In A Perfect World...

Today, I gave my 11th grade students the task of creating their own country. They had to write an essay and describe how their country would be governed, what the name would be, what it would produce, and other various important geographical facts. I was very impressed with all of them, so I thought I'd share my favorite three essays (don't tell the others!). Enjoy!

My country is very big. It is in Europe-south Europe. It is called Romiland. Romiland was born in 1989 and is 23 years old. My country is very beautiful. Romiland has beautiful nature. The most beautiful country. A king is in charge. Romiland is a very rich country. The people haven't any problems. All people have a good job. the laws are very good. If people don't listen to laws he goes to prison for 20 years. The laws is, don't have a gun on yourself, don't smoking in a cafe, hotels and other places. Romiland produces many vegetables and other products. The king of government is very big and people listen to only him!!!

- by Georgi

I've a country and I'm so happy I got it. It's in a big, beautiful ocean, called Puppy. It's one of the smallest countries in the whole world. Its name is Squishy. The name is given by little jellyfish. Squishy is about 2,000,000,000 years old. It is the most crowded country ever. The population is about over a 2,000,000,000 people. The average amount of people in one house there are ten or more people. I'm in charge of this country and i'm the queen of it. the currency is pounds and the people are really rich. The average payment for each person is 1,000 pounds. My country produces olives, the biggest olives ever. The big olives in my country is like one two-car garage. Some of the laws of the country are: Everyone who is guilty goes to the prison for 20 years no matter what the crime is. The people aren't allowed to use weapons, like pistols, knives, and so on.

-by Stela

Gordalia is the oldest country in the world. It was created by the richest and prettiest guy in the universe. His name is Gordan Nenkovski. The country is ruled 'til that moment from its creator. Gordalia is also the biggest country, it's on two continents, Gordup and Gordalson. The two continents with biggest reserve of natural resources. The currency in that country is Gords. One Gord is about 21 euro and 30 dollars. Gordalia holds 92% of all of the world produce of petrol, diamonds, gold, cotton, automobiles, planes, corn and it's on first place also of everything else with 73% of the produce. The death penalty is still in effect so don't try to steal or kill anything. The ruler is the biggest metal fan, so every Friday and Saturday there is a concert. In Fridays, there's an underground gig, in Saturday, there are the legends. The ruler pays for all the concerts, so anyone can go, but you have Gords to buy a beer. The percent of the unemployed is about 0.0000001 which is the kids from 0-3 years. In the end- NO ONE SHOULD MESS WITH GORDALIA!

-by Gordy

I don't know about you guys, but it looks to me like these guys have got it all figured out. Today was a good day.

8 Simple Rules...

...for dating a confident, unsuspecting, and slightly cynical American woman. This post will tell of the encounters I have had with Bulgarian men who wanted to date me. I hope you'll find this as entertaining and sufficiently mortifying as I found living it.

1. We should have a common language.

I feel like this goes without saying.

2. Don't use my students as translators.

It tends to make things a little more creepy and awkward.

3. You should own less than nine computers.

This should be a rule for everyone, unless you're a computer repairman. Anything more than two is just craziness.

4. Do not ask me on a date in front of my class.

It makes me feel bad when I turn you down in front of an audience and then my class can't focus on the lesson after you leave. This makes me really dislike you.

5. Do not be old enough to be my father.

I'm 25. You do the math.

6. Do not wait outside of my apartment building for me.

That's called stalking and it's a bit off-putting.

7. Do not spend half of the first conversation we ever have trying to convince me that you're a good person by repeating it over and over again.

It makes me doubt you and wonder how many people you've killed.

8. Do not ask me if I plan on staying in Bulgaria.

I don't. I'm sorry, but I plan on going back to America and no, you can't come with me.

"...and by ice cream, I mean airplane."

This entry will be dedicated to the many, MANY mishaps that come with learning a new language. Some mishaps were minor and are easily forgettable, and some have managed to stick with me a year and a half into my service. There were, obviously, plenty of misunderstandings that occurred when I was living with my Bulgarian family, during training. I did my best to record the most entertaining ones, but when living in a country as foreign as Bulgaria, every day is an adventure.

