Interesting stories from my Host Village (May 16th - July 23rd)

Each morning we have Bulgarian Language lessons with our amazing instructor. His breakfast consists of cigarettes and coffee, of which he drinks probably 8 cups a day.

In the afternoon we work on technical skills, study, or explore our village. Sometimes we walk about 2 miles to the nearby village and play soccer with the kids, or we will play with the locals at our village’s field. It has been an interesting 11 weeks and I have many stories I could tell. Here are a few of my most memorable ones:

HOW TO KILL A HEN: Как се убива кокошка

The second week living in my village I came home from school to see my Baba plucking the feathers off a dead hen inside of a tin wash bin. She asked me if I would like to kill the hen next time and I said maybe as I walked away from her chopping off its toes.

I didn’t think much of it at first, but for the next few weeks my Baba kept hinting that I would soon have my chance to kill the hen. Well one weekend I was awoken by my Baba peering over my bed doing charades and gesturing that I would be killing, plucking feathers, and removing the intestines of one of our very own Hens. When I think of killing a hen, either breaking its neck or a quick swipe with an axe comes to mind. On the day of the event, the two other girl volunteers in my village came to witness and video tape. We went outside and my Baba and I ventured into the cage to choose our victim. One of the hens decided he didn’t like the look of Baba and tried to fly away, only to be plucked out of the air by its tail. My Baba placed the hen on the ground and told me to step on it. I didn’t have much time to react before she grabbed my hand and started sawing away as I am yelling "I used to be a Vegetarian." I have a video of this fiasco for those who have a strong stomach...

JUST A NORMAL WALK IN THE WOODS: просто нормална разходка в гората

Megan (who was another volunteer in my village) and I used to take walks around our village and through the hills and fields to explore the area. Towards the end of training period we discovered a path through hills that we had never explored and decided to do some investigating. Bulgaria is for the most part a safe place, especially if you are with people and in a village, so we did not think much of it. Well it ended up being a whole different world through those hills and one of the prettiest places I have seen in Bulgaria. There was a beautiful lake with birds and storks flying over it, just like a scene from a movie. It was so quiet where we were and the lake was so placid it looked like a picture.

There were little blue butterflies that were in giant colonies, and they were hidden among the rocks. When you would take a step they would all come flying upwards, hundreds of them, and they would dance together as you walked through them. I pretty much felt like I was in a Disney movie the whole time, well almost the whole time. At one point, Megan and I spotted a Shepard tending to his animals and decided to walk past him. We thought he may like the chance to have a conversation with someone, and would also be a little surprised to see us considering there was no one else around. We were walking up a slight hill getting closer to the Shepard when 2 dogs came out from the crops and started running downhill towards us. This is a very natural occurrence here, the dogs are there to protect the crops or herds, however usually the Shepard will call the dogs off after realizing we mean no harm. Well apparently us two gals looked pretty harmful because those dogs were not stopping, they were just coming faster. Megan and I stopped and we just kind of looked at each other for a minute. Then all the sudden Megan says, "Is that a gun..." and sure enough on this mans shoulder is some large item that he is using to look at us with. We did not stick around long enough to find out for sure what he had pointed at us. We both turned and ran so fast the opposite direction, half nervously laughing and half ready to jump on the ground and start army crawling through the fields. Moral of this story is do not sneak up on a Shepard who spends every day by himself herding animals in a deserted paradise.

OTHER AWESOME MEMORIES:

- Watching water buffalo's walk past our house on their way home in the evening

- Drinking fresh milk after milking my very first cow

- Having volunteers and neighbors over for birthday parties or town celebrations. Bulgarians know how to have a good time. The first week our village had a celebration and my host brother and sister had a few friends over. Well it was an incredibly hot day, and my host brother decided to stand on a table while his friends put Leva (Bulgarian Dollar Bills) all over his body. They were able to stick to him because of all his sweat...

- For the 4th of July we bought a ton of fireworks from one of the main cities and had a celebration for the village. During the day we played soccer with the kids and then around 11:00PM we all went to the center of our village to light off the fireworks. There were a ton of people in the center, even some of our host families showed up. And the fireworks were the same ones you see at celebrations in the states, except just a little smaller. For the grand finale we lit off one last giant green firework, and as it was just about to take off it fell over and flew right above the cafe, exploding only a few feet away from the roof. At first the whole crowd gasped and ducked, but when we realized that we hadn't blown up the cafe, we just laughed and watched (rather closely) as the fireworks lit up the sky.

There are far too many amazing memories to recap them all so here is one final one....

- You can immediately tell that my host grandmother has been working hard her entire life. She is 68 but unfortunately tough times have aged her far beyond her years. The weather is extremely hot in the month of July, however during this month there is much work to do outside and in the garden. One significantly hot day I walked outside to see my Baba carrying over her back GIANT tree branches. I ran to her and told her to stop but she just told me to open the gate to our yard. She explained that she had to collect the branches to use as firewood. After this she would be chopping the wood for the winter. Since she insisted on lugging pieces of wood larger than she was, I decided I would help her. We did this for another 30 minutes in 90 something degree heat, and whenever I looked at her she would just smile. I have never in my entire life met a person who was as dedicated and worked as hard as that woman and I could never forget her and the lessons she taught me.

Probably the most akward day of my life....

