Foot Fetish

Normally, a Saturday trip to Sofia isn't eventful enough to write about but yesterday's adventure is a whole different story. Well, at least what happened to me in the morning, at the train station, while I was eating a dooner, reading a book, and minding my own business...

It's early for a Saturday and, though the sun is out, it's still quite chilly so I plant myself right in the center of the sun's rays, at a cafe in front of the station, where I plan on meeting some friends in the next 30 minutes or so when up walks this guy. Now, the surprising thing about this guy is he's young (early 20's maybe) and he's reasonably good-looking and appears to be quite normal. A typical, Bulgarian dude. Um, no.

When he sits, I think, "OK. He wants to talk. Fine." So I introduce myself in Bulgarian and I explain that I don't know the language well. He doesn't say...anything. He's just looking at me. I think, "maybe he didn't realize I'm a foreigner and is now regretting his forwardness." Something I'm totally OK with. Eventually, when I can't get him to say anything and I'm not really sure what he's doing I say, "Um, OK, well, you're kinda weird and I'm going to go back to my book now."

But then he points at my foot. I think he's asking about my tattoos so I explain that they're in Spanish and Italian. He says, "no." I'm thinking, "He must think I'm asking him if he speaks Italian or Spanish." I consider trying to explain it again but I really don't care that much and he's starting to get on my nerves. It's at this point, when I'm trying to figure out how to get rid of him that he does the most unexpected thing...

He takes my foot out from under the table, holds it up a few inches off the ground, lowers his face towards the foot...and licks it! I cannot make this up! I was shocked! I could see the wet streak across my tattoos but I couldn't actually comprehend what had just happened.

I said, "That's disgusting! What the hell is wrong with you!" I start to get up to leave when he grabs my foot and won't let go. That's when I get angry. I said "stop" and "no" repeatedly until people waiting at the nearby bus stop began to look over at us and finally I yanked my foot out of his hands. I can't even remember the words for "stop" and "enough" in Bulgarian that we learned to use in situations such as these. I storm off thinking "What the F*" over and over, praying he is not following me. He wasn't.

I find sanctuary in the upper level of the bus station next door and imagine how I'm going to explain this particular situation which, now that I'm safe, is actually quite hilarious. I would shiver every five minutes or so just from the pure creepiness of the it all but I eventually just decided it was one of those crazy stories I get to take home from Bulgaria.

After my friends, Priscilla and Deanna arrived, I told them my story and they decided that he must have some sort of foot fetish. I said, "A public foot fetish with strangers! That's too weird. Not to mention, I'm wondering if he's done this before and how the girl's reacted. Not positively, I'm sure."

Then Priscilla says, "Maybe he just keeps trying until he finds that certain one, the girl of his dreams who doesn't cringe."

"That's true," I say, "I mean, might as well get it out there right in the beginning. Why bother beating around the bush. Just let the girl know, hey, this is what I'm into, you can't handle it, run away screaming, that's what all the other girls do."

Creepy punk.

-Age

No Offense, But...

No offense to those who’ve claimed to have experienced it, but I don’t actually believe that love at first sight exists. Unless certain people’s idea of love is simply to be attracted to another, in which case I myself have fallen in love many a time with a single glance. However, I think it’s better described as lust at first sight. Which is fine and perfectly normal as everyone has experienced this particular, um, emotion. We see someone we find attractive and our brain goes, “I want to have that,” but that’s hardly romantic and not something I would brag about until actual words are exchanged.

Not to mention that the keyword of this particular phrase is “sight,” right? So, it’s based on what a person sees. I’m just wondering, is lighting at all a factor? Does setting or atmosphere play into all of this? If a person is absolutely wonderful in every way, a genius, a family man, a doer of good deeds, does he somehow get cast out of the love at first sight game because he has no sense of fashion? I mean, these people who are falling in love at first sight, are we really wanting to encourage this? Should these people actually get together and, gulp, procreate? Is this benefitting society? I’ll leave you to ponder that.

