"Ohh, there must be some easier way for me to get my wings."

School is quickly wrapping up for the year and it could not come soon enough. I am exhausted and ready for two weeks off. I am looking forward to celebrating Budne Vecher (Christmas Eve) with my colleagues and then going to the beautiful new cathedral in Sofia on Christmas day to celebrate Mass there. I am also excited to go to Germany for a week to celebrate New Years there. But first I have to make it through two more days.

Monday started with a nice chill, we had no coal in the school. People laugh when I show them my thermal underwear, but I wear them precisely for days like this. I knew something was amiss when I walked into the teachers room in the morning and saw my breath. It was later confirmed when a colleague told me that the classes were shortened because it was so cold. So the kids wouldn’t get sick sitting in a cold classroom, they shortened the class periods from 40 minutes to 35. I’m sure we dodged the bullet on that one. I walked into my sixth grade class as they where mutinying. Some girls in the class had apparently been influenced by their 10th grade boyfriends to leave school early, and were trying to take the whole class with them. Applying two lessons I have learned over the last year and a half (ie, students will lie right to your face, even when confronted with overwhelming contrary evidence; and always, always trust your instinct) I stopped them from escaping, even when they told me that they had notes (which turned into, “well, we’ll bring in notes tomorrow” after a little questioning) and telling me they would get sick and it was all my fault.

All week I have been showing my 12th graders “It’s a Wonderful Life” during our class periods. At first my motivation for showing the movie was that I loved it and I wanted to share it with them. I thought maybe they would think it was interesting, but too old, too boring or too American. But much to my surprise they LOVE it. And they get it. We have the final installment tomorrow, but already I can tell that they are totally into it. They laugh at all the right times, they “ahhhh” at all the touching moments, and they are absolutely quiet at the really intense parts. I can’t wait to see their reaction tomorrow at the end of the movie.

What is it about that movie? What makes it so universal? Why can I, a 24 year old living in 2006, feel like a movie from 1946 was written about me? How can a group of 18 year olds in Bulgaria, feel similarly? I think the movie speaks to something deep inside of us all. We all struggle in life to do our best, and I think we all feel like we fail more than we succeed. And no matter how much people may be reluctant to talk about, I think we all worry that our life doesn’t add up to much in the end. I am reading “The Alchemist” right now and it hits a similar chord. It talks about how we are all created to fulfill our destiny, but so many of us are faint of heart and don’t follow through on our mission. I think that is true to some extent: we are all created to live for something greater than us. We are created to make this world a better place. But life beats us around and makes us think that we will never succeed, and all too often we believe it.

When he is young, George tells Mary that: “I'm shakin' the dust of this crummy little town off my feet and I'm gonna see the world. Italy, Greece, the Parthenon, the Colosseum. Then, I'm comin' back here to go to college and see what they know. And then I'm gonna build things. I'm gonna build airfields, I'm gonna build skyscrapers a hundred stories high, I'm gonna build bridges a mile long...”

After a few years of being worn down by life George listens to his fears, this time in the form of Mister Potter: “Look at you. You used to be so cocky. You claimed you were going to go out and conquer the world. You once called me "a warped, frustrated, old man!" Who are you but a warped, frustrated young man, crawling in here on your hands and knees begging for help. No securities, no stocks, no bonds. Nothin' but a miserable little $500 equity in a life insurance policy. You're worth more dead than alive.”

I wish this wasn’t how life worked. I wish that we could all fulfill our destinies with ease. I wish we could go out into the world and do what really made us happy without this constant doubting. I wish when we tried and failed, that we would know that flying and crashing is better than not taking off at all. But life isn’t like that. In each day, life will test us to our limits and take away the things we want the most.

Friday is the darkest day of the year. My hope for you this Christmas season is that the light and hope that that famous birth brought will awaken in you the strength to fight back just a little longer. I hope it will light your path to your true destiny and true passion. I hope that you will remember that you are a special person and that if you had the opportunity George Bailey had, you too would run through town laughing and shouting at the top of your lungs.

the one with all the thanksgivings

Today is Thanksgiving. It is my second Thanksgiving away from my family and country. In some ways, these times have a twinge of melancholy. What is Thanksgiving without gathering around the dinner table with your friends and family and gorging yourself on turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, and cranberry sauce? Here in Bulgaria, we have work today. There is no Macy’s parade. I have no family here. There is no chance of turkey or cranberry. And my mom won’t buy a whole carton of eggnog for only me. As I look out my window, I can see only a gray downpour. I am still stinging from a horrible day at school yesterday, in which I made two girls cry. I am dreading going to school tomorrow and facing that class again. Tonight, I am teaching at the prison.

But I have plenty to be thankful for. And continuing my infatuation with lists, I proudly present the

Top 10 Things Andy is Thankful for This Year: {Drum roll optional}
1. Despite the gray outside right now, this is a wonderful world. Look around. If we look hard enough, we see we are surrounded by love. We are the children of God and as such have inherited a perfectly formed world. Of course it is broken in some serious ways, but underneath all that crap, it is beautiful and runs on love. I am thankful for this.
2. I am heading to Razlog tomorrow to have a proper Thanksgiving with a bunch of other volunteers. While I love my friends here, there is something to be said for gathering with Americans on Thanksgiving. You remember all the great things about home and tend to forget the bad. You share memories and you laugh.
3. I have friends here. Tomorrow I head to Razlog for an American Thanksgiving, but tonite my colleagues and I will gather in my little apartment for a Bulgarian Thanksgiving. In the true tradition of Thanksgiving, tonight’s meal with be a joining of two cultures and their food. There will be pumpkin banitsa, calf meat, tsarska salata, mashed potatoes, onion soup, bread and mashed pumpkin. And of course there will be rakia, which will be washed down with Coca-cola, and bezalkohol. Besides the food - which of course is a big deal - I am happy to have the friendship. I am so lucky that I have such close friends in two countries, across very different cultures. We have helped each other get through some hard times and my life would be so much less without them.
4. I am thankful for the family and friends I have back home. You are my compass as I explore my life here. A day doesn’t go by when I don’t take out that compass and use it to find my way; sometimes out of desperation and sometimes just to double-check that I am on the right path. Thank you for that. I love you all and miss you, and someday I will be with you again.
5. I am healthy. I can walk to school every morning,I can breathe easily, I can manage on my own, I can do anything I want. Though I am putting on some weight around the middle, I can still challenge anyone I meet to a 400 meter dash.
6. Speaking of gaining weight, I have food. I can eat when I want, and I have never known what Hunger really means.
7. I can bounce back from problems. There are so many people in this world who can not get over things. I have only pity and love for them. I hope someday they learn that when things really hurt, there are ways to overcome it. You can talk to trusted friends, you can pray, you can see a therapist, you can try a new route, or you can simply laugh. Sometimes when things hurt the most we must just step back and laugh. To use a quote from one of my favorite books (and least favorite movies) “One Flew over the Cuckoo’s Nest”: "While McMurphy laughs. Rocking farther and farther backward against the cabin top, spreading his laugh out across the water- laughing at the girl, at the guys, at George, at me sucking my bleeding thumb, at the captain back at the pier... and the Big Nurse and all of it. Because he knows you have to laugh at the things that hurt you just to keep yourself in balance, just to keep the world from running you plumb crazy. He knows there's a painful side; he knows my thumb smarts and his girlfriend has a bruised breast and the doctor is losing his glasses, but he won't let the pain blot out the humor no more'n he'll let the humor blot out the pain." I am thankful that I will even get over the disaster that was yesterday.
8. I am thankful for my new relationship with God. Though some days are hard and I feel like throwing the whole thing away, He is patient with me and blesses me everyday with all these things. I am also thankful for His Catholic Church here on Earth that has made me feel as welcome here as back in my hometown. I am thankful for all the priests I have met who have helped me, especially Father Nolan in Monaghan, Ireland and Father Marcel in Franconia, New Hampshire. My new relationship is very personal, but I couldn’t make a list without including the Big Man and all his helpers.
9. I am thankful for the Internet. Strange I know, but I am thankful for this giant amazing thing that is so full of possibilities. Like any human invention, it is full of both good and bad, but it is still beautiful. I use it daily to keep in touch with those I love, for help with classes, to become a better teacher, and to simply expand my knowledge.
10. I am thankful for my school’s new multimedia room. I am so thankful for all the people with whom I worked to bring this wonderful new educational tool to Bobov dol. It is a big change from last year when I only had chalk and my imagination as classroom materials. Today I taught 3 classes in it, and all classes complained when they had to leave. On one class I had to turn off the lights to get them to leave. That kind of excitement is what makes teaching worth it.

So whoever you are, where ever you are, I wish you a Happy Thanksgiving filled with love, peace, happiness, and lots of things to be thankful for.

