another week done...

I have been teaching here at the American University in Bulgaria since July and it has been great. I am teaching 29 class hours a week, I am usually at the language center from 11:00 am everyday to 8:00 pm, but I couldn't love it more. I have great students and my colleagues are great. I even have enough time in the morning to go to the gym and wake up not too late.

Today is Friday and so I only have one class. And it's done. I still don't have Internet at my apartment and so here I am still at school writing and downloading the 1978 AL East Playoff game between the Red Sox and the Yankees. MLB.com has a new service where they let you download old games and -starting this playoff season- new games for only $1.99 a game. The games are posted a day later, but for a fan living in Bulgaria while his team is on the way to the world series, the charge and the time delay is nothing. Real baseball, I can't wait.

As I have a free afternoon, I've started thinking about somethings. Mostly, the way my life has been going and where it will go in the future. And I am amazed at how my life has taken some turns I could never have imagined. So, I have decided to compile a top-five list. I hope you enjoy:

The Top 5 Things I Wasn't Expecting in my Life Ten Years Ago:
1. I would be living in Bulgaria. I gotta admit, this current situation was quite a surprise. I'm not sure 15 year old Andy even knew Bulgaria existed, besides some hazy notion of Bulgarian Olympic gymnasts. I never thought I would learn Bulgarian, make Bulgarian friends, eat cow stomach soup, can my own peppers and peaches, pick and dry herbs, or fall in love with a country so different than my own.

2. I would be teaching. I remember a teacher in my AP Biology class suggesting to me that I should look into teaching because while it is a really tough job, I would love it. Well, it's true but I thought at the time, "yeah, right."

3. I would be contemplating law school. I'm still shocked and unnerved by this one but there it is. I always thought that law school was for other people, not me. This was the same feeling that I had when I thought about applying to Ivy League schools and the Peace Corps. They were things that I always heard about growing up, but always thought they were not possible options in my life. Now, as I am once again standing at the door, I am beginning to think that this choice may bring me as much happiness and success as the other two.

4. I would miss New Hampshire and Concord. When I was 15, like most teenagers who grow up in a small town, one of my constant thoughts was how to get out. I was sick of how boring it was, how small it was, and how everywhere I went I kept running into people I knew. Now, after living abroad for 2 1/2 years, I have started to realize how much I took my state and my hometown for granted. I am looking forward to returning at the end of July to my home, my family, and friends, with an excitement that is both sweet and heartbreaking.

5. I would grow so much. I used to think when I was 15 that I was at the peak of my emotional, intellectual, and spiritual growth. Of course I would have never admitted it, either aloud or to myself, for fear of being labeled naive, but still I carried this sneaking suspicion inside me. After these two last years, I realize how much I have grown and yet how much this growing never stops. I know deep inside that we never stop growing. As long as we are active and care and try, we will never stop. And that excites me most of all.

where is andy?

He is alive and well in Blagoevgrad, Bulgaria. Unfortunately, he has yet to get internet in his apartment. There has been some problems with finding an internet company in his new home. He is on vacation in his new apartment doing little more than watching TV, reading, and playing computer games. He feels like a slug because there is a whole internet world he can't access unless he wants to come to this dingy old internet club and pay too much money for too slow access. You can tell he is really upset because he is using third person speech. Anyway, until he can return to the 21st century, enjoy your internet access and think of him...

andy gets misty eyed

Tonite is my last night in Bobov dol and my last nite as an active Peace Corps volunteer. I'm struggling with what that all means. Of course, I am not leaving Bulgaria; unlike all but three volunteers in my group, I will be staying for an extra year in Bulgaria and work in the American University as an English teacher. So while I will not technically be in Bobov dol, I will be only about a 40 minute car ride away. And while I will not be an officially active volunteer, I will continue living in the same country and continue teaching English. Things change but end staying the same...