Now, if lust at first sight were to turn in to love after many sights and talks and kisses, well, those situations turn into really great stories told by little old ladies with thick glasses and a constant desire to pat anyone under the age of 40 on top of the head. But it’s best if these particular people are clear about when the lust finally blossomed into love. You know, for the sake of children and stupid people as both are highly impressionable groups.

Unless of course you are a rich business man looking for a trophy wife, then lust at first sight is rather perfect for your particular needs. That, and an extensive background check coupled with a strong relationship to a renowned plastic surgeon.

I’m actually really confused as to why love at first sight is even considered a romantic notion. I remember being young and hearing it for the first time and, at first, smiling and thinking it was sweet and lovely as the person using the phrase said it in such a way that my only option was to indeed find it sweet and lovely, but upon further reflection my staunchly independent (some would call it bratty) nature, caused me to realized that the phrase made no sense at all. How could you be in love without actually knowing the person you’re in love with unless you’re, well, I’ll just say it, dumb?

I think the issue is that this particular American phrase was created many generations ago when the desire to be considered an individual was not as prolific as it is today. Everyone was basically the same and people were OK with that. If a woman was to find a man attractive then love is a perfectly good description of that feeling as he’s probably kind, hard-working, moderately sexist, and a lover of bacon and long afternoon naps. Nothing sweeter.

But today that is simply not the case. We are all so different and assumptions can only cause trouble. You simply can’t be in love with just a glance in today’s society, it’s no longer applicable.

Perhaps I’m being too conservative. I will allow “like” at first sight if that appeases anyone who was in any way put off by my view of things. I mean, maybe the first time you saw the guy he was coaching a baseball team full of wheelchair-bound orphans. Or that sweet looking girl was passing out meals to the homeless while leading all the other volunteers in a tear-jerking rendition of Amazing Grace. I could fall in instant like with that kind of crap. Sure.

I suppose one could argue that unless you've experienced this particular phenomenon, then there's really no way to know if there's any validity to it, some people are simply capable of true, instant love. And I could argue that some people are morons. So no more of this love at first sight business, please.

-Age

Not Sure

I've been questioning myself a lot lately. Questioning why I'm here, why I can't get my students to listen to me, and how other volunteers may fair far better if they were in my school, my town, my situation instead of me. I have this “I don't have what it takes” feeling all the time and it's a heavy burden to carry down the streets of this small village all alone. See, the winter isn't even here yet and I'm already suffering from...depression?

No, it's not that serious. But sometimes I feel this overwhelming helpless feeling. When my seventh graders get so angry they throw chairs across the room, curse at me at the top of their lungs and storm at of my class and the Director has to intervene, I feel helpless. I literally have no idea what to do. I know what not to do. I don't panic. I don't yell back. I won't ever hit them and I still hesitate to lay anything but a friendly hand on my students. But what do I do?

When I've planned this great lesson where I dress up like a Baba and tell the students their fortunes in order to practice future continuous and two students rip their chairs apart and race them around the classroom like 5-year-olds and my counterpart gives them a 15 minute lecture in which they spend the majority of the time arguing with her at the top of their voices, what do I do? I stand there. I try to understand what's being said in rapid Bulgarian. I look apologetically towards the few students in the class who genuinely want to learn English but can't. I stand there. I do...nothing.

I want to do something. I want to know exactly what to do in that moment and execute it with the precision of a seasoned teacher who's been in this situation many times and knows exactly what needs to be done. Or I want to be one of those teachers that is just naturally good at this, a person whose presence commands attention and respect. I've had teachers like that, teachers who could bring me to tears with one disappointed look. I'd like these students to feel something at the idea of disappointing their teachers, something more than a shrug of the shoulders.

