Celebrating Two Years In Bulgaria

I celebrated my two year anniversary in Bulgaria with the people who first welcomed me here: my language trainer and her family and my host family from Boychinovtsi. Two years earlier I had sat in the same room with the same group of people feeling like a complete outsider, an intruder in a place I didn’t belong. But two years down the road I sat there and felt completely at home. Everything and everyone there was familiar and comfortable, and it was a typical Bulgarian get-together of family and friends of which I was a part. The table overflowed with food, drink, and laughter, and I soaked it all in as long as I could.


Eventually, I pulled myself away from the table and crawled into bed wondering if the day was as meaningful and special for them as it had been for me. It didn’t take long before I was fast asleep.

Then, a little more than an hour after I’d gone to bed, I was awakened by some strange sounds. Was I dreaming or was someone actually calling my name? Someone was definitely calling my name. But who was it and what did they want? Dazed and confused, I sat up on the side of the bed and listened intently. The sound seemed to be coming from the street, not the house. I fumbled around for my glasses and went to the window.

Standing in the street were the principal of the school where we had done our training and his daughter’s boyfriend. They had learned I was in town, and they wanted to grab a beer. Still half asleep and feeling plenty good from the earlier rakia, wine, and beer, I politely declined. Everyone else was sound asleep, everything was locked up, and I didn’t want disturb them. “Just one,” they pleaded and pleaded. Having played the “just one” game plenty of times and knowing how it usually ends (at least for me), I stood my ground and agreed we’d hang out and have a few beers on my next visit to Boychinovtsi. And we will. Because sometimes the Peace Corps is about grand projects and helping those who are less fortunate, and sometimes it’s about having a beer with new friends.

Two of the three wonderful Bulgarian families who have adopted me.

Watch and Listen

Watch and listen to this. A friend, who also happens to be a Peace Corps volunteer, was a contestant on X Factor Bulgaria and dedicated this song to the kids he teaches in Bregovo, a small town in the far northwest of Bulgaria near the Serbian and Romanian borders. You don't need to understand anything to understand everything.

Reflections on 9/11

Ten years ago I was on my way to a deposition when a reporter broke in over the radio to announce that a plane had crashed into one of the World Trade Center towers. A few minutes later, the reporter broke in again to announce a second plane had crashed into the other tower. A chill went up my spine, but I drove on to the other lawyer’s office and went through with the deposition. After taking the worst deposition I’ve ever taken, I returned to my office just to check in, and then I went home. And there I sat in disbelief. Just me and my girlfriend. Shocked. Stunned. Speechless. Horrified and saddened by the cowardice we had witnessed, awed by the courageousness, thankful our families were safe, and thankful to be together. It’s a day I’ll never forget.

While it's important to pay tribute to those affected by the heinous acts of 9/11, it's equally important to remember that what was a one-time occurrence in America is a regular occurrence in some other parts of the world. Let's save some of our compassion for the innocent people around the world who are subjected to horrific violence on a more regular basis. And let's reconsider ... how much money must we spend, how many wars must we wage, and how many lives must be lost or forever shattered before we realize there's a better way?

As someone much more intelligent than I am said a long time ago, “Peace cannot be kept by force. It can only be achieved by understanding.” That’s the idea behind these bears, which came to Sofia earlier this year.

Life is a Bowl of Cherries

It was the last Sunday in May. I had agreed to survey birds in connection with the Bulgarian Society for the Protection of Birds’ Common Bird Monitoring Scheme. I wasn’t quite sure of the territory I was supposed to survey, so I got up at the crack of dawn and went out toward the general area I was supposed to cover. Along the hour or so walk to my territory I saw not a soul; but for some domesticated roosters crowing and the many wild birds singing, the town was still asleep. As I climbed a small hill on the edge of my territory, a Eurasian Sparrowhawk zoomed by low overhead. Moments later a Hoopoe flushed from the trail, flapping away like a giant butterfly with its black and white wings and tail contrasting with its buffy pink body. As I continued, all the expected species were out marking their territories with much vigor: Skylarks, Red-backed Shrikes, Black-headed Buntings, among others. Then I saw something approaching from behind. A dog? No. It was a Golden Jackal, and it hadn’t seen me. I moved up the hill behind some vegetation and waited, hoping to get a photo. Unfortunately, when the jackal turned the corner and came into view it saw me and immediately fled through the long grass. Both thrilled and disappointed, I continued on … encountering more birds, a plethora of wildflowers (pink, red, purple, blue, yellow, and white against a backdrop of green), clean, crisp morning air, and just one old man. It was a brilliant way to start the day.

Being Sunday it was also market day in town, so I stopped into our local market on my way home. The end of May in Bulgaria is, among other things, cherry season, and the cherries looked amazing. I bought a large bag of them and headed home.

When I arrived home, as is usually the case, Baba Ristena was tending to her garden. She often offers me food and insists that I take it, so, when I asked her if she wanted any cherries and she declined, I simply gave her a handful. She washed the cherries and then devoured them – clearly a welcome and unexpected treat. I went inside and washed the rest of the cherries and put them in a couple bowls. I ate one bowl for breakfast and saved the other one for later.

After lunch and a nap, friends began arriving for the town’s first ever rock festival. I had friends in two of the bands and was looking forward to it. The plan was simple: grill some meat and veggies, drink beer, head to the rock fest, eat more, and drink more beer. As we sat around enjoying the first round of BBQ and beer, another volunteer who had arrived commented about my interactions with one of my Bulgarian friends, “That’s awesome. You guys talk to each other like you’re brothers.”