As a way to say thank you to all the people here in Bobov dol, I hosted a banquet tonite at my favorite local bar. There were about 14 of my closest and most important friends here. There were people who took me to their village and taught me how to can peaches. There was the woman who gave me Bulgarian lessons, twice a week, for two years. There was her son who was in my seventh grade class, who despite all the other crap in his life, still has a grasp on English that is unnatural for this place. But more important than that, has a flame in him that refuses to be extinguished. There was the woman at whose apartment I was always welcome and with whom I ended up eating many dinners when all I wanted was a coffee. There was the counterpart who selflessly took over the position when my old counterpart left for the big city. She was like the big sister I never had who was there no matter what and was not afraid to tell me when I messed up. And the list goes on.

In between the eating, dancing and laughing, I started to grasp, albeit only in the most general of concepts, what actually happened here in these two years. I think it will take the rest of my life to actually figure that out exactly, but I did start to get an inkling. Here I was, surrounded by so many people who I can count on no matter what. People who I would trust with my life, though I have known them for two years, and many with whom I have only spoken to in a language that I have only been speaking for two years. I came to this town knowing no one and yet am leaving, feeling like the king of the town.

I knew I wanted to be a Peace Corps volunteer when I was about 6 and used to wake up early on Saturday mornings to watch cartoons. In those days, they used to have very simple commercials for Peace Corps, so simple in fact that I only remember the punchline: "Peace Corps: The toughest job you'll ever love." It sounded so perfect for a kid growing up on adventure shows and GI Joe. I liked to believe that I was tough, and the toughest? Well sign me up!

I have learned what tough means in these two years. But that was something that I was expecting. I knew it would be hard and that I would be tested. I know that I would be going into a possibly hostile environment, away from everything and everyone I had previously known and be expected to succeed. I knew that and it definitely lived up to those expectations. But in these two years, I learned something else. I learned that the second part of that slogan was the more important part. I learned what it means to love. To love a job, to love a place and to love people. Sure my job was infuriating at times, so much so I would have done anything to not go in some days. Sure Bobov dol made me angry sometimes, and made me question my hope in the future. And sure people here made me mad and made me question my hope in people. But through it all, I learned to love them all despite all these things. All these bad things don't make you love less, they make you love something more. Because it is easy to love something that provides no resistance, something that is welcoming of your love. It is so much harder to love something that acts like it doesn't need or want you, something that sometimes acts like it hates you. If you can persevere and love it despite this, your love will become so strong and will grow. I thought when I became a volunteer that this job would be tough because I would love it and put my whole heart into it, but I never expected I would love it because it was so tough.

Thank you Bobov dol for teaching me love. And thank you for being so tough.

VOTE FOR THE 7 NEW WONDERS!!

There is less than a month less to vote for the new 7 world wonders! Go to this website, register and vote for what you think are the most important wonders in the world. It's free and a great way to take part in a truly worldwide vote. The results will be announced on 07.07.07 so you have little time left.

http://www.new7wonders.com/index.php?id=315

And if you are trying to decide on a 7th one to vote for, pick Petra. I've been there and can personally tell you how awesome it is. Or just check the comments page for my cousins, I'm sure they'll have something to say about it soon...

in a pile of bad news, a smile...

I'm grading a pile of tests from my 7th graders and it was the usually bunch of bad news, until I got to one of the last tests. One of my best students got an American superstition a little confused...

Task: Write 5 American superstitions
4. "When you step on a crack, you will bake your mother's bag."

I'm sorry Mom but with a little honey, they don't taste all that bad.

chalga saves the world

Apparently it is trying... Chalga- the part pop, part traditional music, all cheese- music style that is all the rage in Bulgaria and the rest of the Balkans has been exported to the Middle East where it is challenging existing conservative views. According to this BBC article, while this music isn't called Chalga, a new style of music has sprung up in the Middle East that smacks of the Chalga we have all grown to love. Cheezy videos, subtly (or not so subtly) erotic lyrics, scantily clad singers and controversy; yup it's gotta be Chalga. Good luck Arabic Chalga, I hope you can limit that religious extremism that decades of war haven't.

