Monday, March 1, 2010

Birding in Bulgaria: Shabla and Durankulak

The northernmost part of the Bulgarian Black Sea coast is a wintering ground for thousands of geese, including almost the entire world population of the globally threatened Red-breasted Goose. The geese traditionally winter in the area around the Durankulak and Shabla lakes, and, to insure the survival of the species, the Bulgarian Society for the Protection of Birds (BSPB) monitors the area every winter. A couple weeks ago, I joined the local BSPB team for a few days to learn more about what they are doing and how the geese are faring.

More than 150,000 geese wintered in the area this year, including approximately 120,000 Greater White-fronted Geese. But, despite the best efforts of the BSPB, the number of Red-breasted Geese continues to plummet. Approximately 32,000 Red-breasted Geese wintered in the area this year – roughly half the number that has wintered in past years. Threats in the Durankulak and Shabla area came from illegal fishing (which forced the geese to spend some nights on the Black Sea instead of the sheltered lakes) and poaching by hunters. Citations were issued to those in violation of applicable laws, but the supposed punishments were rarely enforced. Without enhanced enforcement mechanisms, threats to the geese wintering in Bulgaria will remain real.

Seeing flocks of geese numbering in the thousands makes for quite a spectacle. It also makes it easy to forget how easily a species can be wiped out if hunting goes unregulated.




In addition to estimating geese numbers and watching for poachers, the BSPB crew conducted abdominal profiles to measure the geese's health for migrating and collected goose droppings to be tested for avian disease.



The area is rather scenic and home to several different habitat types from wetlands, to the sea, to open fields.




Common Buzzards were extremely common in the open areas, and we also saw a Rough-legged Buzzard and got great looks at this Long-legged Buzzard.


The Black Sea produced seaducks (including three very rare - for Bulgaria - Common Eiders), loons, grebes, and gulls, including several Little Gulls.


The woodlands were home to smaller landbirds, including this Great Spotted Woodpecker.


We also saw some cool mammals, including a pair of Red Foxes, a European Wildcat, and a European Polecat. Unfortunately, hunters view such animals as pests and are rewarded by the local hunting clubs for killing them.

Monday, February 15, 2010

Peeing in the Sink

The other night, a couple of us went to see some friends perform at a gig in Sofia. The show was good enough that my friend asked me if the band we went to see – Black Hole – was going to open for AC/DC when they play here in a couple months. But, enough about the show. The real highlight was the bathroom issues I had.

After a long walk to the very swanky club where the show took place, I headed straight for the toilet. In front of the clearly marked restrooms was a large foyer-type open area with numerous well-appointed sinks. The ladies’ room was on the left, and the men’s room was on the right. Perfectly sober, I made my way to the men’s room, entered, saw three urinals, picked one, unzipped, took care of business, zipped up, and headed out. In the foyer-type area, I stopped at one of the sinks and washed up, and then joined my friend inside.

When the band went to intermission, I headed back to the restroom to relieve myself again. I again chose one of the urinals immediately inside the door. As I was standing there doing my thing, two guys came in, bypassed the other two urinals, and headed deeper into the restroom. Two things struck me as strange: first, that the guys weren’t using the urinals; and second, that, whenever the door opened, the girls washing up and checking their look in the mirror had a straight shot into the men's room and could see me peeing. Anyway, as I continued about my business, I started looking around. Among other things, I noticed there was a towel rack and a roll of paper towels next to each urin…oh, crap these aren’t urinals, they are sinks! Too late to do anything about it, I just finished up and left the restroom hoping the guys who had come in had somehow been oblivious to my idiocy (in my defense, the sinks and urinals were the same basic shape and size and at the same height ... the only real difference was the motion sensors).

After the show, my friend and I headed back to the restroom one last time. We entered, and what did he do? He stepped up to one of the sinks and started to unzip. Luckily, I was there to save him from making the same mistake I had made. After telling him what I had done, he couldn’t stop laughing. He was still laughing about it the next day. So was I. But I can only imagine what the Bulgarians were thinking about the strange guy who was peeing in the sink.

Sunday, February 7, 2010

And you are lynching negroes

As I drifted in and out of consciousness during a recent meeting, a colleague got my attention by apologizing to me before he started telling a joke. I’m still not quite sure why he told the joke other than to highlight some hypocrisy, but the version he told went something like this (translated to English): “An American and a Russian were having an argument related to the Cuban missile crisis. After listening to the American for some time, the Russian simply said, ‘And you are lynching negroes.’” This was a popular Soviet joke during the Cold War, and, all other arguments aside, it was a fair point. At that time, our preaching about freedom - when Black Americans were still being denied basic civil rights - reeked of hypocrisy.

