january 2009
i am alive. i am trudging through january. i do not have a lot to say today, though surely the words will come pouring out of me soon. i have yet to write about london.

ya know, there really is nothing that says you're in my country like a trip to the local printing shop where you find yourself being snubbed at for asking the clerk to copy one page 20 times in under 15 minutes because you've got a class to get to. i am slowly learning to slow down, but remarkably, things operate at a snail's pace here sometimes and i just cannot get myself to crawl that slowly.

let's just say i'm in a mild funk. and i think the weather here is not helping any. it has looked like this for two weeks straight, though it doesn't actually get dark until 5:30 now.

hope you're all doing well!

part two of two related stories

december 2008, all photos in this post taken by st.

this particular 'na gosti' was certainly the most atypical of the experiences i have mentally filed away so far. it is a story that i feel is best expressed through photographs and, thanks to my good buddy st, there are quite a few photos to guide you through the experience.

a brief synopsis:

it was christmas eve around 3pm when st and i decided to explore his quiet village. the sun was shining, after all, and although there was snow on the ground, it was warm enough with the sun pouring down on us that we wandered out in spite of the snow.

st, as i have documented briefly, has taken to taking pictures and quite lovely ones, too. he was interested in introducing me to some of the future photo subjects he had dancing in his head-- gates and doorways and most notably, the adorable neighborhood children who had overcome any shyness towards being photographed in the time since we arrived.

we pointed ourselves towards the roma neighborhood in town and began, stepping between and beside potholes and trudging through mud as the houses passed us by and the neighborhood surely changed. before i knew it, two small girls caught our attention as they scurried up to the road to greet st, who has become a welcome wanderer in this part of town.

shy, yet curious inquiries about my identity out of the way, these two girls began normal banter with st, pulling out a few english words for the new audience (me) to show off a bit.

from behind me came a strong, yet friendly voice. a father? brother?

the voice of a friend who, we came to learn, almost was like family.

"come drink some homemade wine," the voice beckoned with an unmistakable come hither gesture.

the four of us turned and made our way towards the cluster of homes from which the voice emanated. as we trudged through the mud up towards the houses, through one of the barn areas, past a really old green truck and up on the side of the muddy/icy/slushy/snowy slope, we saw a large family grilling pig. we were welcomed with a glass jar of homemade wine, warm greetings, the strangely blended scent of grilled pig, smoke and cigarettes.

we all got to talking. slowly at first. and then they realized we could speak some of the language. gradually, the conversation fired up and we talked about holiday celebrations.

i mentioned that some families in the states eat turkey for christmas. i didn't know the word for pig, so this was a convenient detour around that dilemma. st asked about the particulars of roasting pigs on christmas eve and then turned to me to ask what i had said. he knew the word for pig, but not for turkey. through our puzzle-like vocabulary structuring, we discovered this family killed a pig for christmas eve and ate turkey on christmas day.

or, they were just pulling my leg about the turkey. i may never know.


this was how i spent my christmas eve, amongst a large, friendly, modest roma family that not only invited me to join in their pig roast and wine drinking, but brought st and i in for dinner... with more wine and warm rakia and a delicious meal.

it was humble. and kind. and enjoyable in a way that eludes me, even now. it felt comfortable and we had never met these people.

i do not recall how long we were there. hours, certainly. the brief walk and the chicken in st's house waiting to be cooked long since forgotten about. my feet and hands and nose completely frozen from standing in the cold mushy mud on the hill where the fire's smoke swirled away in the merciless wind.

yet, it was one of the warmest na gosti experiences i have had since i arrived here.

and one of the strangest/hardest/most incredible parts of it all- i was the only female who sat at the dinner table that evening.

i could not decide if it was an honor, a privilege, a lack of sufficient space elsewhere, a misunderstanding or otherwise. but, my gender-sensitive brain, ever the inquisitive machine, couldn't help but wonder...

perhaps another post for another time.

i'll let the pictures tell the rest...

silent monday

the alexander nevski church shrouded in fog from bbc


the letter "c" taken by my friend st and posted in this online bbc portfolio entitled "learning"

to read about the gas crisis that has crippled much of the country, including sofia, go here.

part one of two related stories

one of the most ubiquitous experiences any guest or volunteer can have in this country is the experience of being hosted as a guest by a native family. this is a surprisingly formal and frequent affair, one that i have steered clear of since my arrival in this town for a variety of reasons.

during my three months of training that started back in april, going "na gosti" was something i did often, perhaps as often as two times a week with my host family. it was often a grueling and exasperating experience that frequently tested my rock solid patience.

