Thanksgiving Activities

Celebrating Thanksgiving in Bulgaria was excellent. In addition to the paper turkeys and decorations at the office, I had “Thanksgiving” themes for both of my adult English classes. In the beginner class, we played Bingo and ate pumpkin cookies with cream cheese frosting and I talked a bit about the holiday. In the advanced class, we read a short story about the first Thanksgiving, discussed what we’re thankful for, and unscrambled the lyrics to “What a Wonderful World.”

Then, I traveled to another volunteer’s site to help with her Thanksgiving Day project. Quite a few PCVs, plus some American missionaries, and an Austrian, helped with the festivities at the Internaht where she works. Then, we made an awesome dinner and ate, in keeping with tradition, until we could hardly move.

The experience at the Internaht was intense. An Internaht, aka Boarding school, is a specialized institution for minors who have committed antisocial acts and crimes. The kids were so excited to have us be there. In the morning the kids helped make pumpkin bread, bake cookies, and put together Native American headdresses. It was pretty incredible to see these ‘tough’ teenagers, eager to glue feathers on a hat or to put an apron and help in the kitchen.

After lunch, we showed a short presentation on America, the organizing volunteer had put together and went on a scavenger hunt around the village. Before the games could start, each kid had to write something they were grateful for on a paper leaf, which was then put on a large tree cut out in the main hall. I’m sure this is a common thing in schools and other such places around Thanksgiving, but here, in this setting, it was really something else. It was a perfect way to spend the holiday. At the end of the day we went back to host volunteer’s house, cooked, and ate until we could hardly move.

One task of the scavenger hunt was to have the kids give away some of the pumpkin bread they cooked to someone in the village. These kids don’t have much in the way of material things, so I imagine that the act of ‘giving’ isn’t something they frequently do. I don’t know about the other groups, but the group of kids I was with spent a while on this item. They ended up dividing the bread and walking all over town to give it away to a greater number of people. It was great.

Paper Turkeys

It is almost Thanksgiving! Feeling as if I may have caused some disappointment by not organizing a big Halloween activity, I wanted to make sure to celebrate Thanksgiving. I decorated the office, made construction paper turkeys with the kindergarteners, and am planning parties for my beginner and advanced English classes. Yay for holidays!

Funeral

The somber dirges played during funeral processions are easy to hear from my office window. Despite not being heavily populated, the age demographics of Chiprovtsi are such that these events are not uncommon. Often, my colleagues and I stand and watch as loved ones of the deceased proceed slowly through town to the gravesite.

Close family members lead the procession, carrying flowers and a cross for the grave. The hearse, an old VW van with its rear doors open, follows, displaying the open casket inside. Behind the van, a crowd of mourners grows as people join while it winds through the town. Several older men, one with a drum and symbol and a few with horns are the last to pass by, providing a constant soundtrack of slow, sad music for the walk to the graveyard.

I attended my first Bulgarian funeral this week for one of my colleagues’ relatives. Even though I joined the mourners near the edge of town, we still had a kilometer or so to walk. The predominately elderly crowd seemed unperturbed by the uneven road to the cemetery or the uphill return. They continued, arm in arm, at a steady pace.

An Orthodox cleric presided over the approximately 30 minute ceremony. When we began to leave the cemetery, close family members of the deceased, hurried from the graveside to an open vehicle trunk full of food which they began to pass out to mourners. I was surprised that those in the deepest state of mourning were now hurrying to treat the rest of his, but was told that by taking the bread, you must say a prayer for the deceased, asking God to forgive his sins.

The differences between this funeral, in a small town in Bulgaria, and those I’ve attended in America were significant. Joining around 75 mourners—friends and family of decade long relationships—to escort the deceased to his final resting place was a beautiful experience. It was so different from the individual line of cars that drive to an American cemetery. The deep roots of people who raise their children in the same homes in which they were born and know each other for decades is so different from anything I’ve experienced. This shared and interwoven history, combined with the foreign rites of an Orthodox sacrament, made the funeral a unique experience to witness.

Hablo Inglés

Teaching English has become a big part of my day-to-day life. I’m visiting the kindergarten twice a week (an activity I delayed starting, but now is becoming a favorite) to sing songs and dance. We’ve mastered ‘Head, Shoulders, Knees, and Toes’ and ‘Hokey Pokey.’ I tried a Christmas song and ‘Old MacDonald’s,’ but without a dance to go along, they quickly grew bored. I’m planning on splitting up the adults and children of one of the two 90 minute evening classes I teach, and began working with the English teacher at the school on a pen pal exchange with an American school.

I also do a lot of random English stuff like helping high school kids edit applications to summer language programs and translating basic phrases for the tourist information center. I never thought of teaching as something I’d enjoy, but I do. It’s probably easy to love teaching when all of your students want to learn, aren’t assigned homework, and don’t get tested. But still, it’s incredibly rewarding to watch a person go from not understanding something at all to knowing it and being confident in that knowledge. I love it when I run into a student from one of my classes and he or she uses something we’ve studied to greet me.

