This month marks a transition for me. In the past four years, I've returned from Bulgaria, raised money for school by substitute teaching, waitressing, and administratively assistanceship at my home church. That was year one as a returned volunteer. The next three were filled by seminary at Boston University School of Theology, hanging out with friends, learning many new board games, and meeting the man of my dreams, Jeremiah.

However, he graduated and moved to Illinois, where he is now a pastor near Champaign. We were married on gorgeous January day in Wisconsin, and I returned to finish my last semester of school.
Well, that last semester is now only a month away from being finished, completed, graduated, and I am once again attempting to chronicle my life in blog form. In a bit more than a month, I will move into my spouse's community in Illinois, hope to get a church, and begin life as a spouse, pastor, and newly transplanted Midwesterner. I sure do think that life might be getting a bit interesting, and soon.

In order to keep myself sane, I've set several goals for myself. The first, which I've already begun, is to run a 5K by the end of August in Mahomet. The second, which I've worked on sporadically for a bit now, is to practice my down-dog move so that I can finally have my heels on the ground. My third goal, and the one that scares me the most about implementing in a place where I no longer can rely on public transportation, is to live a sustainable lifestyle. Jeremiah and I have already signed up for a community sustained agriculture program (CSA) which will allow us to get organic produce rather cheaply. It's the driving and acquiring possessions to make our house a home for two rather than one that really scares me. Being fresh out of school, with loans and punitive gas prices is just plain old frightening. Not to mention all the other pressures.

But hey! No whining. I'm attempting to face life, and do so in ways that are healthy for me, my J-Man, and the environment. Here's hoping!

An update on my previous blog:

As I was walking home from the internet club with my spoils from the kindergarden, the old baba (grandmother) who always asks me, "Where?" (That's all. I don't know if it is "Where are you going?" or "Where have you been?" or even "Where is your husband? You shouldn't be here by yourself.") saw me coming down the center. This is the translated version of our conversation:

Baba: Is that our girl? I thought so. But she was carrying flowers. Such beautiful flowers!
Me: Yes, it is me. I got them at the kindergarden.
Baba: They are beautiful!
Me: Yes, they are very beautiful. (I smell the flowers). They smell beautiful!
Baba: (smelling the flowers.) They smell beautiful!
Me: Yes, they do.
Baba: Such beautiful flowers!

And that was our conversation. She really is a cute little baba.

It must be something in the air.

Not really, but it just seemed a good way to start the blog after not writing in more than a month.

But really, there is. It smells good here finally, after months of burning trash being the only scent in the air. (I've gotten rather good at telling what kind of trash is being burned. I'm considering putting it on my resume, along with skipping stones and opening a bottle with a spoon.) And along with the lilacs and the peonies and the roses that are all magically opening all at once now, it's the time of year that kids are starting to stop coming to school.

In the last two days, two of my classes have finished. My 12th graders and my kindergarteners. Both were rather interesting.

Yesterday it was the senior's final day. Of course, I hadn't seen most of them in more than a month anyhow, but now there isn't even an attendance record that I can mark them not absent in (Although they weren't there, I technically wasn't allowed to mark them absent. Just one of those things.) So, the school, the teachers, and a previous volunteer in my town all turned up to see the "sending away of twelfth class".

It stopped raining long enough to hold it outside, but there were still a lot of umbrellas out. Yes, it rains both inside and out here. Anyways, we were a gathered, and the seniors came a marching out of the a school. This was the funny part. Some were dressed as if going to a ball. You know, hoop skirts on some, bow ties on others, shiny dresses on the rest. Then there were my kids. They were in kakhis and sweaters. Figures.

So they march outside, we move out of the way (There isn't much room in front of the school), and the ceremony begins. The Vice-Director speaks (the director was a no show. I think he was getting his mustache groomed.), then a gym teacher, then the flag is transferred to the next class.

This is where the really odd part comes in. As a final good bye, the graduating class kisses the flag as they pass by it.

And that's it. No reading of the names, no diplomas handed out, no robes, no hats tossed willy-nilly into the air. Toba e, be.

