Seven Rila Lakes, A Tale of Only Slightly Exaggerated Adventure

This past weekend I went on a nature hike in the local mountains. Mountains that I can actually see if I stick my head out my window a couple of feet. However, not realizing these were the exact mountains my hiking group was heading towards, because I'm a bit spatially-challenged, I went about 3 hours out of my way to make a big, giant circle with two trains, one bus, and a taxi ride in order to get to the base of these mountains with my friends (who actually had to go this route cuz they can't see these mountains from their windows). Oops.

Regardless, it was an amazing trip. We went to the Rila Mountains and, specifically, the Seven Rila Lakes (whose title in Bulgarian I can never seem to get quite right). There are literally seven lakes all pretty close to one another as you make your way up this mountain trail and all are only for looking at. There is no touching (I touched one), swimming, rock-skipping (I did that too), fishing, or pointing at for prolonged periods of time (I exaggerated that last one, though, for all I know, this could absolutely be true [I didn't read all the "do this" but "don't do that" signs on the way up, it could've been in there]). You can take pictures of them, however, and you can stare and point at those as much as you like, depending on the staring and pointing rules in your own house.

So, it went a little something like this:

We (me, Katelyn, Kerri, Priscilla, Ben, and Ashlei - yes, this is how she spells her name) met in Sofia at noon and took a train to a pretty little town called Dupnitsa (where a super Cali-sexy volunteer used to live but now he's gone) and from there took a bus to Panichiste. This mountain village happens to be where all of us volunteers spent our first few days in Bulgaria so it was nice to be back and re-live those crazy moments (I wasn't full of naive excitement nor did I have permanently blood-shot eyes from lack of sleep this time around). From Panichiste we took a taxi (with the friendliest taxi driver the world has ever seen) to the base of the mountain where we'd planned to take a ski-lift to our first хижа (or mountain cabin) cuz we were saving all of our hiking energy for the next day. Turns out, the lift wasn't running that day and we had to trudge (tredge?) up the mountain unexpectedly. Kerri and I were so slow going up we played the "let's pretend we're turtles, what kind of turtle are you?" game. We never did decide what sound a turtle makes.

We then slept in our first cabin, hostel-style with all of us in one big room, after a hearty dinner of soup and beer.

In the morning, we started on our hike. It was pretty difficult. Very steep and I spent the majority of the time out of breath. Not that I minded all that much, I figured hiking was going to entail some physical inconveniences but would be well worth it cuz it's rumored to be "so darn pretty" in the places where nature lives (you know: mountains, rivers, forests, Kansas). We played in streams, climbed on boulders, took "the path less traveled by" which was less traveled by for a reason as it turns out, and took a lot of silly pictures - all before lunch.

After lunch (which we ate on a rock near one of the lakes, where I was yelled at by my fellow hikers for disrupting the Untouched Wilderness when I fed a swarm of teeny-tiny little fish some of my "hiking cereal" [it was totally just regular cereal but I called it that cuz it was in a backpack - I also brought "hiking oreos"]), we started to get serious. The paths were steeper and much more treacherous and I was a bit fatigued from all my so-called "goofing around" on the first part (there could have totally been hidden ancient Bulgarian treasure in the crevices of that one rock I "wasn't supposed to climb on" cuz it's on "protected ground" to keep it safe from "human exposure". Socialists.)

We passed each lake, counting them as we all looked forward to #7 - the last lake, which we all assumed would be the best, bluest, and shiniest lake of them all. We saw wild horses (a mama and two ponies!), waterfalls, Bulgarians in super short shorts, and breathtaking views. When we made it to the top, where the seventh lake was (it was normal), there were these rock piles all over. Apparently, when people make it to the top, they take a rock and add it to the top of one of the piles, a tangible manifestation of success (whoa - that sounded fancy). So, naturally, I did the same. It felt good. Then we sat and stared at the view below us and felt pretty proud of what we'd accomplished.

We then had to hike another hour to get to our second хижа. We could see the cabin at the bottom of this long valley, a small house-shaped dot at the end of these rolling, golden hills. If we all hadn't been so tired I think we would have run toward it, Sound of Music-style and maybe held hands, spun around, and sang a song about the hills being alive. But instead we walked...

