Now, I've only been to 2 countries in Europe, Italy and Bulgaria, so my experience is a bit limited but there have been 2 pretty constant themes I've noticed among European men.
The first being:
Their need to acknowledge the fact that they find a woman attractive.
There are several ways a European man can go about this but the most popular seem to be: a whistle, a honk (if they happen to be driving by), or a shout out of some kind.
The second is:
Two men. One Vespa.
These two things alone may seem unrelated but in fact, when combined, they are one of my favorite things about this part of the world. When two men on one Vespa drive by and either honk or whistle in my general direction I always think, "Really?"
In their minds they must imagine I'm thinking, "Man, if you weren't straddling another dude right now, I'd totally be all over that!"
Nothing says sexy like two men holding tight to one another traveling at a moderate speed.
In other news, we have only 3 weeks left of Pre-Service Training and then it's off to Sofia to be sworn in as real volunteers and to redeem our adulthood!
Here's what the agenda looks like for these next 3 weeks:
1) Plan and teach 2 weeks of Summer School
2) Plan and Conduct a community meeting with the Mayor, City Council, and School Director
3) Identify community needs
4) Create a community project to help fill those needs
5) Write a project proposal
6) Implement said project
7) Pass our Bulgarian LPI!!!
8) Go to 3 more HUBS in Vratsa
9) Plan a 4th of July celebration!
10) Plan and give a community presentation to the entire TEFL group (gulp)
So...I'm gonna be pretty busy. We're all feeling a bit overwhelmed actually. It seems like so much has been crammed into these last few weeks and we barely have time to breath let alone feel any sense of accomplishment. But that could all change once we've actually successfully finished out stint in PST. Then it all becomes real. Again, what have I gotten myself into?
-Age
Monday, June 28, 2010
Saturday, June 26, 2010
I Want to Go to There
This past week has been a busy one, and it went by so fast! It was the week of Counterpart conferences and our visits to our permanent sites.
We spent the first 3 nights in Vratsa. After an agonizing 2 hours of listening to who knows what, as we were all entirely too anxious about finding out our permanent sites than to listen to a damn word they were saying, we were all taken to a large courtyard with a map of Bulgaria on the ground and several cities identified with a colored sheet of paper.
We gathered around the outside of the mini-Bulgaria and watched as, on-by-one, our friends were told where they would be living and working for the next 2 years and spread all over the country. Some were ecstatic to be near the Black Sea while others stood near their location with a look of “I know absolutely nothing about this place but I’m still really excited about it.”
Our PST site, T---, is going to be hosting a volunteer and my site-mates and I under no circumstances wanted to be placed there. Basically, we were all too entrance by the mystery of being swept off to some unknown location to consider the fact that we absolutely love T--- and whoever was to be assigned there would be incredibly lucky. However, as luck would have it, Kristen, our P---ian neighbor, was given T--- and we all clapped and cheered partially because we were happy for her, partially because we were happy for T---, but mostly because we all felt a sense of relief. Our city of mystery was still out there among those 8.5” x 11”, bluish-green pieces of paper.
When our group was called, I had no time to be nervous as I was almost instantly swept away with a congratulatory carnation in my hand to M--- P---. Uh…where? I’d never heard of the city and didn’t know the area well but I decided to be instantly in love. M--- P---became the best city, excuse me, village, in all of Bulgaria and probably the prettiest. Oh, and with the most interesting people. I was also pretty sure it was going to smell like Disneyland.
I excitedly looked around to see which volunteers would be close by – I got some good ones. I was also friggin’ excited to find that the capital, Sofia, was only an 1 ½ train-ride away. To top it all off, my language trainer came over to inform me that it’s a resort village. Of course it is, I had little doubt. It is, afterall, M--- P---, the best damn village in all of Bulgaria. Closely followed by T---, a place I will, truthfully, always love and miss.
I went with my counterpart, Reni, to M--- P--- for 3 days to meet the principal, mayor, teachers, and students. I was expecting a village just like T--- as the population is the same and it’s only a few hours away. It couldn’t be more different. The village is at the base of the beautiful Bulgarian mountains with little red-roofed houses scattered all along the hills. There’s also many shops, cafes, and even a few hotels. The scenery was breathtaking and I was thrilled.
Right as I got off the train I met the Director, Mrs. Petrova, and a few of the students who were all very sweet. I expressed my happiness with “Priatno Mie”s and smiles. It was a really nice welcome and I have a feeling that teaching in this small school is going to be challenging but ultimately rewarding experience. Basically, it was a great trip and I can’t wait to get started!
Also, I'm having computer issues (what's new) and I'm using a friend's computer to post this so pictures will eventually be posted just not until my bad computer juju goes away.
-Age
We spent the first 3 nights in Vratsa. After an agonizing 2 hours of listening to who knows what, as we were all entirely too anxious about finding out our permanent sites than to listen to a damn word they were saying, we were all taken to a large courtyard with a map of Bulgaria on the ground and several cities identified with a colored sheet of paper.
