Fashionably Late and Early

For the last week I have been on the road, going to conferences and volunteer site visit to learn more about how to be an effective volunteer. Except I learn more about being a volunteer when nothing is planned yet you just go and do whatever anyways. Does that make sense?

For the last few days I was visiting a volunteer about 8 hours away from me by bus. As the crow flies it was maybe 75 miles. I was visiting him to learn more about geo-cacheing as well as enjoy a summer get together that he was putting on for his village. We ate good bbq and played amazingly intense games of "Koob", or however its spelled. We also were blessed with the presence of "Kino na Celo" which is a volunteer's program to bring a projector and movie to villages for a movie night. We watched the movie "Up" it at the most beautiful setting I think anyone could imagine.


That stuff is all well and good but none of this beats the ridiculousness of the trip home. I am laughing on the inside just thinking about it. It was Sunday and we were set that we were going to take a bus to Plovdiv at 12:10pm, for those of you who don't know Plovdiv is BG's second largest city. So on Sunday we woke up and went to the cafe and had the typical morning coffee and banitza. We had decided that because no one was really in a hurry we would just walk down to the bus stop which was probably 5km away (all downhill). We knew the hike would take us about 40 minutes to do and so we gave ourselves plenty of time and left the cafe at 11 am.

We thought we knew the way down and we started off on the right path but got lost about 20 minutes in. Luckily some people were around farming their and pointed us in the right direction...basically...downhill. We made our way through a large ravine and up the other side and then started fast walking downhill...because it was easier. We lost the path a few times and made sure to keep in mind that we had to be at the bus stop by 12:10pm. After a bit of bush-whacking and skillful navigating (mind you, all downhill) we came to a logging road that led downhill.

We had made it...We hadn't looked at our watches for awhile and when we made it to the road it was about 11:45 and we were still aways away from the town. That is when I decided that I needed to run and so did everyone else. I started running with my large hiking backpack on and so did the other guys that had to make te bus...the 3 others slacked because they were staying...whatever. We weaved our way down the switchbacks and through the creeks and mud and finally after about 15 minutes of running downhill we came out of the forest and to the bridge that crossed the river about half a mile from the bus stop.

As we were crossing the bridge I saw the bus we were supposed to be on and cringed and yelled "Nooooo" It was passing us and hopefully it would stop at the bus stop long enough for us to get on. On the other side of the bridge was the dagger...an uphill!! We had been running with our packs for so long downhill that we had no energy and endurance for an uphill...shooooot!!! Midway up the hill I saw the bus leave the town and continue on, again another fashionably late moment that didn't go our way. We strolled into town huffin and puffin like the big bad wolf and asked if that was the bus to Plovdiv. Of course it was!! Dangit!!

The 3 of us who needed a bus changed our sweaty t-shirts and started that whole hitch-hiking thing...unsuccessfully. At around 1pm to our surprise we were actually just fashionably early for the 1pm bus to Plovdiv, which we knew absolutely nothing about. What a blessing!

I told the bus driver I was going to Bansko and if I would make it to Plovdiv in time to get a bus. He said he didn't know but would try to get me there...okay. After a motion-sickness inducing bus ride out of the mountains we made it to Plovdiv. In the city we were driving down a main street when the bus driver just suddenly slams on his brakes. He was talking to the other bus driver going the other way. Then he yells back "Bansko, Bansko" and waves me forward. He had found me a bus to Bansko in the middle of street. Yess!!! I grabbed my bags and hurried to the bus headed to Bansko...Fashionably late!

And this is what I saw when I returned to Bansko! :0

The Crap we Find on the Internet

Thanks to the wonderul Stephanie Dunnam I have now been enlightened to what a Juggalo is. Nope! Not a giggalo! Urban Dictionay describes a juggalo as:

For the most part, an uneducated, pathetic excuse for a human being who listens to the group ICP who are bold enough to actually consider themselves musicians. People you see wearing "hatchet-man" accesories. They should not be allowed to reproduce, because that is too cruel to future generations. ICP isn't rap, it isn't metal, it isn't rap/metal, and it isn't horrorpop. There is only one way to properly categorize ICP; unnecessarily and unartfully offensive and obnoxious noise.

Then in my research I found this hilarious picture and decided that everyone needed to see it. I literally laughed for a good 12 minutes...and I still kinda am.



Can you actually think of a more dope rhyme for a track? Or maybe I should say excuse for attention. Either way it is hilarious and I would have loved to be the reporter. I would have been laughing my anus off!

My wish in Bulgaria!

With all the time I have at work these days I have resurrected the good ole past time of Youtubin'! And I found a bit of what I wish for in my Bulgarian winter. Please!



This may become a reality seeing as how I met a ski patroller the other day that could be my "in" for some slick deals for ski tickets and skis....oooolala

Anyone care to join in some happy ruckus!!!

Banitza Walk

A classic fresh, slightly-unripe peach that comes from a reputable, generous market vendor just couldn't satisy my hunger today (even if I used 5 adjectives to describe it) Don't get me wrong, It was Delicious (with a big "D", and I don't mean Dallas). I better stop inserting parentheses thoughts and just say them...(okay I'm done)

Anyways, I wanted to say that there is a little business in my town that sells 1 lev banitza's. Equivalent to about 66.6 cents in America. Hopefully that will set the stage for you to understand exactly how good this oily little snack was.