So, after the excitement of yesterday, I presented what I taught my kindergarteners this year to a proud group of 12 parents.

So, we said hello, and introduced ourselves, said colors and did verbs (run, swim, sit, stand, sleep, wake up (I think the last two are their favorites), drink, eat, read, write), and sang about a little bird, and the "If you're happy and you know it..." Song. But, the one that received the most applause was by and far the five little monkeys jumping on the bed. I bet the parents were wondering where exactly their angels learned that one.

And that was that. As a gift for teaching them twice a week for as long as I can last past a half hour, I got a plate that is cosmetic challenged, and some flowers.

Now my apartment will be able to smell like the outdoors. I like that idea.

Happy Easter!

Although I haven't quite been able to get invited to a Bulgarian Easter Celebration, I have had the opportunity to create new traditions with two of my fellow Bulgarian PCVs: Alyse and Greg. Both last year and this year we did remarkably similar things, and quite without planning on either occasion.

Last year, we decided to visit the largest monestary in Bulgaria, and the second largest in the Balkans, Rila Monstary. We decided fairly late in the day, caught a tram, but we didn't have tickets for the tram. Of course, we were caught, and a 15 lev fine was demanded (for all of us, not apiece.)

This year, we were going to go to the littlest town in Bulgaria, known for its fine wine, chalk cliffs, and cheap cigerattes. However, this changed as soon as we all got to the bus station in Sofia, and instead we went to some place we could have gotten to from our own towns, where ever in Bulgaria they might be. This meant paying about and extra 13 lev each.

Last year, we got to the place, found we could stay in the monestary, which was cool.

Hello again. I would like to start by saying that in complying with Peace Corps rules, I can no longer tell you exactly which town I live in. However, I would like to say that from now on, I will refer to my site as a small city in South-eastern Bulgaria, in the Rhodopi mountains, close to the Greek and Turkish borders. I'm sure no one, much less in Bulgaria, will be able to understand where my site is. Gotta love those Peace Corps rules.

Last week I was at a seminar for Peace Corps. It took place in a little mountain town, close to Sofia, and is known for its mineral water and fresh air. It was choked full of delightful things, such as: how to fill out forms, how great Peace Corps Mali was (that is where our esteemed leader, Director Carl, served his time), the fact that we will be weird for the rest of our lives, and that although name dropping isn't considered a good thing, you won't be able to get a job without knowing someone. Lets just say it was a fun filled four days in a hospital. My friends and I spent a lot of time playing trivia pursuit and basketball. Luckily, the bruises have mostly faded.

After those fun filled days, I went to my friend Alyse's site, which again, not able to state exactly which town it is, I will talk around it. It is in Northern Bulgaria, about an hour from the Black Sea, in flatter ground, and a monstrous memorial to Soviet Power is visible in the distance on a clear day. Needless to say, it was way more fun than that other place we were at.

For one thing, it is close to one of the nine cultural sites recognized by the UN. Again, I can't tell you exactly where it is, or bad things might happen. (Not that I'm bitter. I just feel that the rule is a tad bit on the silly side. The bad side of silly.) With our friend Jake, we got dropped off, saw the site, and then climbed up really bad stairs to climb on some fake ruins. They were fun. Especially when I fell off them. I like fake ruins, especially when they have signs saying not to climb on the ruins. Considering that they were built to look ruiny, and in the 60s, our logic says that they are not really ruins and that we can climb and fall off them to our hearts content.

On the way home, we met a dog. A boy dog. We named him Sally. He was a good dog. He decided to adopt us. I guess he liked being Sally. As we were walking home, he decided to follow us. By following, I mean to say that he walked ahead of us and kept looking behind to see if we were following. We were. We tried to lose him, but it just wasn't happening. We walked 12 km back to Alyse's place, and Sally was right there with us. Even when we stopped at the friendly neighborhood grocery store, Sally waited right outside. Like I said, Sally was a good dog. Except maybe for his regretful habit of rolling in the numerous cow pies on our way home. Unfortunately, this made Sally smell bad, and so Sally did not get a chance to join Alyse's cat as a pet. However, Alyse's town (which I cannot name) now has one more stray dog. Just what it needed.