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/europe/6666725.stm

"baby I think too much"

I've been learning how to dance shopsko horo lately. Horos are traditional forms of Bulgarian dancing. It is kind of like the Greek dancing you may be familiar with where the people line up, hold hands and move in a line, at the end of which they throw plates down on the ground. Horo is like that but without the broken plates. Shopsko horo is a form of horo that is particular to my region of Bulgaria and just happens to be the HARDEST horo in Bulgaria. It's not so difficult because of the steps, they are fairly easy once you get the hang of them. The problem is that it is danced at an insane pace. The music is incredibly fast and your steps have to match the music. Think "River Dance" on crack and you start getting the idea.
I've been interested in learning Shopsko Horo for a long time. I know a bunch of other horos but after watching the beauty and skill of Shopsko horo, I decided I would give it a chance. And since the senior prom is coming up- one of my last chances to dance horo here in town- I thought I would get serious about it. I've been getting lessons from one of my 12th grade students, 2 or 3 times a week. But despite this, I'd been unable to move my feet fast enough.

And then today, like a puzzle, things fell into place. I was hitting the right steps and at a fast pace. The key? Stop thinking and just feel it. I have danced a lot of different kinds of dances. I learned Argentine Tango, Rumba, Waltz, Swing and Foxtrot, and the key to all of them is to just let the music flow over you. Of course at the beginning you have to spend a lot of time understanding the steps: where the left foot goes and then the right. But with dancing, you have to get to a certain point where you stop thinking about the steps and just feel the music. You stop watching your feet, you stop counting the beats, and you stop thinking about the next steps. You listen to the music and let your feet do their thing. You get into a zone where you are only conscious of the beat you are on and your body. You are completely in the moment, in the music and in your body. And you just do it.

Anyone who knows me, knows what a giant klutz I am. I trip on nothing, I clip my shoulders on walls and I always hit my head on everything. I am not coordinated. And the reason is that most of the time I am thinking about stuff. For a lot of my waking day, I am conscious only of the world inside my head. I think about things too much and usually get so wrapped in those thoughts that I have a hard time, at first, learning new skills. But here I was this afternoon, dancing up a storm.

How? I stopped thinking about everything and just started feeling. I've been thinking about this all afternoon (of course), and realized that I am at my best when I am doing this. I teach my best classes when I forget my lesson plan at home and instead feel the class and teach to them instead of teaching to what I think is them. I am best in my relationships with people when I am feeling them and really trying to understand them instead of trying to understand who I think they are. I am best in my faith when I open up my heart instead of doing what I think I should do.

I am thankful for my two years here in Bulgaria. I am thankful for what they have taught me and what I have learned. I am thankful for my new skills, my new friends and my new way of thinking. But I am most thankful that I am beginning to learn how to feel the music.

new hampshire: 2 steps forward, 1 step back

I leave New Hampshire for two years and finally exciting things happen. The state becomes democratic, we get civil unions, and now we have two nuts in Plainfield, Ed and Elaine Brown, who are refusing to pay federal taxes in excess of $750,000. They have recently been sentenced by the federal courts to five years in prison and fined for the full amount of back taxes. But instead of facing the music and doing the right thing, they are fortifying their home in preparation of a siege.

Their logic is wrapped up in typical small town militia mindset: the federal system is corrupt, we don't have to answer to anyone but God, there is a "new world order" conspiracy... But the thing that gets me is the glaring contradiction. What would happen if a Muslim couple did this? What if a Muslim group refused to recognize a court by even showing up, refused to face their punishment, fortified their home with weapons and then posted everything on the web, including solicitation of violence against law enforcement and federal employees? I'm sure that the Department of Homeland would be there in a heartbeat. Instead authorities seem happy to wait for them to accumulate more weapons and more supporters (they are still allowed to have guests) and in the meantime ignore the rule of law.