We gathered around the outside of the mini-Bulgaria and watched as, on-by-one, our friends were told where they would be living and working for the next 2 years and spread all over the country. Some were ecstatic to be near the Black Sea while others stood near their location with a look of “I know absolutely nothing about this place but I’m still really excited about it.”
Our PST site, T---, is going to be hosting a volunteer and my site-mates and I under no circumstances wanted to be placed there. Basically, we were all too entrance by the mystery of being swept off to some unknown location to consider the fact that we absolutely love T--- and whoever was to be assigned there would be incredibly lucky. However, as luck would have it, Kristen, our P---ian neighbor, was given T--- and we all clapped and cheered partially because we were happy for her, partially because we were happy for T---, but mostly because we all felt a sense of relief. Our city of mystery was still out there among those 8.5” x 11”, bluish-green pieces of paper.
When our group was called, I had no time to be nervous as I was almost instantly swept away with a congratulatory carnation in my hand to M--- P---. Uh…where? I’d never heard of the city and didn’t know the area well but I decided to be instantly in love. M--- P---became the best city, excuse me, village, in all of Bulgaria and probably the prettiest. Oh, and with the most interesting people. I was also pretty sure it was going to smell like Disneyland.
I excitedly looked around to see which volunteers would be close by – I got some good ones. I was also friggin’ excited to find that the capital, Sofia, was only an 1 ½ train-ride away. To top it all off, my language trainer came over to inform me that it’s a resort village. Of course it is, I had little doubt. It is, afterall, M--- P---, the best damn village in all of Bulgaria. Closely followed by T---, a place I will, truthfully, always love and miss.
I went with my counterpart, Reni, to M--- P--- for 3 days to meet the principal, mayor, teachers, and students. I was expecting a village just like T--- as the population is the same and it’s only a few hours away. It couldn’t be more different. The village is at the base of the beautiful Bulgarian mountains with little red-roofed houses scattered all along the hills. There’s also many shops, cafes, and even a few hotels. The scenery was breathtaking and I was thrilled.
Right as I got off the train I met the Director, Mrs. Petrova, and a few of the students who were all very sweet. I expressed my happiness with “Priatno Mie”s and smiles. It was a really nice welcome and I have a feeling that teaching in this small school is going to be challenging but ultimately rewarding experience. Basically, it was a great trip and I can’t wait to get started!
Also, I'm having computer issues (what's new) and I'm using a friend's computer to post this so pictures will eventually be posted just not until my bad computer juju goes away.
-Age
Monday, June 14, 2010
I Know How to Spell Camouflage Now!
First, upon opening this Kit-O-Fun, we find a stream of condoms. 10 to be precise. All connected. All camouflage. Camouflage? I’m not really sure why that’s necessary in life though I have in mind a couple possible explanations:
1) If they need to be hidden for any reason, it’s simple, put them just about anywhere and no one will ever see them. They’re camouflage.
2) They are only meant to be used during times of war when becoming pregnant would be most inconvenient.
Secondly, there’s a pregnancy test. In case the condoms run out or prove to be defective (chances of them being defective are slim considering they are up to army standards and all). These two things combined created the perfect opportunity for us all to make inappropriate jokes and laugh hysterically. My neighbor, while holding her 1 ½ year-old son, told me she probably needed the condoms more than I did. I agreed and offered them over which produced about 10 minutes worth of uncontrollable laughter. It was great fun, though I wouldn’t want to potentially upset anyone (PC staff) by discussing the bright orange “attack whistle” and how the 1 ½ year-old seemed to enjoy it immensely. So I won’t.
I feel that now’s a good time for some sort of explanation. For those of you who thought this silly blog of mine would suddenly turn into something insightful and deep involving important cross-cultural affairs: reality check time. I don’t really know how to do that. I’m sure, at some point, those moments will come and I’ll share them with you here. I’ll try my best to convey the importance of my experiences and you’ll try your best to write a comment that let’s me know my effort was worthwhile. And I’ll appreciate those moments. I will. But they will be scarce as my mind tends to be drawn to things like camouflage condoms and 1 ½ year-olds blowing attack whistles. So until the time comes when I feel I’m immersed enough to actually give you a fair depiction about the people and culture I am currently trying to assimilate into, we’ll just have to stick with these sorts of topics. My poor mother. Sorry, mom, I really am doing more than just giggling about condoms. Promise.
Oops.
-Age
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Medical Kits and the Perfect Man
We had a visit from the Peace Corps Medical Officers today. We talked about how to stay healthy and about potential health concerns. Mary and I also found out that we have fleas. Yup, we're flea buddies. I only have a few bites on my lower legs which makes me think that they hop on when I'm walking through the streets and fields, have a quick snack and then jump off. I don't think they're in my room or clothes or anything. Though I sprayed the crap out of my room with bug-repellent just in case. Fleas. Sheesh. Apparently that pretty common in small farming villages like this one so I might as well get used to it. Maybe I'll start a circus, you know, to make a little money on the side.