I took the bus home, and I had a rather odd conversation with the bus driver. Along with telling me that he has a son, who goes to the driving technical school in town, and a daughter who is a student at the school I teach at, he said the next time I went to Alyse's town, I should invite him, and we could have a big party. I was excited. Actually, it was rather odd. I made sure that he didn't see where I lived. If only he had heard about the Not-Knowing-Exactly-Where-Peace-Corps-Volunteers-Live Memo. I think that our fearless leader better clue him in and fast.

But, the good thing about being back in my little town in the Southeastern Rhodopis which is close to the Greek and Turkish borders is that I was missed. Both of my shop keeper ladies and the vegetable woman remarked on how I was lost, and wanted to know all about where I had been. Even the cute little Russian teacher asked about me. I like my town. I will be sad to leave it in 97 days.

I survived this past week of holidays here in Bulgaria, but it was rather tough. In the past week, there have been three, each wildly different than the previous.

First, on the first of March, I was reminded that it was Baba Marta day. For some reason, I had forgotten this day last year, but it was instantly bought back to me when I walked in my 12th grade classroom to teach my 10th graders. The 12th graders hadn't gone to their biology class yet, so I was pretty instantly surrounded by 12th grade girls, all trying to tie me up. When they finished, it was the 10th graders turn. I got tied up that day by 11th graders, some teachers, even by my kindergarten. By the end of the day, by wrist was a mess of red and white.


But it's probably not what you think. Baba Mart, or grandmother March, is a bit like Groundhog's day. People give their friends bracelets and little dolls made of white and red thread, called martinitzi, in the hope that Grandmother March will see it and be pleased, thus bringing spring early. If there isn't enough red and white, winter will last longer. These decorations are worn until the first stork or swallow is seen, then they are removed and tied to a budding tree or placed under a rock.

The next holiday happened on March 3, that Wednesday. It was Liberation Day, when Bulgaria won its independence from under the Turkish Yoke. This year Bulgaria celebrated 126 years of Independence, my town included. It was only later that I discovered that the town I live in and the region it is in was freed only in 1912. 126 years indeed.

Anyways, that aside, we celebrated by gathering in the town center to listen to speeches, then, with a band, marched around the town to place wreaths at the statues honoring the soldiers in the war. It was very solemn. Afterwards, we gathered back into the center and listened to more poems and speeches. Then, while there was dancing, my counterpart and I snuck off to have coffee. It was a very good way to celebrate, especially since we didn't have school.

After that, it was an uneventful weekend, holiday wise. However, Monday was looming, and as March 8th began to draw closer, carnations, potted plants, and other girly things were making an appearance in my other wise unflowered town. That's right. International Woman's day was coming.

It's a bit like Mother's day, except all Women are celebrated. It's a bit nice. One of my tenth grade boys gave me a carnation (He was also inspired to change his name, from Mehmed to O'Mehmed, from a dectective story we were reading. He's a sweetheart.). Our director at school was inspired to shorten classes. Lots of fun.

So that's why this weekend I'm resting in the knowledge that there aren't anymore holidays to surprise me by getting tied up, being required to march, or having abrupt changes in the schedule. Maybe.

These past few weeks, I have been asked some rather strange questions, and have some odd coments directed my way. A couple of them, and the answers:

Are there apples in America?
I of course, answered no. I had never seen an apple before I came to Bulgaria.

Are there chickens in America?
Again, no.

I wanted you for my daughter-in-law, but my son just got married two months ago. ( the same lady who told me this later asked me what my name was.)

Do you want this cat? He is very nice. (said of a cat that I know has been rooting around in the dumpster.)

You shouldn't kick that stone. You will fall down. (it was a pebble, and I was kicking it down the street. I did not fall down.)

That's about all that I can think of. The apple question cracked me up, for several days, though. It was definately a teaching moment.