Yesterday, after returning home from a quick trip to the store, my thoughts returned to the civil rights movement. More specifically, I thought about Jackie Robinson and the strength of character he must have had.

On the way back from the store, I had walked past a dozen or so men of various ages playing soccer. The youngest of the group is a senior at our school and a “student” of mine. I use the term student loosely because, like an inordinate number of the kids here, he generally refuses to study and only comes to school to hang out with friends and belittle others. In addition to grossly underachieving academically, he frequently teases me and intentionally mispronounces my name, which he did upon seeing me and sarcastically shouting, “Hello, my friend!”

After I responded by saying, “Здрасти (Hi),” he asked, “Как си? (How are you?)”

I said, “Добре, а ти? (Good, and you?)”

He responded as he usually does by saying, “Very good. Very, very good.”

He then turned to his friends, nodded his head in my direction, and said something to them which made them all laugh.

As I was walking away, first one and then another of his friends said, “Homosexual bitch,” which drew even more laughter.

I pretended not to hear them and continued on my way. Initially stung by their words and laughter, the sting quickly turned to anger and it took everything in my power not to turn around and go back and hurl insults right back at them. I was still contemplating going back and confronting them when I started thinking about Jackie Robinson. How many times had he endured painful insults? And how many times had he refused to stoop down to the level of those insulting him? That was enough to convince me to stay home, but what I couldn’t reconcile was why I was so upset.

Being called a “homosexual bitch” doesn’t particularly bother me. The words in and of themselves aren't that offensive. And, being straight, the expression doesn't fit and just sounds foolish. Moreover, I generally don’t care about and can easily disregard the excited utterances of ignoramuses. Thinking it through, what bothered me was the intent more so than the content. What bothered me is that a kid I’m trying to help had such little respect for me that he would attempt to humiliate me in front of his friends, none of whom had ever met me, and that they all bought into it. The question is “Why?” Why are those people who need help the most the most unwilling to accept it? Why is it that those people who would benefit the most from change cling the tightest to the status quo?

This is a kid who has “studied” English for at least eight years, yet he still doesn’t know the alphabet and only knows a few words and common expressions. And he hasn’t learned a whole lot more in any of the other subjects he’s studied. In this regard, he is not unusual. Teachers gave up on him (and others) long ago, allowing him (and them) to skip class altogether or to play cards or ping pong instead of continuing trying to teach. It’s a classic case of the inmates running the asylum: the kids refuse to learn, are disruptive in class, break the powerless teacher, and are thereafter permitted to do whatever they please.

Enter the naïve and optimistic American who sees a group of drowning students. In an attempt to save them, he throws out life preservers. But instead of grabbing onto the life preservers and swimming for the safety of the boat, the drowning students pull other drowning students away from their own life preservers and pull yet others off the boat and into the water to drown with them. But are they really drowning, or has the American simply misread the situation? And, even if they are drowning, who is he to try and save them?

We are here, in part, in the hopes of forging new friendships, but the reality is not everyone wants us here. We are also here trying to make a difference and improve people’s lives, but, again, not everyone sees it like that. Whereas most people are welcoming, curious, and friendly, some are inhospitable, disinterested, and hostile. These people like the way things are, and they view us as a threat to their way of life. To them, we are outsiders who have no business being in Bulgaria. They view us not as potential new friends but as enemies. And no matter what we do or say, they won’t acknowledge let alone appreciate any of it. As far as they’re concerned, we’re still lynching negroes.

Saturday, February 6, 2010

Recipe #9: Гювече (Gyuveche)

A recipe for гювече (gyuveche) is an oxymoron. That’s because гювече is named for the small ceramic dishes in which it's traditionally cooked and served and not its ingredients. And there really isn't a recipe for гювече; it is traditionally made with whatever is on hand ... although it does usually include alternating layers of cheese, vegetables, and meat.

If you don’t like the idea of cooking without a recipe, here’s one which will fill up 2 pots and feed 2 people.

3 tomatoes – diced
1 onion – diced
2 bell peppers – seeded and diced
2 hot peppers – diced
3 cloves garlic – diced
1 cup of cooked meat – diced (you can use whatever you have on hand including sausage, chicken, ham)
1 cup of grated or crumbled сирене (feta cheese)
1 cup of grated кашкавал (yellow cheese)
2 eggs

Directions:

Chop or dice everything you want to put in. Make alternating layers of cheese, meat, and vegetables, and finish with cheese. Bake in the oven at 200º C (375º F) for 30 minutes or until the cheese is melted. Then crack an egg on top of each dish and cook until the egg is the consistency you like.

Sunday, January 31, 2010

Tits Galore (and a whole lot more)!

