Thursday, May 13, 2010

A Girl's Guide to Gostis

на гости "Na gosti"
Directly translated it means "on guests" but here in Bulgaria we volunteers know it as "come over for some tea but we're going to sit here for at least 5 hours and I'm going to feed you until you can barely move and/or breathe, make you drink rakia, and then send you home with some more food....and we'll do it again tomorrow"


The gosti is something I've avoided. I guess in the traditional sense. Na gostis are something I feel like I'm usually tricked into not knowing that I'll be with someone for hours, thinking we're just going to have a casual chat and tea. I still can't fathom why anyone would want to spend hours listening to me say da da (yes yes) over and over and speaking my broken bulgarski. I faux-gosti  practically daily under the guise of tutoring. We study for an hour then watch TV and eat for 2. It's enjoyable because TV is there to help break the awkward silences and my tutor speaks near perfect English after working at McDonalds for 3 summers in Montana. Today though was a full blown na gosti. On my way out of school a colleague asked me if I would like to go with her. Not really knowing where we were going I said sure. She told me to drop off my stuff and meet me outside of my apartment. I should have known what I was in for then. This woman I've really grown to like. She's one of the few teachers at my school who isn't afraid to talk to me and invites me to do things with her and her husband. Last weekend she took me to a monastery and an old village for a nice day trip. It was a beautiful day and I was afforded the luxury of driving in a car. This teacher of mine is a Biology teacher, primarily, but has taught a variety of subjects and has been teaching for 27 years. I think the reason why I like her so much is that she exemplifies what a good teacher should be. She loves all things science and loves sharing her knowledge with anyone who will listen, in this case me. We stop and look at different plants and she explains what they are, where they're from, and how they can be used. If she hears a bird she can identify it only by its call. I can only liken her excitement and thorough knowledge to the way I am able to spot Anthropologie clothes on television. She's so passionate about biology and I can tell the frustration that she has with the students. We talk for hours. About the differences between American schools and Bulgarian schools, about whether or not I'll stay in Bulgaria for longer than two years. I forget that this idea doesn't seem implausible to someone who is from Bulgaria. I tell her all the thing I like about Bulgaria but I also I tell her it's hard and that I probably won't. I tell her how much I miss my privacy, how I miss my anonymity. In a small town everyone knows who you are and what you do.  She gets that. Our compromise was me buying a house here so I can come back and visit. 


 She tells me what life was like during the change from communism to capitalism. She's in her 40s so she knows what life was like before the changes not like the younger generation, my generation, now. We were sitting outside in her garden, not something uncommon for a Bulgarian family. Everyone seems to have a garden. She tells me during communism that everyone had two jobs. The work that they did for everyone else, and then they came home and worked in the gardens for themselves. It makes sense and it's something that I never even thought of. Whatever they produced from their gardens was theirs and theirs alone. It seems like a lot of work, especially to me, who has subsisted on yogurt and granola for the past 10 months, but I understand.  


The rain starts to come in and I decide to make a break for it. 5 1/2 hours later I've eaten 2 meals and 2 desserts. She asks me if I want more. I politely decline, fortunately I was wearing my spandex however even those were becoming uncomfortably tight.  Still before I leave I'm told it's not healthy to only eat yogurt. But I like yogurt! Two jars of canned food are thrust into my hands. They were canned from her garden last year. After only a slight protest on my part I accept them. I tell her I'll be back soon and that I want to help her with her canning this summer. She laughs and tells me she enjoys my company. However I think she was laughing because she really can't wait to see this American girl make an attempt at gardening. If it wasn't why she was laughing, it should be. 

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