“i've got to, that's the whole thing.” -will kane

One of my favorite movies of all time is High Noon. I don’t know if you’ve seen it or not, but you should. Even if you don’t like Westerns it is such an important movie to see. Of course there is the underlying anti-democracy in the movie that got the writer black-balled during the 1950s but besides that it is a great example of a person standing up and doing what needs to be done. The main character, Marshall Will Kane, is getting married when the movie opens. He has just retired from being the local sheriff and plans to move far away. As the ceremony ends, he gets news that a dreaded cowboy gang that he previously kicked out of town is coming back to take over the town when he leaves. As much as he tries to rally the town to fight them, everyone has an excuse why he can’t fight. So at the end of the movie, he goes out to face the gang alone, with only his trusty six shooter to help him.

I love this movie because Will Kane “does what a man has to do.” Even though he will probably end up getting killed for it, he does what is the right thing. Alone. And I think that is what draws many people to the movie. I think all too often we believe we are in this alone. It is me versus the marauding gang; me versus the competition; me versus the world. We need movies like High Noon to motivate us and wanna go out there and kick some ass. Alone.

Why? Because it is so unnatural. We are not meant to go out into this world and “do it alone.” Of course, there are times when we need to stand up and do what is right, even if the popular consensus is against us. That is a given. But we must also not shut ourselves off in our drive, quest to do what is right. We are human beings, Homo sapiens. We are naked, clawless, fangless, weak animals. If we had been a non-communal species out on the savannah, we would have been a tiny blip in the history of the world. The first proto-lion would have torn us apart and the world would now be ruled by cockroaches. In addition to our brains, our ability to organize and band together allowed us to move from a second rate hunter on the savannah to the biggest kid on the block, er, world.

I am all too often guilty of this. I never ask for help because I don’t want to trouble anyone. I don’t want to be seen as weak. I ant all the glory for myself. The list goes on… But days like today make me remember we can’t live like this. I had a crappy day at school. I had to give two periods of oral exams to my sixth graders and had to listen to such nonsense as this: “What time is it? (pointing to the clock)” “My cat!” I had to break up a fight as I walked into my seventh grade class between seventh grade girls and tenth grade boys. Then I had to teach the tenth grade and ended up spending most of the class taking away cell-phones that kept going off. By the end, I had seven. At the end of the day I was actually hoping that one of my seventh graders who was climbing over a fence outside the school would fall on his head.

All I wanted to do was to go home and feel bad about my classes and the fact that my water boiler died last night. But a colleague invited me to lunch. I have a hard time refusing food so I went. And I think that lunch saved my sanity. Just talking with her made me feel better. We talked about what it meant to be a teacher, and especially what it meant to be a teacher in Bobov dol. Part of the reason I was feeling down was because I too often think that I am failing. But I was reminded today that the problem is bigger than me. This colleague teaches math and told me that in the twelfth grade class, she has students who can’t multiply 7 and 5. I know this student and can vouch that he seems like a pretty intelligent, with it guy. I felt better because I learned that I was not in this by myself. Here I am surrounded by a group of colleagues who, day in and day out, slog through the same problems I do. Colleagues who, for the most part, try their hardest to make a difference. And I was reminded that the rewards for this work aren’t measured in days. You don’t know what you accomplish at the end of the day. You don’t know at the end of the year. You don’t know even when the child graduates. Our success is measured in lifetimes. And even if we don’t see our rewards in this lifetime, I have faith and hope that someday, somewhere, I will reap these rewards.

Know what makes me love High Noon even more? Will Kane didn’t do it himself. As much as it is advertised as “one man against the world” in the end his wife stands by his side. No one, not even Will Kane, can do this all by themselves. I’m trying to remember this everyday…

goodbye, sweet innocence of childhood

I grew up in New Hampshire believing three things were eternal:
1. The Red Sox will never win the World Series.
2. The Old Man of the Mountain will always be around.
3. New Hampshire is a Republican state.

Well, over the last few years the first two myths were shattered. The first one for the good, the second for bad. But somehow I still believed in the third. I believed in it so strongly that I almost didn't vote. I believed the US House race was definitely going to the Republican candidate and there was no way the Democrats would win either the NH senate or the NH house. But with a pathetic optimism I picked up in my 24 years of cheering on the Red Sox, I filled in the bubbles on my ballot and mailed it in, hoping beyond hope that "this was the year!"

Well wasn't I surprised when I read this article this afternoon:
Democratic Sweep Puts Lynch In Driver's Seat
Legislature Shifts To Democratic Control
CONCORD, N.H. -- The political landscape in New Hampshire shifted dramatically on Election Day, and observers said Gov. John Lynch may now have clear sailing to pass his entire agenda.
For the first time in history, New Hampshire Democrats will be in charge of the governor's office, Executive Council, state House and Senate. Democrats last held the governor's office, House and Senate in 1874.
Lynch was re-elected with a record 74 percent of the vote.

So let me just repeat this for those who don't quite understand.
November 6th
Democrats: Governor
Republicans: US Representatives; US Senators; NH House of Representatives; NH Senate; Executive Council
November 9th
Democrats: Governor; US Representatives; NH House of Representatives; NH Senate; Executive Council
Republicans: US Senators (they weren't up for election this cycle)

The Curse is Dead!

PS. (Special for my fellow New Hampshirites) Good luck Sylvia Larsen! I hope you get the President of the Senate position!

he's a canning beast

Two Saturdays ago, I canned hot peppers with one of my colleagues. First we cooked the peppers on the stove. Literally!



Then we added salt, vinegar, sugar, parsley, garlic and crammed them into the jars. We were a little disappointed to learn that 3 kilograms of peppers only makes about 6 jars...



After putting the ingredients into the jars, we boiled them.



After boiling, we put the jars upside down to cool. Yes that is me with the Satan eye.



And then we ate. The results? Sinus-clearing delicious! That's right, I got my canned peppers and peaches, my dried parsley, thyme and mint, bring it on, Winter!

monday, blah, blah, blah... VOTE!

I hate Mondays. What happened this Monday? I flipped out in my 7th grade class and had them spend the last 15 minutes of the class copying new vocabulary over and over again. In this class there are 23 students, all in the throes of puberty and unable to maintain a thought process for longer than 30 seconds. I warned them but they just wouldn't listen. Not that I think "duvet" and "face flannel" are especially important words to know in English but it's the principle... Tenth grade class wouldn't listen because they were too busy trying to keep from shivering. I was a little easier on them... 12th grade was good. We learned how to use monolingual dictionaries. We also learned how different words are related. My personal favorite was making the sentence, "the captors captured the captive."... My 11th graders began the class by running around the classroom hitting each other. They are all girls.

I feel very bitter today. Anyone who wants to cheer me up, give it a try. I really need to shake this day off.

In other news, VOTE! Even if you don't agree with my politics, go out and vote. I have a new appreciation for democracy and urge everyone to exercise their freedom. My 10th grade students skipped school on Friday and one student's reason: It's a free country now, I can do what I want. Democracy isn't easy. Democracy, like faith, is something you must work for. It may be a pain to fit voting into your busy schedule, but it is important. If you don't vote, you are saying that you don't care about democracy, you don't care about the sacrifices generations have made before you and you are too weak to decide your future. Go out and just do it!

that's president andy to you...

My brother told me something very interesting right before the 2000 election. In what was to turn out to be one of his most accurate statements ever, he said, "Andy, George Bush is just running for president to gain favors. He wants to be president just so he can make his friends rich, then when he finishes, all those people will owe him." Over the last 6 years, we have seen that repeatedly come true: the Administrations Energy Policy, the war in Iraq and Haliburton, the election of Katherine Harris, the fact that most of his cabinet members are millionaires. Now we learn that the No Child Left Behind Act- an Act that is hurting our most important resource of all- is also helping to launch the business of his brother! Nathan, I promise when I become president, I will make a cabinet position for you called "Department of Watching-Out-For-Selfish-@ssh*les." Maybe you can come up with a better name.

what the heck happened?

I’m no political scientist but I have a few ideas about the recent Bulgarian presidential election. The election was last Sunday and due to the low voter turnout, there will be a run-off election this coming Sunday. The two candidates in the run-off will be Georgi Parvanov (the incumbent and winner of the first election) and Volen Siderov (leader of the ultra-nationalist Ataka party). The fact that Parnanov won the election is unsurprising; the second place finish of an ultra-nationalist, however, is a bit alarming. I believe that the second place finish of this candidate speaks more about the current situation of Bulgaria than an overwhelming racist and xenophobic society. I think that people voted for Ataka for some of the following reasons:

1. Fed-up. I think that many Bulgarians are simply fed-up with the status quo. I believe that many Bulgarians are tired of having to work so hard to make ends meet. They are tired of seeing everyone’s wealth growing while theirs shrinks and shrinks. They see people around them, people they always assume to be mafia, getting rich, while they have barely enough money to keep warm in the winter. Remember, Bulgaria currently has an unemployment rate of 12% and 13% of the people are people are below the poverty line. In parliament, they claim that their politicians are arguing about what to do with the old king’s land and not much else. Ataka wants a drastic change in the government and the way the system works.
Ataka’s preoccupation with Bulgarian Roma is another example of being fed-up. They are making Roma into scapegoats for why things are wrong. They think that Roma are getting all the money from the government and international organizations that should rightfully go to “honest, hard-working Bulgarians” (I find this argument kind of hard to swallow, especially since Roma make up less than 5% of the population). This is very similar to the way racism works in the good ol’ US of A, and I assume most other places. People see others getting “handouts” and want a piece of the action.

