The Joy of Cooking

Now, this may come as a shock to many of you (well, not really if you know me), but I've never been much of a cook. When I was in college, I lived mostly in the dorms and I used the dining halls. Then when I finally did live in an apartment, my roommate, Leslie, always did the cooking because she liked doing it. Now, don't get me wrong, I would help her whenever she would let me (I'm really good at stirring things and throwing away trash) and I would do the dishes after the meal. It was an even exchange. Also, back home, my mom never forced me to make any kind of meal. She would offer and I would politely decline and just watch her do all the hard work. So, needless to say that I came to Bulgaria with a lack of cooking knowledge.

Living with a host family, this was never much of a problem because they didn't like to have me help. Occasionally, they would let me chop the vegetables for the salad, but that was about it. Moving to permanent site, however, I found that it was a completely different story. Everyone always asks me what I cook for myself. From what I've gathered, it's strange for a woman to live by herself here (that and the fact that I'm American), so they're curious about everything. When I tell them that I usually just make soup and sandwiches, they usually fling their arms into the air and cry "Oh bozhe!" (which is kind of like a "Good grief!" kind of statement). Clearly they don't approve. Betty has offered to help me in learning to cook and I've helped her a couple times in her kitchen. Don't get me wrong, it's not that I have anything against cooking. I would like to learn one day, that day is just not today...or any other day in the near future.

Anyway, one day last week our Scout group was cleaning up the area behind the block that I live in. I came down to help and when our day's work was done, we were offered vafla (a waffle bar kind of candy) and something to drink from the store on the corner. There's a baba (Baba Mimi) who lives next to this store and she came out and offered Rory and myself jars of homemade lutenitza (peppers and other delicious vegetables made into a nice spread). We gladly accepted them and then she preceded to ask me if I like tarator (which is the cold cucumber soup) because today was the perfect day to make it because it was warm. I told her that I did like tarator because I was not anticipating what was about to happen. Her face lit up and she went back into her house to grab the ingredients for a nice bowl of the soup. She came back out and was giving them out to Rory, Betty and myself. I'm not sure what happened during all of this, but the next thing I know I was being invited over to Baba Mimi's house to learn how to make tarator. I just smiled and nodded (something that I've grown accustomed to doing) and followed Baba Mimi into her house.

We went downstairs into her kitchen and she started getting out all of the ingredients, explaining what each one was as she pulled them out of their spaces. It wasn't long before we were joined by Rory and Betty for more supervision purposes. She began adding everything into the bowl and it wasn't long before it was suggested that I give it a try. My first task was skinning the cucumber. Now, let me begin by saying that I've never been a big fan of knives (I blame this on a late night viewing of the movies "Scream" and "Psycho" when I was entirely too young). So, Baba Mimi hands me the cucumber and a knife the length of my entire forearm and instructs me to begin skinning. I try to the best of my ability to skin that cucumber, but it wasn't long before the knife and cucumber, as well as the task, were taken away from me. Baba Mimi finished skinning the cucumber and then went looking for a grater. She reappeared with grater in hand and instructed me to grate the cucumber. Now, this I can do. I grated that cucumber like I'd been doing it my whole life. I was a professional. Betty, on the other hand, didn't seem to feel the same way. She was nervous that was going to cut my fingers off. Rory reassured me that she'd feel that way about anyone and that it wasn't just because it was me. That made me feel better.

My next task was to add all of the ingredients into the big mixing bowl and start stirring. I did just that. I stirred until Baba Mimi told me to add something. I added and went back to my stirring. I'm not gonna lie, I feel like they were all pretty impressed by my stirring skills (thanks Leslie!). By the end of it, I had concocted a good-size bowl of tarator for my dinner that evening. Baba Mimi put it in a pot so that I could take it back to my house and gave each one of us an apple. I thanked her for the cooking lesson and for the free food. After a few minutes of smalltalk, I walked to my apartment and put the tarator in the fridge where it has sat for about a week. Why is that, you ask? Because I do not like tarator. Had I known that me saying that I liked it would lead to an entire cooking lesson and a pot full of it, I would have told the truth. So the lesson in this story is to always tell the truth, ladies and gentlemen, because if you don't, you may end up with a pot of soup you don't like in your refrigerator.

