a conversation with my mother reminded me that you, my readers, might not have the first clue what chalga music actually is in its living and breathing form. fret no longer. i present you two regularly played chalga songs: "nakarai me" (make me (roughly)) and "vsichko mi dai" (give me everything). DISCLAIMER: they're pretty raunchy. watch at your own risk.
allow me to interject that "azis" is not only obviously queer (read: transgender), he is also of roma origin. talk about the complexity of intersecting oppressed identities navigating a ridiculously homogeneous society.
a quote taken from an unknown author commenting on novinite.com regarding azis:
"I wouldn't call him a hero. He's more of an oddity. If Michael Jackson had been born in Bulgaria he would be Aziz."
there it is. the music of the bulgarian future. the music i lived and breathed every single day while living with my host family, all last year as it blared from cell phones in my classroom, sitting at the villa arguing about it over christmas vacation. the music serenading me during dinner at the local restaurant. music i won't miss when i leave in 4 months.
this probably goes without saying, but one needn't see too many more videos to make up their minds about this style of music. apparently, you like or you don't.
i suspect you don't need me to help you make that decision.
a few additional related (and by no means academic) links here and here.
Friday, February 26, 2010
Monday, February 22, 2010
in which bulgarian identity originates in "turkish subjugation"
as with prolific clouds of smoke and the difficulty involved in getting change for even 10 leva bills, chalga music ranks high up there on my list of "i won't miss these things about bulgaria."
over the winter break, i spent a couple of days at a villa of one of my colleagues. in one particularly passionate conversation during those days, i argued with her son-in-law that chalga music was not something i cared to listen to. he, on the other hand, spent a good 20 minutes convincing me it is the music of the future, the music of the young bulgarian generation.
in that same 4 hour conversation (not focused solely on chalga), he unveiled his opinion of the turkish minority in bulgaria. his belief, briefly, is that turkish bulgarians should be forbidden to speak turkish in bulgaria. they live in bulgaria, after all, do they not? it was left unstated, but my assumption was that he also supported the bulgarian government's nation-wide ban of the turkish-only radio channel. it's clear there is some animosity to boot.
it's fascinating to me, then, that much of the influence behind his beloved chalga music has turkish origins...right down to the word "chalga". according to the brilliant world of me, turkish music is uncanny in its resemblance to chalga. Yet, there is no connection made on behalf of just such bulgarians as this man between the music he loves so fiercely and its roots in a culture he vocally detests.
an article about the ottoman empire's 500 years of ruling the balkans (also a word of turkish origin) makes it clear just how entrenched bulgarian culture is with turkish words, customs, foods and attitudes. that article is here.
watching this culture deal with what it meant (and still means) to have been ruled by the turks for so many years almost always circles back on itself; it's a reality that is both despised and inescapable. quite an interesting paradox to think this young man holds something as internationally influenced as chalga music to be nationally symbolic of his identity as a bulgarian.
as for me, i will never like chalga music though it has provided an alternative way to learn the language; i feel like i actually know more bulgarian than i do when i listen to the elementary lyrics of love and lust found so commonly in the music.
i will remember such conversations and chuckle about them someday. i can safely guess, however, that i'm not going to miss them very much.
here is an interesting short video from BBC on chalga music in bulgaria.
over the winter break, i spent a couple of days at a villa of one of my colleagues. in one particularly passionate conversation during those days, i argued with her son-in-law that chalga music was not something i cared to listen to. he, on the other hand, spent a good 20 minutes convincing me it is the music of the future, the music of the young bulgarian generation.
in that same 4 hour conversation (not focused solely on chalga), he unveiled his opinion of the turkish minority in bulgaria. his belief, briefly, is that turkish bulgarians should be forbidden to speak turkish in bulgaria. they live in bulgaria, after all, do they not? it was left unstated, but my assumption was that he also supported the bulgarian government's nation-wide ban of the turkish-only radio channel. it's clear there is some animosity to boot.
it's fascinating to me, then, that much of the influence behind his beloved chalga music has turkish origins...right down to the word "chalga". according to the brilliant world of me, turkish music is uncanny in its resemblance to chalga. Yet, there is no connection made on behalf of just such bulgarians as this man between the music he loves so fiercely and its roots in a culture he vocally detests.
