s'mores, turkey, chicken, and pumpkin mush

Thanksgiving is over. Last year I was miserable with a sinus infection, and miserable with spite. This year I have neither spite nor sinus troubles. I'm glad.

With Thanksgiving over there are so many things I can be thankful for. My friends and family, family friends. I'm glad for the incredibly deep and substative relationships I've made here, for the people who've helped to shape my life and the people whose lives I hope I too have touched. But being so far from home, it's hard to not think about all the things you miss. I'm not so tragically nastalgic. But I am eager to get back home.

So eager, in fact, that in a fit of anger at a group of kids so unruly that i wrote three numbers up on the board. Those numbers were not my lucky numbers, the addition of important dates in my life, my astrological numbers, or any other of the wacky guesses my kids made. They were 1, 2, and 8. In that order. They signify the number of school days remaining in my service. I feel a bit guilty for this count. But in that moment, when all around me was lunacy, that count, that goal helps me to maintain my sanity.

The rate at which sanity disolves in raving lunacy has increased by 100%. We can only hope and pray, and pray diligently that the situation is only temporary, but while the situation exists I am doomed. That situation is a near doubling of my weekly class hours. I'm all about stepping up. Being the big person. Taking one for the team. Going the extra mile. Bulgaria has yet to wring that out of me. So, a fellow English teacher has a daughter in the hospital (as I understand it through my messy Bulgarian) and may not be back for some time. I have taken on 12 of her class hours, in addition to my 15. That is utterly ridiculous. CRAZY! These classes are the weakest and hand-in-hand with weak performance is sadly poor behavior. For the first time, I had to conduct a class nearly entirly in Bulgarian. The saddest part is that these students study from a book that is leap years ahead of their profeciency level.

I don't know what I'll do. I am eager for the challenge of some of these classes. But I cannot feasibly carry 27 class hours a week. Not when you consider that I will be teaching 9 different levels. NINE!! I will gladly take on this extra work. Crazy people are always happier.

I meant to ramble about my different Thanksgiving celebration, but clearly it's more important that I complain...

sorry

Thanksgiving is coming!

Welcome to another lazy Sunday in my Bulgo-American life. It's actually been a pretty lazy weekend. Friday I went to the most popular "mehana" (traditional Bulgarian restaraunt) with a few girlfriends. This place is the place to be in our little valley. While we were too close to the speakers, we had a great time. Most mehana's don't bust out in raving rounds of horo. Most mehana's don't lead people to dangerous, bloody head injuries. Okay, so the guy was sloppy drunk and decided to jump and bang his head on the cowbells hanging from the ceiling. ohhh I do love my little valley. After our adventures at Mehana Makedonia, we headed over to the hopping party in Razlog at Barrata. I'd sworn never to go. I'd promised myself that while I might lose my dignity at every other town and village in this valley, not here. But I went to Razlog's only disco.

And it was fun. The moment we walked in I saw a pack of students. And they announced to their friends that two of their English teachers are here. So many of my students. It was intimidating. It was embarrassing. At one point, I looked across the room and I see a former student talking to a guy who I did not recognized. He was pointing at me. Not just a head-nod, point with the chin point. Not even just a finger point. He was wielding a full on whole arm point. Unbelievable. A few minutes later the same former student, a darling, sweet, always smiling tenth grader called Katia, came to my friend and colleague Yulia and asked her something. Then Katia asked me if she could introduce me to her friend. So as it turns out, this arm-pointer is a British guy named Chris. Strangely enough, I'd heard about him from some girls in a different tenth grade class. He'd offer to come and speak to their class and they bragged that they already had a native English speaker for a teacher. hmm.

Last night I went out with a bunch of folks and students. We made plans to go to Dobarsko and and cook a turkey on Thursday. Dobarsko is always a source of fun and trouble for me, so I'm super excited about this possibility. I'm also going to try my hand at real stuffing. Oh, and I'll finally get to share the joy of s'mores with Bulgarian youth. My former site mates sent a box of marshmallows and graham crackers so as to share the beauty of melty, sticky, gooey marshmallow-y deliciousness!

Then of course, Friday I will begin receiving guests. We may go to a bit of discoing in Bansko to see the world renowned Sofi Marinova, accompanied by the hip hop stylings of Ustata (translation: the mouth). There will be lots of cooking and merry-making.

Saturday will be a Thanksgiving throwdown Razlog style. Which means it will be a raging good time and there will be tons of food.

I feel like there is so much to look forward to even after the excitement and chaos of Thanksgiving passes. It seems like there are plans every weekend from now until the new year. Then the time will fly and before we know it, I'll be shopping for a prom dress, seeing my 12th graders off into their future, and sorting out my apartment. Bittersweet. It's just strange how quickly everything is going. That speed lunges my imagination into June. Picking up my sister, hopping around eastern Europe, getting my CELTA certs, and flying back to Nashville to readjust to western life.

I have a nasty habit of putting the cart before the horse. Let's see if my horses can push this cart along for the next 7 months.

Dear Church: Letters From a Disillusioned Generation.

