A Chronicle of my Changing Times.

The Coming End

There's a sense in the air lately that things are beginning to wind down.  Whilst somehow we're busier now than ever before, there's a quiet calm that has seemed to come over the volunteers.  People seem more sure of themselves.  You can see it in their faces, hear it in the tone of their voices, understand it because I - for one - am feeling it too.

There's an independance that's contagious, like we're done with was has been and ready to begin what is to come.  In two weeks we'll be official Peace Corps Volunteers (not the Peace Corps Trainees we are currently) and already at our sites.  We'll take that leap into the abyss of being alone with very little direction on what to do for the next 2 months.  But we'll succeed, I'm sure of it.

The next couple weeks will be busy, but I hope to be able to publish two posts that have been on my mind these last few weeks.  First, I'd like to look at what I see as my short comings and what I feel I need to overcome.  The second will be what I hope to accomplish these next two years, where I want to work and have hopes to achieve. 

Now, I have more Bulgarian to learn.

Posted by: mjmarble at June 27, 2005 09:51 | link | comments

Bulgarian Hospitality

Before I joined the Peace Corps and came to Bulgaria my father warned me about traveling abroad.  Actually, he had concerns more about living abroad rather than traveling.  He had spent a fair amount of time back in the eighties in Finland and England and did not enjoy his experience.  He told tales of being the only American around and the discomfort that brought him.  In one instance when he was in Finland he went to bed one night by saying goodnight to the desk clerk like he had every night before.  The clerk was polite and affable as always.  But when he awoke the next morning and came into the hotel lobby the same clerk accosted him calling him a terrorist and accused him of murdering women and children.  Aparently during the night American planes had bombed Libya killing a number of Kadafi's children and his wife.

I was talking with him earlier this week and he brought this back up.  I had disagreed with him at the time stating I didn't think I would face the same challenges, and even if I did it would be something I could handle.  He asked me this Sunday if I finally understood what he had been concerned about since I've been in Bulgaria for over two months now.  I haven't been confronted in the same manner, but I do understand better where he was coming from with his worries.

Overall, however, I have to say that I've found my time thus far abroad to be different.  Bulgarians are curious people, but they will only stare as you pass unless they know you.  Many has been the time that I've felt those stares from afar and know what it's like to be different.  This is especially true in a country that hasn't seen too many tourists or other foreigners around (although I can't recommend enough how wonderful this country is as a place to visit).  But should you get to know Bulgarians, they are some of the most outgoing and friendly people I've ever met.

Take for instance this past weekend.  I went to a small town called Trigrad in the south of Bulgaria with a number of other Volunteers to see the mountains and a few caves.  We ended up staying at a hotel in a small town called Borino.  We at dinner at the resturant and drank beer and coffee well into the night.  The manager of the hotel, after being introduced to us by the PCV serving in the town, came by a number of times to check on us and ask us what we would like made for us for breakfast.  The hotel, more of a pension really, was opened up to us completely.

Another example came yesterday.  Our group in Septemvri has a project due for Peace Corps titled "People and their Environment.  Karen, Lucia and I pass by a Honey (Med in Bulgarian) farm daily on that walk I mentioned in my last post.  Karen came up with the idea of profiling the people and this place for the project so we stopped by, not knowing them, last week and asked if we could interview them.  Much confusion followed as they didn't understand what we wanted.  They kept offering us med (5 Leva per Kilo - not a bad price).  So Karen had her Baba (Gaina) come down and ask for us.  We happened to be walking home when she was talking to the wife of the man who works there.  We were properly introduced and yesterday we went for the interview.  We spent two hours there whilst the man, Dido (I think) showed us how honey is seperated from the hives, how the bees work and how they bottle it.  He was patient, kind and very knowledgable.  At some point during the interview, it became a Na Gosti and we had beeswax coated in honey served along with some apricots and coffee.  At the end Dido gave us each a kilo of honey as a present and refused our attempts at paying him.

Tonight, my host family will hold a Na Gosti for all the PCT's here and our Language trainer, Vesi.  I suspect that many of those people on my block will come as well, since I made it clear to Yulia (my host mom) that more people the better.  I've been told that the red carpet will be rolled out, with food a plenty and homemade wine, Rakiya (Bulgarian's infamous homemade brandy that could peal paint) and sweets will be served.  I'm sure a good time will be had by all.