I don't like paying taxes. I hate seeing how much money I am losing every payday. But I understand, as most rational people do that our taxes are being used to do things that we as individuals could not accomplish. Being here in Bulgaria makes me appreciate those things more and more. I have come to appreciate the things our federal government does to protect its citizens. In most places in America you can drink water right out of the tap, thanks to federal laws like the Clean Water Act. You can feel safe that the toothpaste, medicine or soap you are buying really contains the ingredients it says it does and will accomplish the things it says it will. You can buy food that is safe, untampered and unspoiled. Most places in America are subject to the rule of law. You don't have to fear saying something that might upset the local Don or gang boss. You have reliable electricity, water, postal and phone service. You have an effective road and highway system. You are protected at work from accidents and greedy bosses. And while these things might not always work 100% effectively, if something goes wrong you have a recourse for your grievances, a recourse that does not require having the largest guns, or the biggest army or the most money.

I think that if this couple really wants to live without paying their taxes, let them. But don't let them ride free on the services and infrastructure that the rest of us are paying for. If they feel that the federal system is wrong, fine. Then they won't mind losing their electricity. Federal regulations ensure that we don't have a monopoly and subsidies help private companies provide better service. I guess they also don't mind losing their phones and Internet. Again, our communications system is built upon years and years of federal funding and laws. No more water for the Browns, at least no more clean water. I sure hope they have a well that hasn't met certified levels of lead and other contaminants or else, sorry, they can't use that either. Mail, nope, that too is organized by the federal government. Roads? I hope they aren't expecting any out of state guests because it might take them a while to arrive if they don't use any interstate highways. I hope they don't need to make a 911 call because guess where New Hampshire got major funding for its state-wide 911 system? That's right, the Feds. And while they may say how corrupt law enforcement is and that they are a bunch of thugs doing the dirty work of the federal government, I'm sure they would prefer these thugs over any other group of nuts with more and bigger guns. Because once you start complaining about the federal government and calling for its downfall, you are attacking the very system that lets you say that. I would love to see how long Mr. and Mrs. Brown like living their anarchist dream without electricity, water, communication, safety and security.

Mr. and Mrs. Brown and all who inhabit the same imaginary planet, stop with the fantasy. We all know how this is going to end, you will lose, and you will end up hurting a lot of innocent people.

the continuous adventures of rascist advertising

I have a strong personal distaste of the branding of cultures and races. The "Indian" mascot, and people arguing that Indian mascots are ok, boils my blood. While I was at Dartmouth, every year the argument would come up again and even this year there was another attempt by ignorant people at defending the former unofficial mascot. In an act of brazen racism, this time the conservative newpaper published a front page featuring a drawing of a native American holding a scalp with the headline "The Natives Are Getting Restless."

I found this multimedia article today in Slate Magazine and was stunned at how other rascist branding is still around, this time in the advertising of Uncle Ben and Aunt Jemima. I hope you take a second and check it out, you'll never look at them the same.

http://www.slate.com/id/2164062/nav/tap1/

update

I'm trying to get back to communicating with the outside world. I have added some captions to the Yordanov Den album. I also look forward to posting pictures about upcoming adventures, including my school's prom, our trip to Greece, Children's Day, Spazov Den and the end of my service in Bobov dol. Stay tuned!

sacrifices

I've been reading our weekly free Newsweek and I have been absolutely sucked into the April 2nd Special Issue "Voices of the Fallen." Most of the issue is letters from American soldiers who have died in Iraq. And there are dozens of these letters. You read over and over again these soldiers making plans for when they return home only to read at the end of the letter how they were killed by a roadside bomb, or "small arms fire" or some accident. It is so sad that I have had to stop many times.