We also got free bicycly helmets (cuz riding a bike without one could actually get us kicked out of the Peace Crops, yikes!) and tampons. Yeah for free tampons. Apparently they have a limited supply and when the PCMO's stash is gone we have to fend for ourselves and scour all of Bulgaria in order to find them. They are not common. But, as you can see, we're pretty excited about it. Bug repellent, tampons, helmets, and a water purifier. Doesn't get better than that.
I have more to say about the medical and health issues. Namely the medical kit that was given to all of us. My silly computer won't let me upload those photos right now for some reason but, oh, they're comin'! And you should be looking forward to it cuz that medical kit is full of fun goodies that I cannot wait to show you. Get excited.
This is a really fun acticity we did in language class the other day about My Ideal Man or Идеален мъж ми. I circled tall, dark, and handsome at the bottom. I also circled Al Pacino (circa 1980-something). I've got "very nice and smart but a little bad" as well as "around 30-years-old" and "charming and funny." I think that's a pretty good list concidering my limited Bulgarian.
Sunday, June 6, 2010
Oh, So That Wasn't Funny? Not Even a Little? Bummer.
So, I try to be funny just about as often as possible. I have a high regard for funny. Wit, sarcasm, and very dry humor tend to be my favorites and I'm apt to forgive many a vice if someone can make me laugh on a regular basis. Unfortunately, however, I've gotten it into my head that everyone feels this way.
Not so.
I learned a fun trick from a friend of mine named Charlie: you measure the success of your humor on a percentage-based scale. By giving yourself a certain percentage you also give yourself margain for error. This way, when no one laughs or, gasp, they get offended, it's OK, you just chalk that up to the amount of time you're allowed to be un-funny.
Get it? In the States, I tried to be funny about 70% of the time. So that 30% was always there to keep my self-esteem in check.
"So then the guy was like, 'That's not my leg, that's a popsicle stick!'"
----------------------------------
(OK. That one's gonna really take a toll on today's average...)
But, in Bulgaria, I've decided to bump it down to 45%. You know, to be fair to myself. Things can get lost in translation and blank stares after what I consider to be a funny joke can kinda make you wanna cry. But now that it's 45%, I'm back in the game!
Also, Katelyn (one of my satellite group members) is a Theater Major. Have you ever tried to compete for laughs with a Theater Major? Not easy. She's skilled in the art of monologuing and using her body and facial expressions to take a story from funny to FUNNY. Maybe I should make it 35% just while I'm here in T----.
Personally, I think the majority of our time should be spent in laughter, having a great time just being alive. Too much seriousness makes you ugly. It's definetely bad for the complexion at least.
You remember what happened to the girl who was too serious for too long, don't you?
She died, People.
Oh, and just FYI, the word "die" in Bulgarian means "give me." So if someone in Bulgaria reaches out to you with both hands and says "die" over and over again, they're not trying to kill you. Common mistake. But just to be on the safe side, you should probably give them whatever you're holding. Immediately.
I'm gonna try and upload pictures soon (my internet's not being too friendly when it comes to uploading pictures) but here's a fun one of the pregnant donkey that serves as a street sign for me. "turn right at the pregnant donkey...turn right at the pregnant donkey..."
-Age
Not so.
I learned a fun trick from a friend of mine named Charlie: you measure the success of your humor on a percentage-based scale. By giving yourself a certain percentage you also give yourself margain for error. This way, when no one laughs or, gasp, they get offended, it's OK, you just chalk that up to the amount of time you're allowed to be un-funny.
Get it? In the States, I tried to be funny about 70% of the time. So that 30% was always there to keep my self-esteem in check.
"So then the guy was like, 'That's not my leg, that's a popsicle stick!'"
----------------------------------
(OK. That one's gonna really take a toll on today's average...)
But, in Bulgaria, I've decided to bump it down to 45%. You know, to be fair to myself. Things can get lost in translation and blank stares after what I consider to be a funny joke can kinda make you wanna cry. But now that it's 45%, I'm back in the game!
Also, Katelyn (one of my satellite group members) is a Theater Major. Have you ever tried to compete for laughs with a Theater Major? Not easy. She's skilled in the art of monologuing and using her body and facial expressions to take a story from funny to FUNNY. Maybe I should make it 35% just while I'm here in T----.
Personally, I think the majority of our time should be spent in laughter, having a great time just being alive. Too much seriousness makes you ugly. It's definetely bad for the complexion at least.
You remember what happened to the girl who was too serious for too long, don't you?
She died, People.
Oh, and just FYI, the word "die" in Bulgarian means "give me." So if someone in Bulgaria reaches out to you with both hands and says "die" over and over again, they're not trying to kill you. Common mistake. But just to be on the safe side, you should probably give them whatever you're holding. Immediately.
I'm gonna try and upload pictures soon (my internet's not being too friendly when it comes to uploading pictures) but here's a fun one of the pregnant donkey that serves as a street sign for me. "turn right at the pregnant donkey...turn right at the pregnant donkey..."
And here's us at the fireworks show to honor Hristo Botev (I've already written a post about this Bulgarian National Hero/Guy from The Hangover look-alike):
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