There are a lot of words in the Bulgarian language that sound very similar, but mean very different things. This has been a problem more than once. An example of this are the two words "samolet" and "sladoled". "Samolet" means "airplane" and "sladoled" means "ice cream". When I first arrived in Koynare and started teaching, my students asked me how I got to Bulgaria. I wanted to say something ridiculous like, "I walked/swam/ran all the way here." or "I was dropped off my some aliens on their way to Mars." or "Wait a minute. You mean I'm not in America?" Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on how you look at it) my brain didn't work that quickly in Bulgarian yet. Instead, I went for the truth. I told them confidently, "Az patoovam tuke sus sladoled." That's right, I said, "I traveled here by ice cream." It wasn't until my class erupted in laughter that I even realized what I had said. I quickly retracted my statement. I told them that I meant to say "samolet" NOT "sladoled". We all had a good laugh and I'm grateful that it didn't go the other way and I didn't accidentally say that I liked to eat airplanes. That probably would've been worse (though just as funny).

Another time was also in front of a class when we were going over the alphabet. We were playing a game and I wanted them to go around the room and say one word that begins with each letter of the alphabet. One person says a word that begins with the letter "A" and then the next person says a word that begins with the letter "B" and so on and so on. When I was introducing this game, I told the class that we were going to be playing a game with "oboofki"...which is the word for "shoes". They looked at me like I had a disorder and I was completely oblivious to my mistake. They asked "What?" and I repeated myself, feeling falsely confident (again). Then one student said "Do you mean "bookvi?" I couldn't help but burst into laughter. "Yes", I answered. "That's exactly what I mean." The word "oboofki" means "shoes" and the word "bookvi" means "letters" (like the alphabet, not the kind that you get in your mailbox. That's a whole new word that we won't worry about right now).

There was another time when I told my friend Beti that I had to go home because I had "robots tomorrow." I meant to say that I had work tomorrow and the words are basically the same ("roboty" and "rabota"). The only difference is an intonation and the letter "a". She corrected me and I told her that she didn't know and that maybe I DID have to do something with robots tomorrow. Luckily now, for the most part, I get along much easier and my brain can function in Bulgarian. Now that I've said that I'll probably have another mishap this week...

"Back to School, Back to School , To Prove to Dad I'm Not a Fool"

First of all, that is a quote from the movie "Billy Madison" with Adam Sandler, for those of you who aren't hip to pop culture references. My dad doesn't actually think I'm a fool. I just wanted to clear that up first.

Now that we have that sorted out, it's that time of year again. The leaves are falling, the nights are chilly and the smell of burning plastic is everywhere. That's right, it's back-to-school time. When I was growing up, this was a time of year that I dreaded. The only part I liked about going back to school was the shopping that I got to do beforehand. Now that I'm on the other side of the classroom, it's a completely different story. I welcomed school with open arms after a summer of not having a schedule or a direction.

Like in America, the teachers have to be at school before the students do. I used this time to go through my school books and come up with ideas that will actually keep my students' attention. It's harder than you think. I also talked to some of my colleagues that I hadn't seen all summer. It was nice actually talking to them, for a change. Last year they kind of avoided me because they weren't sure of my Bulgarian skills. This year, however, they're sure that since I've been here a year I MUST be fluent (I'm not) and they talk to me much more. The change is welcome, don't get me wrong, but there are definitely still times when I have to ask them to slow down...and then they just say it louder. Oh well.

I also feel like this year will be a more positive year for me. Not that last year was terrible, I just didn't know what to expect. This year, I know all of my students and I know what I have to do to keep their attention and to get them to work (beatings and bribes...why didn't I think of that last year?). I'm teaching grades 10-12 this year, so I shouldn't have to deal with the crazy shenanigans of the younger students, which I'm very grateful for.

The first day of school came and we had our traditional celebration. The Director spoke, as well as some of the upperclassmen and the Mayor of Koynare. There was also some entertainment: the fourth grade class sang a few songs that were awesomely off-key, but still very cute. Then, the twelfth graders walked with the new first graders through an arch to symbolize...something and we all went to look at the new basketball court that had been built over the summer. It was a nice ceremony and it was good to see my students again. I could tell they were excited to see me (mostly because they all ran over to me when I walked in and gave me hugs) and it kept my attitude positive for the year's events. After the ceremony the teachers had a banquet and a social hour. All in all, I couldn't have asked for a better first day.