Reading these letters, you get an idea of how separated we non-soldier Americans are from the fighting. We are so numb that these dead men and women are usually nothing more than an increasing number on the evening news. For the lucky ones of us, we don't know anyone who has been wounded, let alone killed in Iraq. We have not been asked to sacrifice ANYTHING, while our fellow citizens are giving the ultimate sacrifice in the belief that they are protecting us. I like to think that I am serving my country- and the greater world- here but these men and women, were asked by a country they loved and trusted to fight for it and put themselves in the line of fire. They did so willingly and bravely. Many have died in order to fulfill that request.

Yet here we are, whether in America or abroad, without having to sacrifice a thing. Sure, prices have raised but what else have we given up? I remember when I was a kid, seeing the ration coupons my grandparents kept from WWII and hearing the stories of living under rations. I was amazed at the idea of "Victory Gardens," scrap metal drives, and the idea that it could actually be hard to buy flour. To say it was hard is an understatement, but everyone was in it together. Our country was at war for something we believed in, and everyone pitched in and sacrificed. Where are our Victory Gardens today? Where are our ration coupons?

Our country is trying to wage a war on the cheap. We cheer on our troops, we stick magnets on our cars, we wave our flags, but what are we sacrificing? Politicians are anxious to send more young men and women to fight a war without fronts, yet how many of them have children or grandchildren who are there? How many of them have seen war? How many know what a roadside bomb does to a vehicle or what a bullet does to a face? It may seem that many Republicans sacrificed their offices for their support of the war, but I tend to see that as justice.

I'm not sure exactly what I want to say here. Maybe I am just trying to wrestle with emotions that can't be written down. I feel ashamed. I feel sad. I feel afraid. I feel very unAmerican. Here I am living a challenging, yet safe life while people my age and younger are dying because they think they are protecting us. And I am doing nothing to help them. Heck, this year I didn't even have any taxes. I am not joining the military to cover their back, I am not rationing my food, I am not saying prayers every night for them and I am not working to make better armor or vehicles.

All this makes me angry because NO ONE IS ASKING ME to do anything. The government was so anxious to go to war, but so unwilling to do the brave thing and make this war real. No one wanted to risk their jobs and say, "hey we are doing this because we think it is right. It is so important that we win and because of that, things are going to hurt. We need everyone to sacrifice." I can think of two reasons why no one said this. Maybe our leaders didn't have an ounce of the courage our soldiers do and were too afraid of losing their jobs. They thought that this war was important but didn't want to stick their necks out. If this is true, then I am disgusted. The other reason, if it is true, makes me furious: the politicians sent our brothers and sisters to fight and die for a reason that wasn't worth the sacrifice. Maybe no one asked us to sacrifice because the war isn't worth it. We know now that the claims of WMD were false, that Saddam didn't have links to terrorists and that he didn't pose a threat to us or anyone else, but if the president ordered this war without ordering us to sacrifice, maybe he knew this truth then...

In any case, I know this isn't much of a sacrifice, indeed it isn't a sacrifice at all, but I just wanted to say to all of the troops in harm's way and all their families and friends back in states: "Thank you." Thank you for answering the call when our country called. We will find some way to match your unmatchable sacrifice.

straight from the horse's mouth

Finally we agree on something....

"And there is distrust in Washington. I am surprised, frankly, at the amount of distrust that exists in this town. And I'm sorry it's the case, and I'll work hard to try to elevate it."— President Bush speaking on National Public Radio, Jan. 29, 2007.

Listen to it here. The "Bushism" is at 17:21.

mom was right...

My mom and other members of my family used to constantly be after me to buy new socks because different parts of my feet would always be poking through some hole or another. I used to think they were crazy; these are socks after all. They are meant to be hidden in shoes. Well, today I found this article about Paul Wolfowitz and it appears that having socks with giant holes in them really can come and bite you when you least expect it. And so, because I know that I am at least as smart as him, I must say, "No more holey socks for me!"

vote for the best cheese of all time!