Gardens & Garbage

My counterpart and I are working on a composting project. Since many homes have large gardens and a large portion of garbage is organic, composting is an obvious way to increase environmental responsibility, reduce waste, and help people help themselves. Beginning with a ‘flagship composter,’ built and maintained by children at the school, our plan is to demonstrate how easy and inexpensive (free) composting is. Later, we hope they will help us share information by teaching their families at home and through weekend workshops. I’m working on translating and condensing a ton of information into a small information brochure, but would love any advice or thoughts on this project. Also, does anyone know where I can order red worms in Bulgaria?

Mom & Dad visit Bulgaria!

Mom and Dad in front of the Municipal building where I work

It was great to finally have my parents in Bulgaria! Although it’s only been a few months (6!!!), I love my life here and really want to share it with them. Their visit was busy and way too short.

I took the early bus from Chiprovtsi to Kravoder to spend a few hours catching up with my Bulgarian host family before we drove to Sofia to meet Mom and Dad. I still can’t believe how lucky I was to have had such a wonderful host family. Living with strangers in new country without a shared language could be a really challenging experience, but they made me feel so comfortable from the beginning. Plus, they were super patient and helpful with language learning. Before departing for the airport, they loaded up their car with grapes, homemade wine, buffalo yogurt, apples, canned goods, extra blankets and pillows, flowers, and, of course, banitsa to transfer to my parent’s rent-a-car at the airport.

Dressed in traditional Bulgarian costume and holding a giant purple plant, I stood in front of the arrivals gate for about an hour while my parents were held up at passport control. It was lovely. I think it was assumed I was there as greeter, like the girls with leis in Hawaii. Most of their visit was spent in Chiprovtsi, with a few day trips to the surrounding areas. I really wanted to show them what my life here is like. I think it was successful: they helped in my advanced English class, ate a lot of banitsa, and were confused about the head nodding.

We na gosti’d with colleagues and friends every night except two (I had to have a chance to demonstrate my Bulgarian cooking skills with palachinki and pumpkin banitsa), participated in traditional dancing at the cultural center, and explored some of the areas nearby. It was great to share things like getting water at Varshets, Rakia, lighting candles in Klisurski, the museums and hiking in Chiprovtsi with them. The weather was amazing, sunny and in the 50s or 60s everyday. The domestic animals and homemade wine were among the biggest hits with my parents. We must have hundreds of pictures of donkeys pulling carts, sheep and goats walking around town, and various home wine systems. My dad is set on making wine at home and I think they both want to start na gosti-ing regularly in Louisiana. These are some of my favorite pictures from their trip.

Chiprovtsi Waterfall

Mom's impromptu post-dinner weaving lesson

Dad dancing the horo

Host mom and Mom at the airport

Belogradchik & Magura Caves

The Belogradchik Fortress, built into the giant rocks sticking out of the ground, dates from the 1st – 3rd century. The Romans built the oldest sections of the fortress directly in to the rocks to be used for surveillance and as part of their defensive blockade in the northern Balkan Mountains. It was expanded during the Second Bulgarian Kingdom, then captured by the Ottomans in 1396. The Ottomans also added to the fortress, which was used in suppressing Bulgarian uprisings. Belogradchik is about an hour by car from Chiprovtsi.

The Magura Caves are also located in Northwest Bulgaria, about 30 minutes from Belogradchik. The halls in the cave were huge, with impressive stalagmite and stalactite formations like those I saw in the Ledenika Caves near Vratsa. Magura also has 2800 year old paintings made from bat guano. Pottery and other evidence of human use from the early Bronze Age have been found in the cave. It remained in use by Thracians during the Bronze Age and Roman rule.

Theater/English

I went to the theater in Montana with my language on Thursday. I love that the movie theater closed because it wasn't profitable, but live theater is so popular. The show we saw was packed. It was my second time attending a play in Bulgaria. “Easy Dying” was much more comprehensible to me than the one I saw in Sliven. Although, the other play was certainly entertaining, the conceptual plotline and intangible set—there was an imaginary garden and the actors who randomly broke into song, discussed Gatsby, quoted Shakespeare, and ribbon danced—were a bit too abstract for my level of language comprehension. This play, however, I understood (at least some parts…thankfully, the characters, two crotchety old men, talked a lot about food).

My tutor and I went to the theater following a special lesson for her 6th grade class. She teaches English at a language school. The school has classes in two shifts-a morning group and an evening group-so this lesson was at 6 pm. I think it would be difficult to go to class in the evenings and create a strange schedule for the teachers, but the students in her class were great. They were super talkative and interested in American life. I was a bit nervous, about leading the lesson—29 kids is a big class and I didn’t know any of them—but, the ‘icebreakers’ I had prepared were unnecessary, they began launching questions faster than I could answer them almost right away.

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.