2. Pride. Bulgarians are proud people. They are quick to tell a visitor about the beautiful Bulgarian Black Sea coast, mountains and women. They also readily tell anyone willing to listen that once upon a time, Bulgaria, Rome and Byzantium were the only empires in Europe. They also remind you that Bulgaria is one of a handful of countries to have sent a man into space and that the father of the founder of IBM was a Bulgarian. They are embarrassed of the current state of the country and the fact that people don’t pay attention to this small country. Ataka plays upon this pride, and reminds people that they should be proud of their country.

3. The good ol’ days. Many Bulgarians yearn for what they consider the good ol’ days. They remember the communist era when allegedly everyone had what they needed, everyone was employed and there was no risk of losing a job. Life was so much easier, they say. They also remember a mythical time when people worked the land, harvested all day and danced the horo all night long. I think in someway they want those times back, whether they really existed or not. I hate when analogies with Nazi Germany are tossed around, so I will use the more general fascist analogy. Fascists groups thrive on these kind of memories. They love to conjure the images of a pure, idyllic, innocent time full of pure, idyllic and innocent people (all belonging to one ethnicity, of course) and they use these images to hook people. Ataka not only plays on the hate of Roma, but also Turks. They regularly remind everyone that the Turks oppressed the Bulgarians for 500 years. Ataka is employing no different strategy than what has been successful for all the other fascist groups throughout the second half of the 20th century.

4. Anti-BSP. While some people are in love with the idea of the great communist era, they still can’t bring themselves to vote for the current socialist party, BSP. This is the party of the current president and leading party of the parliament. I know a couple people who refuse to vote in this election because they don’t want Ataka to lead the country but they can’t stand the thought of voting for “those communists.” For some people it is less conflicted, they hate the communists and will vote for Ataka to show them that hate. It is not surprising that Ataka started to rise at the same time that BSP did.

5. Anti-globalization. Some people are simply afraid of the upcoming EU accession and the current NATO membership. People are afraid of losing their national rights so soon after gaining them. Some of Ataka’s big issues are anti-privatization and keeping Bulgaria’s nuclear reactor open. They dislike EU’s calls to privatize such things as coal mines (a big deal in Bobov dol) and to shut down the reactor. They want to retain a certain amount of national independence and after so many years of oppression one can hardly blame them. People are also afraid of the unknown. They see some of the birthing pains that other ascending countries have undergone and don’t want the same thing to happen to them. NATO-wise, they are also afraid of being dragged into a war they shouldn’t be fighting. You don’t have to look any farther than Iraq to see that maybe they have a point.

I am by no means an Ataka sympathizer. I am pretty secure in my left-wing politics. I simply want to show that maybe Ataka isn’t gaining in popularity because all Bulgarians hate Roma and Turks. Remember, over 60% of voters voted for the BSP candidate, about triple the amount for Ataka. But there is a significant number of Bulgarians who have legitimate complaints about the current status-quo and fears about the future. I suspect that while Parvanov will win the next election on Sunday, the gap between Parnanov and Siderov will be a lot closer. I’d like to hear what other volunteers think, please post a comment.

what happens when people mess with andy's food

I had to eat chicken livers again tonight. Of course I love the family I went to visit and so I said nothing about it, but there is no disappointment quite like when you are expecting a nice, tasty, home-cooked meal and the mother brings out chicken livers. It’s kinda like finding out there is no Santa Claus, no Easter Bunny, and that the Tooth Fairy isn’t some philanthropic fairy do-gooder but just your parents getting rid of spare change. Maybe I exaggerate, but chicken livers… {shiver}.

On the other hand, I had one of those This-Is-Why-I-Teach moments today. In my fourth grade class we were talking about pets and what they like and what they don’t like. (Aside: Who, I ask WHO?!, decides that “tarantula” is an appropriate word to teach 4th graders? I can barely pronounce it. I thought their little heads were gonna explode.) In the textbook, one of the characters had a parrot. It so happened that a kid in the class who NEVER talks also happened to have a parrot as a pet. And so I asked him questions about the parrot and he just opened up. He even went on to volunteer to answer other questions. I felt great because I saw an opportunity and took it and maybe, just maybe, that kid will think English is cool. That’s my thought at least. At any rate, it felt a lot better than trying to swallow chicken livers without chewing…

* Thanks to Jessica for the picture from our adventures this summer in Veliko Turnovo

"my big fat bulgarian wedding"

I went to a wedding at the end of August in Blagoevgrad. The groom was an ex-neighbor of a colleague of mine. You can see her in the last picture as we were coming back on Sunday morning after a lot of partying and not a lot of sleeping. Two weeks after this wedding I went to my brother's wedding. I got to thinking and thought of a top 10 list of differences between this Bulgarian wedding and Nathan's... And being competive, I thought I would keep points...
Who throws a better wedding, Bulgaria or America?
10. America: Bride wears white.
Bulgaria: Bride wears gray.
America:1
9. America: Gifts are put on a table by the entrance.
Bulgaria: Groom, bride, best man and maid of honor come to each table looking for money.
America: 1
8. America: Wedding in church, then party.
Bulgaria: Wedding in city hall, then the church, then the party.
Bulgaria: 1
7. America: No crowns...
Bulgaria: Crowns!
Bulgaria: 1
6. America: No horo
Bulgaria: Horo.
Bulgaria: 1
5. America: Bride didn't smoke.
Bulgaria: Bride smoked like a chimney.
America: 1
4. America: No one threw anything.
Bulgaria: Bouqet AND garter throwing!
Bulgaria:2
3. America: Everyone gets pimped out.
Bulgaria: Bride gets pimped out.
America: 1
2. America: Groom carried bride into party tent so she wouldn't have to step in any puddles.
Bulgaria: No carrying...except the big bag of extorted money.
America: 2
1. America: Best best man speech in the world!
Bulgaria: Some random dude gave a speech... and it was all in Bulgarian!
America: 10!

Final Score:
America: 16
Bulgaria: 5

Sorry, Bulgaria. I still had a good time. Enjoy the pictures!

what does a rpcv and the pope have in common?

I had the opportunity to meet with a former Peace Corps Volunteer (RPCV) here in Bulgaria a couple of days ago. There were several current volunteers and this RPCV. We got dinner and I really enjoyed this person's company. S/he was intelligent, thoughtful and everything that I expected in a RPCV. S/he now lives in America and has a good DC job with a think tank. S/he was a volunteer near Bobov dol and everyone I've met who has known s/he has had only wonderful things to say about her/him.

One thing s/he said, however, has been nagging at the back of my mind since s/he said it. We were talking about our SPA projects and s/he laughed and said how strange it was to hear current vounteers stuck "in the Peace Corps bubble." S/he went on to say that once you leave Peace Corps and go back to America you realize how your time here was simply time in a little bubble and it was all for naught. S/he seemed to be saying that you shouldn't worry about whether you are being a good volunteer because it won't really matter once you leave country.

What a sad, cynical thing to say. I have had a hard time lately dealing with people's cynicism lately. I am currently reading a book by Pope John Paul II called "Crossing the Threshold of Hope" (a great book by the way...) and he touched on the same idea. He says in a chapter on youth that something in us has changed. Previous generations had an idealism. They dreamed of better things. They experienced a world that was full of strife and pain. They had to fight for a better world. We are the first generation who have not had to fight for what we have. We have all had a pretty good life, comparatively. All of us Western young people were born into a world free from wars. Our great grandparents had WWI. Our grandparents had WWII. Our parents had Vietnam. But us, we've had what? Desert Storm? Iraqi Freedom. Yea, they're "wars" but how much do they really touch our lives, how much do they make us struggle?

Pope John Paul II says that as youth, we still have that fundamental idealism, "even if nowadays it tends to be expressed mostly in the form of criticism, whereas before it would have been translated into duty." I think the Pope hit the nail right on the head (no pun intended...). Here we are, a generation, like all young people, who are born for glory, born to go out and make the world better, born to do our duty as world changers and we encounter a world that's "not so bad." So what do we do? We sit around and criticize and become cynical. We think there is nothing to drive us, no battles to fight and so we tear apart, piece by piece, what exists. We forget that what we have has been paid for us, by the blood, sweat and tears of countless generations before us.