an article about the ottoman empire's 500 years of ruling the balkans (also a word of turkish origin) makes it clear just how entrenched bulgarian culture is with turkish words, customs, foods and attitudes. that article is here.
watching this culture deal with what it meant (and still means) to have been ruled by the turks for so many years almost always circles back on itself; it's a reality that is both despised and inescapable. quite an interesting paradox to think this young man holds something as internationally influenced as chalga music to be nationally symbolic of his identity as a bulgarian.
as for me, i will never like chalga music though it has provided an alternative way to learn the language; i feel like i actually know more bulgarian than i do when i listen to the elementary lyrics of love and lust found so commonly in the music.
i will remember such conversations and chuckle about them someday. i can safely guess, however, that i'm not going to miss them very much.
here is an interesting short video from BBC on chalga music in bulgaria.
Sunday, February 21, 2010
speak your truth.
one thing i will never forget about winter in bulgaria is the smoke.
smoke invades every available pocket of space during the long, cold winter months here.
sitting in cafes is next to impossible.
stepping foot outside my block building on cold weekday mornings leaves me thoroughly drenched in eau de burning wood by the time i've hit the school building.
opening my door this evening to check the temperature for the briefest of moments, smoke poured into my little home and i can smell it still- in my hair, on my sleeve, trapped in my nose.
i can't seem to sleep tonight. spring arrived for a day this weekend and it was the loveliest i've felt in months. i'm sad to report its departure and will pray ferociously that it doesn't snow tonight.
there isn't much to say of late. well, at least not anything positive or worth reading, or anything clever and insightful, succinct and honest about how/where/who i am now. most days, i can scarcely work out the complex web of gratitude and anger, longing and stubborn will, banality and exhaustion oozing around inside me. so i won't try; these things aren't coming out in words. they're erupting, instead, in overwhelming bouts of emotion and stress, unbelievable exhaustion, and perpetual illness. i suppose i would rather not say anything than rely on language and words to describe this feeling. words prove to be infuriating in their limited way of conceptualizing "this".
i will allow for:
1) my favorite bulgarian holiday is approaching- baba marta day, march 1
2) i feel defeated by the winter and hope for spring's arrival
3) i feel ready to come home
i replayed the words below from "Desiderata" in my head this evening while lying stretched out across the heated floors of my kitchen. as far as where i'm mentally at, words do little to illuminate this awkward, distant space i'm in. however, these two excerpts resonate deeply right now.
good night, all.
from: Max Ehrmann, Desiderata, Copyright 1952.
...
Go placidly amid the noise and haste,
and remember what peace there may be in silence.
As far as possible without surrender
be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly;
and listen to others,
even the dull and the ignorant;
they too have their story.
Take kindly the counsel of the years,
gracefully surrendering the things of youth.
Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.
But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.
Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.
Beyond a wholesome discipline,
be gentle with yourself.
smoke invades every available pocket of space during the long, cold winter months here.
sitting in cafes is next to impossible.
stepping foot outside my block building on cold weekday mornings leaves me thoroughly drenched in eau de burning wood by the time i've hit the school building.
opening my door this evening to check the temperature for the briefest of moments, smoke poured into my little home and i can smell it still- in my hair, on my sleeve, trapped in my nose.
i can't seem to sleep tonight. spring arrived for a day this weekend and it was the loveliest i've felt in months. i'm sad to report its departure and will pray ferociously that it doesn't snow tonight.
there isn't much to say of late. well, at least not anything positive or worth reading, or anything clever and insightful, succinct and honest about how/where/who i am now. most days, i can scarcely work out the complex web of gratitude and anger, longing and stubborn will, banality and exhaustion oozing around inside me. so i won't try; these things aren't coming out in words. they're erupting, instead, in overwhelming bouts of emotion and stress, unbelievable exhaustion, and perpetual illness. i suppose i would rather not say anything than rely on language and words to describe this feeling. words prove to be infuriating in their limited way of conceptualizing "this".
i will allow for:
1) my favorite bulgarian holiday is approaching- baba marta day, march 1
2) i feel defeated by the winter and hope for spring's arrival
3) i feel ready to come home
i replayed the words below from "Desiderata" in my head this evening while lying stretched out across the heated floors of my kitchen. as far as where i'm mentally at, words do little to illuminate this awkward, distant space i'm in. however, these two excerpts resonate deeply right now.
good night, all.
from: Max Ehrmann, Desiderata, Copyright 1952.