This is a little bit from a bigger bit on the link up above. By the way, burnside writer's collective has a lot of neat pieces of writing by Christians, or religious people, or Jesus freaks, or spiritual folks, how ever you'd like to label them. More importantly, they're writing about issues that are important to them, not only about God and spirituality. Anyway, this book looks good and I suggest you buy the whole book, read it quickly, then mail it to me!!

I can’t say I’m “religious,” because we’ve all been taught the folly of that. Now everyone say it together: “This is not a religion, it’s a relationship.”

I can’t say I’m “a Jesus Freak,” because although I do know D.C. Talk’s rap by heart, I like people to wait in suspense a while before deciding I’m a freak. I don’t want to tell them right from the beginning. It takes the fun out of it.

I can’t say I’m “spiritual,” because people translate that as a simple “two thumbs up” for Mel Gibson’s Passion movie. Or they figure I subscribe to an online horoscope and watch TV shows about channeling my dead pets. Spirituality is very in, you know. My waitress, drycleaner, dentist, and grocery store cashier all have WWJD bracelets and copies of The Prayer of Jabez to prove it.

Dear Church: Letters From a Disillusioned Generation.Publisher: Zondervan (August 1, 2006)ISBN: 031026958XPrice: 12.99
You can purchase a copy of the book at Powells.com

In opposition to the religious right

I read an interesting article in the November 13 international edition of Newsweek called "An Evangelical Identity Crisis" by Lisa Miller. She quotes an evangelical pastor from Kansas, Adam Hamilton on the rising need for something beyond and more effective than the religious right.

The religious right has "gone too far," says Hamilton. "They've lost their focus on the spirit of Jesus and have separated the world into black and white, when the world is much more gray." He adds: "I can't see Jesus standing with signs at an anti-gay rally. It's hard to picture that."

This is an excerpt of an article concerning a new group of intellectuals and activists opposing the religious right. While the RR is very much used to being opposed, I'm sure it's relatively unaccustomed to being challenged by fellow Christian intellectuals and religious leaders. Besides heading up activism for a strictly peaceful debate with Iran, and an end to the genocide in Darfur, the Red Letter Christians or RLC seeks to motivate Evangelicals to seriously consider their vote and political persuasions according to the words of Jesus, not according traditional political lines. They also suggest that Evangelicals stand up and identify themselves on issues beyond same-sex marriage and abortion. How novel.

"Group asks: What did Jesus say?"
By Frank James
Chicago Tribune 9-19-2006

Randall Balmer, a Columbia University professor and expert on American religious history, gave just a sense of the fight that’s brewing.

".. The evangelical faith that nurtured me as a child and that sustains me as an adult has been hijacked by right wing zealots who really have no real understanding of the teachings of Jesus,” he said.

“They have taken the Gospel the Good News of Jesus Christ, something that I consider to be lovely and redemptive, and turned it into something ugly and punitive," he said. "They have cherry picked through the Scriptures wrenching verses out of context and used those verses as a bludgeon against their political enemies.”

Balmer went on to say he has no problem with faith in the public square. His problem was that the RR seemed to view itself as inseparable from the Republican party.

The Red Letter Christians seem to be the voice of Jesus in a world that has been listening to only the powerful for too long.

Travel Writers: Rise to the Occasion by Mark Teramae

Location: Mostar, Bosnia-Hercegovina, South-East Europe



I found myself sitting at a table on the terrace of a restaurant overlooking the river on a warm July evening. There I sat enjoying a nice cold beer with the three companions I made this journey with earlier in the day. It sounds like the typical backpacker scenario. River, outdoor restaurant, beer, travel buddies, they all seem quite synonymous with the excursions of a backpacker.

Well this particular excursion was a bit different for me as the river was the Neretva, the beer was Sarajevsko Pivo and that morning's journey was through the war-ravaged Hercegovinian countryside. This was Mostar, Bosnia-Hercegovina, a city blown to bits during the Muslim-Croat fighting in the mid-90s and with an outer image giving one the impression that the war in fact had only ended the day before.

Here I was amongst the mangled beams and twisted steel that was once a library. Here I sat down to eat where the rocket holes are more numerous than the tourists and the old Turkish bridge now resides at the bottom of the river it once so eloquently spanned. But in the midst of this destruction I found myself in one of the most serene and beautiful settings that I have ever encountered and it has forever changed my life. It was a setting that when thought of still produces chills that run up and down my spine.

On this particular warm July evening the moon was out in full and hovering above the Kujundziluk (Old Turkish Quarter). Directly in front of me was the Neretva with its pristine waters rushing past from left to right and the reflection of the moon staying forever in its middle. Behind this most graceful river sat the damaged and partially razed buildings on ul. Marsala Tita, mysteriously silhouetted by the moonlight. To my right were the remnants of the old Stari Most, lit up by the moon and resembling a pair of bookends with nothing in between.

