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.