The first REAL day of school, however, was a bit of a different story. I only had one class and it was tenth grade. I was told that I had them fifth period, so I got there early to go over what I was going to say. When fifth period rolled around, I walked to their classroom and it was completely empty. Not even a single bag hanging off of a chair. So, I asked where they were and I was told that they were in their Physics class and that they didn't have English until sixth period. Awesome. My schedule is wrong for today and who knows about the other days? Oh well, I go back into the Teachers' Room and hang out until sixth period. Sixth period arrives and I go to the classroom and it's barren...again. I go back to the Teachers' Room (again) and tell them what happened and they all tell me to "relax" (I want to take this moment to vent: Please do not ever tell me to "relax" or "calm down", especially when I'm in no way upset. It makes me agitated and it also makes me want to punch you in the face. Thank you.) and that I should just look at this as a break. A break...from all of the work I've done today? I took it anyway and headed to the cafe with some other teachers.

This past week has been much better. My students have shown up for every class and things seem to be going well. I'm pretty excited for some of the stuff I have planned and I hope it will make things more interesting (because, let's face it, grammar sucks no matter what). It's been easy to keep my positive attitude up with things going well and the weather being nice.

Then, today we had our school's holiday and classes were shortened. No one told me and I missed my classes...just like last year. Oh well, I guess some things will never change.

I Get Around

I knew from the beginning that when I got to Bulgaria, I would take full advantage and try to see as much of the country as I could. I feel that halfway through my service I've managed to see more than the average volunteer. There are still some corners of the country that I haven't made it to yet, but I think that, overall, I've done pretty well getting around this country. Traveling around this country is a great many things that make it so special. It's exciting, exhausting, stifling hot, freezing cold, frustrating, and convenient all at the same time. But, above all other things, it's always an adventure.

There are two main methods of transportation for volunteers in Bulgaria: bus and train. The trains are cheaper, more reliable, and (I believe) generally more enjoyable but take longer. The buses are faster, will either give you a heart attack or make you sick (if it's your first time), and are more expensive. So, always take a train. It seems simple enough, right? Wrong. Not every town or village is accessible by train, so there are many cases in which buses are a must. I'm pretty lucky because my village is a short bus ride to a train station, so it's relatively easy for me to get around. Now I will dispense some delightful traveling anecdotes for you.

I remember my very first bus experience during our training. Now, we had been carted around the country by bus before we got to our training sites. But those buses were nice tour buses that had heating and air-conditioning and were just for us, so we all fit comfortably in them. We were spoiled. We had to go from our town of Byala Slatina to a nearby town of Knezha (pronounced just how it's spelled) for a teachers training. Our language trainer, Tanya, had warned us that it would most likely be full and that we needed to get there early to guarantee seats. We had managed to do just that. However, Kevin and I had to take seats all the way in the back of a bus that was only meant for 15, but was somehow holding 25. I was squished up against a window, with my book bag in my lap, and Kevin on the other side of me about to puke at any moment (he had been sick the day before because he had eaten some bad chicken paste). As the bus pulled out of the station and onto the street, it became obvious that paved roads were a thing of the New World and barely existed here. We bumped around for about 20 minutes that felt more like an hour. It was only an added bonus that all of the seats surrounding Kevin and myself were filled with teenage lovers who were eating each other's faces the entire ride. When we finally did arrive in Knezha, it was all I could do to not kiss the ground.

Another bus experience I had was rather recently. I had to go to Pleven to get my ID card and I was returning back to my village by bus. I wanted to stop at a large grocery store before I left so that I could get some different kinds of fruit that aren't available to me everyday. I thought I had timed it all perfectly, but as I was checking out at the grocery store, I realized that there was a good chance that I would miss my bus and be forced to take a train and then a taxi to my village. This would be a blow to my wallet that I didn't want to make. So, once I shoved all of my groceries into my bag, I speed walked then jogged then sprinted to the bus station and was relieved to see an older woman still getting on the bus. I boarded after she did and payed the driver for my ticked. It was instantly that I realized that this bus was not air-conditioned, which was something that I was used to. Then it really hit me. None of the windows could be opened except for the one by the bus driver and I didn't think he would appreciate me sitting on his lap. This realization was terrible for me. There was no ventilation in this bus. The sun was beating in on me and my black tank top (because everyone knows that black is more flattering) and I was dripping with sweat and felt like a turkey being prepared for Thanksgiving dinner. I was, actually, mainly concerned for my groceries. Some of my items were meant to be refrigerated. Luckily, the sun moved to the other side of the bus and didn't bother me anymore and I eventually cooled down. I made it back to my village in one (only slightly) overheated piece and my groceries made it as well. A happy ending for all.