In the eight months I’ve been in Bulgaria, I’ve seen a lot of tits. I can honestly say that most of the tits have been Great Tits. I’ve seen Great Tits in the park, at school, while walking down the street, in the garden, outside church, in the woods. Bouncing around here and there and drawing attention to themselves, Great Tits are impossible to miss. I’ve also seen a fair number of Blue Tits. And the colder it has gotten, the more Blue Tits I’ve come across. I’ve also seen a few Marsh Tits, but none of the other six species of tits (Long-tailed, Coal, Crested, Sombre, Willow, and Penduline) which call Bulgaria home.

For a nature and bird lover like me, Bulgaria is a pretty good place to call home. One of the better countries in Europe for birding, Bulgaria boasts just over 400 species on its official list. In the hopes of seeing as many of these species as possible, I made a friendly wager with my brother: who can see more species of birds in 2010 – me in Bulgaria or him in Colorado? He has several advantages: Colorado has recorded seventy-six more species than Bulgaria, he knows all the birds in Colorado, he knows where to go to see birds in Colorado, he has a car, he is unemployed and has plenty of free time, and he’s a serious bird dork. My only saving grace might be that, when I'm not teaching, I’ll be working with some outstanding birders who are affiliated with Bulgaria’s premiere conservation-based organization. Anyway, as January comes to a close, I’m getting my ass kicked. My brother has built an impressive 100+ species lead on me. Of course, I’ve yet to pull out my binoculars. That will change in the near future, and the gap will be tightened. And even if I lose, I’ll be able to make my brother jealous by posting photos of birds he’s never seen.

A Blue Tit precariously feeding.


A Chaffinch enjoying, or at least oblivious to, the snow.


A group of Crested Larks, including this one, can be seen almost daily hanging out around the school.


This winter, our town has been invaded by Hawfinches. Anything but “very wary and shy and difficult to observe,” as Hawfinches are often described, these beasts (which can generate over 50 kg of force with their massive beaks) have been present in large numbers since early December.

Friday, January 29, 2010

The Surva International Festival of Masquerade Games

Pulsating rhythms. Dancing in the streets. People wearing masks. Men dressed in drag. Mardi Gras? Not quite. No one was throwing beads, there weren’t any flashers or obnoxious drunks, and it didn’t reek of piss and stale beer. Carnival? Wrong again. There weren’t any stunning samba dancers shaking it in g-strings and high-heels, nor was there any all-night partying or promiscuous sex. What then?

Yeah, I gave it away already. Every year the town of Pernik hosts the Surva International Festival of Masquerade Games. Today, ten of us joined the masses and spent the better part of a day at the festival. The festival is considered one of the most "important" cultural events in Bulgaria (I question to whom the festival is important because just one of the nine Bulgarians in our group had actually been to the festival before today). The games attract more than 5,000 masked participants who parade through town in elaborate costumes, eventually dancing on a main stage in a juried competition. Traditionally, the masks and those wearing them are called Kukeri or Survakari - from which the festival draws its name. The tradition dates back to ancient pagan times, when it was believed the masks and costumes had the power to protect their wearers against evil (hence the more frightening the getup the better). It’s a fun time, and it’s worth going not only for the festival itself but also for the piping hot donuts which are served. Mmmmmm ... scrumptious.




















Water

Several years ago, my brother and I roughed it on a camping trip in southeastern Arizona. By roughing it I mean we camped only at relatively primitive campsites which lacked basic facilities such as showers. By day, we hiked in the mountains and in the desert, where temperatures regularly climbed over 100º F. At night, we slept in sleeping bags in a tent with temperatures usually plunging below freezing. After a week or so of this routine, and without a river or lake or pool to rinse off in, we were both caked with a filthy combination of sweat and dirt. We had long since passed the point of being able to tolerate each other’s smell, but it wasn’t until we finally got to the point of being unable to stand our own stench that we gave in and sprung for a hotel room. What followed was the best shower I’ve ever had in my life.

For almost a week, I have been without water (it's funny how that happens when pipes freeze). This hasn't particularly bothered me, but it hasn't pleased me either. Being a spoiled American, I enjoy a daily shower. And no water obviously equals no shower. Several people, including one of my female students who went so far as to invite me to shower with her, kindly offered to let me shower at their homes. Not wanting to inconvenience anyone, I politely declined. And this morning, I was awakened at 3:28 by a truly wonderful sound – water pouring onto my bathroom floor. I was so pleased that stepping in the icy cold water to turn off the faucets didn’t even phase me. I went back to bed and slept better than I have in some time, knowing that a nice hot shower was in my future. A few hours later, I took my first shower in nearly a week. It didn’t top the Arizona shower, but it certainly makes the short list of best showers I’ve ever had ... mainly because it means I have water again.

Here’s a shot of my greasy mop just before this morning’s shower.