however, when i arrived in my small town and was left to my own devices, i discovered quickly that my shy nature and general hesitancy to commit 5 hours of my life to a strange meal were quite considerable hurdles to jump.

allow me to mention here that i'm a bit slow on the uptake when it comes to na gostis. others, undoubtedly, covered this ground and hit these benchmarks during the first few days of living in our new semi-permanent homes. though, i suppose this qualifies as one of facets of 'you' that you learn when you step outside of you. who knows.

at any rate, it is rather unusual that i recently breached the confines of my self-contained, solo, english-only bubble and wandered back into this world of playing guest for host nationals.

on two very different occasions, i went as a guest into the homes of bulgarian families. these two different experiences could not have been more dissimilar. one found me just four footsteps from my own humble dwelling in the apartment of my very sweet neighbors, yes, the same ones responsible for my lovely door and mailbox signs.

the other found me on the other side of the country standing in sludge and mud, huddled over a fire where raw pieces of pig roasted amidst the smoke and freezing wind.

this post is about the first of the two experiences, which in reality, happened at a later date chronologically than the first.

for months now, my sweet, observant neighbors and i have been slowly getting used to each other. this has indeed been a slow process because our conversations have always been constrained to hallway chatter or a few passing words at the weekly bazaar. these settings do not allow for much beyond my language capabilities and by some brilliant intuition on their behalf, this couple has, up until recently, sensed i was not yet ready to dive into hours' long dinners over brandy.

on a recent weekday just before christmas, i received an invitation to come celebrate the holidays with them. having planned an elaborate and busy schedule to keep myself occupied for christmas and new year's, i politely declined while mentally making a note to commit to at least one dinner upon my return from london.

the monday afternoon on which i returned, i stumbled into my neighbor, lelya bogi, and invited myself over for dinner that weekend. this sort of self-invitation is simply just so counter-intuitive to my invitation-by-host-only trained mind, that it took me a second to process the whole episode as it played out. lelya bogi joyfully accepted, wished me well, shoved me into my door to ensure i wouldn't catch cold and disappeared mumbling something about preparations and excitement.

step 1: self-invitation. complete. check.

the plans we had forged were for friday evening, which gave me the whole week to fret about the upcoming dinner. on friday afternoon, i baked a box of ghiradelli brownies from my christmas goodies box that arrived from my family just a few days before christmas. easy. delicious. different.

i stepped out my door at the expected time and arrived to welcome arms and a warm home on friday evening. i was delighted to find that this couple had gone out of their way to ensure they were armed with something that i would like to eat and drink. they had three different kinds of salami and two variations of winter salad and chicken and sheep. and white wine and red wine and whiskey and water and coke and two different brands of dark beer all cleverly concealed from my view under the table.

oh! and there was flan. yes, that wonderful, fabulous, oozing with caramel and everything delectable flan that i received once before.

as i recall the evening, i have trouble deciphering the different meals (not simply because i had 4 different drinks in one sitting). thinking about it now, i cannot remember when we drank which drinks when, or the intricate details of the conversations because, well, it all just flowed so smoothly. they didn't skip a beat of the traditional meal here and we glided from sipping brandy, to toasting with white wine and then chugging dark winter beers seamlessly. my food, sheep steak and grilled chicken strips, arrived on a wooden platter with piles of sharena salt bursting with tiny little flames... for "flare" i suppose.

it was all so remarkably in tune with every na gosti experience i have had. except, it was enjoyable. and comfortable. and 4 and half hours flew by as quickly as i chugged my beer, which is to say, in no time.

they were both forgiving and patient with my language abilities as we cruised through topics as varied as the beautiful city of toronto (they've been there as their son lives in new york city), my electrical (and heating) woes, the gas crisis, barack obama, and of course, my family. we finished the night up with self-taken portraits for which i set the timer and then hurled myself across the room in between the two of them to take.

i am so very pleased to report that this experience was thoroughly enjoyable. i suspect i will be arranging more plans to be their guest.

as i left with my spirits high and an extra bottle of homemade red wine, i thought to myself,

'...this is not so bad.'

how lucky i am to have stumbled into the arms of such warm, kind and generous neighbors. neighbors who came today to help fix my broken bathroom light because they thought my story about showering in candle light was the most ridiculous thing they'd ever heard.

cheers! for these small victories are keeping me afloat and coloring this experience with beautifully rich and vibrant colors.

oh, and they loved the brownies. now if only i could explain the recipe is actually a fabulous ready-to bake by adding water box, i'd be all set!

back

i am back.

after surviving an unexpected detour in bucharest and then a subsequent 17 hour bus journey, i am nursing symptoms of fabulous london withdrawals and a serious lack of sleep.