I think this RPCV is a victim of this generational tendency. It is so common for us to sit around and be cynical that we don't see the value in duty. We feel that the easy life has always been around and that we don't owe anyone anything. We don't feel the attraction of living a life of duty. What is wrong with being in a Peace Corps bubble for two years? What is wrong with spending two years exhausting yourself in the idealistic pursuit of "Changing this World?" What is wrong with fighting for progress, a better world? I don't want to pick on this RPCV; s/he did a great job while s/he was here. S/he just happened to make a comment that crystallized all these feelings I've had lately. The problem is more widespread than her/him.

We all need to stand up and see what is going on here. Our innate desire for glory, duty, our fundamental idealism has sat on the shelf too long and turned into a gooey, smelly, raunchy Cynicism. We are afraid to launch into a quest, a life lived for something bigger than us. I say let us relish this bubble! Let us enjoy this amazing chance we have to live in a bubble and work our asses off for something that is hard, at times depressing and for something we may never see the results of. Let us go into that fight and come back bloodied, sweaty and crying. For we can never know how wonderful we can make this world and ourselves until we push ourselves past our breaking point. Thank you RPCV for reminding me of what is inside me and all of us, just waiting to come out and kick some ass...

a new year in san quentin

I started a new school year today in the prison here in balmy Bobov dol. I thought I would continue teaching the prisoners I had from last year. I went in all prepared for a lesson with them, I had my Jeopardy! game ready with a “what-did-Andy-do-this-summer” theme. It was awesome. But when I got to the prison, I learned that the administration decided I should get a whole new class. With 19 students. Who know no English. Needless to say, I didn’t use the Jeopardy! game.
It’s like when the new Saved by the Bell cast came on TV. I think it was “Saved by the Bell: The New Class” or something like that, and it was ok, but it was not as good as the original. The weirdest thing was that they tried to do some weird clone-like characters from the original cast. You had the quasi-Zach, and the quasi-Slatter, and the quasi-Kelly but they weren’t the same. They weren’t quite able to touch us in the same way as the original. Walking into that class today was like that. It seemed like a class of weird clones from last year, only these guys were twice the size and had more tattoos. There is the long haired, Italian looking guy who has the I-Don’t-Care exterior hiding the I-Really-Do interior. Then there is the old guy, seemingly content with the world, smiling like a big old medicated sun, in the back. The overachiever in the front, who always answers first. And the big guy in the middle who translates my Bulgarian from Bulgarian to Bulgarian to the rest of the class. But something is missing.
It’s strange to say I really miss those guys from last year. I’m excited by this new opportunity to teach a whole new set of guys, but still I miss the sense of camaraderie that we had last year. Part of me knows that this will return, I will make these guys friends too, but I still miss those wild and crazy guys.

reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated

I’m alive. I’m still in Bulgaria. I’m not dead. I’m sorry that I have been so delinquent on keeping up with my posts but I’ve been busy. And right now I’m sick. Well, right now I’m recovering but I was sick enough to miss school yesterday and today. It’s been hard for me to do this. Even harder to do no work.

So what’s new with me? Well, my brother got married on September 9th, to a wonderful girl named Meghan. I went home for two weeks as I was the Best Man and of course I couldn’t miss my brother’s wedding. The wedding was a great time, it was in the beautiful little Northern towns of Landaff and Franconia, New Hampshire.

School has also began again. This year I’m teaching 6th, 7th, 10th, 11th and 12th grades. I’m excited for this year because my classes this year are more motivated and have a better grasp on English than some of my classes last year. I will also begin teaching at the prison again on Thursday. The other day I had a hard day at school and actually found myself wishing that I had a class that night at the prison. Even though it is extra work, my classes there tend to relax me and make me feel as if I am making a difference.

I wrote a short essay last night at the request of my program manager that I thought I would share here. It sort of sums up my first year and a half here. Hope you enjoy:
I am sitting here in my apartment, which is unusual for a Monday afternoon, but I am sick. It seems like whenever the seasons change, I get some kind of cough or throat problem. But I think this is good because it gives me a chance to reflect on my year and a half as a TEFL volunteer in Bulgaria. Unfortunately, no simple one word descriptions come to mind; my time here has been full of great highs and lows. But somehow, despite the cold winters, the hard times teaching and learning to make do with little, I remember the good things more clearly.

I remember the look on my 11th grade students last year when they finally understood the Future Perfect Progressive tense. I remember my 12th graders putting all of their end-of-the-year effort into making posters describing the “8 Steps to Success,” which this year will be hung up in our new multimedia room. I remember prisoners, to whom I teach English, being able to hold conversations, in English, with visitors. And I remember the many holidays, birthdays and outings with friends I have made here. But the happiest memory I have came just last night.

My 8th grade class last year was a real struggle for me. There were numerous problems with discipline, motivation and respect. Added to this, for the first semester I was in the classroom by myself. In particular, one boy really got on my nerves. He yelled in class, never did his homework and the only words he knew in English were swears. I tried to work hard with him, like all the students. By the end of the year, much to my shock, he was doing homework, sitting in the front of class, and actually chastising other students for their poor behavior. This year he has moved to a technical school and he told me that his class is divided into a slower class and more advanced for English. He told me with a smile that he was in the advanced class.

I joined the Peace Corps in part because of the commercials that used to say: “Peace Corps: The toughest job you’ll ever love.” Those commercials have fallen out of usage as of late, but I think they are part of the most powerful and honest advertising campaign I have ever seen. Is the Peace Corps hard? Oh man, is it. Will it challenge you and sometimes beat you down? Of course. But will you always remember these times and will it make a difference in your life and others? Yes. And will your time in country mean something?  Without a doubt.

the continuing adventures of guy smiley

(I tried attaching pictures to this but something is wrong, so that is why there is no pictures, and it's a week late...)

Today was the last day of school for 12th grade. And it didn't come a day too soon. Yesterday, I wanted to do something a little special for them, because while I think they are very lazy, they are good kids and I like them. So I baked a batch of peanut-butter cookies from my secret stash of American-via-Jordan peanut butter, bought some soda and cups and brought some music for a little last-English-class party. Out of 28 students, 4 came. Four! While they thought my music was too strange, at least they liked the cookies .

I was here last year for the seniors last day and so I knew what to expect. Lots of balloons, tears, the senior class officers handing off the school flag to the juniors. I even got smart and hung out in the back of the crowd so when the principal threw the bucket of water down the stairs, I wouldn't be soaked, like last year. One thing I did not expect, however, was to win a Maojor Award.

This year the seniors decided to vote on various categories for teachers. There were categories such as "Strictest Teacher," "Best Dressed Teacher," "Best Teacher," "Shyest Teacher," etc., etc. As the celebration was going on, three representatives from the 12th grade called out the winners. I really wanted "Lowest-grades Teacher," but alas my language tutor got that one. Then they named the three nominees for "Sexiest Male Teacher." I was named second. I could feel everyone's eyes on me. I was sweating. Could it be possible? Could little ol me, really be the sexiest teacher at "SOU Hristo Botev, Bobov Dol"? I held my breath. "And the winner of this category..."-I mentally organized my acceptance speech- "Mr. Pepojiski!" Everyone appaulded. Except me. Mr. Pepojiski?! The gym teacher?! The one with the gut and the receeding hairline?It's rigged!

In the end, I won the "Most Smily Teacher" award. I guess it's an honor to get any award, and this one came with a certificate suitable for framing, but still seriously: "The Most Smily Teacher?!" I feel like I should be a motivational speaker and not an English teacher. Oh, well. Next week we have the senior ball in Sandanski, I still have time to plot my revenge. Call me Mr. Smiley, we'll see about that...

don't forget who we are...

I was doing some searching on the internet today, (after the quizzes) and found this speech, given first by Robert F. Kennedy in 1966 in South Africa and again repeated at his funeral by his brother Edward. I think this short speech, more than so many others, shows not only what is wrong with politics today but what we should be working for. What ever happened to this idealism in America? What ever happened to the idea that we, normal citizens of the world, can change bad, evil things, not through exclusion and demonizing but by love and cooperation? I know I try desperately everyday to cling to these ideas, and it is hard. But I hope, that though simple acts everyday, all around the world we can not only recover this vision but make it a reality. Please take a few moments to read these words, read them aloud, and feel the power of the words and the hope that RFK was feeling. Remember as he said: “Some men see things as they are and say why. I dream things that never were and say why not”

"There is discrimination in this world and slavery and slaughter and starvation. Governments repress their people; millions are trapped in poverty while the nation grows rich and wealth is lavished on armaments everywhere. These are differing evils, but they are the common works of man. They reflect the imperfection of human justice, the inadequacy of human compassion, our lack of sensibility towards the suffering of our fellows. But we can perhaps remember -- even if only for a time -- that those who live with us are our brothers; that they share with us the same short moment of life; that they seek -- as we do -- nothing but the chance to live out their lives in purpose and happiness, winning what satisfaction and fulfillment they can.