..and walked...and walked...

At one point, when we'd been walking for over 20 minutes and the cabin did not seem any closer than it was before, we began to question whether or not we were:

1) in a dream (you know, one of those dreams where you're running towards something but you can never get there and you wake up super frustrated, to the detriment of the person next to you or your pillow?)

2) The Twilight Zone

3) seeing an optical allusion not unlike an oasis in the desert

We did finally make it and this place was legit in a "we're really hikin' now!" kinda way: water pumped in from a natural spring, owned and operated by mountain men (I found one of the heavily-bearded ones rather sexy but shied when Ashlei offered to talk to him with me - I have nothing to say to a bearded mountain man besides, "so. that beard. epic." and I don't know the Bulgarian word for "epic"), and electricity from a generator that seemed to only run for a couple hours just after sunset. I felt pretty disgusting after the hike and was bummed not to be able to take a shower. I also had a mini panic attack when I let my mind fully digest how remote and stranded we were in this deep valley not accessible for miles by anything but feet (peoples' and horses'). It creeped me out in a claustrophobic, head stuck in your pullover sweater when the neck's too tight and you start to freak out a little and tug at it 'til it feels like you might rip your own face off kinda way.

The next day, Kerri, Katelyn, and I went home while the others continued on an even more challenging hike. We went down, passed all the same lakes at rapid speed and managed to all be in (or near as Kerri had to sleep at Katelyn's cuz her town is a bit remote) our own beds that very night.

I got a wicked sunburn that is peeling in a way that makes me look as if I've just had a chemical peel like the Desperate Housewives of LA/NY/NJ/OC. Not cute. Nor is it fun to hear, "Oh, miss, your face," from all my students. I respond with, "I know, my face is angry with me."

But I had a great time. I would, hands down, do it again in an all-terrain jeep with ipod hook up, AC, and mini-fridge. For sure.

-Age

Culture Thursday/School's Back

So, today was the first day of school. All my little savages are back and looking as deceptively cute as ever - they are so tricky. Basically, the day goes like this:

The kids and teachers all gather outside of the school

The older students march around with the school's flag and then hang the Bulgarian flag on the pole in front of the school

Speeches are given (our mayor, the director of our school, and my counterpart spoke)

The students listen with rapt attention

The youngest and cutest kids recite poems and speeches about the first day of school. The students in the front row are our new first graders. We're pretty excited about the 12 of them because we didn't have enough students for a 1st grade last year. They are pretty adorable.

With our new 1st graders comes a new (new for me, at least) tradition of walking under the arch for good luck. Yesterday, the 3rd grade teacher and I went hunting all over Momin Prohod for ivy and flowers so we could make the arch look this beautiful. It was fun.

The students also eat a peice of bread called "pitka" with honey for good luck before going under then arch, over the water, and into the school

This is the bucket for the water I was talking about. It's tradition, and I believe I've mentioned it before, to pour water on the ground in front of people who are embarking on something new and exciting in a ceremony such as the first day of school, graduation, or a wedding. There's also the school bell, decorated with pretty wild flowers

Then the kids go home and teachers, director, mayor, retired teachers, and the PC volunteer all pile into the teacher's lounge and eat lots of sweet things and drink lots of sugary drinks. It's usually tradition to drink rekia but my school's not big on drinking so we stuck to lemonade...and cigarettes.

It was a really lovely day. A couple staff members who were visiting a nearby volunteer dropped by to say "hi" and met all my colleagues. They also got to hear everyone brag about me (I bragged about myself a little too - I'm not gonna lie) and see the new classroom we're constructing. Speaking of that classroom, it's not really ready yet so we'll be teaching elsewhere until it's finished, which should hopefully be soon.

Here's hoping for a great year!

