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. 

Don't Tell Me I Have A Case of the Mun-Days.

Instant Pick Me Up




Depeche Mode - Just Can't Get Enough (Music Video) from Depeche Mode on Vimeo.

730 days later...

My life changed dramatically 2 years ago. 2 years ago today. 2 years ago and 4 days later I decided that I needed a change, I decided to apply for the Peace Corps. For those of you who know me, I think I come off relatively carefree, for those of you who really know me I think we both know that's a lie. I'm a planner, and extremely circumspect in making decisions. I play it safe, doing what is expected of me. Whose expectations I'm trying to live up to I'm still not sure but I feel like there is some unattainable goal of being the perfect everything. Daughter. Sister. Friend. It's silly to think that perfection exists and it's even sillier to think that my parents expected it of me. My dad believed I could change the world. Now while I'm not expecting to do that, at least not yet, is there any more special than that? To have someone believe in you so much? I'm not like the men in my family, I'm not the dreamer that they are,  I'm pragmatic and complacent. I was looking for a desk job that I may or may not have loved, but I would do it because I work hard, I succeed, sometimes forgetting that there is a life out there to live.

I got my wake up call.

The thing about being a dreamer is that your life is filled with highs and lows, extreme ecstasy and turmoil. I learned that dreamers also break your heart which is probably why I prefer moderation. But here I am almost one year later, still in disbelief that I got on that plane. I thought there would be one reason or another to back out, that my pragmatism would convince me that I was making a mistake. Who goes to Bulgaria? Are you really making the right decision? Aren't you going to be 26 when you get back? Does that leave time for grad school? Law school? Establishing yourself in a career before you want to get married and have kids? Shut up. I'm 24. There is no better time than now and there is nothing else that I would rather be doing.

So dad, here's to you. Here's to breakfast for dinner, to coming to my field hockey, basketball, and lacrosse games and heckling refs (sometimes heckling teenage girls), to talking your way out of a speeding ticket that should have gotten the car impounded and you taken to jail when I was late to  practice on the way home from a college interview, to buying lotto tickets for every occasion, to letting me throw parties at your apartment even if my friends made a mess. Here's to showing me it's okay to have dreams and do something out of the ordinary. I will never be the same as you, but I now know I can be more like you without losing who I am and who I aspire to be.

Oh, the Places You'll Go!

I know a while back I griped about train travel. Now, it's probably one of my favorite things about being in Bulgaria. Yes, it's long and seemingly cumbersome at times but I feel closer to the wanderlusters that came before me. Most recently I returned from a 7 hour trip from another volunteers house. 7 hours. That is almost as long as it will take me to get to America. However I can't complain as I didn't even have to travel the farthest. We do that here. Travel great distances just for the chance to hang out with other volunteers. We pack ourselves into each others apartments claiming beds, floor space, couches, kitchens, balconies....Wherever there is room. I never regret it. I'm lucky here, I have really good friends. I love laughing and for some reason being around these fools invokes some sort of deep guttural laugh I never knew existed inside of me. 
The way back home this past weekend was more of the more enjoyable trips I've had. Relatively speaking, I'm always excited to go somewhere but rarely excited to journey back home. I ran into a friend on the train and we went in search of a train car with more leg room. We were hesitant to join what my friend dubbed as "The Grumpy Old Men" car, but we did and spent the next 5 hours with two men that bore a similar resemblance to these guys:

One of the men was the most talkative Bulgarian I've ever come across. I don't think he stopped speaking during the 5 hours I was on the train. Our car filled up some so I was able to take naps while he regaled newcomers with his stories or interrogated them accordingly. Our conversation jumped from questions about America, to Bulgarian children's songs, to questioning why I'm a vegetarian, to a lesson on Bulgarian history. It was ridiculous, and I'm lucky that someone could share in the absurdity that the situation was. I've never had anyone pantomime snails for me before, it was incredible to watch. But this is what makes train travel exciting. Isn't that why we travel? Isn't that why we joined the Peace Corps? Not to just see the world, but to live it, to experience it. No one interacts on airplanes, the setting is hardly conducive to it, here you're sitting face to face with mere inches between you and the next person. It's more intimate. I think what I found most fascinating was towards the end of this journey one of the men got off and it was only then that I realized that the two old men had only just met. They seemed like old friends but their friendship was only that of however many hours.  When I got off the train we said our goodbyes and that was that. No trying to exchange phone numbers or emails, no concerns about whether or not he was going to try and find me on facebook. We left each other taking with us only the stories of people we met on our travels. 

Ouch. European Burn

Watching this clip made me think of the times that people made fun of my brother. It's only okay if I do it, when other people do it I get offended. David Cameron did you really have to go there?

Ignorance is Bliss

I'll be honest, there are many Bulgarian things that I don't understand. Why does shaking your head mean yes while nodding your head means no? Why do they like to serve food that should be hot cold, but will not hesitate to microwave pickles which should be cold? Why does my school give 15-20 min breaks between classes so kids can get food but then are shocked when the kids are late since 736 people are all standing in line trying to get snacks at the same time. I don't understand any of this. However the latest fetish to boggle my mind is mostly occurring in America and its name is Chatroulette. The basic premise of this website is that you can randomly video chat with strangers all across the world, clicking next as you please. A friend of mine mentioned that he had seen a satire of this site on South Park and had to check it out. He was so shocked and horrified that a group of us had to see what the fuss was all about. After a few libations we all gathered in front of the computer and decided to test our fate. We were so excited to see people at first but were being quickly nexted by one person to the next until we landed on a girl in a very compromising position. I expected to see men being voyeurs but not a lady. She remained this way until she dexterously used her foot to click the next button without every revealing her face. Also I should have been careful what I wished for because it seemed like from then on out every guy was sitting with the camera positioned at seductively to accomplish what I don't know. It just seemed to ridiculous to me that I couldn't stop laughing. Maybe I just don't have that voyeuristic instinct in me. I've taken an accidental foray into this arena when I didn't realize for about a week after moving into my apartment that my curtains were indeed see through. I immediately bought blinds, I didn't install a webcam and make a show of it.

Luckily the internet went down and we focused our attention back to more productive activities and conversations, which is what friends are supposed to do when they are together. I think our biggest problem with this site and the people on it, who are mostly American, is that they have the opportunity to go out and meet and interact with each other. Living abroad in small towns we don't have the same luxury and use the internet as an outlet to keep our relationships and friendship alive. It seems that this site is just another hinderance to actual human connection. I wonder what they'll think up next.

Who knew Larry King would bring so much joy to my life?

You're welcome.