...
Go placidly amid the noise and haste,
and remember what peace there may be in silence.
As far as possible without surrender
be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly;
and listen to others,
even the dull and the ignorant;
they too have their story.
Take kindly the counsel of the years,
gracefully surrendering the things of youth.
Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.
But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.
Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.
Beyond a wholesome discipline,
be gentle with yourself.
Monday, February 1, 2010
weekend in istanbul
i think it's fair to say i positively love istanbul. a restorative weekend spent there yielded the following results/pictures:
strange+delightful= the turkish bath experience. as layers of skin were scrubbed off me, i missed the chance to take pictures of the unique setting. pictures below are from this website
the turkish bath from the website
the turkish bath from the website
bus ride sunset
the new lamp
the hotel room that saved my sanity and warmed my core body temperature a few degrees over the course of a weekend.
i think istanbul is on the list of places to come back and live for a while.
strange+delightful= the turkish bath experience. as layers of skin were scrubbed off me, i missed the chance to take pictures of the unique setting. pictures below are from this website
the turkish bath from the website
the turkish bath from the website
bus ride sunset
the new lamp
the hotel room that saved my sanity and warmed my core body temperature a few degrees over the course of a weekend.i think istanbul is on the list of places to come back and live for a while.
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
the aftermath
today i am wondering, and quite seriously, if it is possible to suffer from PTSD as a result of having served as a PCV?
as january weighs heavily upon us, the reality of who we, collectively and individually, have become as a result of living in this country, in this frame of mind, in this specific brew of negativity for two years, is glaring us in the face. while we may be tougher, harder, colder people, it is not necessarily a very attractive reality.
i, for one, feel like i will need some time to unwind and release a lot of whatever it is i've acquired on this journey when i return to the states. this unspeakable ailment makes 5 months seem like 5 years and has my sanity almost in ruins.
is it fair to say, then, that in our own way, we've suffered from the shock of this environment and should let ourselves off the hook when it comes time to untangle the web of frayed threads of emotions?
as january weighs heavily upon us, the reality of who we, collectively and individually, have become as a result of living in this country, in this frame of mind, in this specific brew of negativity for two years, is glaring us in the face. while we may be tougher, harder, colder people, it is not necessarily a very attractive reality.
i, for one, feel like i will need some time to unwind and release a lot of whatever it is i've acquired on this journey when i return to the states. this unspeakable ailment makes 5 months seem like 5 years and has my sanity almost in ruins.
is it fair to say, then, that in our own way, we've suffered from the shock of this environment and should let ourselves off the hook when it comes time to untangle the web of frayed threads of emotions?
Monday, January 18, 2010
"If we were not so single-minded
about keeping our lives moving
and for once could do nothing,
perhaps a huge silence
might interrupt this sadness
of never understanding ourselves
and of threatening ourselves with death
Perhaps the world can teach us
as when everything seems dead
but later proves to be alive"
— Pablo Neruda
about keeping our lives moving
and for once could do nothing,
perhaps a huge silence
might interrupt this sadness
of never understanding ourselves
and of threatening ourselves with death
Perhaps the world can teach us
as when everything seems dead
but later proves to be alive"
— Pablo Neruda
Friday, January 15, 2010
the water debacle
well.
it's 1 a.m. i just spent an hour attempting to locate the valve required to turn the water in my apartment off. but let me back up a bit.
i returned home from classes today and noticed i heard a small trickling of water coming from somewhere in my tiny closet of a bathroom. it struck me as odd because i never use the sink in this bathroom (i have another one, though i use the toilet in this one because the second toilet leaks when you turn the water on) as it is the size of a small plate and water literally goes everywhere when you turn the faucet on.
i was perplexed.
leaking pipes? from a faucet that gets no traffic? what the hell?
i spent an hour creating a tupperware/ dental floss cradle to hang from the faucet (if only i had taken pictures) to catch the dripping water before it fell to my floor and flooded the place. it was humorous. and frustrating. turns out, dental floss is somewhat difficult to craft cradles with. alas, i made one and the problem was temporarily ignored/solved.
