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.

English Lessons

I held an informational meeting for English language lessons today....AND it was a success! I was worried no one would show up and also kind of worried that a ton of people would come. Last week, I made signs and posted them in the teacher's lounge, culture center, municipality, museums, tourist center, etc. inviting everyone interested in learning English to come and discuss what they want to learn, what they already know, and when they have free time so I could hold classes that would appropriately match their needs. I heard people talk about it, but still wasn't sure who would actually attend. My counterpart and I practiced what I would say during the meeting and she came to support me in case I needed help. I also brought cookies. At 5:30 (the stated start time of the meeting), no one had arrived, not even my counterpart. But, by 6:00 (which I'm learning is 5:30 BG time) I had almost 30 people filling out questionnaires. The meeting went perfectly and I will start teaching two adult English classes next week, one for beginners and one for more advanced students.

Another week, more celebrations

I feel as if most of my entries begin the same way: I’m super busy, love the Peace Corps, and there was a celebration. Despite my unoriginality, this pretty much describes my time perfectly. It’s difficult to explain, since the things that take up time are hard to classify as activities. My day will seem hectic and overflowing, with hardly any time to do anything, but when I get home and try to think of what I did during the day, it’s not usually very clear. Also, there is usually a holiday for something. Last week was no exception: it was busy and great and there were celebrations.

My counterpart’s boy turned 4 years old last Wednesday. I helped her make rice crispie treats the day before his party. I’m not sure where she found them, but my counterpart had purchased marshmallows: the key ingredient to the dessert, which I previously thought impossible to purchase in Bulgaria. They weren’t quite the same as in America. These marshmallows were colored pink, strawberry flavored, shaped like mushrooms, and coated in sugar. Cornflakes were substituted for rice crispies, and margarine for butter. I thought rice crispie treats were sort of awful, but everyone seemed to love them. The party was awesome. I was took pictures for my counterpart. Definitely an over the top kids party with cakes, pizza, smiley-faced sandwiches, drinks for moms, etc. She also had all sorts of games set up for them (pin the tail on the donkey, a homemade piñata, etc.). Mostly, the kids ran around and hit each other with balloons.

September 15^th was the first day of school in Bulgaria. It is celebrated nationwide on the same day every year. Happy първия учебен ден to all teachers and students! I attended the welcome back ceremony for Petar Parchevich School with a friend in Chiprovtsi. Her daughter started the 4^th grade this year. The morning of първия учебен ден, when her daughter walked out the door of the house, her father spilled a bowl of water in front of her for good luck. Then, her mother gave her a bouquet of flowers for her teacher.

The students arrived at school dressed in their best outfits with bunches of flowers for teachers and queued by class in the schoolyard. They listened to some of their classmates sing, the mayor and school director talk, and stood attentively for the raising of the Bulgarian flag on the school’s flagpole. Parents took photos and watched. It didn’t seem to matter if they arrived to work late. After the ceremony, the students entered the school by class. They received their books and some paperwork and were released by 10am. It made me a bit jealous that America doesn’t have a similar holiday. Celebrating the first day of the school year seems to be a very good tradition; първия учебен ден honors the teachers and the students.

After the ceremony, I visited the tourist information center in the culture center. I described the ceremony I had just witnessed to the librarian (the library is also in the culture center). There was one class per grade, none with more than 25 students and most having significantly fewer. It was a pleasant enough event, nothing spectacular. She then related to me the celebrations of 15 September that occurred during her childhood in Chiprovtsi. Forty years ago it used to be a huge event with 4 classes per grade filled to capacity and students parading through the center and dancing. Times have changed.

While we were chatting, a tourist walked in speaking English! It was the first time I’ve encountered a foreign visitor at site. From Switzerland, living in Germany, this tourist was travelling across Bulgaria with her husband. Somewhere during their travels she had photographed a Chiprovtsi carpet and now wanted to buy one exactly like it. This is difficult since each carpet is unique and made to order carpets take between 3-6 months to make. Also the lady from the museum really wanted her to buy something and kept trying to show her smaller, souvenir carpets. It was interesting to act as translator/guide. My English abilities impressed the tourist, until I explained I’m a PCV from America. Then she laughed. Even so, it was fun to help her communicate with the women selling carpets and to share what I know about local history and culture. She was surprised to learn how few foreign tourists we receive despite the resources and sites located here.