Now, this doesn't mean I won't face those things my father did back in the eighties.  But I think that by assimilating into the culture, knowing Bulgarians and being open to talking with them that I can truly enjoy these next two years.

Oh, and on a side note - I got my GSM phone a week or so ago.  My number is 0885285117.  You can sent me up to 15 text messages a day for FREE by going to the MTel website and signing up for an account.  I'll look forward to some text messages ya'll promised me.

Posted by: mjmarble at June 21, 2005 09:10 | link | comments (1)

The Walk Home

Everyday I journey from my home in Septemvri to the center for Bulgarian Language classes, a walk of about 25 minutes.  Of course this always leads to a walk home, which for some reason I find infinately more interesting - I'm guessing becuase I'm not running late to class and have opportunities to relax and take note of the town I traverse.

The evening walks usually begin not from the training center, but rather from either City Bar Cafe (our usual hang out) or the Internet Club next door.  One of the few constants throughout the trip is the semi-interested casual stares from Bulgarians sitting in cafes or meandering along Bulgaria Blvd - as it's aptly called - themselves.  I travel west into the fading sun as it inches closer to the tree covered rolling mountains that ring the south and west of town.

I almost always come across the small brown mutt of a dog who's back left leg must be broken because he hops around without using it.  It's an amusing sight seeing a dog who's butt constantly bounces up and down like a pogo stick.  I'd feel pity, but he seems to do rather well for himself, especially in comparison to the other wild dogs who roam the town.

Then there's the project where a stretch of sidewalk about 60 feet long is being reconstructed.  Now in Bulgaria reconstructing something involves tearing up the site and creating a general mess that spills out onto the road, getting all the supplies delivered, then hiring about 10 men to sit and stare at said supplies whilst doing absolutely nothing.  I must say that they do their job rather well given the project has been going on for about 5 weeks and nary a single inch of sidewalk has been replaced.  Just for giggles, they do tear up more sidewalk once every week or so.  I expect to return at Christmas (should I decide to come visit my host family then) to see about 150 feet of sidewalk unearthed and the same ten guys shivering their arses off whilst staring at the growing supplies to finish the job. 

Upon passing the Post Office and Municiple bluilding, both impressive buildings about 4 stories tall, I encounter the same pack of teenagers.  What makes them distinctive is the way they've embraced and melded a style of 80's Punk, 90's grunge and Goth.  Truthfully I tell you that not everyone can pull this off, yet they do their best.  They of course stop talking and stare as I pass since they're cool like that.

A little further up the road I come to the economic center of Septemvri, and I do use that phrase loosely.  On one side of the road is a strip mall of sorts anchored on each end by decent cafe's.  The town's largest grocery store is there, as is the florist/general store, the video rental place, a clothing shop and one or two other misc stores.  Across the street there is a fresh fruit stall, a newsstand and another grocery store.  It's at this grocery store that I usually procure my smokes - although I'm not sure why since they are less than friendly there.  But I'm nothing if not a creature of habbit and I began going there when I first got to Septemvri.  If I'm not mistaken, it was because the girl I flirted with at the time worked at the cafe across the street.  Well, I flirted with her until her boyfriend came up to me at the Discoteka one night and screamed into my ear (above the blaring music), "This is my very bestest girlfriend."  I decided to let that one go...

I digress.  Around this time I pass a Soviet era block apartment where the kids are usually playing on the pavement out front.  Like clockwork they call out individually (each waiting for a response), "Allo!"  I reply in kind, as I'm wont to do.  After repeating this with all 4 or 5 kids they call after me, individually again, "Gooooodbahie".  I suspect that this type of thing will happen often over the next two years.

After a bit I come to one of my favorite spots along the route.  There's an apartment building being built and it's fun to watch the progress, even though have have yet to actually see anyone working there.  But every day a little more is done.  The building itself it about 4 stories tall, made of red brick and the obligatory red/orange tile roof that is so common in mediteranian cultures.  Besides enjoying the building itself, I also look forward to this spot since it has a wonderful view.  For whatever reason there are not a lot of other structures around it and the purple green mountains coupled with an evening sky form a picturesque backdrop.  Many has been the time that I've paused to just enjoy the view.