I’ve been listening to a CD my friend Jessica sent me last year over and over again. I love the CD and all the songs on it, but we have both acknowledged that this CD contains some of THE SCHMALTZIEST songs of all time. And I have gotten to thinking: What exactly is the all time cheesiest song? I thought I would enlist the help of the internet to figure it out. The choices:

“High Enough” – Damn Yankees
“Sometimes When We Touch” – Dan Hill
“I Want to Know What Love Is” – Foreigner
“I Can’t Fight this Feeling” – REO Speedwagon

Feel free to write in a candidate…
The polling booths will close in a week.

truth, justice, and the american way or andy almost snaps

I have been thinking of punishment a lot lately. In particular, I have been thinking about how my school hasn’t any. Of course there are some so-called things that pass as punishment in our school but they have no substance and if the kids ever found out, we would have full out anarchy in our school. How can this be you ask? Simple: it’s a product of population mathematics.

Schools, whether in America, Britain, Timbuktu or Bobov dol, run on an economy of attendance. You attend school, study hard, pass tests and move on to the next grade. After repeating this cycle 12 or so times, you graduate -you are certified- and you go out into “the real world” and either get a job or enter college to repeat the cycle. If you fail any of the prerequisites for completing a step (not attending, not studying, not passing tests), you have to spend another year attempting to complete the step or you get removed from school. If you are removed from school, you lose your chance at certification, you don’t get a job and you end up mooching off your parents for the rest of your life. In order to maintain a conducive learning environment, schools also threaten expulsion if you do not behave in the school. It’s a simple economic system really; if you want to “buy” certification, you have to “pay” with effort in the form of good behavior and studying.

The problem is, here in Bobov dol, this system has broken down because they have taken away the granddaddy of punishments: expulsion. Whether you like to admit it or not, our education system ultimately comes down to this threat: “Do this or you will fail!” Like many schools in Bulgaria, ours can no longer say this because we don’t have enough students. Due to population decline, if we kick out any more students, we will not have enough students to continue the grade. That means that we wouldn’t have enough hours for teachers and we they would lose their jobs. Without the threat of expulsion, there is little you can do to motivate a student.

It goes something like this:
Me: “You were late today. Please come on time tomorrow.”
Student: “Why?”
Me: “Because you are missing material in class.”
Student: “So?”
Me: “You will not learn the material.”
Student: “So?”
Me: “You will do badly on the test.”
Student: “So?”
And that’s where the next logical answer is “You will fail.” Most logical thinking students would at least have reason here to pause and consider the weight of this punishment. Unfortunately here the next answer is “…” NOTHING! There is nothing more I can do beyond this step. They got me! This kind of dialogue is repeated daily on everything from skipping classes, not doing homework, kicking our brand new whiteboards (happened today…) to fighting in class and cheating on tests.

Maybe I am an unimaginative teacher but if you take away the ultimate punishment, how can you motivate students to learn the modal verbs and past perfect continuous tense?

Something I have realized lately is that punishment is a form of love. No, seriously. As much as the kid in me tries to convince me otherwise, punishment is an act of love. I am not taking here about cruelty or revenge or sadism. I mean punishment as a part of justice. When you, as an individual or society, stand up and punish someone who commits a crime, you are showing that you care about the future and want it to be better. You are loving the person who was wronged; you are restoring their faith that someone cares about them and their live. When you punish the aggressor, you are loving them by making them aware of their error and hopefully dissuading them from doing it again. I was reading the Letter of Paul to the Romans the other day and was struck by Paul’s words. He talks about the punishment of the idolators and Israel and how God’s wrath was an act of love. Justice is obviously a virtue, it is even one of the 4 Cardinal Virtues of the Roman Catholic Church (Bonus points: Anyone know the other 3?). But Justice cannot exist if Punishment does not flow into and from it. There can be no Justice if injustice is not punished and Justice is corrupted if Punishment is unjust. I had never thought of it that way but it makes perfect sense.