Chiprovtsi Waterfall

The Chiprovtsi Waterfall is a five-mile hike from the center of town. Two trails lead to the falls. The Dyanitsa Eco Path and a dirt trail used by shepherds. They are about the same distance: the eco path is steeper and goes past the Gushovski Monastery, the shepherd route is easier, but its views are obscured by dense forest.

The two trails meet a road at a clearing about a half-mile away from the falls. There is a khizha (wooden shelter/hut) for overnight hikers and a sign indicating a butterfly garden near the intersection. Khizha ‘Yavor’ was being used by some resting shepherds when I passed it so I didn’t get a close look. There are several springs along the hike to refill with clean water. Though the last part of the hike is pretty steep and rocky I’m surprised how rarely people from Chiprovtsi go to the falls, especially since 90% of the way can be bypassed by car. Some of my friends have never seen the waterfall, and those that have been there usually only went once or twice. I hiked with another PCV and we didn’t see any other hikers. Hopefully, my sharing with colleagues of how beautiful the falls are and easy to get to will convince them to come with me next time.

A view from Eco Path 'Dyanitsa.'

Trail markers. Though somewhat sporadic, they do exist.

A water fountain, built in 1932. Drinkable water.

Gushovski Monastery Celebration 6 September 2010

Today was the big celebration at the Gushovski monastery ruins. I caught a ride up the mountain with, an older British man who retired to Chiprovtsi three years ago. According to what I’ve heard around town, he prefers his solitude and is quite the loner. However, during the short drive, which took a bit longer due to the vehicles and pedestrians loaded up for picnicking on the one lane road, he was fairly open. Born in Africa, he grew up in Rhodesia (now Zambia), but moved to England, the home of his parents, in the 1960s when he felt things in the country were not going in a direction good for him. I’m not sure what he did in England or if he has any family. But he had some very interesting stories about Africa.

The weather was perfect and the celebration was set up beautifully. On the top of the mountain, the single stone cross, which has signaled the presence of the monastery for hundreds of years, was adorned with flowers and beeswax candles. From the cross to the old monastery below, large Chiprovtsi carpets suspended from wood frames 5meters high created an outside hallway of sorts. It’s difficult to describe the effect this created upon arrival. It was beautiful, impressive, and unreal. Below, hundreds of people were setting up picnics and visiting with friends and family, stands were selling kebabs, orthodox priests were mingling and giving blessings. On top, it was quiet and reverent, all around mountains, no towns visible, only the giant carpets and stone cross. It was an interesting mix.

Now, on to the food, ceremony, and party. Shortly after I arrived, Simona, one of my favorite kids from town, appointed herself my guide. She had just managed to gracefully rescue me from a confusing conversation I had somehow become engaged in with an elderly woman about Kazakhstan and must have determined I was in need of assistance.

We walked around the grounds, saying hello to all of my colleagues, friends, and their families (she knew where everyone was) and exclaiming how lovely everything was. At the stairs to the old church ruins, I bought beeswax candles for us to light by the two stone crosses. A stone cross, nearly identical to the one on top of the mountain, stands in the bottom of the old church and was likewise decorated. Eight other crosses, from the same time and design are located in different spots around Chiprovtsi.

Between the church ruins and the monastery stand a line of 20 or so stone hearths in which giant pots of lamb intestine soup were being prepared-the centerpiece of the celebratory meal. We took a quick look, they smelled okay. After the hellos and photo ops, Simona showed me where Yolka and her family were set up. Yolka had invited me to celebrate with her family earlier in the week and I’d brought a bag of apples, tomatoes, and semi-melted Hershey kisses to contribute.

After drinking some very strong coffee from the small fire next to the table and helping Yolka prepare the salads I was given one of the large metal bowls to carry with me to the ceremony. The large pots of soup had been brought out of the overhang that protects the hearths and placed in a line on the ground. Around them, families were placing empty bowls. I placed the one in my hands next to the nearest pot of soup. Forming a large oval around the line of pots and bowls, each family placed one or two loaves of similar looking homemade bread with a beeswax candle in the middle.