At the concert, the mayor came up and welcomed my friends and me with a warm and genuine greeting. My friends had no idea who he was, and when I told them afterward that they had just met the mayor, the response was, “You need to tell us when we’re meeting the mayor.” I just laughed. The opening act's lead singer was a girl who had attended my summer school classes my first year. When I congratulated her on her performance, she told me I should stay in Bulgaria one more year. And when the two headlining acts finally took the stage, I was there with them one after the other. Apparently, I was the only sucker among their friends who was willing to stand on stage and videotape them playing live rather than enjoy the show from the audience. Oh, well. It was fun, even if I am now partially deaf.

When the show ended, we headed home and grilled up some more food and drank some more beer. I crawled into bed full, content, and smiling.

The next morning, as I savored the second bowl of cherries, I couldn’t help but thinking, “Life is a bowl of cherries.”

One of the bowls of cherries.

Black-headed Bunting.

Yellow Wagtail.

Red-backed Shrike.

Skylark.

Common Cuckoo.

And some flowers.

Стобски пирамиди (Stob's Pyramids)

I started the month of July substituting for another volunteer at an educational high school camp at the American University in Bulgaria. The camp had been recommended by other volunteers who described it as one of the best things they had done during their Peace Corps service. Initially, I wasn’t too excited about the camp because I didn’t see how it furthered the Peace Corps’ mission in Bulgaria. But having worked the camp, I changed my mind. The camp was attended by 170 teenagers from fourteen different countries, and the Bulgarian kids who were lucky enough to attend got to meet new friends from places outside Bulgaria, learn about different cultures, and see how the Americans who ran and taught at the camp embraced it all. It definitely was a cool thing to participate in, and I’m glad I went and got to meet and teach kids from so many places I’ve never been (e.g., Montenegro, Azerbaijan, Kazakhstan, Uzbekistan, Russia, Georgia, Ukraine, Kosovo).

The last day in which I was involved in the camp we took a field trip to Стобски пирамиди (Stob’s Pyramids), a strange formation of rocks located near the village of Stob. The pyramids were on the way to the Rila Monastery and were a short walk from a small church on the outskirts of the village. It was hardly the most interesting place I’ve been in Bulgaria, but it was worth the hour or so detour we took exploring the area.

One More Year in Bulgaria

The past several months have been an emotional roller coaster. First came the exciting news that my application for an extension of service through August of 2012 had been granted. Shortly thereafter came our B25 close of service conference, which I was required to attend even though I’m extending my service. In all likelihood, the conference was the last time all of the B25s will ever be together again, making for a very emotional few days, especially the last night and the following morning. One by one, those volunteers who I did get to see after the conference began heading back to America or onto new adventures (for example, check out this and this). Deleting their numbers from my phone, I’ve felt a true sense of loss and sadness. Sadder still, one of the kids I had taught for the past two years died of an apparent heart attack just a few days after school let out for the summer. He was just eighteen.

Making sense of all this hasn’t been easy, but I know continuing my service is the best thing for me at this time. The people who wanted me here in the first place still want me here. Some people who didn’t want me here when I first arrived do now. And I’m continuing to discover new and interesting things about Bulgaria, its people, its culture, and its history. My life is good here. Beyond that, somewhere along the line during the twenty three months I’ve lived in Bulgaria, Bulgaria became my home – more of a home than some of the other places I’ve lived, less of a home than others, but a home. Eventually, it will be time for me to move on and find a new home. For now, however, I’d like to continue working to make this one better.

Going back to our close of service conference, beyond the emotional aspect of the conference, what struck me is how different all of us will emerge from the experience of serving as Peace Corps volunteers. For example, when asked what we had learned during our service, one volunteer shared that she had come to the realization that, given the cultural differences and conflicting beliefs among people of different backgrounds, it is extremely difficult to ever attain world peace. I didn’t say anything at the time, but my perception is exactly the opposite.

Two years ago, Bulgaria was nothing more than a place on a map to me. Today, it’s much, much more. I’m not Bulgarian. I’ll never be Bulgarian. And, I’ll never understand or agree with certain things about Bulgarian society and culture. But that doesn’t mean I can’t love a country and a people who have by and large welcomed me, respected me, and cared for me.

Overdue Thanks

It’s been a long time since I’ve updated this blog, but there are good reasons for that. First, July was a very busy month, and I simply didn’t have time to either sift through photos or write. Second, I was in the USA essentially the entire month of August and felt my time was better spent with my family than on the internet. And third, I needed a break from blogging.

When I started this blog, I wrote this. While that all still holds true, it’s not the complete truth. More than anything, I started this blog for my parents, and I’m fairly certain that they are the only people who actually care if I keep the blog going (but I’m grateful and happy it’s drawn at least passing interest from others).

When I was nineteen, my parents drove me more than 2,000 miles from Chippewa Falls, Wisconsin to Los Angeles, California so I could chase a dream. I’m not sure whose dream I was chasing but at some point it became mine, and my parents supported me unconditionally. I’ve been chasing dreams ever since, sometimes bringing me closer to my parents but more often pulling me away from them. Being apart hasn’t always been easy, and I know I’ve caused them much pain by living so far away for so long. But through it all, their love and support has never wavered, and in some ways the time and distance between us has brought us closer together.

As an example, my mom is a pastel artist. When I started this blog, she started painting some of the photos from my blog – both as a way of maintaining an emotional connection with me and as a way of helping me share my Peace Corps experience with others. In doing so, she has helped strengthen the bonds that I have with people in Bulgaria and has made Bulgaria something special for friends and family in America.

Here are some of her paintings from last year, which my dad took and made into a calendar. Having seen the paintings she’s done this year, the 2012 calendar promises to be even better.