Surely, this bond of common faith, this bond of common goal, can begin to teach us something. Surely, we can learn, at least, to look at those around us as fellow men. And surely we can begin to work a little harder to bind up the wounds among us and to become in our own hearts brothers and countrymen once again. The answer is to rely on youth -- not a time of life but a state of mind, a temper of the will, a quality of imagination, a predominance of courage over timidity, of the appetite for adventure over the love of ease. The cruelties and obstacles of this swiftly changing planet will not yield to the obsolete dogmas and outworn slogans. They cannot be moved by those who cling to a present that is already dying, who prefer the illusion of security to the excitement and danger that come with even the most peaceful progress.

It is a revolutionary world we live in, and this generation at home and around the world has had thrust upon it a greater burden of responsibility than any generation that has ever lived. Some believe there is nothing one man or one woman can do against the enormous array of the world's ills. Yet many of the world's great movements, of thought and action, have flowed from the work of a single man. A young monk began the Protestant reformation; a young general extended an empire from Macedonia to the borders of the earth; a young woman reclaimed the territory of France; and it was a young Italian explorer who discovered the New World, and the 32 year-old Thomas Jefferson who [pro]claimed that "all men are created equal."

These men moved the world, and so can we all. Few will have the greatness to bend history itself, but each of us can work to change a small portion of events, and in the total of all those acts will be written the history of this generation. It is from numberless diverse acts of courage and belief that human history is shaped. Each time a man stands up for an ideal, or acts to improve the lot of others, or strikes out against injustice, he sends forth a tiny ripple of hope, and crossing each other from a million different centers of energy and daring, those ripples build a current that can sweep down the mightiest walls of oppression and resistance.

Few are willing to brave the disapproval of their fellows, the censure of their colleagues, the wrath of their society. Moral courage is a rarer commodity than bravery in battle or great intelligence. Yet it is the one essential, vital quality for those who seek to change a world that yields most painfully to change. And I believe that in this generation those with the courage to enter the moral conflict will find themselves with companions in every corner of the globe.

For the fortunate among us, there is the temptation to follow the easy and familiar paths of personal ambition and financial success so grandly spread before those who enjoy the privilege of education. But that is not the road history has marked out for us. Like it or not, we live in times of danger and uncertainty. But they are also more open to the creative energy of men than any other time in history. All of us will ultimately be judged, and as the years pass we will surely judge ourselves on the effort we have contributed to building a new world society and the extent to which our ideals and goals have shaped that event.

The future does not belong to those who are content with today, apathetic toward common problems and their fellow man alike, timid and fearful in the face of new ideas and bold projects. Rather it will belong to those who can blend vision, reason and courage in a personal commitment to the ideals and great enterprises of American Society. Our future may lie beyond our vision, but it is not completely beyond our control. It is the shaping impulse of America that neither fate nor nature nor the irresistible tides of history, but the work of our own hands, matched to reason and principle, that will determine our destiny. There is pride in that, even arrogance, but there is also experience and truth. In any event, it is the only way we can live."

Check out other important American speeches at American Rhetoric .

well, i got some bad news and i got some good news

While I might not be truly American, at least I would pass the citzenship test with a 100%...
Happy May Day!

You Are 53% American

Most times you are proud to be an American. Though sometimes the good ole US of A makes you cringe Still, you know there's no place better suited to be your home. You love your freedom and no one's going to take it away from you!

How American Are You?

You Passed the US Citizenship Test

Congratulations - you got 10 out of 10 correct!

Could You Pass the US Citizenship Test?

rivers, bets and a crazy little thing called love

I spent this last mini-break in my former Host Site of Krichim. I had a great time. I celebrated Orthodox Easter, saw some friends and ate a lot of eggs. I also learned some valuable lessons. In no particular order, the following are …
Five Lessons Learned:

1. “No man ever steps in the same river twice, for it's not the same river and he's not the same man.”  Okay, I’ll admit, I didn’t come up with this one. But this weekend, as I visited my host family for probably the fourth time, I realized that each time I come back I expect things to be exactly the same as when I left last July. They’re not. Of course they’re not. Children are a little bit taller, people are a little bit older, friends are a little less familiar, and the town is a little bit different. I am different. But still, I am a little disappointed when I find out how much things have changed. Like my home back in the states, I want everything to be preserved in a state of deep freeze until I make my (triumphant) return. I want things to cease to function without me. I want a place where everything is simple, understood and predictable. But alas, this doesn’t happen.


2. Krichim is still the most beautiful town in Bulgaria. I might be a little biased, but I am amazed every time I come back to Krichim and see the beautiful farms, nature, houses, church, mosque and mountains. We went on a hike yesterday to the top of the mountain above the city and as usual I looked down at the town and thought, “this is it.” I watched some men water their cherry orchard, a young family picking lilacs, and some kids having a picnic and I thought that I was in some kind of heaven that the modern world had missed. Even when it rains it is perfect. My friend Tsvetana and I got caught in an afternoon thunderstorm and took refuge in a kindergarten playground. We watched the rain pour down around us and afterwards we watched the sun break through, letting us know that he was sorry for disturbing our walk and we were free to continue.


3. My home, however, is Bobov Dol. While I think that Krichim is beautiful, and I have a family there, Bobov Dol has become my home. Krichim has become a place to visit. And while this is sad, it is part of the change I talked about. I am happy with my life in Bobov Dol and being a part of the community here. Here I have friends, people who I consider like family, a job, projects, I know shop-owners, and people honk at me. I am happy here and happy when I return after a trip away.


4. My stubbornness wins out over my pride. I learned this this weekend, when what started out as a simple comment evolved into a bet-to-beat-all-bets. I won’t get into the specifics but suffice it to say that I was right, and even though I might have had to sacrifice my self-respect, my fidelity to the truth won out and I think we are all better for it. And I am 5 dollars richer.


5. Love never ceases to surprise me with its complexity. I know this isn’t some groundbreaking idea but still, this fact always seems to come up and bite you when you least expect it. I have been dating girls since I was in 4th grade, and yet I still expect love to be simple. It’s not. Things never work out the way you want and nothing is ever perfect. Just when you think you know what you want, something happens, someone looks at you in a certain way and you fall flat on your face. All you can do is give in, give yourself and hope that someone, somewhere is guiding this big ol’ mess we call love.    

peter gunn vs audrey hepburn

So what do you do when you are stuck in the Athens International Airport for 6 hours, and are unable to leave because you have NO (zero, nada, ziltch) money? You sit. And you read. And you listen to your MP3 player. If you are lucky, like me, you have a large collection of some weird stuff. Official Soundtrack for today: the varied works of Henry Mancini. Every one of his songs fits a different possible mood you may have over 5 hours. Nothing makes the seemingly endless boredom more fun than seeing who, in the bustling mass of people who constantly walk by, is walking in step to the Baby Elephant Walk. Next, wanna feel like an international spy typing important messages into your laptop? Why, click over to the theme from the Pink Panther, or just as good, the theme from Peter Gunn. Suddenly that fat woman who only a song ago made you laugh because she was “the baby elephant” is now Helga Vitripchova, Head Undercover Agent of the Greek Wing of the KGB.

Once you are done saving the world from those nefarious double-agents, the “Sweetheart Tree” comes on and makes you think, once again, about that new girl who since yesterday has never been far from your thoughts. After this beautiful little song ends, “Moon River” comes on and you try to act like you are a tough guy and not listening to the most poignant song ever written.

Finally once you get all in the lovey-dovey, life-is-all-roses-and-wine mood, the second greatest movie theme-music composer, John Williams, comes on and you become Darth Vader!! Love flies right outta your head and your only desire is to rule the Universe!! “Wooooh-hoooh {Darth Vader sounds} What is thy bidding, my Master?”

finding andy in jordan?

I will be gone for the next two weeks. I will be visiting family in Jordan, riding camels, floating in the Dead Sea and pretending I am Indiana Jones in Petra. I will try to post some stuff while I'm there but my cousin tells me she has a slower internet connection than I do in Bobov Dol so we'll see. Have a great couple of weeks; to all you teachers and students, have a great vacation, and see you later!

i'm holding my breath...

     It looks like another terrorist group has decided to try the political route. ETA (Euskadi ta Askatasuna or "Basque Homeland and Freedom”), a Basque terrorist group on the border of Spain and France has recently announced that it will call a cease-fire, as a prerequisite for entering into a political process. I am interested to see how this goes, maybe if these guys can lay down their weapons and enter into the civil arena, there might be hope for Palestine and Israel.

"say hello to my little friend!"