hours of wine sipping passed by.
and i noticed a strange spraying noise emanating from the bathroom. to my horror, i discovered upon entering the bathroom that, indeed water WAS spraying from the faucet. spraying the toilet and the floor. spraying the wall. spraying the entire front side of my body.
super.
i endeavored idiotically for a long 15 minutes to try and readjust the exact location of the leaking- faucet-meets-plastic-water-pipe, where it was clear a crap job of sealing the connection had lead to my mid-night misfortune. nothing came of it.
i spent the next hour scouring the apartment, thanking my lucky stars the thought to hunt down a valve to turn off water had occurred to me. not once in my previous life (i.e. pre-peace corps) did i ever have to think about the arduous task of tracking down water valves in my domicile du jour.
i tore apart closets. and knocked on walls to find potentially hallow spaces. and searched under sinks and inside cupboards. eons of searching later and i discovered i had to slide a panel of my bathroom wall off to uncover the valve. and then, thank you peace corps safety flip charts, i remembered to turn off my water boiler so that i might have a fighting chance at leaving this country alive. i'd hate to end up the tragic victim of a boiler explosion.
my friend matt calculated there are 106 days left of teaching here. for whatever reason, i'm choosing to stay and stick this out, EVEN if it kills me. and when i return home with "experience" and minimal marketable skill sets, i'll be sure to mention to my future employer that not only am i the most stubborn person on the planet for sticking this out, i'm also pretty darn handy, too. it's not every day that someone can boast knowing how to locate removable wall panels to turn off water valves in old communist bloc apartments.
and this is why i'm glad i still have this blog to post on. as my old boss says, "you just can't make this shit up".
it's 1 a.m. i just spent an hour attempting to locate the valve required to turn the water in my apartment off. but let me back up a bit.
i returned home from classes today and noticed i heard a small trickling of water coming from somewhere in my tiny closet of a bathroom. it struck me as odd because i never use the sink in this bathroom (i have another one, though i use the toilet in this one because the second toilet leaks when you turn the water on) as it is the size of a small plate and water literally goes everywhere when you turn the faucet on.
i was perplexed.
leaking pipes? from a faucet that gets no traffic? what the hell?
i spent an hour creating a tupperware/ dental floss cradle to hang from the faucet (if only i had taken pictures) to catch the dripping water before it fell to my floor and flooded the place. it was humorous. and frustrating. turns out, dental floss is somewhat difficult to craft cradles with. alas, i made one and the problem was temporarily ignored/solved.
hours of wine sipping passed by.
and i noticed a strange spraying noise emanating from the bathroom. to my horror, i discovered upon entering the bathroom that, indeed water WAS spraying from the faucet. spraying the toilet and the floor. spraying the wall. spraying the entire front side of my body.
super.
i endeavored idiotically for a long 15 minutes to try and readjust the exact location of the leaking- faucet-meets-plastic-water-pipe, where it was clear a crap job of sealing the connection had lead to my mid-night misfortune. nothing came of it.
i spent the next hour scouring the apartment, thanking my lucky stars the thought to hunt down a valve to turn off water had occurred to me. not once in my previous life (i.e. pre-peace corps) did i ever have to think about the arduous task of tracking down water valves in my domicile du jour.
i tore apart closets. and knocked on walls to find potentially hallow spaces. and searched under sinks and inside cupboards. eons of searching later and i discovered i had to slide a panel of my bathroom wall off to uncover the valve. and then, thank you peace corps safety flip charts, i remembered to turn off my water boiler so that i might have a fighting chance at leaving this country alive. i'd hate to end up the tragic victim of a boiler explosion.
my friend matt calculated there are 106 days left of teaching here. for whatever reason, i'm choosing to stay and stick this out, EVEN if it kills me. and when i return home with "experience" and minimal marketable skill sets, i'll be sure to mention to my future employer that not only am i the most stubborn person on the planet for sticking this out, i'm also pretty darn handy, too. it's not every day that someone can boast knowing how to locate removable wall panels to turn off water valves in old communist bloc apartments.
and this is why i'm glad i still have this blog to post on. as my old boss says, "you just can't make this shit up".
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