lingo-anthro, pig weddings, and the integration of this ne-bulgarka

I have a bit of an announcement. Last night I came home from a bit of a girls’ night with a colleague and her friend. I checked my email and I had one super email from Macmillan, the publishing company. They send me a teacherly email once a week. Isn’t that sweet? Well, there’s a “word of the week” section. The word of the week is “houseblinging” which is a noun meaning “decorating the exterior of a house with a large amount of Christmas lights.” If you check out the archives for Macmillan’s WOTW, you’ll find lots of strange words that are pretty new to our language.

So, as I was perusing these archives, I was sharing my new knowledge with one of my PCV buddies and GoogleTalkmates, Lucia. I was using these new words like, “shopgrifting” in sentences like, “I shopgrifted from Wal-Mart once. I bought a microwave to use for the night, and then took it back the next day.” She kept saying I was cracking her up. I was just using these COOL new words. I might have been a bit funnier than usual. This is totally a digression, but I’ve developed the unhealthy habit of eating only one meal a day. Yesterday’s meal was washed down with two glasses of wine. Now, I had two glasses of wine (or was it three) in the space of two hours. I’m not a small girl, per say. This should not even make me tipsy! I was, however, a bit buzzed, I’m ashamed to say.

Anyway. I realized that the person who is studying these fun new words, describing their usage and etymology is the luckiest person in the world. The thought passed through my head, “I would love this dude’s job!!” Then I realized… Then I had my epiphany… I must study linguistics. I LOVE language. I love etymology. I love learning about the development of dialects. So, I’m going to start planning in that direction. I don’t know exactly how it will work out… I want to study why languages change and evolve… How words have developed (did you know smog comes from smoke and fog? Did you know that ‘an orange’ used to be ‘a narange’? http://www.krysstal.com/wordname.html ) I want to study how literature and language effect one another. And how the two effect and reflect culture. I think it’s all so amazing.

I have no Godly idea as to how I can make a living off of this. Maybe I’ll just keep teaching English. Maybe I’ll get come DELTA/ CELTA certs and study in Europe. Лелемале (nonsense expletive like, ‘oi’ or ‘ohwow’) I don’t know if I could manage so much time away from home. But you know home is where you make it. It’s not so much home that I miss, it’s love. I need to learn how to find love where ever I am.

This is also a digression. Actually, this is a full stop. Please prepare for a subject change.

I was recently told that the reason PCVs have a hard time integrating is because they aren’t willing to compromise. All of us who aren’t integrating into our communities smoothly just aren’t trying hard enough. Now, I’ve been told by different people (Bulgarian’s mind you) that there is only so much a PCV can do – sometimes it’s up to the community. When I expressed some concern in the matter, my counterpart told me that I was doing everything I could. She further reassured me that my colleagues love me. She told me that this is Razlog; this is Bulgaria. It will never be home to me, no matter how much I try. This helped a lot.

My counterpart tries to identify with me because she is from the other side of the country and this is difficult for her as well. I used to laugh it off when she said things like this. I recently found out that the visit she had from her mother last week was the first time her mother had been here since she and her husband were married over a year ago. Wow, I can’t imagine. I probably communicate with my mom just as much, if not more than she communicates with her mother.

Well, I stopped to think… This volunteer who is so sure of his/her ability and our stubbornness says we/I am just not trying hard enough. I had three days after that conversation to really think about my situation. Well, I tried to think through the cold meds and the general gross feeling of a sinus infection. I’m not integrated here. No, I knew that. Am I trying everything possible? No, surely not. I’ve not gone knocking on doors asking to come in and chat. I’ve realized that it’s not my job to become part of this community. I want to experience this community and I welcome the chance for Bulgarians to glimpse into my American experience.

I encourage this cultural exchange. I make apple sauce like I remember my Aunt Nanne making it… chunky with a lot of cinnamon. I give some to my baba and the family I share a house with. I made spaghetti for my birthday and invited Americans and Bulgos. No, not spaghetti noodles with mayonnaise, catsup, pickles, and cirene. No, I made American style spaghetti. It was yummy. I had a pumpkin pie making contest with my 8th graders for Thanksgiving. I brought peanut butter cookies to the teachers’ room for my birthday and carrot cake for Thanksgiving. I love sharing bits of my Americaness wherever possible.

But it’s not just about giving tastes of American culture. I know. What have I done to experience Bulgarian culture? I mean, besides living here, working here, eating, sleeping, communicating, and teaching here? I don’t know, I guess not too much if you don’t count EVERY WAKING MOMENT! But yes, there are always things I could do to make it more substantial.

Let’s take this weekend for example. I have my crock-pot and I decided to make veggie soup so I could invite my vegan PCV site mates over for dinner (veggie soup and spaghetti are the contents of my vegan kitchen repertoire). I also invited my counterpart. Sadly, they all came over, but not at the same time, so we didn’t get to have any good times as a bunch. But it was still nice. I invited people over and cooked for them. I shared my store of wine with them. We talked and bonded. It helps me to feel more a part of this community. Don’t tell me spending time with these Americans won’t help me be a part of this community. They have been here longer than I have; they have connections I don’t; they have wisdom I don’t.

One of these connections my site mates have is with their counterpart. I will take as much advantage of this relationship as I possibly can. This guy is SO motivated. He loves this country and is fired up to change it, and build up people who can further change it in their own special ways. He’s great. He’s helping me to get involved in the community since my school is not terribly interested in my activities outside the walls of the school.

Tomorrow, Joro, my site mate’s counterpart is going to take me and Harmonie (the female half of “my site mates”) to his wife’s village for a “svinska slaba.” Literally translated this means, “pig wedding,” which is a euphemism for pig slaughter. This is a Bulgarian tradition for the start of winter. It’s time to kill a few of the oinkers for winter meat.

I chatted with a friend from my training site this afternoon. During the summer, I went on a business call with him to a woman who operates a hotel outside Razlog and has some farms she’d like to be certified organic. He had to call her regarding some paper work today. She asked about me. She asked for my GSM number. She told him that she would call me, pick me up, and take me to see her hotel (which was under construction when we were there). This brightened my day tremendously. I stuck out in someone’s memory. I’m not just some Brit/American/Non-Bulgarian tourist who fills a pocket and disrupts culture.

During the course of our chat, he invited me to hang out in a town about two hours from here. He and a friend of his will be vacationing near me and would like for me to join them. I would love to go and hang out with these folks in a nicer, bigger town. I’d love to swim in a nice pool and relax in a mineral bath. I’d love to have my tab covered by these two guys who want nothing more than to have this American girl out with them (If you knew this guy, you would not be calling me naïve right now… I’m like his kid sister, I promise). But this is not really a cultural experience. Yeah, I could definitely practice my Bulgarian language skills, and probably get some cultural snippets too. But I turned down this fun opportunity so I could watch a pig get his head chopped off. Wow, it sounds stupid upon reading it. But I’m trusting that this pig wedding will be a cultural experience that will help me to be part of this community in my own way.

I’ll never be a Bulgo. I’ll never be able to speak Bulgarian very well, let alone Razlogshki. That’s not my goal. This is about exchange. I think that the people here know I adore them. They know I have tremendous respect for them. If they don’t it’s because they don’t want to. I’ve come to accept that it’s not from my lack of trying. I’m okay with that. Finally. At least for now.