Before, and then after.
13 September 2007
home
Today I have the opportunity to visit my new home for the next two years. I am living in a wonderful town named Razgrad. It is very very old and instead of having many stray dogs it has many stray cats, which I like very much. The city is the cleanest that I have seen in Bulgaria.
I work for a Roma NGO called Integro. For now my job is not very clear, but there are some things that I know. I know that I will coordinate their Youth Development programs. The most significant of these will be their Youth Network. In this case, I am very fortunate to have my assignment. My job as coordinator of the Youth Network will allow me to travel all across Bulgaria helping Roma youth to organize.
My counterpart in the organization is an amazing individual. He is 27 and he is an assistant professor at the local university. He teaches methodology of the Romani language. He speaks 6 languages. He says he will teach me. After two years I should be fluent in Bulgarian and conversational in Romani, which is an international language. I hope also to learn some Turkish. The rest of my team is equally impressive.
In Razgrad there are two other Peace Corps volunteers, a married couple, who teach English. I met them today, and I am sure that they will be fine site mates for the next two years. There is also a American style supermarket that sells anything and everything I could ever want. Did I mention there is also an Italian restaurant across from my office?
I am so incredibly happy with my assignment.
Babi sings better than you
The other day at about 5pm I was sitting in my classroom working on some English teaching assignments when an old lady busted into the room with a box of chocolates. After she force-fed me three she dragged me into a room for a short concert with her and her friends. After the concert, we all danced the hurro and had a grand time!
September 8th 2007
Where I’m calling from.
Sometimes I feel so completely suffocated here. I can feel so diminished by the care that is offered by those around me. Life is laughing and I will be celebrating my 23rd birthday in two weeks.
I received a letter from my family this week and it really was wonderful. They all wrote something to me. I have kept it on me ever since I received it, and I immediately wrote them all back. If anyone wants my address, just drop me an email. For security reasons, I can’t really post it here. And I still have yet to speak with anyone back home on the telephone………
This week marks one month that I have lived in my training village. My Bulgarian is to the point where in present simple tense I can ask simple questions, answer with simple answers, and express basic preferences and feelings. When an old grandma stops me on the street to tell me about her tomatoes, the weather, and her granddaughter’s school work in Tampa Bay Florida I can generally understand. The real test comes next week.
On Monday, September 10th, I leave here for a week. I will go by bus to the HUB training site and find a big map of Bulgaria painted on the floor. It is there that I will finally learn where I will be placed for the next two years. During Monday and Tuesday I will meet my counter-part, learn about my future work place, and finally depart for a three-day visit. I am running with the assumption that most of the people I will encounter will know Bulgarian, Roma, or Turkish. Lets see how my language stacks up against that!
This week my host mom called a meeting with my language trainer. I was under the assumption that I had committed some huge offence. Maybe I did, and I still don’t understand, but as far as I can tell the most significant issue was that my hair is routinely wet in the morning after my shower. Mom is worried about me. And I feel like an ass for being frustrated, but there are some things that I feel like I know. I know that I can close my window at night, I know when I like to shower and I know how to live like an autonomous human being. But in this culture, mom is the purveyor of all ideas and materials domestic. She has made it clear that in our interactions I am her American son, she says the same things to me that she says to her son Georgie.
This is not to say that I am all glum, rather I try to walk around with smiles and I make a point to thank my parents for everything they do for me. But I try to assert my independence in small ways. Like last night I decided to make a dish for dinner. I made lentil soup, except it bubbled way over and made a big mess. And they would not let me even try to clean it up. So there I am, featuring my incompetence front and center.
And it continues: mama insists on scooping my ice cream because she says its too hard for me. Looking over my shoulder when I boil my coffee.
I can recognize in my actions and their consequences a desire to control conditions. The lesson, I think, is to let life happen and let in the love that others are willing to give. Who would have thought that it could be this hard?