It becomes a real experience when forces of nature have to be taken into account when making travel plans. I know the perfect place to sit on the bus when it's like an oven outside to maximize a cooler air flow. You should only sit in a train compartment with a working window and with younger people during the summer. Older Bulgarians think that the cool air that flows into the compartment will cause you to get sick and die. During the winter, there's no real hope for keeping warm unless you get lucky and your train or (big) bus is heated. The smaller buses never are, so you have to take that into account while you're getting dressed for the day. Wear lots of layers and thick socks. I hope these stories have entertained you and my advice will benefit you if you ever find yourself traveling in Bulgaria.

Sum-ra Time!

It's that time again! The time when the sun is shining, the people are out and about, school is out and the air-conditioning is nonexistent. That's right, ladies and gentlemen, it's summertime! It's also time for the Master of all the Bugs to return. I've gotten back in the practice of killing all things with six (and sometimes eight) legs that make their way into my apartment. No bug stands a chance. Now, don't get me wrong, summer is my absolute favorite season of them all, HOWEVER, I will never again to air-conditioning for granted. With it being so cold here in the winter I forgot what it felt like to sweat and now I have absolutely no problem remembering. I will say, though, that this summer isn't as hot as it was last summer. At least it doesn't seem like it. Maybe it's because last summer I was taken by surprise by how hot is actually got here. Either way, summer is in full swing here in Bulgaria. Though school is out, I've still managed to find ways to keep myself busy.

The first thing was our Mid-Service Conference. This is pretty much what it sounds like. Our entire group (which is now down to 80) met in Tryavna, which is a gorgeous town right in the middle of the Balkans, and have a three day conference. At this conference we discuss our past year as volunteers and share our high and low points. We also have sessions that help us to know what to expect in the up coming year. It's also nice because we get to see everyone in our group. This conference was particularly interesting because it was the first time we got to meet our new Country Director who, from what I can tell, seems like a really great guy and I can't wait to continue to get to know him. Also at this conference we have all of our medical check-ups (I will live to see another year in Bulgaria) and have the opportunities to talk with our staff with anything that may be on our minds. It was a good conference filled with meetings, good food, advice, and lots and lots of socializing. We ended our time with a talent show on the final night in Tryavna. Our group is quite the talented bunch. There was singing, dancing, instrument playing, acting, and the night ended with a free-for-all karaoke session that lasted until about 4 in the morning. One thing that I found really interesting was that even though we've been here a year, I feel as though I'm still making new friends among our group. I got to hang out with people that I rarely get to see and I feel that it's almost not fair that we're so far away from each other. Then I remember that if all of the volunteers lived down the street from each other we'd never get any work done and it all makes sense to me.

The rest of the summer has been filled with little trips to visit people and say good-bye to the group of volunteers that are finishing up their service and moving on with their lives. The B-25 group is slowly leaving us and putting our group (B-26) in charge. It's a weird feeling. There are quite a few of them, however, that are staying. My sitemate, Rory, is one of them. He just got married to his Bulgarian girlfriend, Cveti, and will be staying here until they can get everything together with visas and green cards and all that. Now, I only told you that so that I can tell you about their wedding, which has definitely been of the high points of my summer. This was my first Bulgarian wedding, so I had no idea what to expect. It all started at about 9:30am when I went over to Rory's to get things started. Some people from the village and his host parents met us there and after a while we got started. Rory (along with his posse) went to Betty's house to get his bride-to-be. He had to offer her mother enough money before she could let him in the door. He ended up bursting through the door with Cveti nowhere in sight. He then had to search for her in Betty's apartment. Once he found her, he had to look for her shoe so that he could put money in it. After everything was found and "paid for", we sat for a little bit and had snacks and drinks, then it was off to the mayor's office. The ceremony was performed and it was very nice (from what I could tell, it was all in Bulgarian). There was an exchange of rings, breaking of bread to see who would "run" the relationship (they broke it pretty much down the middle, but Cveti kept saying that her half was bigger), and they drank champagne through interwoven arms. Then Rory carried Cveti out of the mayor's office and over broken glass (for good luck) and we were all off to the reception. The reception was at Betty's cafe and it was decorated to the nines. Everything looked beautiful with it's purple and white balloons and satin ribbons on the tables and chairs. There was more ceremonial bread breaking and champagne drinking, then the party got started. There was enough rakia (the national alcoholic drink of choice) at this party to drown a horse. There was good food and a lot of dancing. I think I continued my street cred by impressing the Bulgarians with my horroing skills. Everyone danced, laughed, ate, drank and celebrated until about 9pm. It was one of the best times I've had since I've been here and I'm glad to have been a part of Rory and Cveti's special day.

