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.
Monday, April 12, 2004
Wednesday, April 07, 2004
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.
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.
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