If this is hard to imagine think of a small child. Say the small child steals a candy bar from a store. You as the parent find out later that day. You have two options. You can pretend you didn’t see it and do nothing, or you can punish the child and make him take the bar back to the store and have him apologize. Of course the second option is embarrassing, awkward and painful for both you and the child, but it is an act of love. You are teaching the child that stealing is not okay. They will learn that they should not steal and hopefully grow up to be a more moral person. The storeowner is reassured that people care about him and his business. Society as a whole benefits because the child will grow up into someone who appreciates justice and the storeowner will continue to believe in justice.

I think a society that has lost the capacity for love would first stop punishing people. They would not even have enough love for each other to say that pain and hate will not be accepted in the community. They would not care enough about the future to stop problems before they balloon out of control. Unfortunately I see that in my school. Kids fight in the halls between classes and teachers do nothing. Students skip classes by smoking in the cafeteria and teachers say nothing. Today, in my 12th grade class, a kid kicked one of our brand new whiteboards. The class is divided into two groups and he is in the other group. As he was getting up to go to the other classroom he, for no apparent reason at all, kicked the board. He walked out and I chased him down. There were two other teachers who saw him do it. One teacher came out and followed me. When I caught the kid I grabbed him by the arm and started yelling at him and came dangerously close to throwing him up against the wall and literally choking him. I was surprised at how close I was. I was trying to say something to him in Bulgarian but nothing came out. I was hoping one of the other three teachers (an extra one was in the hallway) would do something, but they did nothing. Nothing. I was so shocked and dismayed that I have been bummed all day. Could this town be so gone that it doesn’t even have the concept of Justice and Punishment, basic ingredients of love? I pray to God that it isn’t.

the one where andy has too many pictures of dudes in speedos

I’ve started going to the local “fitness center” here in Bobov dol. I was really into weightlifting when I was in high school, college and in the year before I came to Bulgaria. My brother introduced me to it, and – this may not make sense if you have never done it – I became addicted to it. I never became huge like Arnold but I can honestly say that I was able to lift quite some weight for someone my size. When I came to Bulgaria, I kinda got over my addiction because there was nowhere for me to get my fix. But I have recently discovered the Bobov dol fitness center and have been going frequently for the last month.

It’s quite different than any fitness center I’ve gone to in America. I have joked with people that I feel like Rocky training to beat that Russian dude. For one, there is no heat. I usually see my breath when I work out. The walls are covered with posters of various steroid-using body builders in Speedos. Anyone remember King Kalemeni? Lou Ferrigno? Bill Pearl? The equipment is old and… unique. The dumbbells I use are old train wheels welded to lengths of rebar. And unlike every other fitness center I’ve been to, there is no Metallica or AC/DC cranking out the speakers. Instead, we have Bulgarian pop-folk. The weights that do exist are in kilograms and I don’t know if you have ever tried it, but going up in weight by 10 kilograms (over 20 pounds) is quite a step. Trust me, I tried it today. One of the other people there told me that my “face is like a big tomato!”

So why do I go? There is something comforting about being there. It reminds me of my life in America. I like the time to myself to forget about what the girls in 11th class did, or what my colleagues said to me. There is also something so black and white about lifting. You can either pick up the weight or not; there is no cultural misunderstanding there. Everyday is a test, and the result is always up to me. I can’t blame it on my bad Bulgarian, or my inexperience teaching. If I fail I fail on my own. And there is something strangely comforting in that. Of course, if I succeed, I succeed solely on my own too.

Anyway, all that for 50 stotinki ain’t too shabby.

And now a word from the bulgarian tourist office:

These pictures came from a recent trip I took to the Rila Monastery with Rebecca and her parents. People always talk about how beautiful the Rila Monastery is, here is why:

Thanks to Rebecca's parents for organizing the trip and inviting me. I had a wonderful time and enjoyed meeting you and talking with you.

happy (insert holiday here)!