I definitely make the mistake of being too friendly, too buddy-buddy with the students. Teasing me becomes a game and while I know that there is a time and a place for such games and laughs the students have a difficult time differentiating between in the classroom and out of the classroom. It's sad that I may have to be serious all the time when I'm around them simply so they know I mean business when I'm in front of the white board but I'm less and less inclined to be their buddy anyway. The level of disrespect is really starting to take it's toll. I not only feel anger and frustration when they disrespect me but when they disrespect my counterpart or other teachers at the school. It's just awful. And, again, I don't know what to do.

I understand that I'm probably not the only one facing this. But it kinda feels like it. It's only been 4 weeks and I'm burnt out. If you'd told me 4 weeks ago this was going to happen, I wouldn't have believed you. Me? Burnt out? Never. I'm like the Enegizer Bunny. The Little Engine That Could. I can't burn out. Now, I'm not saying I'm gonna give up. That's something I won't do. But things are gonna change. I'm gonna focus more on secondary projects. I'm gonna reach out to those students who care. I'm gonna set an example while still maintaining an appropriate distance. I'm gonna read my Bible more. I know that seems unrelated but, for me, it isn't. I need His guidance. I need to feel that I'm not alone. That I'm being taken care of, watched over, that there is a reason I'm here. I mean, if this all really means nothing and we're just floating around in space, why would I feel the need to be here, in Bulgaria? I'd be in Tahiti or something. I'd work at a bar for 8 hours to make money and spend the rest of my time in a hammock waiting out the end in “happiness.”

Happiness, whatever that means, is achievable here, it just seems so far away right now. I don't want to be one of those teachers that holds her breath for Christmas vacation, who can't wait for the weekend so she can hop on a train and disappear. I need help. I don't think I can do this by myself. That's not easy for a girl like me to admit. But I'm not sure I can do this.

-Age

Holla Atcha Ladies!

I absolutely love the women I used to work with back in the States. I may have loved them beyond what is reasonable. I worked at a day care, a day care run by the City of Grand Terrace so the emphasis was not on profits and weekly rates but on graham crackers and sippy cups. I had three bosses and one mentor/counterpart. All amazing women for different reasons and all close friends. I miss them tremendously and know that I’ll probably never work for another business that had that kind of care and work ethic put forth by management. Unless of course I create that sort of work environment myself one day. Hmmmm, food for thought.

Anyway, I thought I’d dedicate this post to them because I currently miss their structure, support, and “above and beyond” attitude so vehemently that I would gladly be paid in, not money, but smiles and baby-kisses for the rest of my life in order to enjoy my work as much as I did with these women. The only thing it lacked for me was a significant enough challenge (unless you count dealing with the crazy parents on a daily basis). Oh, and men. Thirty-five women and no men? Come on. So, apparently they weren’t perfect but I’m willing to forgive sexism when it leans in the favor of my particular gender.

I’m going to dedicate the following conversation to them to honor their awesomeness. This conversation took place in my head with an imaginary person I’m going to name Wanda. This is awkward and strange and may not be suited for all audiences but I’m sure The Ladies expect nothing less. Readers, be advised:

Me: I love the ladies from the day care. They were so great.

Wanda: Really? You loved them? That seems like a strong emotion to feel for a colleague.

Me: They weren’t colleagues. They were my friends. And I did love them. In fact, if I could be a lesbian and marry an entire group of people, I would marry them. Collectively. The marriage certificate would say “Adrienne and The Ladies.”

Wanda: That’s weird.

Me: You're right, I’d probably have to move to Utah to be able to accomplish something like that and then I’d probably have to find some liberal, progressive branch of Mormonism and convert.

Wanda: That's not what I meant when I said that's weird and...what the hell are you talking about?

Me: You know, they’d be progressive and allow lesbians to marry but they’d also keep it old-school and still let people have multiple wives. It’s like the Old Testament meets the 21^st century and it all culminates in me being able to hypothetically marry an entire group of my friends in order to express how much I love them. Get it?

Wanda: What? Is? Wrong? With? You?