Well, today I woke up with a headache from a na-gosti with my upstairs neighbors and didn't feel like going to school. But I noticed something different this morning: I could see! The sun got up before me! That meant only one thing, spring is here!

Still, my head was throbbing and even this little good news couldn't shake it. But, then what was that that just whizzed by my window? Could it be? Yes, it was! The first swallow of the year! As Krali freaked out, trying to pounce through the window, I threw open the curtains to make sure. Yes, it was, the very first swallow!
Normally, I don't get that excited by seeing a little bird, but this year, I am celebrating Baba Marta and still wearing 14 martenitsi on my wrists. With the arrival of this swallow, I was now allowed to take of these red and white (and stinky) bracelets and pins and hang them on trees. And so I did. All the way to school...

I hope you have a great day, (Especially you Sarah, all this pain will pass...). Here in Bobov Dol it is nice and sunny and I can even believe that winter is over. Welcome spring, good riddence Baba Marta, and hello
life without long-johns!

happy st. patrick(ov) day!

     I’ve been celebrating so many Bulgarian holidays lately that I figured I would go all out and celebrate a holiday I’m familiar with. Thus begin Bobov Dol’s first St. Patrick’s Day. I’ll admit it was pretty lame; there were no parades, no corned beef and cabbage, no green beer (though Bobov Dol was introduced to its first Irish coffee…), there wasn’t even an Irish tricolor in sight. But still I think people won’t soon forget it.
     I woke up this morning dreading going to school. I don’t know why besides the fact that I have been having this feeling of dread/ anxiety for the last couple of weeks. This feeling was compounded by the fact that because of a change in the schedule this week I had a class today, though usually today is a day off for me. I realized, however, as I was standing in my long underwear trying to figure out what to wear that I was sick of feeling like this. I looked at the green tie, suit jacket and slacks in my closet and had an idea. I quickly put together the tackiest greenest outfit I have ever worn (green shirt, green tie, green jacket, green pants and green socks. Each a slightly different shade of green…) and scribbled a quick “Happy St. Patrick’s Day!” (“Честит Св. Патриков Ден!”) sign and walked to school.
     My outfit was quickly noticed by… everyone. At first I was a little sheepish, but after a little while, I forgot I was even wearing it. Bulgaria celebrates many Saint Days and so it was easy to explain this one. But I think people thought the tie and jacket was a little strange…
I guess St. Patrick must have enjoyed my little display, because my day went really well. I went in with a colleague to help her teach a third grade class. If I’m not busy on Fridays, I go in and help her teach this class. The students are the sweetest things I have ever seen and they absolutely love me. They energize me to teach for the next week. Today, I introduced them to “Old MacDonald” and they loved it. Despite the fact that my voice is somewhat akin to the sound a cat in heat makes, we had a great time. They had to try hard from falling out of their seats at different parts. I don’t know what else they learned in class, but I know they went home singing “Here a moo! there a moo! everywhere a moo-moo!” most likely at the top of their lungs.
My next class was my dreaded 8th graders. I had a plan to do some boring activity from the book, but when I walked in they saw my suit, and whistled and clapped. I knew what I had to do. I spent the rest of the class explaining the traditions of this day and, while I almost had to pinch myself to believe it, they understood what I was saying, and (and!) I asked some comprehension questions at the end of the class and they answered! Correctly!
I had lunch with some neighbors, had the world’s best éclair (no exaggeration, whatsoever…), talked about life during communist times and religion in Bulgaria. They even had a shamrock plant (from where, I have no bloody idea) and they pinned a leaf on my jacket.  All in all it was a great day. Hope you all have a great St. Patrick’s Day, and whoever you are, wherever you are, take a moment to share a little of the green!

i need a friend today

Had a crappy day.
Found a pet that *doesn't* try on an hourly basis to rip my face off.
Posted it on my website.
Enjoy.

adopt your own virtual pet!

"happy 3rd of march!" or "how andy ended up at an ataka rally"

Last Friday was National Liberation Day here in Bulgaria, similar in many respects to our Independence Day, only colder. I was in Sofia for some work and managed to see some interesting things. Here, in pictures, is my day:
I actually forgot that it was National Liberation Day. We had the day off from school, but because I usually have Fridays off anyway I forgot. But when I got to Sofia, I rounded a corner that leads to the Alexander Nevski Cathedral and saw this. There were representatives from each branch of the military in dress uniforms doing a traditional parade march.





You can say what you want about communist governments, but they sure knew how to do military displays. The former communist military history was very apparent in this march, from the high goose-stepping to the running marches to guy with the bullhorn.








Then the climax came and they raised the flag at the eternal flame. I got a picture of the President examining the troops but I erased later in the day when I needed to free up some memory because I walked right into the middle of...








A BULGARIAN NATIONALIST RALLY!!!That's right. As I was leaving Sofia in mid-afternoon, I crossed back through the center, and ran smack dab into a huge Ataka meeting. For those not in the know, Ataka is the Bulgarian far-right nationalist party whose platform consists primarly of blaming everything on the Turks and Roma.
I don't know how many of you have been in the middle of a huge nationalist rally but I've been to two and they were both scary (I admit I was a bit more frightened at this one. The Republicans don't have quite the same fear Ataka has, though they are working on it...)
There was a lot of booing, and cheering "Ataka!" and playing of that Ataka Charge! song. One of the people who got up to speak greeted the crowd by saying "welcome to those who truly love Bulgaria!" which was followed quickly by "Ataka! Ataka! Ataka!" and lots of "Down with Gypsies, Down with Turks!" Surrounded by the thousands of people, a simple thing as a "boo!" can turn into a very ugly, and hateful thing. Especially being a foreigner. I was thinking of asking people why they were supporting a party that offers little beside scapegoating but I realized that the middle of a xenophobic political rally was not the ideal place for a foreigner to be asking a lot of questions. I just imagined someone shouting "Foreigner" and beating this little liberal to a broken pulp. I was able to smile, however, at a sign someone was holding. It was a movie poster from a movie called "Age of the Han," a movie about the founder of Bulgaria, Han Asparuh (see previous post). Under the picture of the actor was written, "a true Bulgarian." The irony, of course, is that the movie is English, the dialogue is all in English and I think even the actor who played the "true Bulgarian" is, you guessed it, English. But Ataka, like most far-right parties, can't be tripped up by a little thing like the truth...
Moral of the story: (Former) Communists can make a good military parade, but no one throws a rally like Fascists.

"if it wasn't for bad luck, i wouldn't have no luck at all"

There is a family here in Bobov Dol who is always asking me to come over and visit. I’ll see them on the street and they’ll ask when I’m coming to visit and we’ll decide on a time either later that day or the next day. That time will come around and I’ll go and we’ll have a great visit. The father will break out the chess and absolutely destroy me, or he’ll try to teach me a card game in Bulgarian and I won’t understand a single thing. Or the mother will stuff me until I can’t up with home canned fruits, the most tender meat I have ever had or homemade yoghurt with homemade honey. Those times are great, and though they make me stay longer than I want, and embarrass me with generosity I love visiting them.

The other times, though, it is always awkward. Whenever I leave they always tell me that I don’t need an invitation, just come over whenever. When I do that though, I always pick the worst times to come over. One time I rang the bell and the father came out unshaven in his boxers. Another time, I woke them up (they are older and like to sleep in the afternoon). Today, even though I told them I was coming over this weekend, I caught them right as they were leaving to go visit their parents. So they dropped everything and invited me in and made coffee, and brought out homemade sweets and chocolates and we ended up talking for an hour. The whole time I was thinking, “ohman they hate me.” Once, just once, I would like to pick a time when they didn’t open the door and say “oh, hi, Andy, it’s uh… good to see you…” (Translated from Bulgarian…)

Happy Grandma March (Late)

Wednesday was March 1st, or in Bulgaria Баба Марта (Baba Marta, "Grandma March"). This is a purely Bulgarian holiday to celebrate the coming spring, but few are sure how it started. Some say it has a historical connection to the founding father of Bulgaria, Han Asparouk. But today the holiday is celebrated by giving red and white bracelets or pins (Мартеници, Martenitsi) to friends and loved ones. They have all kinds of Martenitsi too, some have tassels, some have blue clasps, others have chalga singers, football teams or, my favorite, Alf. The white is supposed to symbolize a long life and red, health. According to tradition, when you see the first stork or swallow of the year, you are supposed to tie your martenitsa to a tree or bury it under a rock and you will have good health for the rest of the year.


I went a little overboard with Martenitsi. I am currently wearing 14 on my wrists. I just kept getting them as gifts from people and I didn't want to offend anyone so I kept putting them on. Now I am stuck with them until I see a swallow or stork. Or the end of March, whichever comes first. It's a neat tradition though, because now wherever you go you see people sporting these things. Little kids, police officers, bus drivers, drunk old guys, everyone! Even the guys at the Atacka rally {see next post}... 11th grade gave me a huge Martenitsa with two traditional figures: the guy is Пижо (Pijo) and the woman is Пенда (Penda). I'm not wearing this martenitsa though, I'm not that hard core...

how do you spell "amphetamine?"