-Age



Postponing Culture Thursday

I realize it's Culture Thursday but I have nothing interesting to tell you, sorry. However, I do have a dentist appointment tomorrow in Sofia. While that may normally seem like a boring theme, this is Bulgaria and I'm gonna bet there'll be a fun story to go along with what's sure to be minor suffering tomorrow. I'll let you know. (Also, I'm first visiting the medical office at the PC headquarter ((I feel really cool using a word like "headquarters")) because I got stung by a bee and now have a huge, red circle on my arm that was at first the size of a baseball but is more like a genetically engineered grapefruit right now and it itches. I want all of that to go away but I don't own any Benadryl - I'm hoping they do).

-Age

I'm Like a Cross-Eyed 2-Year-Old With Lots of Money

My PCPP - Peace Corps Project Proposal - was reviewed, accepted, published and funded relatively recently and we've since started construction. And because I'm the big money-holder I get to tag along when we buy everything which has included treats such as sitting in the front seat of a car all the way to Pazardzhik (45 kick-ass minutes away), visiting a home supply store not unlike a mini Home Depot, and unloading a windowless white van illegally (I know, I laughed at the thought of anything being illegal in Bulgaria too) parked in front of our school. Jealous? I wouldn't doubt it.

All the desks, chairs, cupboards and remaining furniture have been taken to Kostenets to be refurbished, the floor torn up, and the radiators removed from the walls. The floor tiles have been bought, the cement purchased, the fancy light fixtures picked out, and the new lacquer for the cabinets is ready to rock and roll. The lacquering of cabinets will be the extent of my counterpart, Reni, and I's physical contribution to this whole new classroom thing - we'll be wearing old clothes and painting all day tomorrow with the two smallest paint brushes you've ever seen cuz my counterpart is thrifty (originally she only wanted to buy one and then trade off) so when I say "all day" that is precisely what I mean.

I often find that when I am in a situation in which my help or input is not needed and Bulgarian is spoken in so rapid a way and with so many unfamiliar words and phrases that I simply tune out...to everything. It's like I'm in my own little world and only occasionally do I snap out of it long enough to realize I may resemble a nicely dressed (and apparently full since I'm not trying to eat anyone) zombie or a person who's been lobotomized and seems to really enjoy blankly staring at bathroom fixtures and occasionally touching something shiny with a raise of the eyebrows as if to say, "Ooo, I liked touching that shiny faucet." In case I'm confusing you, this is what it was like for me at the Krez (Bulgarian Home Depot) we visited. At the end, I bought a .49 cent measuring cup for myself and handed over my bank card so my colleagues could purchase almost a thousand leva worth of materials. I even said "here you are" in Bulgarian which probably shocked all the store workers who, up until that point, were probably considering calling someone to come take me somewhere safer.

This zoning out thing happens a lot and I think it must be some kind of defense mechanism that keeps my brain from overheating when too many incomprehensible words are trying to be comprehended all at once and shiny things are present to distract. My brain doesn't want to blow up. Which is understandable so I don't complain when people look at me like I'm a cross-eyed two-year-old. My Bulgarian is at about the same level as a cross-eyed 2-year-old (with a speech impediment) so it's fitting as opposed to insulting.

Anyway, the construction has only just begun and I'll have fun pictures and a nice breakdown on here within the next couple of weeks. I'm hoping my kids absolutely love it and show the new room the respect it deserves, i.e. no more throwing chairs or trying to set stuff on fire. One can only hope.

-Age

Culture Thursday

The Peace Corps always encourages us to integrate into our communities. Integrate. Integrate. Integrate. Until we wish 'integrate' had a face so we could punch it. I'm exaggerating, because each one of us knows the importance of integrating into what has basically become our home. Why wouldn't we want to get to know people and understand the in's and out's of our community? We would do the same things if we moved to a new place in America: explore, meet new people, attend events and join clubs. The only reason it's emphasized so much is because the language and cultural barriers make it difficult and sometimes it even seems impossible. The trick is to realize you don't have to know everyone, you don't have to visit every shop, and you don't have to pretend to like people who are jerk-faces.

