end

i feel the inspiration to write something. not a summation of this experience, as i can hardly imagine what that would include. rather, something...anything, to put down somewhere these things that are floating through my head, memories and anxieties and beautiful days and food. this is going to be a stream of consciousness about what bulgaria is in my head, what is has been in my life these two years. this is an attempt to answer "where do i start to talk about bulgaria?"

bulgaria is roads that are more potholes than roads. sunflower fields littered with plastic bottles and bags. bulgaria is humiliating and distant, the collective operating on an unspoken wavelength of an eerie mental disconnect from the world at large. beautiful mountains that remind me of colorado and cold, damp spaces people wander through and clean. brooms with no sticks attached and babas bent over sweeping dirt from the street. mixed in is a combination of sheep droppings and rocks and hay. dark underpasses and street lights that blink fluorescent or simply don't work. the pungent scent of stale urine rising from public walkways and less-frequented corners on busy streets. bulgaria is dark bottles of cheap beer and the smell of rakia from the night before on a scruffy man with unwashed hands and the smell of cigarette smoke, dirty clothes, and skin assaulting your nostrils on a 5 hour train ride. broken sidewalks and hidden puddles, tiny shops where you have to ask for everything you want, a true test of language skills. 3 in 1 nescafe coffees and small sour dough pretzels, bankia water bottles and expensive coca cola products. cold, cement walls and floors and dilapidated wooden windows that serve as less of a shield to cold wind and winter days than sheets of paper taped together.

bulgaria is delicious food and tomatoes and cucumber salad. it's bread on the table at every meal and staple music and dance plastered on the television, drowning out conversations and taxing the minds of those suffering beneath the sound. new siemens trains and old russian trains from 1979 that haven't ever been washed and were once fire engine red, or so i imagine. now, they look like rust. they aren't rusted, they've just never been washed. stray dogs, cats, animals lurking everywhere in cities, small towns, and villages. the smell of body odor pressed into clothing that is 10 years old which reminds you of the price of deodorant. bread is 80 cents and deodorant is 6 bucks.

bulgaria is cold, dark eyes that will stare into you unflinchingly and uninterested. no one owes anyone anything here and kindness, although plentiful when found, is daunting to seek out. it's watching young teenage boys treat girls like they treat animals. hearing a message about the 6th grade student with the lip piercing who was married off over the weekend, rapidly filling in blank spaces with fake grades so they can be sent on their way out of the education system with no hassle. beautiful hikes and more land to explore than i've ever seen. people who are genuinely in love with working the land, people who know how hard it is to work the land mourning the inevitable restructuring of attitudes towards farming, each generation less interested than the one before it. each generation finding better, faster ways out of the country. it's students like roro who love animals and volunteer at the animal shelter, yet cannot focus in the system he's forced to be in. his mind expands, his consciousness tainted by his iphone and the world outside. communism lives and breathes here still, in this way, this information vacuum and the systematic brainwashing. pessimism. hope that's pessimistic and failure that is enthusiastic. i told you so doesn't need to be screamed out loud. we get it. i get it.

kindness and hospitality we could only dream of genuinely providing. we don't know hospitality like these people do. i argue we don't want to provide it. it requires effort, time, slowing down and struggling through dinner. eating salads over 2 hours of time, not 12 minutes. train tracks. grey apartment transformers that serve as apartment blocks by day and evil mental infiltrators by night. the soul is controlled by the inadequate heating, the stench of poorly executed plumbing systems, dim lighting, cold cold cold everything.

time to sit and watch an entire go by. where else do you have to be? benches made for this, benches of wood branches nailed together. babas in colorful layers concocting juicy stories of the same contingent of people who walk by their block each day. it's drinking coffee plus coke plus water when you meet someone at a cafe. ordering just one of the three leaves you feeling like a strange cultural amateur. reading books. lots of reading. watching movies on surfthechannel.com and spending more time on the internet than you ever thought possible. electronic lifelines become the most exciting part of every day. admitting that becomes easy after two years in bulgaria.

gorgeous seaside beaches and very little clothing. cheap food and beer under umbrellas and music playing in the cafe just a ways down on the beach. horse flies. cockroaches and giant spiders. feeling lucky you're not contending with rats or snakes. crossing months, then weeks, then days and half days off a homemade calendar on the wall. gently packing up that calendar to return with you so you never forget how between the start and finish, two years really passed. and almost all of the days in the middle were long and tough and draining and rewarding in their own way.

smoke everywhere. banitsa pasteries. buses. car alarms. finding peanut butter. cooking to pass the time. traveling almost every weekend for 2 years. sleeping next to 8 other people on a dirty floor in a sleeping bag and makeshift pillow. dancing at discos until 5 a.m. anxiety over teaching. being sick every other month or more. listening to the saddest conversation about bulgaria's future from a woman who looks so normal and put together and fresh she could be your family member. looking into her tired eyes. guessing the words you don't know to spell out her conspiracy theory in your mind, make sense of what she's quickly saying to you. knowing a language and still needing more. huge, cold houses. beds in kitchens, hand washing clothing. the same conversation with bulgarians across the country. like it's some rehearsed speech people are taught in school: "if in contact with foreigner, dispense information immediately".

having faith in yourself. protecting that and cultivating that in a place that is waiting for a savior. hope is spread sparingly. slowly.


this has been my experience here. this is my last post. thank you for reading.