Me: You don’t get it. It’s just a metaphor. I would marry peanut butter if I could. That’s how much I love peanut butter. But I love The Ladies even more than I love peanut butter. Hello? Metaphors? Pick up a book or something, Wanda. Jeez.

And scene.

I feel like that accurately expresses my feelings and sufficiently reminds all who may have forgotten that I’m kinda weird. But you still love me, don’t you? How could you not love something so twisted and endearing?

Keep up the good work ladies and know that I miss you tremendously. Also, Utah, think about it!

-Age

Awesome Things I Get To Do ('Get To' Being My Optimistic Spin On Things)

I have a lot of projects in the works right now. I'm trying to get as much done as possible before the winter hits and everything and everyone slows down. I still struggle with teaching as a team and trying to control a classroom full of undisciplined yet sweet and fun-loving students but I feel like that will get easier with time so I'm going to branch out and make this busy life even busier.
In a couple short weeks I'll be conducting a Halloween Fair at my school. Every student will be given the opportunity to skip their last period and join me and several other teachers who have volunteered their time to play games, carve pumpkins, bob for apples, eat tons of candy, and win awesome prizes. And, of course, dress up! The students seem to be most excited about the opportunity to wear costumes to school. The thing is, it's seems that every student I talk to is going to be...Pippy Longstalkings. I've fascinated to find out the reason why so many students have this costume. I mean, don't get me wrong, I love Pippy. What girl who grew up in the 80's doesn't? But why? That's all I want to know. Why?
 
My adult English class is going strong as well. We're about halfway through the lengthy lessons I have planned and my students are staying positive and punctual. We've moved that class up a half an hour and cut it down from 2 ½ hours to only 2 because it's getting dark so soon but we should be finished by early December. I'm excited to see how their language progresses. I don't get the impression they practice at home much but, hey, neither do my students. Not to mention, I can't remember the last time I practiced Bulgarian at home. That's one of my winter plans, to really buckle down and increase my language skills because they have not got much better since the end of PST and I'm a little worried.

I've also recently started a girls' volleyball team. We practice every Thursday afternoon in the recently refurbished gym next to our school. There are almost 20 girls which is entirely too many but I have a feeling the numbers will dwindle when they realize they actually have to take this seriously. The first practice was absolute chaos. The teenage boys from our school had heard about it and wanted to “watch”. I didnt' believe that for a second and told them no but they snuck anyway and spent the first 30 minutes making my life hell. Eventually I found another teacher to yell at them in Bulgarian and make them leave. The children really are not used to being told what to do, they seem to assume that free reign is their priveledge so needless to say, they were pissed. It was kinda funny actually. I was then allowed to conduct practice. Oh, wait. No. My collection of 5^th, 6^th, and 7^th grade girls decided they were going to conduct practice. They had no patience for my limited Bulgarian and decided to start a game on their own. I threw up my hands, told them they obviously didn't need me and that I would just watch and maybe go home since I was tired anyway. I watched for maybe 3 minutes as they smacked the ball towards the floor and each others' faces before they asked me to come back and coach them properly. I told them that if I saw anymore attitude, they could leave. The practice went smoothely from there. After an hour. Sigh. Hopefully next practice I'll be able to get the chaos controlled within the first 30 minutes. High hopes, I know.

I'll also be writing a request for 100 pounds of free books from an organization in the US I recently heard about. I'm pretty excited about this and hope to use these books to get my lower students back up to the appropriate level as well as to challenge my students who really go above and beyond (though there are far fewer of those students, unfortunately).

I'm hoping by December, or the first snowfall, whichever comes first, to have all of this checked off the list of Awesome Things I Get To Do As A Peace Corps Volunteer. And then I'll take a much needed break. I'm thinking Italy. Seriously, plans are being made and I may just spend the New Year in my favorite country!!! Cross your fingers that it all works out!

-Age

Simultaneously Ass-Cold and Spicy (do you doubt it?)