Anyway, the point of that was to explain an interesting barrier I have to integration. I live in a house/apartment. It's basically one big house with 4 small apartments - 2 on the bottom floor and 2 on the top. I live in one of the apartments on the top floor but have things that most volunteers living in a блок, or apartment building, don't have, such as a big terrace (bigger than my bedroom actually), a backyard with a garden, and big, family homes surrounding me. What also makes my home unique is that the apartment directly below me, with whom I share an entrance, is rented out on a weekly basis. My landlord does this for people who are on vacation or visiting our hospital for it's mineral baths.

This means that I'm constantly meeting new people, making new friends, sharing new experiences, and then saying good-bye shortly after. Which doesn't really help me integrate into my village as these people don't actually live in my village. Also, I meet them when they are on vacation and in great moods with no work to do which isn't very culturally realistic. Not that I mind it, most of the people I've met have been wonderful and even inspiring. I honestly wouldn't have it any other way.

I recently met a mother and daughter from Sofia who were here to visit the mountains for a week. The mother was 86-years-old and went on hikes with her daughter and myself on an almost daily basis. They were patient and kind and up for anything - it was a lot of fun.

Then, last week, another mother and daughter pair came through from Razgrad (a city I'm fully aware is really far away) to visit the mineral baths. The daughter, who is about my age, spoke English really well as she'd lived in Alabama for 3 years. After she came back to Bulgaria, she was ready to travel again, this time to Norway. Not too long after that, she volunteered to teach English in a small village in Mozambique. She had a lot of stories to tell and wasn't even close to being done with her travels - she already had plans to go back to the same village in Mozambique a month from now.

Meeting people like this and experiencing Bulgarians from all over for a short period of time is like a special treat that makes my life here exciting when it can sometimes feel mundane.

Culturally, this shows the diversity of Bulgarians - their experiences, their passions, their attitudes. As many of the people living in my village tend to live similar lives, I find it a breath of fresh air to meet a girl who is volunteering (like me!) and giving what she can to those less fortunate than herself. She spoke of their poverty, of the things they lack, but she also spoke of their positive attitude, interesting culture, and delicious foods. I've never met a Bulgarian who volunteers before, it seemed a concept that was too foreign for most to comprehend (which is probably why they all looked at me so strangely when I first got here) but now I see that things are changing and younger generations are opening themselves up to new, better things.

It's been a fun adventure, walking downstairs not knowing who I'm going to meet that day or what they're going to show me - and I'll call it integration and anyone who disagrees can bite me.

-Age

"The Thinner the Moustache, The Bigger the Douchebag"

I recently went to the capital with a friend to watch a movie and indulge in some delicious Mexican food. We decided on Captain America for the movie (and burritos for the Mexican) because there was nothing better and who doesn't love a good comic-book-based movie every now and again, right? The movie was alright but it was the previews that got me thinking. Thinking about a particular movie theme that I find rather funny.

It was a preview for The Three Musketeers (I won't even tell you how excited I am for this movie - I LOVE that kinda crap) and Orlando Bloom was in it...but not as a Musketeer like you might think. No, he was clearly not a good guy. He was a bad guy.

Oh, yeah. A dirty, stinkin' little bad guy that just pisses everyone off the whole movie but is totally essential to the plot because, without him, how would we know that the good guys are good, huh? We wouldn't. They would just be dudes. Dudes with swords and witty banter. Which is all well and good but hardly what I would call an action flick.

Anyway, I'm off topic. I could tell that Orlando was playing a diabolical villain. You know how I knew?

One word: moustache

Now, this was a Musketeer movie, which means that a lot of the characters had moustaches. They were apparently all the rage during this particular time in history but this movie is not the only example of this particular film phenomenom. No.

Guy Who Likes to Tie Girls to Train Tracks:

Hitler:

This guy:

and this guy:

grossest one

him:

I'll admit his moustache may be the least evil-looking thing about him

we all remember this ace-hole:

Snape:



and even the dude who assassinated Lincoln:

 

So, clearly, the moustaches have spoken. All you need is an appropriately thin, evil one of these bad boys and it's clear that you are up to no good. This, my friends, is how I knew Orlando Bloom will be playing a bad guy in what's sure to be an action-packed thriller.

clearly he's a huge douchecanoe

-Age

Culture Thursday (Yes, I Know It's Friday)

On Monday, after my little ones left their morning summer school session with me, I patiently awaited the arrival of my older students so we could practice a little English and play a little volleyball. They didn't show up. Which is odd cuz they have shown up every other day so I just had to chalk it up to Mondays being what they are: the day everyone dreads and tries to avoid if at all possible.