I've spent the rest of my summer making trips to see other volunteers and help with projects. We've all taken advantage of our time off and had some time to relax and recharge our batteries so that we'll be ready when September rolls around. I've also been spending more time in my village and that's a task that I plan on continue even once the school year starts. I want to be more available to my own community, so I will be. That's right, you heard it here first. And if you see me slacking off in this area, you have full right to call me out on it and make me feel like a bad volunteer (even though I'd really appreciate it if you could be kind of nice about it).

Kids Say The Darndest Things

So, this story is, actually, one that happened a while ago. It was when I first discovered the fun that I could have with my students...at their expense, of course. I was driving myself crazy trying to figure out ways to get these kids to speak English and actually participate in class. I was searching through the deepest, darkest corners of the Internet for ESL classroom ideas every single night. I would get so upset because the amount of English that they knew was so limited (and it really shouldn't be since they've been studying the language since 2nd grade) and it was usually some sexual reference that they had learned from God only knows where. All of these things were especially true in my 8b class. I have them three times a week and it's a new battle every day in there.

There's one boy, in particular, whose name I will not mention (in the slight chance that he does learn enough English to ever read this, I don't want this to come back and bite me). But, for the sake of the story, we'll call him Mike. So, anyway, Mike comes into class (late, as always) and takes his sweet time getting to his seat and sitting down, making sure to stop by every girl's desk on his way. I ask him what he thinks he's doing. He doesn't understand. I say, "You're always bothering the girls. Just go to your seat." He looks at me and simply replies "I am a Playboy." I feel like it is necessary at this point to inform you that, for whatever reason, every time Mike speaks in English he always uses this voice that I can only describe as a "Borat voice". If you've seen the movie, then you know exactly what I'm talking about, if you haven't seen the movie, then I highly suggest it....if you're not easily offended. Anyway, the combination of that ridiculous voice and that ridiculous statement left me dumbfounded. I literally had nothing to say. I just rolled my eyes and told him to sit down. The rest of the class is exploding in laughter.

The next time I have this class, Mike is late again and he comes into the classroom saying his ridiculous "I'm a Playboy." statement what feels like every five seconds. I'm hoping that this is just a phase, to get a rise out of me, so I ignore it for this class. It isn't until the next class that I decide I have to do something about this. Not only is it incredibly annoying, but it also makes this kid look like a fool. So, once again, for no reason at all Mike states to the entire class "I am a Playboy." It was then that pure instincts took over and I did what I knew I had to do to get him to stop. I looked him right in the face and I asked him, "Mike, do you know what 'Playboy' means?" He looks back at me and shakes his head. He does not know, he tells me. I look at him with a straight face and I inform him of what a Playboy is. I tell him, "A Playboy is someone who eats poop." The class bursts out into uncontrollable laughter, except for Mike, who is staring at me with wide eyes. I ask him, "Do you eat poop?" Disgusted, he yells at me that he does not, in fact, eat poop. I told him that he should probably stop saying that then, because that's what people will think. Mike has never said that he was a Playboy in my class again.

I'm not proud of what I did, but I am proud that I got through that class without wanting to slap a piece of duct tape over his mouth. I'm sure that he doesn't believe me anymore and he'll probably never believe anything I tell him ever again, but he definitely does not think that he's a Playboy anymore, no matter what it means.