So…what the heck happened to Fall? It’s like we skipped it here in Bulgaria. Which is effing ridiculous cuz I love the Fall and I absolutely refuse to skip it. Refuse. I’m going to wear light sweaters and brown leggings if it kills me (which it might). I’m going to carve pumpkins with my kids and dress up in costumes that don’t require knee-length coats. I will be Slutty Cheese! Oh, by the way, for Halloween, I’ve decided to be Slutty Cheese. That’s Swiss cheese with strategically placed holes. But that’s only for adults who will find it funny, for my students I will have clothes underneath my costume and simply be cheese, which is still pretty funny if you think about it.

This whole instantaneous weather changing business is rather disturbing. I mean, when we first got here it was quite chilly and then suddenly it was hot as blazes. After enduring this hell-like summer in the hottest area of Bulgaria we came to our permanent sites and BAM! Ass-cold. Just like that. The weather now is California Winter at its absolute coldest. I’ve yet to experience anything colder than this and yet I’m told that not only will I have to experience it, I will have to live and work in it, even, as mentioned by one seriously delusional friend of mine, enjoy it which doesn’t seem possible. Not to mention, if the weather changes suddenly for every season then when winter actually hits I’ll probably die. I’ll be found frozen in my bed. People will say, “The volunteer from California died last night from instantaneous hypothermia, it must be winter.” I don’t want to die. I want to live. Preferably at a comfortable temperature. Is that too much to ask?

Just yesterday, I was standing on the corner waiting to meet my counterpart so we could walk to the café for Bulgarian lessons when I noticed everyone staring at me as they drove by. Now, I’m used to being stared at here. I’m new, I’m not Bulgarian in some sort of obvious way that I can’t quite understand but it occurred to me at this moment, on this corner, that I may look like a poorly-dressed prostitute. This caused me to laugh hysterically. Alone. On a corner. I decided to move as I didn’t want to give that impression, I don’t mind being mistaken for a prostitute every now and again but a poorly-dressed one is simply something I will not stand for. I need some nice winter clothes.

I now understand why they say that all of Bulgaria shuts down in the winter and volunteers often suffer loneliness and depression because everyone is locked away in their homes trying to escape the cold. Even now, I’m debating whether to leave my home and go buy water and bread. Sustenance. I’m in dire need. But it’s bitingly cold outside. That’s actually the perfect analogy as it does feel as though the air is actually biting me, which is just rude.

In the middle of writing this I went to the bathroom and realized I’m out of toilet paper. Sustenance is one thing but toilet paper is something else entirely. I’m braving this bitch. Sorry, cold weather makes me grouchy and when I’m grouchy I curse. If this offends you, you can feel free to bite me. Twice.

Anyway, in unrelated news, I went to the store a few days ago and bought some spices. I don’t know what kinds of spices, they were all labeled in Bulgarian. They are in clear-plastic pouches instead of small cylinders like most spices so I got to see what they looked like which encouraged me to purchase the prettiest spices. I bought orange, red, green, and brown spices. They all look delicious and I’m hoping they’re edible as well. In fact I’ll Google Translate those suckers right now and let you know what I got (I’m sure you’re all dying to know more about my Bulgarian spice collection that’s simply for looks since I don’t how to cook).

Шарена сол: Colorful salt

Чубрица: Savory

Червен пипер: Paprika

Балканска трапезна чубрица: Balkan savory table (my personal favorite)

Индийско орехче: Nutmeg

Къри: Curry (I figured)

Чесън на прах: Garlic powder

Well, that solves that mystery. I’m a regular Sherlock Holmes of spices! Salt and Pepper Holmes, if you will. No, that just makes me sound like a Hispanic R&B group. Maybe Sherlock Humus? I’ll stop.

OK, more from the Balkans to come (hopefully something educational!). Ciao!

-Age

Cheddar?

So, interesting fact, Bulgarians don't know the moon's made out of cheese. I fixed that problem today. I think my work here is done. Now, how to occupy my time over the next couple years...

-Age