juliloquy

a story

My Peace Corps training was held over 11 weeks during the summer of 2000. The 65-odd trainees* all lived with host families in a town in western Bulgaria named Dupnitsa.** The Jerman River*** flows through Dupnitsa and I would cross it every morning on my way to our training classes.

Bulgaria, to my knowledge, does not have anti-littering laws, and although it is not a "disposable society" to the extent of the United States, you will find trash strewn about any open space in Bulgaria.**** The Jerman River was always choked with trash, most of it plastic bottles.

We idealist and energetic Peace Corps trainees took note and decided to do a big river cleanup. About 20 of us, along with some host-sisters and -brothers, worked hard throughout one clear Saturday morning. When we finished, the 3-block section of the river was completely void of trash. It was lovely.

As we sat back, weary yet satisfied from our efforts, a friend said "Crap, we forgot to take a 'before' picture."

Without missing a beat, another volunteer quipped "Just wait a week or two. Then we can take the 'before' shot." And verily it came to pass.

This is now the story of the state of my house. Although replace "a week or two" with "an hour or two."

The End.

*Some odder than others, oh-ho-ho.
**Dupnitsa means "little hole" in Bulgarian. Fitting name. But I have no complaints about my training or host family experiences. Oh! I see the letter I wrote back in 2001 is still part of the Welcome Book [unattributed, pages 89-90 of this pdf. But I just noticed that they took out part of the last sentence on page 89. It was supposed to read ""If you’re a teacher, be prepared to wrestle with tough educational issues: how to teach to multilevel classes, what to do about students without textbooks, and whether to teach the 'smell like a monkey' version of the Happy Birthday song."]
***I totally had to look up the river's name. 
****Bulgaria could stand to run the Indian crying commercial.

shameless romance

Eight years plus one day ago, HPCPC* and I started smooching in my silly apartment in Pazardjik. One of the ways the apartment was silly was that it had a kitchen bed. I guess it made sense since the apartment was just a living/bedroom, bathroom, and kitchen. So if you were swooning from cooking or romance, you could just lie down for a spell.

But I digress. And will again. As I walked home from work this past Wednesday, Josh Rouse's Sweetie came on my iPod. The words and the mood of the song are so evocative of that time in our lives. I don't know a better way to embed it, so here is a YouTube version. You can also play it on Josh Rouse's Myspace page (currently #5 in his playlist).

We'll sleep on rooftops
We'll ride on bicycles
Maybe we'll get married
Don't you want to sweetie?

*Handsome Peace Corps Poster Child, remember?

out of da Shmoo

A coupla things.

At Shmooie's school recently the teachers asked kids what they want to be when they grow up. Shmoo thought about it, then got a big smile on his face and said: "I want to make donuts!" I'm so proud. (So you see the obsession has continued. I look forward to the family discount.)

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Last week we were walking back from the park, the kids in the urban minivan. As we crossed the street, someone turned left and blasted right by us, a few mere feet from the stroller. Before I could censor myself* I said "Shit!"

The car didn't hit us and as I regained my composure I wondered whether Shmoo had noticed the new vocab word. He didn't say anything for a long while. Then he chuckled and said "Silly Mommy. You're supposed to say 'shoo' for flies, not cars." I laughed along with him—heh heh heh Shmoo, you're so right. Silly Mommy.Whew.

*We're not big swearers. I admire the artfulness with which others swear, but it's not us. We are in fact the Flanders family, you know, with our usage of words such as piggers and bunsers. I did go through a bit of a cussing phase when I was in Bulgaria, however, because I was nostalgic for American swearing.

the nostalgia keeps coming like burps from Tarator

Just as I'm in nostalgic mode, I get an email about a new leadership foundation for Bulgarian youth (specifically girls and Roma youth). I was involved with Camp GLOW (Girls Leading Our World) after my first year teaching in Bugaria. And some of my former students are pictured in the Roma Camp 2003 Gallery [Elena, white shirt, picture 08; Iliya, pictures 12, 14, 17, and 18], which took place in Pazardjik (the town I lived in from 2000-2002). So if you're feeling charitable, please donate. These camps are well-run and make a big difference in the lives of the participants.