You see this picture...That is $.66

How, you ask? Well let's see. I think they can justify it not simply on the amount of food, well, because it is a lot...at least 1 American dollar. The justiication is probably because in that $.66 of food the amount of oil, fat, and other "great for your health" ingredients bring the value down by 33%. Which in my case is a blessing because I only had 1 leva today and that is what I got.

I got something so delicious, that it was gone by the time I got back to work. All my co-workers asked, "Where did you go?" I tried to explain to them that I ate my lunch/banitza on the way back. Futile effort...I got more of an astounded, "you silly American" look on their face.

As I write the oil is starting to create a pit in my stomach...just the way I like it. That heavy feeling just after eating the dessert you shouldn't have eaten after Thanksgiving dinner. MMMMM! I can't justify the walk up to get it as enough exercise to compensate or my meal of a veggie omelete tonight as a guilt meal. I have learned hear in Bulgaria. You can look good without working out.

But then again maybe they don't eat banitza's everyday, and neither do I (But I could).

Bon Appetite! (Bulgarian's use it)

I love country music

When I was growing up country music was all I listened to but I didn't want to, it because I had no choice while riding in the car with my parents. They said,"it is the only decent music out there, these days." I didn't believe that...because there were really cool bands like, for example-- Smashmouth, Weird Al, and Backstreet Boys (Ya what!).

We lived in Chicago so country music didn't fit and I felt like we were a bunch of hicks from the far northwest suburbs. Hmmph, I just wanted some "Allstar" by Smashmouth but what I got was "Achey Brakey Heart" by Billy Ray Cyrus. Can you even compare those...(or contrast)

So when we moved to Montana when I was ten I just was submissive in my rebellion against it because..well...everyone was listening to it, So I just went along with it. Into my teenage years I had done everything to reject country music, I would be a menace with the car radio and always have some rock, raggae, or punk music on. I was super cool ;)


In college I had a mjor revelation as to how backwards my thinking towards country music was. I liked to sing to songs and such and well that is really hard to do when listening to scream-o music like Linkin Park. I found myself singing along with Keith Urban, Toby Keith, and Josh Turner. Huh? What? It kinda a just happened. What I hated in my youth I found to be a real passion of mine. Even taking up country dancing and actually loving it. I now do not feel out of place in a line dance or at a country western bar.

Blame it on Montana. Blame it on genetics. Blame it on upbringing. Or even blame it on just good music, but country music makes me just a little more of who I am. So as I sit in Bulgaria and am tortured by Chalga music, country music from Grooveshark.com brings me to where I need to be. Yeehaa!

They never said it would be this hard! Oh wait.....

I feel like a hermit at night and a deaf mute during the day--Difficult way of life and not one I envy.

Growing up in Bulgaria with my 4 other brothers and sisters in Kravoder was a fantastic childhood. Our childhood was filled with education and loving parents that fed us too much and even washed our clothes. Our sensei, Lazar, raised us to be Bulgarian imitators with such fine language skills that people would think we are average Bulgarians. We had many field trips to the big city for extended family get togethers. We were able to play soccer with kids our own age (8-16). We felt like we would do wonders for Bulgaria......Flash forward 3 weeks past "elementary school graduation" ceremony.....

I am not going to speak anything profound here because I know my fellow volunteers feel the same way. I am just going to try and put it my own words.

They never said it would be this hard! Oh wait.....

All throughout the PCV training we were made well aware of how we would feel isolated and slightly ineffective, and that to break out of this padded room/straight jacket of community integration we would have to really discover who we are and go out and be a true PCV. This true PCV at first is kind of annoying, and I mean this in the kindest way. Annoying in the fact that, for example:
We ask the same questions over and over.
We don't answer questions correctly.
We have to be told where to go and what to do.
Etc. Etc. Etc.
A true PCV needs to be outrageously outgoing. They need to listen and do what they are told probably more than they want to be. They need to fend for themselves as far as food and shelter are concerned. They need to somehow need to overcome a language barrier that, at times, seems like the Great Wall of China. They need to cure this unwanted deafness and muteness. (is that a word?)

Yet the funny thing is, these "symptoms" or whatever they might be considered, slowly melt and become less problematic tasks and more of a joy of being a PCV. The experience alone of having this be your day to day life for weeks, or months, or even years is something I was not expecting to love as much as I do right now. I had my "debbie downer" depressing days where I felt like going home so I could just be more "comfortable"....whatever. I would trade 2 years of potential daily awkwardness and frusttration for any previous day of comfort and safety in the states.

So when people said, "for the first couple months you are going to go feel useless and like you are in a fishbowl and like you want to leave..." Well that is all true, and we are all experiencing that. But that is what makes it sweet. I love the feeling that I know that I am one among many experiencing this same issue. I also like the fact that all my friends and family back home might not exactly understand the fact that I really don't do a whole lot yet, that I kind of just sit and let things come to me right now...and that is all I am expected to do, but that I will do more in the future when I get rid of my concrete blocks on my feet and pop the bubble of isolation and actually integrate fully into my community.

So ya...They did say that it would be hard. I heard the PC staff and current volunteers. I heard them loud and clear...I just didn't listen to them. Now that I have experienced exactly what they said, I think they are plain honest and super folks...haha

Just always remember!
Ima Vreme, Ima Vreme (There is time, There is time)

Lets spend it awkwardly!