Of late, the trees that line the street have begun to bear some sort of seed or fruit.  I'm not sure what it is, but it makes the trees smell sweet to the point you can almost taste it.  Many people just walk along and pick the low hanging leaves and these seeds things filling up bags and baskets.  I've been told that whatever this is, it makes great tea.  I'll have to try it sometime.

I pass the one true mechanic shop in town everyday.  What's noteworthy here is that the numerous men who work there always manage to look busy as they see me coming as if I might pass judgement on them should they not work.  I also take note of the token fairly attractive women who works there, I'm pretty sure as the secretary/clerk.  She always says "Hi" as I pass.  I think there should be a rule that every mechanic shop should have one attractive woman who works there.  I'm pretty sure it's drummed up business for this place.

Septemvri was once two towns which merged into one, which is why it's so long and takes me 25 minutes to walk most of it.  There is a large park that boarders the Roma neighborhood, or Mehala.  It never fails that there are some Roma kids playing football (aka Soccor to all you Yanks) amongst the cows and horses.  There is also a couple of picnic tables which always have someone eating at them, not matter the time or day.

Just past the park is the local Kino, or Movie theater.  Now I use that term loosely when talking about Septemvri.  A movie is shown every Friday and Saturday nights, usually last year's selection.  For instance I've seen Bridget Jones II and Constantine there.  This week is Jackie Chan in Around the World in Eighty Days.  The theater itself is a lot like a large high school auditorium with a large white sheet hanging at the back of the stage.  The movies are subtitled in Bulgarian which isn't so bad.  I've made friends with the people who run the movies, Anna and Demitar who are both from Septemvri but now live in Plovdiv.  Demitar teaches theology at the Seminary there and Anna just graduated High School and now studies music at the University in Plovdiv.  Every time we see a movie we go out with them.

Around the bend from the Kino I feel like I'm in my own neighborhood although I still have a 5 minute walk ahead of me.  On the left is the other Cafe we frequent in Septemvri called Terrace.  It's rather aptly named as it has a second story balcony that overlooks the street.  People often just sit there and watch the world go by.  About once a week I'll see someone I know sitting out and stop for a drink.

A litte bit further and I pass Baba Gaina's house.  Karen, another volunteer from my training group, stays with her.  We joke that she's the queen of the Baba's, or grandmothers, because she has a bench that she brings out to sit on the sidewalk.   Whenever she does all the other Baba's in the neighborhood flock to her and sit there to talk and gossip.  Behind her house there's a woodshop that produces doors and such for resort hotels in Varna and Burgas along the Black Sea.  They do great work there.  My host father worked there occasionally before going to Spain last week, as do some of the other volunteer's host fathers.

This is the one point of my trip I don't enjoy.  At the corner of Gaina's block is a house with probably could be considered a cafe.  In saying that I mean there's a front room where men come to drink and on nice days they bring a steel table outside their door to sit and drink.  Now, in Bulgaria Cafe's don't just serve coffee, but also juices, Coke (which I usually drink), tea as well as Beer and hard alcohol.  It's normal to get a beer in the afternoon and just sit and talk.  Or on Friday or Saturday we will go and drink at one before going to the Discoteka around midnight.  But at this "Cafe" they always seem to be drinking alcohol, no matter the time of day.  The guy who lives there gave me a bad impression when, during my first week, came up to me and had to shake my hand.  This is unusual behavior for Bulgarians who normally don't talk to you unless you've been introduced.  This was followed by his daily attempts at getting me to come to a 'Na Gosti' or informal party.  The whole thing just smakes me as no good, although I can't put my finger on why.  So I dread passing by this place for fear of him inevitably coming out to shake my hand, say hello and try to get me to a 'Na Gosti'. 

So I usually try to cross the street to avoid him (usually not successful).  I have an excuse to do this though, since there's a store run by the host mother of another volunteer in my training group, Lucia, about 50 feet away from the dreaded 'cafe'.    After having a friendly wave with Veselka, the shopkeeper, I recross the street to avoid another cafe that spills out onto the sidewalk.  There's nothing wrong with this cafe, I just feel guilty walking through tables whilst people talk.  Plus it gives me a chance to talk to the nice ol' Baba.