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For stomach-related nostalgia, I made one of my favorite Bulgarian foods earlier this week. The weather's got to warm up soon, right? When it does, you'll be ready with this great chilled soup recipe.

Tarator (Bulgarian cucumber-yogurt-dill soup)
1 cucumber, grated
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 pint (16 oz) plain yogurt
6-8 sprigs of fresh dill, chopped
2-3 Tablespoons olive oil
~1 cup water or several ice cubes
salt and pepper to taste
chopped walnuts

Combine cucumber, garlic, yogurt, dill, and olive oil. Add water and/or ice cubes until soup is desired consistency. Season to taste. Serve chilled, topped with walnuts. This recipe is good to double. It's also pretty hard to mess up, so you can experiment with quantities of the various ingredients to get the combination you like. I ate two bowls and might have had more had there been any. Afterward Shmoo wanted to play "tent" (sitting on the couch with a fleece blanket pulled overhead). With the three of us under the tent, the air got pretty garlicky. So make sure the one you love eats it with you, or suffer the consequences.

PS: Did you catch that I inadvertently used HPR's real name in the previous post? Oops. Not that it really matters . . .

Bulgaria the Beautiful

Petya recently posted a list of 10 things she misses about the U.S. Petya is Bulgarian, but lived in the States several years before her recent return to her homeland. I love her list, and I thought I'd do a similar list of things I miss about Bulgaria. It's hard to believe it will be 5 years this summer since I left.

1. The gypsy wedding music that wafted through my open windows every Saturday and Sunday at least six months out of the year.

2. A culture that encourages drop-in visits. None of this planning 3 weeks in advance crap. You might pop in for a short visit and find yourself staggering away, belly full of good food and drink, eight hours later. Bulgarians always keep provisions at home just in case a guest drops by.

3. Rakiya, which is brandy made from grapes, plums, or apricots. The homemade was the best, especially "Grandpa" Assen's from Chris's village, Smilyan.

4. The pedestrian culture. Actually, I wasn't going to include this detail as something I miss, because the life we've chosen in Philly allows for this, too. But I love that it's the norm in Bulgarian towns to have a pedestrian-only town center featuring abundant cafes with outdoor seating. The population of my town was 80,000, yet I could walk from one end of town to the other in about a half hour.

5. Making my own yogurt. The stuff I made in the spring from sheep's milk was especially delicious. I suppose I could attempt it here, but I doubt I'd have as good results. There's a reason the bacteria is named Lactobacillus bulgaricus.

6. Travel by train. My town was 2 hours from Sofia by train, and I always loved that train ride. Even when my feet went numb from cold on winter trips. Even when the car was stifling and the grandmas wouldn't let me open a window. (If I may generalize, Bulgarians—the elderly in particular—are paranoid of drafts.) Even when soldiers chain-smoked in the hallways. I loved eavesdropping when people talked about me and thought I couldn't understand (my usual tip-off was that they'd refer to me as "that German woman").

7. Martenitsi. Everyone—even the national newscasters—would wear them starting March 1. In my first year in Bulgaria I didn't see a stork until early April, and continued to wear them, even when my students told me I could take them off. My good friends Silvia and Borislav even sent us some from Bulgaria this year.

8. French fries topped with feta cheese, accompanied by a giant beer. It was even fun to order. Say it with me: Purzheni kartofi sus cirene ee edna golyama beera. Best consumed at an outdoor cafe.

9. Summer vacations to Black Sea destinations such as Sozopol, Nesebar, and Varna.
Old city charms of Plovdiv and Veliko Turnovo. Wine and hiking in Melnik. Not to mention proximity to Greece and Turkey.

10. Multigenerational households. OK, it would probably drive me crazy from lack of personal space and privacy, but it makes sense for people to live near family. It's good for kids to spend time with the elderly. It's symbiotic for retired folks to tend the village garden and do the end-of-summer canning while their adult children work for a shared family paycheck and raise the next generation.

I could go on, but ten seems to be a good stopping point. Tell me about what you miss from places you've lived.