compensate for the fact that they can't give you the change. I get irritated when it's for bigger things. Last week, when we were at that isolated hija in the mountains, I first got cut off in line by some guy who wanted a free refill on his pitcher of tea. (Like because you've already paid for it and the refills are free - you can just cut in a whole line of people.) Then, the lady didn't have change when I paid for my coffee, so she made me buy a sweet cake for another 50+ stotinki (cents). The previous night, one of my friends just left her change with her 'cause she didn't want anything else. Sheesh. It's so rare in the states not to have change at such establishments. I'm probably going to apologize there for paying for gum with a 20, and they'll probably look at me like I've lost my mind.
Here's a sad topic, but I wanted to talk about funerals in Bulgaria. I think I mentioned before that I went to the funeral of the grandmother of a colleague of mine. Fortunately, that's the only funeral that I've attended, and I haven't actually known anyone who has died. I don't think I described it in detail. We always know when a Bulgarian Christian dies because the bell at the church tolls a sad, lonely clang. It happens more often than I'd like to hear, but those are the breaks of living in a small town. At the funeral that I went to, we laid flowers in the coffin of the woman before she was covered. Usually, the dead are kept at home and prepared for burial the day after they die. Visitors come and pay their respects. Then, we walked behind the coffin as it was led by horse to the cemetery. Once at the grave, those who have loved ones who have died (nearly everyone) brings some kind of snack and passes it out to people there in honor of those who've died. In a sense they're "feeding" and taking care of those who have passed on. They will also bring some water and pour it on the grave of their loved one - even if they've passed away many years before. This also shows that they are taking care of this person. Afterwards, the men take turns pitching shovels of dirt on the grave of the person who has recently died. This is the last show of "good" or respect that they give to this person.
In the Orthodox tradition here, the spirit of the dead remain in their house forty days after their actual death. There is a ceremony to mark the fortieth day, when the spirit is finally free to continue to the world beyond. Some people talk about being visited in dreams by that person until they finally "leave." It's fascinating to me. My beliefs are quite different, but it makes me wonder where such ideas come from. Many would say that it's in the Bible, but I've never read anything to lead me to believe that the spirit hangs around on the earth for forty days. Of course, the Bible isn't the easiest book to interpret. Now I'm rambling....
I'm sure that there's more that I wanted to share, but it's getting time for me to suck it up and call Hungary, then teach a Spanish class, then go and play some baseball with whoever decides to show up.