100 Days: 24 July—30 October

Saturday was my 100^th day as an ‘official’ Peace Corps volunteer. Time is going by so fast; it seems impossible that I’ve been in Bulgaria for six months. I absolutely love what I am doing. There are so many surprising, funny, and new experiences everyday…and I feel pretty good about how the last six months have gone. Although my Bulgarian is still a work in progress and there isn't a long list of concrete accomplishments I can point to, I have good relationships with people at my site and try to help where I can. And I’m lucky to be in a place where kids like to participate in activities, people want to attend my English classes, and colleagues are interested in my ideas.

My counterpart and I in our office.

It’s weird: 6 months in Bulgaria has gone by really fast, but it seems forever ago when the process to be here began. The application, acceptance, and arrival--huge deals in the moment, are nothing compared to the life they led to. I sent in my application in March 2009, after nearly two years of ‘thinking’ about it. The commitment of two years of my life to something so unknown had been scary (despite the tempting video clips of happy volunteers and bucolic images in my head of planting potatoes and digging wells). It’s one thing to imagine oneself living in an isolated village somewhere near the equator, playing soccer with shoeless children, and singing around a campfire, it’s quite another to imagine the impact this absence will have on one’s career, graduate school applications, personal relationships, etc. My desire to ‘become grounded in a wider reality,’ to live abroad in a culture/place outside of my comfort zone, and to be part of something larger than myself eventually outweighed my worries. When I sent in my application, it was without hesitation…then the real waiting began. It was a year later when I received my official invite.

While I waited, I worried that I had been wrong to delay sending in my application for so long. However, now, when look back, I’m glad I waited. During the 3 years between college and Peace Corps service, I had really great experiences, 2 awesome jobs, and a lot of growing up. My reasons for wanting to become a PCV and my expectations for service also became more realistic. Peace Corps mission is furthering world peace and friendship. But service is also about personal growth in a challenging environment, direct experience in grassroots development, and being in an environment where one can further define their identity, goals, and priorities. I don’t think I will change the world in the next few years, but I do think the experience will (and already has) teach me skills, professional and personal, that will stay with me forever.

My expectations of the intangible parts of service seem pretty accurate so far. I didn’t really know what to expect about the day to day life. Even after receiving my invitation, I still had a fuzzing image of well digging and limited electricity-Community and Organizational Development is a somewhat abstract job description. In Bulgaria, I have regular electricity and have yet to touch a shovel. It’s a complicated place and impossible to make generalizations about, especially after only 100 days. I see shepherds walking their animals down the street twice a day, but sushi and high-end shopping is a bus ride away. Homes that appear to be falling apart have satellite dishes and donkey drawn carts share the roads with fancy sports cars. Each day is a bit different and I don’t know what will come next.

Chestnuts

I took a break from painting today to gather chestnuts in the forest with Yolka. Although I am familiar with the chestnuts roasting on an open fire song, the only time I can remember eating them is at open air markets in Europe. I definitely had no idea where they came from. If you ever go chestnut gathering, wear sturdy gloves. I felt very inefficient using the stick searching method she tried to instruct me in and used my hands instead. The chestnut pods(?) look sort of like spiky sea urchins, and are not friendly to bare hands.

About chestnuts: their consumption dates back to prehistoric times, they don't produce fruit until they're about 40 years old, the American chestnut crop (it used to be the dominant tree in the Appalachian forests)was devastated by a fungus imported in 1904, and the nuts can be mashed and used as a starch substitute in bread and cakes.

Packing up.

This week I've been packing up the apartment and cleaning/painting the new house for my upcoming move across town. Before I leave, here are some pictures from my apartment:

The pumpkins aren't from my apartment, but are on my desk at work. The woman I sit next to and my good friend gave me one and told me to decorate it like they do in America, not eat it. I obliged and brought a permanent marker so she and my counterpart could also decorate pumpkins. Mine is on the left.

_

Also, I realize my apartment looks a bit ridiculous, but keep in mind that it's not what it appears. For example, the stove is only for show and I have no idea what the big brown metal object is in the top left picture. I plugged it in and pressed some buttons one time, it made strange noises, but nothing else happened.

октомври

Winter is here in full force, or it at least felt that way in my apartment last week. Knowing I only had two more weeks in the apartment (I move to a different residence, same location next week), it seemed a bit excessive and not very Peace Corps-ish of me to carry an electric radiator across town. I got over that pretention after seeing my breath indoors. Now, with the radiator next to my bed, life is much improved.