So, I'm just sitting there at the school talking to two of my favorite colleagues (cuz they're super nice and really patient with my Bulgarian) and they tell me that today is a special holiday at the church and would I like to join them. Awesome. Yes, I absolutely would. Thursday is coming up after all.

The празник (holiday) held on August 15 is called "Успение Богородично" or "The Assumption of Mary". This day is also an important "name day" in Bulgaria, the day we celebrate any name connected with Mary: Maria, Marietta, Marianna, Marian, etc. I may have mentioned name days in the past but just to catch you up they are basically like birthdays and people celebrate them by bringing candy to work or school and passing it out to everyone and maybe having a nice lunch or dinner as well. This name day is special because the Eastern Orthodox religion practiced here in Bulgaria believes that this day represents the day Mary passed away and God brought her, body and soul, into heaven. This is a day to visit the church (which most Bulgarians only do on special days like this, Easter, and Christmas) and so that is precisely what we did and I will take you through the steps as they happened:

When we walk up to my villages very small church, the pathway leading up to the front doors is lined with a variety of brightly colored flowers. It's really a beautiful place and the teeny, white church that can fit about 20 people at the most is one of my favorite places in Momin Prohod. We said hello to the babas standing out front and walked inside to the little window that sells candles of all sizes. There are very thin candles for 10 stotinki that apparently only the cheapskates buy cuz we passed right over that very full box and went straight for the 20 stotinki candles (though we could have gone as high as 1 lev if we were feeling really fancy). I purchased 3 candles thinking that I would just group my prayers: my family, my friends, and those I've loved that have passed away. I placed the first two candles here:

I then placed the candle for the dead in a lower candle-holder thingy because those candles are always placed near the ground. There was a man there with his daughter, one of my students actually, and they were both scraping the wax off of the candle-holders (which I'm sure have a real name I just don't know it) and removing candles that were beginning to bend or burn out. My friend, Lenka, told this man I was interested in learning more about the holiday and could he please explain it to me in more detail. He looked at me very skeptically and, despite the fact that Lenka assured him I can understand Bulgarian, spoke almost directly to her the entire time. Which was fine because, to be perfectly honest, he was using the type of vocabulary I am not familiar with and keeping up with him was not an easy task.

As many religious folks do, he did not explain the holiday so much as his religion in general. He asked me about my beliefs though didn't seem too interested in the answers. He possibly saw this as an opportunity to convert me which, being raised a Christian, is something I understand more than he could ever know. After some time, Lenka told him that he was giving me a lot of information and that maybe that was enough for one day.

We left the man and went outside to the baba who was standing near a table at the front of the church. On the table was a ceramic bowl of water and vases full of flowers. She took a handful of white flowers, dipped them in the water, and patted them against each of our heads three times, blessing us in Bulgarian (I have no idea what she was saying). We left a 1 lev coin in front of the picture of Mary and began to walk away. It was then that another baba ran out of the church with a big bouquet of beautiful red, orange, and yellow flowers, handing them to me and telling Lenka, "these are for the American. She has to burn them after they die for good luck." And that's exactly what I plan to do.

This is a very happy holiday for Bulgarians, a day to pray and be blessed and honor an important female saint. I couldn't help imagining what this day would have been like in one of the huge churches in Sofia or one of the beautiful monastaries I visited in the Northwest corner of Bulgaria. These churches have so much history. They seem medieval somehow and the monks inside with their long black robes, tall black hats, and impressively lengthy beards make it seem as though I've traveled back in time. The "nuns" and monks both seem to hide in the deep recesses of the church when it's time to sing. Though "sing" isn't really the right word, it's more of a chant. They chant these long, beautiful, mysterious notes and it echos throughout the whole church and it's literally awe-inspiring. I've never heard anything like it and I would have loved to visit one of these churches on a holiday like "Успение Богородично" and just listen.

-Age