Happy New Year! I hope everyone has been having a great 2007 so far. I recently returned from an amazing trip to Bonn, Germany, and I have some great pictures which I will post tomorrow. I also want to wish everyone a happy Yordanov Den as today is my favorite name day. Once again I went to the village of Saparevo and once again I watched the kids jump for the cross thrown in the fountain and once again I ate too much. But what a fun, beautiful day it was.

For those who don’t remember from last year Yordanov Den is the holiday in Bulgaria which celebrates the baptism of Jesus (Yordanov = Jordan). A year older and hopefully wiser, this year’s celebration was different for me. I had the extreme luck and privilege to actually visit the baptism site of Jesus in Jordan. I consider myself lucky and privileged not only because most people don’t get the opportunity to visit Jordan but also because for so many years the site was closed to the public due to hostilities between Israel and Jordan (the Jordan river is the border between the two countries). I am thankful that a site which so strongly symbolizes our hope for peace is once again peaceful.



This year in Saparevo as we were waiting for the cross to be thrown into the fountain and the kids to once again dive in after it, I began reflecting on the amazing trip that the Christian religion has gone through to get where it is now. Maybe I have been reading too much from the “Der Spiegel Special International Edition: The Power of Faith” magazine I picked up in Germany (I highly recommend this issue of the magazine. It’s in English and you can order it at http://www.international.spiegel.de/ The whole magazine explores different issues regarding faith throughout the world and encompasses all faiths from Christianity and Islam to Taoism and Atheism. It is very balanced and highly informative). But lately I have been thinking a lot about the role of religion in the lives of people. It is amazing how faiths have crossed varied cultural and geographical boundaries to create a patchwork of beliefs across the whole world. It is also amazing how these faiths have affected and been affected by the cultures where they are found. Speaking specifically of the Christian Faith we have Catholics, Orthodox, Anglicans and Protestants as the three main branches, but from these have sprouted many different branches depending on the place you are talking about. From Catholicism, you have eight branches including Roman Catholic, Byzantine Catholic and Armenian Catholic. In the Orthodox faith you have Russian, Greek, Bulgarian, Serbian etc. From the Anglican religion you have British Anglican, African Anglican and American Episcopalian (which itself is right now undergoing many changes based on very heated cultural dialogues) and others. And finally, the Protestants have more branches than I can keep track of, from Lutheran to Baptist to Methodist to Pentecostal.

I think this is a true testament to the desire of people to make sure that they understand faith in the context of their own lives. As the many controversies in faith show today, especially the widening chasm in the Episcopal Church and the changes in the Catholic Church, people are still searching for the truth. Faith has never been static and this search for the ultimate truth has created the beautiful patchwork we see in the world today.



As I was watching the Mass and later pandemonium in the fountain today, I was struck at how beautiful and intriguing this search is. Sometimes everything seems so foreign here; the language, the culture and the religion. And while the faith here seems so foreign to what I grew up with, as the same time the search is the same. Today I saw people worshipping the same God and the same Trinity that I do. I could feel the same piety and love in their hearts as in mine. And I shared with them the same hope that the people who witnessed Jesus’ baptism almost 2000 years ago must have felt. I am still charged about it.



It also inspired something else in me which I have been doubting: my future. The faith I saw today and a story I heard has made me think very seriously about starting a Master’s Degree in religion. The colleague who I joined in Saparevo told me about her personal baptism. Her father was a communist. He was a manager in the coal mine here in Bobov dol and as such was required to be a communist member. My colleague’s grandmother, however, was a committed Christian and wanted to make sure all her grandchildren were baptized. So she took my colleague when she was a baby and had her secretly baptized in the church. Imagine the risk this woman put herself and her family through in order to pursue the Truth. And this made me think of all the old babas I saw ringed around the fountain. How did they maintain their faith through those 50 years? How did those 50 years change the faith of the nation? How have people rebuilt their faith after having it forbidden? And then I realized that these questions go on and on. How does faith grow and change in relation to culture and historical events? I would love to spend more time investigating these questions. Thank you once again, Saparevo, for stuffing my stomach with food and my mind with thoughts!