PS. My mom just walked into the room with a little Bulgarian pastry and some knitted slippers she made for me. J
PSS. This week I started and finished The Dharma Bums by Jack Kerouac (thanks Christopher!) My favorite part, probably because I am so far away, was when the protagonist was crossing the Puget Sound by ferry and found Seattle for the first time. “In the deepened dusk fog ahead the big read neons saying: Port of Seattle. And suddenly everything Japhy had told me about Seattle began to seep into me like cold rain, I could feel it and see it now, and not just think it. It was exactly like he’d said: wet immense, timbered, mountainous, cold, exhilarating, challenging.”
PSSS. I started Beloved by Toni Morrison last night. Amazing!
Sometimes I feel so completely suffocated here. I can feel so diminished by the care that is offered by those around me. Life is laughing and I will be celebrating my 23rd birthday in two weeks.
I received a letter from my family this week and it really was wonderful. They all wrote something to me. I have kept it on me ever since I received it, and I immediately wrote them all back. If anyone wants my address, just drop me an email. For security reasons, I can’t really post it here. And I still have yet to speak with anyone back home on the telephone………
This week marks one month that I have lived in my training village. My Bulgarian is to the point where in present simple tense I can ask simple questions, answer with simple answers, and express basic preferences and feelings. When an old grandma stops me on the street to tell me about her tomatoes, the weather, and her granddaughter’s school work in Tampa Bay Florida I can generally understand. The real test comes next week.
On Monday, September 10th, I leave here for a week. I will go by bus to the HUB training site and find a big map of Bulgaria painted on the floor. It is there that I will finally learn where I will be placed for the next two years. During Monday and Tuesday I will meet my counter-part, learn about my future work place, and finally depart for a three-day visit. I am running with the assumption that most of the people I will encounter will know Bulgarian, Roma, or Turkish. Lets see how my language stacks up against that!
This week my host mom called a meeting with my language trainer. I was under the assumption that I had committed some huge offence. Maybe I did, and I still don’t understand, but as far as I can tell the most significant issue was that my hair is routinely wet in the morning after my shower. Mom is worried about me. And I feel like an ass for being frustrated, but there are some things that I feel like I know. I know that I can close my window at night, I know when I like to shower and I know how to live like an autonomous human being. But in this culture, mom is the purveyor of all ideas and materials domestic. She has made it clear that in our interactions I am her American son, she says the same things to me that she says to her son Georgie.
This is not to say that I am all glum, rather I try to walk around with smiles and I make a point to thank my parents for everything they do for me. But I try to assert my independence in small ways. Like last night I decided to make a dish for dinner. I made lentil soup, except it bubbled way over and made a big mess. And they would not let me even try to clean it up. So there I am, featuring my incompetence front and center.
And it continues: mama insists on scooping my ice cream because she says its too hard for me. Looking over my shoulder when I boil my coffee.
I can recognize in my actions and their consequences a desire to control conditions. The lesson, I think, is to let life happen and let in the love that others are willing to give. Who would have thought that it could be this hard?
PS. My mom just walked into the room with a little Bulgarian pastry and some knitted slippers she made for me. J
PSS. This week I started and finished The Dharma Bums by Jack Kerouac (thanks Christopher!) My favorite part, probably because I am so far away, was when the protagonist was crossing the Puget Sound by ferry and found Seattle for the first time. “In the deepened dusk fog ahead the big read neons saying: Port of Seattle. And suddenly everything Japhy had told me about Seattle began to seep into me like cold rain, I could feel it and see it now, and not just think it. It was exactly like he’d said: wet immense, timbered, mountainous, cold, exhilarating, challenging.”
PSSS. I started Beloved by Toni Morrison last night. Amazing!
06 September 2007
September the sixth
Some amazing things:
Where babys come from.
Grandmas sing better than you.
Empty Classrooms.
Bulgarian haircuts are hot!
All this an more on monday when i get wireless internet.
peace from the east!
Where babys come from.
Grandmas sing better than you.
Empty Classrooms.
Bulgarian haircuts are hot!
All this an more on monday when i get wireless internet.
peace from the east!
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