So I was bad last week with posting. I’m sorry. I’ve been writing a lot, just not posting stuff. I think I would like to write more in the future, but not about stuff I want to post here. Here I am trying to post things about my experiences in Bulgaria, to try to inform people about life here.

Life here. I had dinner with one of my prisoners last nite. He works in the employee cafeteria, but had last nite off so joined me for dinner, kinda. He ate two pieces of cake while I ate cold steak and soup. Apparently he’s been in prison for two years, and hopes to get out soon. He said anytime now. I usually don’t want to know what my students did to get in the big house but he brought it up.

How it was presented was like this (rough translation):
Prisoner X: So what was your profession in America?
Me: Well, I was a student.
Prisoner X: What did you study?
Me: Well, I studied Anthropology.
Prisoner X: {Something I didn’t catch} studied {unintelligible}
Me: What?
Prisoner X: I studied {again, something unintelligible}chemistry.
Me: What? What kind of chemistry?
Prisoner X:  {you guessed it, I didn’t understand again} chemistry.
Me: Biological chemistry?
Prisoner X: No, {still didn’t get it} chemistry.
Me: {cue the light bulb… now!} Oh, Synthetic Chemistry!
Prisoner: Yes, that’s how I got in here.
Me: Huh?
Prisoner X: Well, you take a little of this and a little of that and {some gestures with hands} you got Amphetamines.
Me: Oh, gotcha.

So one of my men is a drugmaker. Ok. He got married last year, while in prison, to a woman who he knew before. He hopes to get out in a few months and live with her for the first time. It’s interesting, this guy probably ruined a bunch of people’s lives by making drugs, but you wouldn’t know it from talking with him. He’s an honest guy, works hard in the kitchen, takes English classes, and has one simple wish: to return to live with his wife. I hope he learned his lesson these years in jail and will return to the public a changed man. I’d hate for the next volunteer to have him in their class too.  

bird flu, colin farrel and torettes

     I came home from an awful day at school this afternoon to have one of my neighborhood street kids tell me that the river near our block has Bird Flu. This kid, who looks like a three foot tall Colin Farrell, is usually crazy anyway so I laughed him off and proceeded to my apartment to drown my sorrows in a huge fried egg sandwich. I met another neighbor outside my block and she confirmed what the little Colin said; apparently she found a dead pigeon outside our block and she was waiting for someone to come from the Municipality to collect it.
     
     I don’t think we really have Bird Flu. I mean, we do have chickens. Lots of chickens. But Bird Flu? It would explain why the kids were so awful today. Even my 11th grade class was horrible. Granted I had them for their last period and I’m sure they were itching to leave but I had to stop several times to get them to calm down. Twelfth grade, the grade that could usually care less, I must say, were pretty good, considering. But 8th grade, oh 8th grade. I have come to the sneaking suspicion that some of the students a.) take crack before or during class, b.) have Tourette's Syndrome, c.) are possessed by the Prince of Darkness or d.) are Neanderthals. It’s a class of all guys. Once upon a time the class did have girls but I think they ate them or something. And today, they just couldn’t stay still or not talk. My new colleague was teaching them and I was in the back trying to discipline them but it was to no avail. I thought my colleague was gonna have a aneurysm which wouldn’t have been that bad because they would have just eaten her too. Near the end of class I thought I had lost a kid. I turned and Cvetozar wasn’t there. I didn’t remember letting any kids out but nonetheless he was gone. At first I was a little happy because I thought they had turned upon themselves and there would be a Ultimate Fighting Championship and I would only have to teach one student. But alas, I happened to turn my head and there he was… hiding in a cupboard in the back of class! This kid is tall too. Anyway, I turned back around and pretended I didn’t see him.

     I think this might have something to do with the nice, freakish weather we are having now. For the first time since November, I didn’t have to wear thermal underwear. Windows were opened. Kids migrated to the other side of the classroom instead of cramming to one side of the room, right next to radiator. And of course, I think once their brains unfroze so did their crazy centers. Oh well, I only have two classes tomorrow. Neither of them are with the cannibals.

happy birthday to me!

Well I celebrated my first birthday in Bulgaria on Wednesday and it was quite an event. The night before my birthday, which in America is Valentine's Day, in Bulgaria is "Трифон Зарезан" the day of vine cutting. This holiday is the traditional day that the grape vines are cut for the upcoming year, and as such, it is celebrated with lots of wine and rakia. I was invited by a neighbor to go to one of the villages and celebrate there. The night involved a lot of alcohol and dancing. As I had work the next morning, I avoided a lot of the alcohol but I took full advantage of the opportunity to practice my traditional dancing skills.
Then on my birthday morning, I was pleasantly suprised by a call from my friend Ruthie from the states. I brought in my compulsary two boxes of chocolates, sweets and soda to treat my colleagues at school, and then rushed to my first class with 12th grade. There I was treated to a beautiful rendition of Happy Birthday, a delicious cake and a icon of Mary and Child. I blew out the candles and felt like a jerk because I made the students pull out there homework and study for the test the next day. I run a tight ship, bribery will get you nowhere.
Luckily on Wednesdays, I only have two classes and was able to race home after school and start preparing for my bash. I made a little bit of everything, dip, pork, apple cobbler, mashed potatoes, salami (which I had to cut myself, stupid neighbors...), and bread and cheese. At around 3:00, my friend Gergana came over to help me prepare and at 6:00 the guests started trickling in. I have a problem with hosting guests. When I have a celebration, I like to invite everyone I know, and this sometimes leads to trouble. In high school and college, I used to have big parties that always overflowed expectations. On Thanksgiving here, I had 15 guests in this little apartment. If you've seen my apartment, you will know that having 15 people here at one time involves some kind of black magic. This time I did a little bit better and only had 12 guests. Of course, I ran out of dishes and space on the table, and people learned quick to keep track of their personal fork, but at least people had fun, I think.
The discussion over dinner mostly revolved around stupid things I had said in Bulgarian and trips I had taken with neighbors to the villages, to the pool, and other parties. And of course, the discussion meandered into politics and gypsies but I was happy to sit back and enjoy people enjoying themselves.
I want to thank everyone who texted me, or called me, or sent me e-mails or real letters. I appreciated them all and you made me feel very special and loved. Thanks. 

the mystery of lawn darts

I was having a conversation with my friend Jessica today, and we started talking about the Olympics. And as we all know, you can not talk about the intense, unparalleled exhibit of athleticism, courage and training that is the modern Olympics without bringing up Curling. This got us to thinking, what other over-hyped, non-sports are there out there? Lawn Darts. I had to explain them to Jessica, but she caught on quickly. Then I got thinking, what the Hell ever happened to Lawn Darts? I vaguely remember deaths were involved. So Jessica and her amazing computer hacking skills found the info. Apparently they were banned in the US. Too many people getting skull fractures I guess. That, however, also got me thinking, where are our Lawn Darts? Mom, didn’t we have a set? What happened to them?

In a totally unrelated note, if someone has a set of Lawn Darts, Jessica and I would like to talk to you. We are planning a Decathlon of Non-sports for some time in 2007. We are now taking donations. If you have any equipment for Lawn Darts, bowling, horseshoes, ping-pong, badminton, Dwarf Throwing (including, but not limited to a dwarf), croquet, capture the flag, bocce and pool let us know.

grades and theater

Today was the last day of the first term at school. It has been a hectic last week fitting in term tests, term test retakes, alternate term tests (for students who were too busy to be in their regularly scheduled class for their term test) final projects, and calculating final grades. Today was especially hard because I announced the term grades to the students. Before that though I had to finally give a grade to several students whom I had been dreading giving grades. Some of these kids are in my 12th grade class and deserve to fail. They are lazy, they skip class a lot and when they do show up, they cause disruptions and are just plain nasty. Another teacher, however, pleaded with me to pass them and this colleague is very important to my life here.

Three of the kids are in my 11th class and though they rarely show up to class, they are smart. They are good kids and they understand some English. Both of the boys are nice guys. One I actually didn’t know he was in my class until November 21st, when he first decided to come. When he decides to put in enough effort to show up to class, he participates well, helps me translate and says funny (non-inappropriate) things in English. Since November, he has been showing up more regularly and working harder. The other boy knows no English (expect “Oh, sh--!” whenever I call on him in class), he doesn’t do his homework, or show up for tests. I normally would have no qualms about flunking his sorry ass, but he is the son of that very important person here. I normally hate playing favorites like that but this person is so integral to my life here that I feel I owe her son a passing grade. And finally, the girl. She has showed up to my class 4 times and she too is funny and knows some English. She has a rough family life and has to work all the time.