MY FIRST NIGHT LIVING WITH MY HOST FAMILY:

We ate dinner shortly after arriving at my host family’s house on May 16th. My first meal was salami, white cheese, and potatoes with meat in it that was pretty much swimming in oil. There was of course bread (хляб is served at every meal), and a salad with cucumbers and tomatoes which was also drowning in oil. After eating enough to satisfy my host mother and grandmother, I was sent to unpack my bags. My host brother Цеци, or in English pronounced Tceti, carried my luggage into my room. The Ц in his name is a very awkward and confusing letter of the Cyrillic Alphabet, and that evening I struggled trying to figure out the correct way to say his name. Well Цеци got pretty irritated with me since I kept saying his name wrong and he actually left after a few minutes of trying to teach me the proper pronunciation and me repeatedly failing. It was weeks later when I found out that instead of saying his name, I was actually saying цици, a slang and foul word for Boobs in Bulgaria. I finally understood why my host brother had been so anxious for me to say his name right.

Well after one humiliating experience was over, I simply moved onto the next. My host sister decided to help me unpack my belongings after my host brother had stormed off. Within minutes she had pretty much taken control and was rummaging through my luggage, choosing where all my clothing and belongings would go. I was already a bit overwhelmed so at this point I did not care, even when she was taking my underwear out of my suitcase without the least bit of hesitation. When that invasion of privacy was over my sister and mother looked at me and asked “Искате ли да си взема душ?” I knew that Искате ли meant Do you want? However I had no idea what the word душ, pronounced Douche meant, all though I had a few guesses based on what it would mean for a woman back in America. I immediately said that I would not like a душ and they looked very confused. Again they insisted that I should want a душ and at this point I was just mortified that they were so upset with me not wanting this. Well after a minute of me persevering and repeatedly saying that I did not want a душ I went to the dictionary to make sure I understood correctly. Turns out I was mistaken; they were simply asking if I wanted a shower, a душ…

I had to laugh when I realized what had happened, however it was impossible to explain this to my host family. I pretended like I was giving into their requests and said I would take a душ, but in actuality I was ecstatic to take a shower. They showed me how to turn the boiler on for hot water and handed me a dish towel. Yep, a dish towel. And to make things even more interesting they gave me a bottle of dish soap. They left the room and I was left to ponder what exactly I was supposed to do with the supplies I had been given. To make matters worse I could not figure out how to close the door to the shower because the hinges were not even. It had been a long day already and after a lot of confusion and misunderstandings I was not ready to try to understand this scenario. I kept my clothes on, washed the bottom half of my legs and my arms with dish soap, dried myself with a hand towel, and then being too exhausted to do anything else I fell asleep in the exact same clothes I took a shower in.

My New Village...

On May 16^th we got on a bus and drove to Vratsa where we would meet our host families. When we arrived we were told to put down our luggage and walk to the center of the quad where we would find a table with our village name on it. We had pieces of paper that were cut in half and our host families had the matching side. My host mother saw me first and grabbed me with a burst of excitement. She hugged me as if she already knew me and then off we went. Her son grabbed my luggage and within minutes was helping load my incredibly heavy bags into a car that obviously was not prepared for so much stuff.

The drive to the village was dead quiet. I had been in Bulgaria for 3 days with only 4 language courses. After exhausting hello, how are you, I am from California, and thank you, there really wasn’t much to be said. I had no idea what our village looked like or how far it was. I had been warned of the way Bulgarians drove, but this was my first real experience. I sat in the back seat next to my giant suitcase trying not to notice how fast we were going and how many pot holes we were swerving around. When we made a SHARP right onto a side road, I perked up with anticipation and saw the sign with my village name on it and knew I was home.

We are located right by a range of mountains. There is beautiful scenery, and because it has been raining so much everything is very green or colorful. There are farm animals (hens, goats, donkeys, horses, cows, sheep, etc.) in almost every yard. However the majority of the animals are not constrained by a fence. They just roam the streets or are tied up to a fence on one of the dirt roads. My favorite animals are the giant water buffalo that even the local kids are afraid to get to close to. Every home has a garden of some sort; some of them are well kept while others are wildly overgrown. It is a small village so everyone pretty much knows each other. The village is split by a river and bridge; on one side lives Bulgarians, on the other side are Roma’s or they are also known as “Gypsies” here.

I live with a mother, grandmother (Baba) and a whole lot of chickens. The rest of the family, the father, 2 sons and a daughter live in the main city of Vratsa. They work and go to school there and sometimes visit the village on the weekends. My house is small but I love it. I have a room downstairs and there is one room next to me where we eat our meals, the family watches TV, and where the Baba sleeps. It is a room with many functions. The kitchen is pretty much our hallway, and the kitchen sink is also the bathroom sink. Upstairs are two rooms where visitors can sleep. They have a large garden in the back with onions, tomatoes, cucumbers, strawberries, grapes, etc. The father makes his own wine and alcohol (like most people in the village). This is stored in a small basement with jars of canned food for the winter time when it is too cold to find fruits or veggies elsewhere.

This is Where it Starts...

May 17th

After training in Philadelphia for 2 days I boarded a bus to New York with my fellow Peace Corps volunteers. We are the 26^th group to go to Bulgaria, hence the nickname ‘B – 26’. It took almost 25 total hours of buses, airports and planes, but we finally made it to our destination in Sofia, Bulgaria. When we landed I had absolutely no idea what to expect and was so exhausted I slept for the majority of the bus ride to our hotel. Those first few days were spent learning about our programs, taking language classes, and going over safety measures and precautions. The hotel was in a mountain range and the landscape was beautiful. We were able to run or hike every day and there was always a new trail to discover or different path to take.



The last day at the hotel we found out our Satellite groups. These groups consist of 4 – 6 people who live in the same village during Pre-Service Training (PST). We study the language and technical skills for 11 weeks before we are sent to live on our own. Our last night was celebrated with a dinner banquet. A Bulgarian dance group performed in traditional Folklore attire. When they were done the volunteers were able to join in. Bulgarian dancing is a very unexpected exercise that takes a lot of practice and patience. Eventually the only people left on the dance floor were the Bulgarians who were apparently in much better shape than us Americans.