The actual ceremony was brief. A very old, important priest presided. Flanked by two younger priests, he said a few prayers in the church ruins, then walked up the stairs to bless the oval of bread and lamb chorba. The other priests carried incencse and holy water and walked among the people. The bowls were filled, two large ones for our table of seven. I’m not sure how Yolka could tell the loaves of bread apart-they really looked identical-but she sent me to take the soup to the table while she searched. When I returned, she had found the bread, and placed a loaf into my hands. I brought the bread for Yolka’s table to a priest who blessed it and broke the first piece. Another very somber looking priest, carried a bundle of some type of green plant/herb. He dipped it in a bucket of holy water and hit me on the head with the dripping plant while saying another blessing. With a bit of plant fiber irritating one contact, I brought the bread back to Yolka’s table, where an extra large portion of the intestine soup, salad, meats, banitsa, and rakia were already laid out.

Oh the soup! Wanting to show how my gratitude and participatory attitude, and forgetting a similar story my dad had shared with me as a child, I finished my soup quickly and with lots of smiling. I was given seconds. For someone who rarely eats meat, eating a second portion of a dish with obvious hunks of soft intestines in it that has started to cool and coagulate from the grease, was a bit much. I ate that second bowl MUCH slower using lots of bread and leaving a bit on the bottom. After we were all uncomfortably full and the rakia toasts were getting a bit too frequent we piled into a large flat bed truck and headed back to town. The meal had been fantastic (the soup was an experience), as was the accompanying conversation. Even though I had felt awkward not knowing what to do or what was happening, I felt honored to have participated in the celebration with Yolka’s family. It was a really incredible day.

Future Supermodels of Bulgaria

WOW! Again, so impressed with the children from Chiprovtsi. The big kick off show for Chiprovtsi Party Weekend (my name for the series of activities hosted here this weekend) was Friday night. Singers, marching bands, dance troupes, and other talented young Bulgarians from the region performed in the Culture Center’s large concert hall. I missed the other performances—except for the very enthusiastic baton twirlers who I feared might let a loose one fly my way while I was trying to find a spot in the packed theater to photograph my kids—I was busy helping the Chiprovtsi kids get ready. They didn’t sing or dance, they modeled.

Last Sunday, I received a call from one of my colleagues telling me to be at the Culture Center at 5. My understanding was that there was someone there to discuss tourism development with me. I was wrong. Instead, there was a Bulgarian supermodel, originally from Chiprovtsi, who wanted to volunteer by hosting a sort of day camp for the kids while visiting her hometown. I was thoroughly confused how my tourism meeting had turned into me helping corral 30 kids while she instructed them on how to walk a runway. Her plan to have the children, ages 6-11(-ish), make outfits out of recyclable materials (junk from home) and model them in a mini-fashion show during the Friday performances didn’t become entirely clear to me until mid-week. Even then, I wasn’t too sure how this would be pulled off.

My skepticism was furthered by the lack of willingness the kids initially displayed to walk/pose in front of others. If they were too self-conscious to walk across a room, empty except for their peers, wearing their regular clothes, how would they possible model a ridiculous outfit in front of hundreds of people? To me, this sounded like a scenario that could go very bad. Where we going to encourage children, who are already shy about being singled out individually, on a large stage alone in front of family, classmates, and strangers? But, the kids were having a good time and are fun to be around, so I went along with the plan, besides, it how many people would actually be there anyways?

For the rest of the week, I went to the big classroom in the Culture Center after work and language lessons, to help sew jar covers on old dresses, make vests out of milk cartons, and repeatedly assure the girls their outfits were going to look lovely. Since I wasn’t there all day every day, I didn’t really see how it was coming together. It wasn’t until a few hours before the show on Friday that I even saw the kids do a run-through to music. Amazing. They weren’t anything like the kids that stared at the ground while walking across a classroom five days prior. These kids strutted and swaggered across the large stage with plenty of attitude, posing as if adoring fans and hungry paparazzi were waiting just for them (the auditorium held only a handful of marching band early arrivals from Montana, a few moms that were helping with the show, the sound guy, and me).

Hard at work...hanging out during practice, sewing dresses, painting finger nails. I never thought I could be so tired after painting nails, or that I would be doing so in my role as a Peace Corps volunteer...