So what did I do? I must admit I am ashamed to admit it. I passed the three guys from 12th class and the son and failed the girl. I asked some other colleagues what to do about her and they suggested I flunk her. So I did, but now I feel bad about it. And as for the other boy in 11th, I gave him a 4 (a “C” in the American system.). He still argued and wanted a 5 (a “B”).
It’s crazy that back home something like this would be so simple; a kid who never shows up for class, acts like a jerk the whole time, never does his homework or hasn’t learned a thing is failed. It’s simple, you don’t do what’s required, you fail. But here I have to weigh family allegiances, and pleading colleagues who are keys to my emotional and physical well-being along with poverty and domestic disturbances. I’m not naïve enough to believe that this doesn’t happen in America, but it seems so much less prevalent. Maybe I am wrong, and please let me know if I am, but at least at home I think I would feel safer making a stand. There I have a stronger, larger support network and would be working in a system that is more in align with my teaching ethos. Here, when it comes to grading, I constantly doubt myself that the kids are ready to be held up to an American system of grading that values discipline, participation, creativity and effort over rote-memorization, social-network, and group tranquility.

There was a bright light today. Today was the first ever English theater in SOU Hristo Botev, Bobov Dol. Over the last two weeks, my 11th class came up with an idea for a play, wrote it, rehearsed it and today performed the courtroom drama, “Chaos in Sleepy Hollow” before an audience of about 10 students and teachers.


I can tell you that I have rarely before felt such pride for the actions of others. (I think the last time was when I was a Boy Scout leading a group of eight, usually spastic, adolescents boys as they undertook a series of tasks and tests which the efficiency of a SEAL team in the Klondike Derby. Any former Boy Scout patrol leaders out there know exactly what I am talking about…). I was so proud of these boys and girls because not only did they do a great job, not only did they put in a lot of effort but they made the project their own and attempted something that was completely foreign to them.


On Wednesdays, I have two periods with 11th class: fourth and fifth. Right before 4th period two girls from the class entered the teachers room and asked me if they could have the room to themselves for the period so that they could surprise me. I said “yes” partly because I trusted this class and partly because I was intrigued about what they were up to. The next period, I found out. They had brought in make up and costumes and wanted to surprise me because this was not listed in the requirements I had given them for the project. They had taken this on themselves. They had also enlisted the help of a girl from 6th class to act as a Bulgarian Fortune –Teller. I was pleasantly surprised to say the least.


But more than anything, I was proud because they were doing something that they had never been asked to do. I know for a fact that in none of their other classes have they been asked to use this much creativity, taken this much risk and been given this much freedom and responsibility. After seeing the performance, a teacher congratulated me. I told her that she should congratulate them, I was only the editor. She was shocked. She had thought I had made the script and simply given it to them to act out.


During the performance, of course, the student’s accents showed though and made it hard at times to understand what they said. And I’m not sure that “Objection!” and “Sustained!” are the most important English words one needs to know. But I do know that they learned something about creativity, responsibility and pride in a job well done. This, I think, this is the important lesson and maybe, just maybe, why I am here. Bravo, kids.

I'll skip the musaka tonite

Sweet... Thanks Jessica for the heads up...
Sofia - Bulgarian customs stopped a 75-ton shipment of beef meat from Ireland that may have been frozen since 1984, local media reported on Monday.The meat was sent for testing after officials at the Kulata border pass with Greece noticed that the meat had a bluish colour. Among the papers with the shipment was a 22-year-old health certificate.Experts were to be called in to determine whether the meat, en route to Plovdiv, was really as old, but it was immediately clear that it was not suitable for consumption. The reports did not say where the frozen meat was previously stored.
http://www.int.iol.co.za/index.php?set_id=1&click_id=29&art_id=qw1138626901641B214

i am jack pulido

     As I sat in the bar Saturday night, drinking my third or fourth double shot of whiskey and practicing my new word of the night, “Божественярско (Bojestvenyarsko),” while Tony The Barman drew a stick figure picture of Tito and his wife in order to explain a joke,  I had a startling realization. You remember in high school, there was always that foreign-exchange student who you thought was a little bit slow? I am him.

In my high school, our foreign exchange student wasn’t actually a foreign exchange student. He was from China, or Taiwan or the Phillipines (I suddenly feel really bad that I can’t remember where he was from…) and his parents owned a Chinese restaurant in town. He had moved to America and wasn’t going back. It always seemed that Jack was around whenever my group of friends got together. I don’t remember inviting him ever, but nonetheless, he was there. People would talk to him and ask him things but it usually had to be translated by another friend into simpler English. He would get invited to parties, to events, to almost everything, but he didn’t say much and he always laughed a split second after everyone else. People would get him to say funny things to others and we would teach him slang. Of course, the next time we would see him, he would use the slang in a particularly inappropriate time, and that would make us crack up all over again, accompanied by plenty of high fives and thumbs up.

I always thought that Jack was slow. I thought that because he didn’t say much and didn’t always understand everything, he was stupid. I’ll be honest, I thought Jack was a little retarded. And now I think I am paying for thinking that. I realize that I was the person who was ignorant. Maybe it was because I never took the time to really get to know Jack. It wasn’t until our senior year of high school that I learned Jack was really into Anime and could draw some great pictures. But there is something bigger. I used to judge people too quickly. I think I still do. All too often, I did and do make a judgment on people by the way they speak, what they talk about, or what they are interested in. Poor Jack, because he spoke slow and with a strong accent, couldn’t talk about deep philosophy and wasn’t interested in track, history, or classic literature, I assumed he was a waste of time for me. It was too hard to talk with him and too hard to connect with him.

I said now I am paying for being this ignorant, but that’s not right. I am so lucky here. I am a foreigner in a foreign land speaking a very foreign tongue, but I have people who are patient enough to put up with that. I have learned quickly enough to recognize that absolutely demoralizing phrase: “Не може да разбира. (He can’t understand).” But I have also learned to recognize the equally uplifting I-can-do-anything-get-me-a-gold-star! phrase “Браво, Анди! (Bravo, Andy!).” I have been amazed to see people take the time to pantomime a joke or even find a paper and pen to draw it out. I have been invited over and over again to parties and banquets, even though most of the time I just stew in my seat, drinking their alcohol and wishing they didn’t play that damn Pop-folk so loud. I still have a hard time figuring out why these people are putting this much effort into getting to know me, especially when I couldn’t be bothered to put in 1/100th of the effort to get to know Jack. At the end of the day, I give up trying to figure it out and chalk it up to love. When it comes down to it, this is love. A love that is divinely human. Reaching out to someone simply because they need it. I need this attention and this support and this camaraderie. Everyday, I am thankfully to be here and experiencing this love.

And so, though I graduated from college with a High-honors degree in Anthropology, I can speak eloquently on the leading causes of the Peloponnesian War, I read and understood Tess of the D’urbervilles, Heart of Darkness and Catch-22, and I can name the capitals of most of the countries in this world, I still sound like a moron when I get “watermelon” and “lover” mixed up in Bulgarian. But I am beginning to be okay with it. I am accepting that I am Jack Pulido.    
     

where are you captain planet?

     Here are two summarized articles by The New York Times and The Washington Post about global warming. It’s scary stuff, and unfortunately not enough people are paying attention. I remember watching Captain Planet when I was little and being thankful that there weren’t bad guys in real life like there was on the show. People who were driven only by greed, willing to sacrifice anything to line their own pockets. I have come to realize that there are people like this in real life, only in real life we don’t have a Captain Planet. The New York Times article talks about how the administration is trying to silence NASA scientists from speaking out about what they have found. What was the name of that villain on Captain Planet that was a freaky half pig/ half man thing? I think I found his real life counterpart…

http://www.editorandpublisher.com/eandp/news/article_display.jsp?vnu_content_id=1001920362

funny brownies

     Today was my second day of my mini-vacation. What did I do? Not much of anything. I taught my lessons at the prison. I baked some “molasses squares” but seeing as I can’t find molasses in Bulgaria, I used dark honey. A colleague of mine has a birthday party tomorrow and she loves trying American sweets. These sweets taste a little weird though. I don’t know if I burned them or the fumes from my stove got into them. Fumes from a stove? Yeah forgot to mention that… Since July I have been having an on-again/off-again relationship with my stove. Sometimes it decides to work and sometimes it decides to blow up. So today the municipality made good on its October promise to get me a new one. But as soon as I start trying to cook with it this evening, smoke starts pouring out of it. Like the idiot I am I keep going. “Maybe, this is what happens with all new appliances” I say. I leave the kitchen to write some emails and return to check on my fake-molasses squares and my kitchen is full of smoke that smells oddly like burning paint. I open a window and keep going. Now my fake-molasses squares taste like… burning paint. And honey. And my lungs feel funny.
     Lesson learned: I’m not quite sure, I think I lost that brain cell when I was cutting up the squares…