So there I was gazing out across this quiet and melancholic setting created by the wonders of nature and the horrors of war when the Muslim call to prayer came on from the mosque across the river. A feeling of peace and contentment filled my body as I sat there mesmerised by the beauty entering my ears. Each word carried not only a harmonious note and a holy message but also the sound of hundreds of years of history and the assertion that despite being in the midst of so much destruction, not even war can crush the spirit of a proud people. As the beautiful prayer echoed throughout the town I could almost feel the rejuvenation occurring in front of my eyes. The spirit of these words and the tragic beauty of the scenery left an impression on my heart and mind that I will never forget.

I'm just happy I was there to experience it, sitting on that restaurant terrace overlooking the river and enjoying a beer with my travel buddies in the typical backpacker scenario!

This is the bridge that the author above is refering to. Unlike the travel writer who so accurately describes the feeling any half-sensitive person might feel in this amazing city, by the time we got to Mostar, only last summer, the bridge had been fabulously rebuilt. I took this picture from the yard outside of a mosque, most likely the one from which the writer heard the evening call to prayer. Visitors can pay a fee and climb the minorette for an amazing veiw of the city.

I'm not sure why, but I'm hung up on the former Yugoslavia. The chemistry there is amazing. Still rich with ancient history. Bubbling with energy. Ready to break free from the strife of decades. Sadly, they, like all of Eastern Europe, including Russia are still battling the destructive forces of nationalism and ethnic conflict. No matter what, I can't wait to go back this summer and learn a few things!

State your case

I’ve been listening a lot lately to The Cranberries. I adore them. It reminds me of a bitterly tumultuous and richly felt period of my life and I like looking back on that. I have a great appreciation for the honesty and depth in their songs, but not in a highly esoteric and cryptic way. I also hugely appreciate their social awareness and activity. Their songs and videos tackle topics like the war in Bosnia, and the social unrest in their homeland of Ireland.

I asked my students if celebrities should take part in political activism. They disagreed strongly, asserting that their fans listen to or watch them because of their talent, not because of their opinions. I can respect that. This is why I do not boycott every artist with whom I politically disagree.

I disagree with my students. I think that if you have a platform and opinions, then you should speak. If people will watch, you should act. If people will listen, you should speak.

I do sometimes fear that people have become too ignorant to differentiate between celebrity and intellect. Because someone plays a president on television does not mean he is qualified to offer presidential advice. Because someone has traveled the world does not qualify him as an expert on international relations. There’s nothing wrong with him sharing his opinion, but we as media consumers must remember that his opinion is simply that. Opinion. We don’t have to share it. Furthermore, simply sharing some celebrity’s opinion qualifies you as nothing more than a person who reads the most recent US weekly. If you have an opinion, do something about it. Don’t just gripe.

I respect anyone who uses their status to say what they think and what they’ve seen. I feel sorry for anyone who joins on whatever celebrity bandwagon is hot this week.

I wish more people had listened to the Cranberries when they sang for Bosnia. I took these pictures just outside Mostar, in southern Bosnia. Somehow, not all of Bosnia i Hercegovina has found the money like Sarajevo to rebuild from a war which devastated the landscape, among many things.

one quarter

I turned 25.  My quarter life crisis should be complete right?  I mean, I’m not likely to live to see 100 years.  But I don’t think it is.  Maybe I’m exaggerating.  Perhaps I am under the assumption that life eventually settles and makes sense.  It is possible that some people settle into some track that they are okay with, perhaps even pleased with.  I can’t remember ever being pleased with where I was while I was there.  There was always something that pushed me to move-change-stretch-grow.  Sometimes it’s my own displeasure with a situation.  Frequently it is the prospect of the unknown potential.  Many times it has been people who challenge me.  

The worst part of being in Bulgaria is not having the people around me who constantly challenge me.  Maybe I should step up and practice a little self discipline.  But let’s face it, I’m not a very self motivated person.  I can be an extremely motivated girl, but I’m not a ‘pull her up by her bootstrings’ kind of girl.  What the heck is that anyway?  How come no one has ever pointed out that pulling ones self up by one’s boot straps or strings or whatever is a physical impossibility?!  I’ve had a couple of relationships come in and out of my life which in retrospect, I can say helped me to be a better person.  And is there any feeling better than knowing you help make someone else a better person?  I’m not saying I don’t have any good friendships here, but I do feel a certain void in the “soul changing relationship” department.  I mean that both ways- I don’t see how I’m helping to change anyone and no one is helping me to be a better, more complete me.

We have come to the point then, when the question must be asked, am I in a state which is conducive to aiding in the changing of lives.  I think that is a loaded question.  There are some things for which you can never really be prepared… having kids, marriage, and being a life-changing friend.

I don’t know… Maybe it’s the fact that the American light is shining through this wintery darkness.  Maybe it is the wintery darkness.  Maybe it’s the lack of challenge or the fact that there is no one to challenge me but myself and as we’ve established, I’m pretty crummy at that.  But I’ve been feeling rather discontent lately.  Part of that is just me, one of my not so healthy little quirks- I’m rarely content.  Perhaps it means something too though.  Could it be something needs to change?

Sorry, this is a terrible messy post…