Although it’s probably not winter yet, it’s definitely Fall. The leaves have turned yellow and red and the days are growing noticeably shorter. Running before work is no longer an option, the sun doesn’t rise until well after 7. This fact was reinforced on Friday when I was hurrying down the street to catch the 6 am bus. Seeing an oncoming car, I moved toward the sidewalk. However, due to my early morning lack of recall of the road construction underway, my feet did not take me to a sidewalk. Instead, I walked directly into a hole. Despite my dark clothes, the driver had spotted me and pulled over to help me out—the hole came up to mid-chest. I was mostly okay, just incredibly embarrassed and very muddy.

The previous paragraph makes me think of the RadioLab podcast on 'Falling.'

Did you know there are (according to the podcast) 14,932 ways to use the word ‘fall’? There are some neat ideas in this episode, like the discussion of the sensation that, when ‘falling,’ time seems to slow down. Studies of this have shown that, perception of time doesn’t change, but your minds ability to process its environment increases. Instead of slowing down to see, hear, experience everything more clearly, you are actually opening up your mind allowing more sensations to be imprinted in your memory. Time didn’t slow down when I fell in the hole last Friday-I almost missed the bus.

Language and its effect on our lives and understanding of the world has become all the more interesting to me as I continue to learn and now teach a foreign language. For example, multiple meanings of words are much more relevant during a conversation on traveling when you must explain that ‘catch’ can be used catch a bus, train, or flight in addition to catch up, catch a cold, catch a fly ball, catch a suspect, catch your coat in the door, etc.

I wonder, if there are no words for certain concepts in a language, do not exist? How do the emphases of different grammatical structures in language affect the way we process information? The other day I was in a guesthouse practicing English with a high school student. She attends a language school in Montana during the week and is only home on weekends. Although her primary language at school is German and her secondary is Russian, her English is easily intermediate/advanced. It was remarkable to watch: she spoke to me in English, replied to a guest’s question in German, and then translated the reply for her mom in Bulgarian. She’s 14. Does her knowledge of these different languages change the way she thinks about other things? By having more than one lens through which to think about the world, can you see it more clearly?

...

I haven't taken very many pictures lately, and this one doesn't show much except for a bit of the leather jacket I bought recently. Traveling on an old train through Bulgaria in my black jeans, black leather jacket, and a practiced look of indifference, I feel very much a part of the surrounding environment. It also makes me absurdly happy to have a leather jacket.

Grape Picking

Picked grapes for wine making on Monday. While filling up the buckets, Yolka taught me two Bulgarian songs, one in local dialect and one a national favorite. Below is our post picnic performance of the local song.

ШАРЕНИ КОЛЦА

Оз долу иду шарени колца, Оз долу иду шарени колца

Ширили, бирили, бира бира бой, Шой лага, бой лага, боендън

Оз долу иду шарени колца, Оз долу иду шарени колца

Ширили, бирили, бира бира бой, Шой лага, бой лага, боендън

Че кой си караше колата? Гоша си караше колата

Ширили, бирили, бира бира бой, Шой лага, бой лага, боендън

Ширили, бирили, бира бира бой, Шой лага, бой лага, боендън

Че кой си беше у колата? Райна си беше у колата

Ширили, бирили, бира бира бой, Шой лага, бой лага, боендън.

Ширили, бирили, бира бира бой, Шой лага, бой лага, боендън

Кола ми се рипку, пред колата припка.

Едно ми девойче, девойче

Кола ми се рипку, пред колата припка.

Чифлиган, чифлиган, Карандичка дин дин девойче.

Teaching is very difficult

I spent all Tuesday setting up a classroom and preparing for the first Beginner’s English lesson. Based on the information meeting last week, I expected 15 or so people to attend this class and printed the lesson and worksheets accordingly. Well….nearly 30 people showed up, half of whom I’d never met before, ages ranged from 8 to late 60s, abilities from zero to intermediate-low, there weren’t enough chairs, and I had no idea who knew what. People were obviously frustrated. I couldn’t get the flip chart to cooperate and the pre-written dialogues were too small for many to see. All in all, it was a very challenging 90 minutes. But, as an experience entirely out of my comfort zone, struggling to control the class and to impart at least some knowledge, it was interesting and unlike other activity. Plus, I know next week can only be better.

The Advanced English class was a completely different teaching experience. The class size was more manageable, around 20, and included mostly familiar faces. We played ‘Simon Says,’ filled in missing words while listening to ‘Let it be,’ and read a short history of Fanta.

Although teaching English isn’t my primary assignment, I’m happy to have started these classes. It’s a nice way to get to know more people and to establish a regular activity in the community.