nothing could be ugly on a day as beautiful as today in bulgaria.
i spent the day riding a train back from a conference earlier this week. when i passed andrea's old village en route home, i gazed upon the green green hills rolling into the mountains punctuated by small caps of snow in awe and felt nothing but silent joy. the wounded artery of a road leading from her train station to the town center was not so desolate or miserable looking today. the blue skies and sunshine erased the awful feeling of having walked that road in the snow and cold just a few months ago.
life felt so light and joyful today.
i am grateful i am leaving this place- this often cold and grey and miserable place- in the spring when it's hard to feel anything but cheer and gratitude.
i am grateful i gave myself this time to stay, to struggle and reap the benefits of having worked so hard not to succumb to the cold.
i am almost done. and i will remember the beauty, the sunshine, the lush green rolling hills more than any of the darkness.
i couldn't say that until today.
Friday, March 26, 2010
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
sitting with me
there are still days when i forget to put on great music, sip tea, do that which comforts me and enjoy the process of just being present with me. not many, but some.
i evolve even now and change with the passing days. i am still not my own best friend. i am not always kind to myself. however, i sat with myself every single day these (nearly) two years and if nothing else, i have gotten to know me well. good or bad, i was there for me when the ups and downs were blowing through the days and months.
today, i realize that many people never get the chance to sit alone long enough to get to know themselves inside and out.
and there's this sneaking suspicion creeping up on me that someday...far away from bulgaria... and the cold of this dead winter...
i am really going to miss me and all the time i have been afforded to sit with me and get to know me while here.
which is a slightly terrifying admission given that i'm more than ready to come home.
it's shocking that it took me this long to understand this was really about me all along, learning to just be with me, learning to simply enjoy my company. two years alone in a foreign place to learn how to sit and be present with me.
no easy task, that.
i evolve even now and change with the passing days. i am still not my own best friend. i am not always kind to myself. however, i sat with myself every single day these (nearly) two years and if nothing else, i have gotten to know me well. good or bad, i was there for me when the ups and downs were blowing through the days and months.
today, i realize that many people never get the chance to sit alone long enough to get to know themselves inside and out.
and there's this sneaking suspicion creeping up on me that someday...far away from bulgaria... and the cold of this dead winter...
i am really going to miss me and all the time i have been afforded to sit with me and get to know me while here.
which is a slightly terrifying admission given that i'm more than ready to come home.
it's shocking that it took me this long to understand this was really about me all along, learning to just be with me, learning to simply enjoy my company. two years alone in a foreign place to learn how to sit and be present with me.
no easy task, that.
Thursday, March 4, 2010
bitter rant. short in length.
what is this sick sense of satisfaction one gets when one reads a blog post written by a youth or community development volunteer who takes a break from sittin' at their desk one march week to "substitute teach" and then proceeds to gather up juicy "war stories" to prove...that teaching is hard?
welcome to the club! dobre do6li pri na6ite lydi hora! (can you even say that in bulgarian? welcome among our crazies?)
ahem. excuse the oozing bitterness. cue chariots of fire soundtrack...NOW... for this one's decided she is NEVER going to be a teacher. EVER. AGAIN.
and also to celebrate that she's gone a bit insane over here.
and to be fair, those nice cod and yd volunteers have hard jobs, too. right? right?! they have days that feel as asinine and completely frustrating as my day today was, right? oh good. i hoped so.
sigh.
edited to add: i realize this is NOT a productive post. that is why my blog is private. because i trust you all won't judge me too harshly ;)
welcome to the club! dobre do6li pri na6ite lydi hora! (can you even say that in bulgarian? welcome among our crazies?)
ahem. excuse the oozing bitterness. cue chariots of fire soundtrack...NOW... for this one's decided she is NEVER going to be a teacher. EVER. AGAIN.
and also to celebrate that she's gone a bit insane over here.
and to be fair, those nice cod and yd volunteers have hard jobs, too. right? right?! they have days that feel as asinine and completely frustrating as my day today was, right? oh good. i hoped so.
sigh.
edited to add: i realize this is NOT a productive post. that is why my blog is private. because i trust you all won't judge me too harshly ;)
Friday, February 26, 2010
the proof
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.
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.
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.
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