This Baba, I don't know her name, is 87 years old.  She tells me that every time I see her.  She's a short little thing, not more than 5 foot tall before years of hard work and scholiosis set it.  She sits out on an overturned bucket with her blue bandana holding back her whispy hair.  Every day her face lights up when she sees me and she takes my hand and (after telling me her age again) goes on a tirade of rapid fire Bulgarian that I have no hope of understanding.  One time I spent 5 minutes with her and after telling her I'm 29 yrs old I managed to understand that she likes my eyes.  Otherwise, she repeats the same things to me every day, but I don't understand them.

Just past the Baba I come to Septemvri's Orthodox Church.  After crossing myself Orthodox style I cross the street again since I'm not within site of my house.  This is one of my favorite parts of the journey because everyone who lives around my home seems to know I'm coming and pops their heads out their doors or happens to decide to go for a walk just when I'm passing by.  And of course they all have warm greetings and open smiles for me, which just makes it feel like home. 

I'll miss this place when I leave in three weeks...

Posted by: mjmarble at June 17, 2005 10:19 | link | comments (2)

Who are you?

The other evening I had an long conversation with Elena, my host sister who lived in England for 4 years and consequentially speaks wonderful English.  Amonst all the Gluki (gossip) about my host family and talks about the apartment she and Dravko (her husband) are building in Sophia, she made a comment that really caught my attention.  She stated that in Bulgaria, people believe by the time you reach 25 you have become the person you will be for the rest of your life.  For someone who's looking to challenge himself and grow as a person whilst here, that's interesting food for thought.

Have I already become the person I will be all of my life?  I went back to Wittenberg a month or so before I came to Bulgaria to reaffirm many of those things which I hold dear and would like to keep close to my heart.  One of the selling points of Peace Corps is that you challenge and grow though taking yourself out of your comfort zone, helping others and doing things you'd never do in the states.  In thinking about this the last few days, I honestly don't believe I've changed all that much since coming to Bulgaria.  Yes, I've experienced things which are unimaginable in America and looked at life through glasses of a different tint and hue.  But does this mean I've changed?

I am who I am - and I'd like to believe that's a good thing.  I've come to the conclusion that sometime in your 20's you do become the person you will be.  Of course this comes from someone who's only in his late 20's - so I may not be able to see the forest though the trees (to pull out the obligatory cliche metephor).  I'd have to say that life here is actually very rosey, since there's a lot of beauty with thorns to go along with them.

I'm headed to a small town in the south of Bulgaria this weekend called Trigrad with about 25 volunteers whilst the people in my triaing group all go to Velingrad.  It was a tough choice for me to make (where to go), but I think this is the right one.  I'll be sure to take my camera with me and maybe, just maybe, one day I'll actually have a way to share them with everyone.  Tonight we're conducting a bit of a round table discussion with a number of locals (mostly our host families) on the differences of age in Bulgaria.  I'm anticipating this to include a little discussion, a lot of coffe, and the Bulgarian national pastime of just plain hanging out.  Should be fun.

With that, I'm off since my lunch hour is just about up.  Catch up with ya'll later...

Posted by: mjmarble at June 16, 2005 09:48 | link | comments (1)

Well I finally have my address

Ok, so I stink...  I got caught up this past weekend being in Varna and never took the opportunity to update when I had all the time in the world to do so.  Suffice to say, much is going on including fast time in Varna, getting stuck in Plovdiv without a place to stay, more Bulgarian then you can shake a stick at, hooka's, host father traveling to Spain for a year, fun with orphans (who, by and by, don't live like Oliver Twist), a HUB or two, another trip to Trigard this weekend (10 points if you can find it on a map), and a lot of broken promises on chats and emails.  Keep dropping me lines and emails folks - I really do appreciate them.

And along that train of thought, my address in Bulgaria is as follows (at least for the next 3-4 weeks):

Michael Marble

Peace Corps

P O Box 178

Pazardjik, 4400 Bulgaria

So, send me things - but make it quick.  I'll be away from that address by July 8th (although I can still go to PC offices in Sophia and pick things up later - it's just not convient).  Make me feel loved and popular.  Make me the envy of everyone NOT getting packages at HUB's.  Think Airmail.

And one of these day's I'll actually sit down at a computer and type out a real post - just probably not until July when I get internet in my apartment.

Posted by: mjmarble at June 13, 2005 13:58 | link | comments

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