...cultural thoughts continued

Well, I'm proud to announce Meggy's first pajama day of the year 2006! Motivated (or should I say unmotivated) largely because of the intense pain of er... womanly obligations, and the complete lack of change in the the light outside, I will not be getting dressed today. It's just as overcast and grim outside as it was when I woke up at 7am, then again at 9am, then again at 11am. Yuck. What's the point really?

In other news, I miss home. What? That's not news? Well, here's the deal. Bulgaria is ucky and wet and cold. The dogs here are not mine. The homes here are not warm and cozy. This couch I'm sleeping on is not mine. I miss my family. I miss central heat. I miss sitting in a Starbucks in my church waiting for something and playing on the wireless internet connection made possible by technology. I miss soy lates w/ shots of amaretto. Okay, enough said.

On the other hand, Bulgarland has opened my eyes to new perspectives. I've learned a lot about culture, cultural identities, quirks, and a bunch of stuff that makes communities and cultures cool as all get out.

My holidays incorporated a few different Bulgarian cultural experiences. First was Christmas Eve. That morning, my host mom and I got ready. Keep in mind, she's had about 3 hours sleep after working at a bakery until 6am. We make our rounds about the neighborhood picking up stuff and different homes. We get to the restaurant and begin organizing, labeling, filling, and combining these bags. What are they for? My host mom is in charge of a project to deliver presents to some local orphans and kids who've only got one parent. She arranged a Santa Claus, got the gifts, arranged the delivery car. My host mom doesn't even celebrate Christmas! I was just astounded by her selflessness. On a few hours sleep she busts her butt to make sure these kids in need have a bit of cheer. She, like my own mother, never ceases to amaze me by her drive to serve others, regardless of her own emotional or physical needs.

The evening was full of food. I went to the home of Ned's host family, where we had baklava and red wine with 'lemonade' (yellow fizzy junk). I then went to Becca's host family's house. Everyone was at work (at a Muslim-family run bakery preparing baklava and lucky-charmed filled bread for the Christians), except us and the three teenage girls. So we boiled up some potatoes. Not long after the potatoes got to cooking, Ati came home. In ten minutes she had a big ole spread on the table and we commenced celebrating "buhdna vecher" (Christmas Eve). We had red wine, lucky-charm bread (the luck fell on my host sister Gyulchen, so she's set for the year), baklava, potatoes, more potatoes, random bulgo side items... It was a family event. But it struck me with a distinct strangeness. These people weren't my family and they weren't even Christian. All of this was done because of the two random girls that had come into their lives. I was so overcome by the family atmosphere and the gaping hole left with the absence of my real family, that I went in front of the woodstove and quietly cried in self pity. My host cousin, one of the most sensitive girls I've ever met, and a person who for some reason unbeknownst to me, seems to quietly adore me, came up to me and tried to comfort me. Well, that didn't help. So we laid down on the floor and I quietly sobbed as my little cousin did what she knows I love best, she played gently with my hair.

The next day, Christmas day, was filled with activity. I went to a protestant church service. I went for a "short visit" to deliver a small gift to another host family. I, with Rebecca, was guilted into staying for lunch. Several hours later lunch was over and Rebecca and I, plus one, went to our next ghosti, very tardy. On the way, we called Ned and invited him along. We had fruit and dessert (Thank GOD no more baklava, eek!) and sang Christmas carols in English and Bulgarian. Sometime after 6pm I finally went back to my host family's home.

during the time in Krichim, I uncovered a couple of things. I guess I've known them all along, but just needed a gentle reminding. First, some people are made to love relentlessly, like our host families, particularly mine and Rebecca's - embracing this holiday that isn't even theirs to make us feel special. Second, there are some friends who will enter your life, and mark it permanently. Sometimes, they come in quick bursts of passion and then leave just as passionately (just fyi: the bulgos are not accustomed to public confrontations, particularly indoors and notfamily conflicts). Other times people slowly come into your life. Over the months you earn each other's trust and learn to depend of them for laughs and bits of honesty.



Kay, so, let's skip to New Years. New Year's Eve was pretty quiet. I cooked "teleshko shol," basically a beef roast, with potatoes and onions and carrots in my new crock pot. Props to meggy for her first ever roast! A couple of other PCVs were going to come out, but they ran short on the fundage, so it ended up me, Rebecca, my two host sisters, and a bulgo friend of mine. A bit before midnight, we made our way down to the center. About five minutes before midnight the center was enveloped in nearly fatal little fire crackers. For the next 25 minutes, the Bulgarians (aided I'm sure by an evenings worth of alcohol consumption) tried to kill both us and them. They then broke out in a wild horro, of course with the random firecracker thrown in for fun. Rebecca and I played the bench for that one. Eventually, we walked Katya, my bulgarfriend, home and drug ourselves back to my disaster of an apartment to crash. I had to turn down an invitation to disco, claiming that my host sisters were tired but really, I knew I would not make it till 5 or 6 am.

New Years Day: the wildest thing I've ever seen in my life. Really. I can't think of anything cooler that I have ever experienced. I'm trying here.... nope, nothing. It was so cool that I just want to refer you to John Mayer's song "3x5" and tell you to find out for yourselves. I can't explain it. I can only explain how it made me feel. I was so proud to be a part of this town that for hundreds of years, probably nigh on a millennia, has maintained their traditions. They have treasured and passed on their legends. They instill their children with their heritage. Yeah, it seems pretty strange to see men dressed as women, boys dressed as bears, men and boys dressed as fictional evil fighting creatures. It was breathtaking to see the Macedonian dress that Alexander must have seen. This region has been able to maintain it's heritage. It's something beautiful. But they have changed with the times. These people are aware that the world is changing around them. The see Bansko only a few chiwa (razlogshki for kilos)-meters from here and the damage of the European invasion. They see the cultural void that westernism is bringing upon Bulgaria. They want to be a part of the growing economy with out losing what makes them so fabulously unique. I say, keep your crazy "backward" dialect, keep your "weird" festivals, keep telling stories of how Gotse Delchev fought off the enemy, and Yanne Sandanski slept in your cousin's father-in-law's mother's mother-in-law's spare bed. Keep yourself unique. It's better to be "backward" -an incredibly unprovable and relative idea- than to be conformed.