Still, I thought, it looked like there were going to be A LOT of people. Not just from town. Several buses had arrived with what looked to me like serious performers. When I’d left the day before, the outfits were haphazardly being parsed together, most seemed unfinished and ridiculous…not something even cute 6 year olds could get away with. It was one thing to be confident on stage, but how would they look following a fancy dance group? BUT, we still had 4 hours before going on stage. Tedi took expert control, herding the kids into a large room with a table full of makeup, hair styling tools, and nail polish. While I applied makeup, nail polish, and hair spray, she brought the kids into an adjacent room in groups of two and threes to finalize each of their outfits. They emerged from the assembly line fantastic. They knew it too.

On stage they walked with their heads up, shoulders back, eyes on the crowd. True professionals. Bravo Tedi! These kids, that had been so scared of being in the spotlight 5 days ago, were now confidently displaying their individuality in front of a huge crowd. They received the loudest claps and were easy favorites out of all of the performances. I’m so impressed by them and grateful to have such great kids in my town!

Last minute instructions.

The group walk. Encore.

The BIG 2-4...and other happenings

8/31/2010 I celebrated my 24^th birthday in Bulgaria last Tuesday. It was wonderful!! I was surprised at the number of birthday wishes I received, both from America and Bulgaria, and felt incredibly loved all day. I think I’ve written about the difference between traditions for birthdays in Bulgaria and America in an earlier entry, but now I have a whole new respect for them.

The custom of treating your friends and family (‘cherpi-ing’), on your birthday makes a lot of sense to me. Instead of spending time and money every time someone else’s’ birthday comes around, surprising them with cake or whatever while trying to be fair and creative, in Bulgaria, your turn to treat is on your birthday (and name day, but that’s a different topic). You can make as big or as little of a day out of it as you choose. Also, it gives everyone who may have let the date slipped their minds a reminder to wish you well. I can’t really imagine this happening since I think the date and year of birthdays comes up in almost every introductory conversation I’ve had, right after the questions about siblings and before the ones on religion.

I brought fudge, rice crispy treats (received marshmallows in a care package and substituted cornflakes), hershey kisses, and coca cola. The ‘American’ sweets were a big hit. The rice crispy treats (I received marshmallows in a care package), were especially popular….and, difficult to explain. Marshmalllows are unavailable here and the word translates as a type of flower. Anyways, it was a great day, I was met in the morning by my coworkers wishes of ‘health, happiness, and luck’ in the coming year were and everyone I encountered wished me well. The girls from camp even put “Chestit Rozden den Megan!!”as their skype statuses (big deal for 7^th graders striving to establish their ‘I’m indifferent, yet effortlessly chill images’).

In Other News:

New Friend

The other day an older, raggedy man in his mid-late 70s came into the office I share with three colleagues. He looked like an out of luck panhandler from a large US city, complete with rough clothes and a long grayish-white beard. Appearances aside, he turned out to be a fantastically interesting character and very thoughtful.

As I quickly learned, Nikolai was in town to represent his art on for the opening of the exhibition. He had 20 minutes to fill before the next bus and apparently chose to spend it wandering around the Obshtina. When he learned I was from America, his face lit up. He proceeded to draw me a map of the United States and outlined several states, including Louisiana. His arthritic hands shook severely, but he moved the pin deliberately, saying the names of New Mexico, Nevada, and California while he worked. His mind might be going a bit—he kept trying to speak to me in French even after my colleagues explained I speak Bulgarian and do not understand any French. But, he was able to sharply recall several random words in English (morning, airplane, august, etc.) and wrote on the back of the map.

Several days later…While I was walking to my language tutor’s on my birthday, I recognized a coworker giving direction to a cab driver. I had told Nikolai the date of my birthday during our brief conversation, but I didn’t think anything of it. Birth dates seem to come up frequently when talking to someone for the first time and the Zodiac calendar is a relatively popular diversion among Bulgarians I’ve met. I was completely surprised when the taxi pulled up to the curb and the driver motioned for me to stop and wait. He opened the door and helped the old French-speaking artist step out. Nikolai grasped my hand in both of his, wished me health, happiness, and good luck, gave me a box of candy, and climbed back in the cab to leave.

