Do Bulgarian Teachers Wear High Heels?

I got a package today from my mom. It was a bit bulky and oddly shaped, stretching at the cardboard seams and, upon examining this box in the small post office in my Bulgarian village, I was quite intrigued as to what my mother had sent me. I’d given her a list of things I wanted but my mom doesn’t always listen to me and it was very possible that this package either contained everything I asked for or a magic set and a signed poster of Tom Selleck.

Here’s what I got:

• · A book based off of Pride and Prejudice
• · Numerous office supplies (awesome!)
• · 5 dresses (one of which is actually a Halloween costume – Athena, the Greek Goddess of Wisdom, naturally)
• · A bracelet with a small owl charm cuz owl’s are my favorite
• · And a ridiculous amount of tampons, which is what gave the box it’s odd shape

And let me tell you, it was like Christmas! I got, pretty much, what I'd asked for and I’ve never been so happy to receive post-it notes in my life! But that kinda stuff is so rare here and when I do find it, it’s just so expensive that I cannot justify the purchase.

So, of course, I immediately tried on all the dresses, remembered what it felt like to be girly and thought, “I don’t have shoes for these!” How in the world I could be regretting having not brought my black, peep-toe, platform heels as a Peace Corps volunteer is one of those great dichotomies that exists only in PC Bulgaria. While in January, I was expecting to be sent to a place where I could potentially live in a mud hut and bathe in the river, I was not expecting to have to learn the lesson of practicality as all the luxuries of the world are at my fingertips but not actually close enough for me to grasp.

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The fact that there are clubs and fancy restaurants and places to buy beautiful clothes I think actually makes living in Bulgaria more difficult than a mud hut. Because I can’t have those things. I want those things. I see a washing machine in a shop window for 300 leva and I think, “I want that right now!” I see a pretty pair of shoes or a dining set that sparkles, taunting me with its shininess, and then see the reflection of the covetous look on my face before turning away.

Basically, I’m having trouble being frugal here. I was told by the volunteer who lives near me, a very hard-working girl who’s been here for over a year, that these first few months will be difficult, “you’ll wonder how in the world you’re going to survive on so little but, eventually, you’ll get used to this life, spend less and less, and then begin to save money without even meaning to.” I certainly hope so. Cuz right now I’m fighting the urge to go buy a pair of black heels. To match a dress I don’t know when I’m going to wear.

It’s not to say that I was rolling in the dough when I lived in California. Quite the opposite, actually. I worked between 50 and 60 hours a week most of the time and still could barely manage to pay my rent. I never knew what sort of paycheck I’d be receiving as my work hours were always changing and maintaining two, sometimes even three, jobs was often a nightmare. I’d save up for weeks to buy something like a black pair of heels. But I bought them. I genuinely felt I needed them. I know I don’t need those things here but it’s gonna take some serious will-power not to start a “shoe’s for Adrienne” fund instead of devoting my time to fundraise for the many needs of this community. I’ll do what I should, and gladly. I’m just saying it’s not gonna be easy. Or, it would be easy, if I were doing it in a pair of black, peep-toe, platform heels.

-Age

The Girl Called Snob

I’ve been worried lately that I might be a bit of a snob. I tend to only enjoy being around people that, well, are a lot like me. That’s not just snobby, it’s narcissistic. Apparently, I really like myself.

I like being goofy, like, all the time. Cracking jokes pretty much constantly. Being ironic, sarcastic, and just a general pain the in A. I can sometimes feel this wearing on people who aren’t like me. They smile in a “that’s not really funny” kinda way and I preserve my ego by assuming they just don’t get it cuz they don’t read enough or they watch Two and a Half Men (though I really thought Ducky from Pretty in Pink could do no wrong – he can and he did) or they’ve been deprived of knowing people like me for too long.

The thing is, I’m the same way. I really can’t make myself laugh at something that’s not funny, even when it’s the polite thing to do. I feel like I might make some weird sound that isn’t at all like a laugh cuz my body doesn’t know what it’s doing. Then people will look at me like I’m some kind of freak who makes weird noises at inappropriate moments.

I also really can’t stand small talk. I’m just not good at it. It’s pretty bad, my sentences come out short and jumbled. How do people have full conversations about nothing? I don’t understand. I’m perfectly satisfied with silence if you don’t actually want to get to know me and it’s probably pretty obvious that I don’t really care to know you so…let’s not discuss the weather, the latest Brangelina drama, or where I got my jacket and how much you love Forever 21.

The other thing is, I write this and think, “Ugh. What a horrible person!” Does it make me a bad person that I only enjoy being around people that are like myself or that I don’t make much of an effort to talk small or laugh falsely? (I didn’t phrase that fairly)

I mentioned this to my friends, who I love, and who are very similar to myself in many ways (though they have their own unique attributes that I admire – and faults that irk me) and they said, “Birds of a feather, Age, birds of a feather.”

You know how I feel about bird analogies. I like birds. I just don’t want to flock like one, have one in my hand, two in the bush, or kill two with one stone. I’m also aware I may have missed the point.

I guess I’m just hoping that since I’ve detected this not so subtle flaw in my character that my future experiences in the Peace Corps in a completely different country, continent, culture, will help me to be open to a variety of different people and personalities. I feel like I’m a pretty nice person, or try to be, but I want to be more than that. I want to feel genuine attraction towards others. I don’t want to miss out on knowing anyone, you know?

Imagine if I only knew people like me for the rest of my life. I’d become one of those closed-minded, unaffected people, believing everyone should agree with me and if they don’t, they’re stupid. Ew.

Though, the important thing to note in all of this is that I will never, ever, like Two and a Half Men. Double ew.

gotta love Otis

-Age