winter came during my brief trip. it's cold, and i mean no central heating, cement ice block cold. there's snow and plenty of gray to go around. the glum setting is nagging at my already bummed-out-self in a way that i can't quite capture with words.

more pictures and details to come just as soon as i reconnect with the experience i've signed up for here. i feel challenged and lost all at once and picking back up where i left off here is going to take a few days.

i'll write again just as soon as i've rekindled my groove =)

merry christmas to me!

from today's bbc day in pictures

ah! merry christmas to me (well...eventually)!

those of you who know me well know that i desire to own one of these slick little speed racers someday.

yes, that's right. i desperately want a red mini cooper.

and this photo struck just the right chord inside of me to rekindle my fond (and, uh, far-fetched) longing for one of these fantastic cars.

sigh. one day, many years from now perhaps...

3 more days of teaching and i'm off on my adventure to london!

when discipline fails

i am no disciplinarian. i could have told you that with 100% certainty before i started this teaching business.

as an inexperienced disciplinarian (and teacher), i am left to wonder, then, about all the practices, routines, and rules of disciplining that i am unaware of.

currently, i find i am stuck in the center of a scarcely discernible discipline structure. and i am not always sure of what to think, or of which methods to employ when and with whom, or how to express my desire to learn.

and when you have three 7th grade students smacking each other in the face in your classroom, you begin to wonder. when you send one of them to buy you candy at the store and they return and continue fighting, you become discouraged. when you've created a healthy tolerance to fist fighting in general, you think...something's off. when you ask a tardy student to put out their cigarette because they're in your classroom and their response is to blow smoke in your face and then throw the cigarette your way, you think...

"what am i doing wrong here?"

which of my posted rules (and there are but four of them) do i go after first? do i hound the student for "being late", do i start with the fact that the student isn't listening to me (as in "listen to the teacher") or do i tell the student that smoking in class does not qualify as "taking part in class".

i am in a bit over my head, i'd say. i have quite a bit to learn yet.

and see, when there is no effective discipline system in place, there is, of course, no large subsequent host of options to work with. no fast, easy, simple way to learn how to maneuver such settings assertively. in fact, the options are really limited.

i could, potentially, leave class and find the elderly security dude who would then work his way up to my third floor classroom in time for the bell to ring and class to be over.

or, i could leave class to grab the director only to find that she's watching someone else's class and is no where to be found. or i could try and send the student out of class (which is technically not allowed here).

i could tell my counterpart. or the classroom teacher for the particularly troublesome bunch. or return to find the director in between classes and attempt to explain in another language what it is like to have a cigarette thrown at me.

but at the end of the day, there is not a whole lot to be done. except to say that well, the students are the minority and they don't want to study and they're not really even people (i heard that one last week over coffee). and, yep, i'm still an inexperienced teacher and disciplinarian.

**why does it always fall back to the argument of who we're teaching (or aren't teaching) instead of how can we help them?**

(...the idealism is ever oozing from this skull of mine...)

i think that discipline becomes a style of management and things of this nature take time, of course. but what tricks are there for me to learn here? and when you're so bummed, speechless, uncertain, angry, aghast and just...*tired* how do you continue to focus on "how do i help them?"



so, i return to my lovely apartment and begin rebuilding my spirit for the next day.

there isn't much preparation (read: warning) in the way of spirit devastation/reparation and, gosh am i learning about how tough it is to rekindle a light spirit in a place that is just so so dark.

little warning is given in advance on the inevitable (or seeming) degradation of spirit and idealism and that post-collegiate "i can conquer the world"-ism. though, i suppose it is all part of the learning process, the breaking-down-of-benevolent-grassroots-development process.

this is a tired topic amongst volunteers, to be sure. but i think it is important to document here. my normal predilection for positivity and optimism is squashed a bit in telling these things, but then this is the learning process i've embarked on. the whole picture of it, the entirety of my experience, the good and the just plain rotten.

i suppose i will not measure my days with silly upswings and curvy, oscillating patterns of a graph any longer. it seems that i may not be the best judge of where i sit on the curve at any given moment. and anyhow, teaching is not exactly, uh, consistent.

nevertheless, this process is underway, regardless of my current location on any slithery curve. and i am grateful for the process it is turning out to be, really i am.

detachment from these tribulations will come, even as i battle my tendency to fume, to obsess--to repeatedly replay each shocking moment in my mind until i can make sense of it.

in the meantime, i will look forward to the next pleasant day. i think i'm about due.

“I will love the light for it shows me the way, yet I will endure the darkness because it shows me the stars.” ~Og Mandinooctober 2005, tuscon, arizona