Fall Now

Winter seemed to arrive this week in Bulgaria with no transition from the intensely hot summer. Last week, I was sleeping without blankets and spent most of my time at home sitting on the tile floor in the kitchen (coolest place). This week, the temperature dipped into the 30s at night. Even though the temperatures haven’t been especially extreme compared to places I’ve been before (80s and 90s doesn’t compare to Louisiana summers and 30s are no where near as cold as upstate NY in the winter), the lack of climate control entirely changes the game. In previous living situations, I’ve always been able to go into a temperature controlled vehicle or building. No more. Although I will have a wood burning stove in my permanent residence, the apartment I currently live in is without any sort of heating element and obviously no air conditioner either. With leaky seals on doors and windows, 30 degrees quickly becomes an extreme temperature.

Melinarka (A raspberry picker)

I’m pretty pleased with the timing of harvests. I was in Kravoder when most of my favorite fruit and vegetables were in season, now they are in season in Chiprovtsi. I get to enjoy them twice.

I went raspberry picking with Yolka this week in her large garden on the edge of town. I know Yolka from the camp I helped with earlier in the summer (she was the amazing cook) and she has a grandson who participates in a lot of the activities around town. She also weaves carpets. Anyways, it was lovely, she sang a song about raspberry pickers (melinarki) and I received a large bag of vegetables and fruit after a few hours of picking/eating raspberries.

I miss working in the garden in Louisiana. What began as an experiment to demonstrate my potential as an agricultural development worker (never appreciated J), turned into a hobby I enjoyed and that gave me great calmness of mind. I hope to help out more in the gardens here more before the final harvest.

Officially, I am here!

After one month and three trips to the office in Montana, I received my lichna carta (Bulgarian ID card)! I feel very official and proud of it. Not that it’s a flattering picture, it’s not, but I feel like I’ve passed some sort of mileston, like when I received my driver’s license after passing a test, except I don’t get to drive and I didn’t have to take a test.

Chiprovtsi Celebrations 4-6 September 2010

Chiprovtsi Municipality and Mayor Zaharin Zamfirov invite you to attend this weekend’s Celebration of the city of Chiprovtsi

All Weekend: Traditional art exhibition from Chiprovtsi, Chuprene, Berkovitsa, and Giorgi Damyanovo Municipalities [Exhibition/Sale runs until the 6^th, See photos below].

Saturday:

Registration for “Three Chuki-2010” mountain bike race; cash prizes awarded to top finishers. See blog entry for more info: http://bikingbulgaria.wordpress.com/2010/08/23/bike-rally-“tri-chuki”-2010/

13:00--Public meeting to discuss local development of Leadership Action Group

Obshtina, Chiprovtsi

17:30--Opening of new Tourist Information Center; Exhibition “Man and Mountain” Presented by Chiprovtsi Historical Museum; Symposium of paintings, graphics, and carvings by the Society of Artists TENETS-Montana

Cultural Center "Peter Bogdan - 1909"

18:30--Youth fashion show of eco-friendly outfits created from recycled material

Cultural Center "Peter Bogdan - 1909"

Concerts by: Brass Orchestra Sciences, Montana,Youth Brass Band, Varshets, Dance Group in ODK, Montana, Vocal Group in ODK, Montana,Vocal Formation Torlashki chants

Chiprovtsi Center Square

SUNDAY:

10:30--“Three Chuki-2010” mountain bike race begins, award ceremony to follow at Gushovski Monastery at 15:30. Technical guidance and number distribution begins at 8:30

Race Map:

20:00--Concert: Rajko Kirilov http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=264sIK6EVAw&feature=related

Gushovski Monastery

Monday: Gushovski Monastery Celebration

9:00-?

Pictures of celebration from prior years

Gushovski Monastery was built in the 17^th century and destroyed during the 1688 Chiprovtsi Uprising. Near the ruins, rows of traditional stone hearths for bread making, a stone drinking spring, a stage, and other things have been built for visitors. The celebration also marks the anniversary of the 1688 Chiprovtsi Uprising against the Ottomans. The Uprising and the intellectual awakening that preceded it are thought to be the beginning of the resurgence of Bulgarian identity and national resistance.

Examples from the Traditional Art Expo:

All items are for sale. In addition to traditional carpets, metal work, and carvings, there are some incredible pieces created from carpet weaving. The girl and old couple depicted below were weaved by hand on a traditional loom. For perspective on the amount of work that goes into this, it takes one month, 8 hours of day of work for a woman to complete a basic carpet. The bottom carpet is my favorite. The threads of the trunk and branches weave in and out of the carpet.