Taxi Cab Confessions

Whenever I travel anywhere by train, I have to go to Cherven Bryag, which is the town about fifteen minutes away. Well, it's fifteen by way of speeding taxi; it's thirty minutes if you take the bus and go the longer way with more stops. Either way, I enjoy traveling by train, so I'm pretty familiar with the journey. Usually I take a bus there and it only costs two leva. However, if I'm traveling back to Koynare from Cherven Bryag I usually have to take a taxi. This isn't really a big deal because I've done it so often. I even have a taxi driver that I call my own.

To be honest, I don't know his name and I'm pretty positive he doesn't know mine, either. He's either never told me, or he told me during one of our first encounters and I simply don't remember. I do remember, however, the first time I ever rode in this man's taxi. I was coming from the bus station and his taxi was the first one that I saw, so I got in. Now, this man's taxi looks like a toy car. Not only is it incredibly small, but the headlights look like they are stickers, purely for decoration. Everything about the taxi looks fake. I took my chances anyway, asked him to drive me to Koynare and climbed in. He immediately picked up on my non-Bulgarian accent and asked me where I was from. I told him I was from America. Then the usual pattern starts: What part of America? What's it like there? What are you doing here? How long have you been here? Do you like Bulgaria? Where have you been in the country? Then usually they have a family member or a friend who has been to America that they like to tell you about. He also asked me if I knew Rory (my site mate) and told me they had talked a few times. It was perfectly pleasant and he even complimented me on my Bulgarian. I was very impressed when I noticed that he wasn't speeding and he even stopped at the stop sign (here they are treated merely as suggestions). I was very pleased when I arrived at my block in one piece and not feeling like I had just survived a car chase scene.

The next time I found myself in Cherven Bryag and in need to get home, I sought this man and his funny-looking taxi out, because I knew that he would be safe and that he wouldn't rip me off with the prices. Taxi drivers love to do that here, though it's mostly in the big cities like Sofia. He put a huge smile on his face when he saw me walking towards him. He opened the door for me and said "Za Koynare?" (to Koynare?). I said "Da" (yes) and we were off. This time he asked me where I was coming from and more about the volunteers. I think we may have even gotten a little bit into family matters (if I have one and how they feel about me being in Bulgaria). I did notice this time, however, he didn't bother with obeying the speed limits or the stop signs. Clearly that was just a formality to gain my trust. Still I got to my block in one piece.

I may have ridden with him a few more times before I stopped seeking him out. It wasn't anything personal, there would just be sometimes when I didn't want to speak Bulgarian just yet, so I would go with a taxi driver who didn't look like he'd be much of a talker. Then, more recently, I found myself in front of this man's taxi again. I got in and we caught each other up on the things we had missed out on over the past few months. Then he starts asking me if I have a boyfriend and what I think of Bulgarian men. Great. My favorite topic. I tell him that I don't have a boyfriend and that I'm not looking for one, so don't get any ideas. He starts laughing. I laugh too (although I'm still half serious). He tells me that Bulgarian men are bad and he's glad that I don't have one of those. He tells me that American men are better and that I should wait until I get back home to have a boyfriend. Although I'm silently agreeing with him, I ask him what makes Bulgarian men so bad. He holds his hand up and rubs his fingers together (the international sign for money) and he tells me that Bulgarian men have no money. I chuckle and respond with the classic idealistic response "Well, money's not everything." He shoots me a look in the review mirror and says "No. Money is very important. Trust me, I'm much older than you." I laugh and admit defeat. Then I sat in silence for a while and laugh to myself and the fact that I just received relationship advice from a taxi driver in Bulgaria. Who would've thought?

I've ridden with him more since then and every time he's managed to dispense some more of his knowledge on me. I like it, though. I've made another friend. Apparently, he's a fan of mine as well. Other volunteers have ridden with him and he's asked if they know me. When they reply that they do, he tells them that I'm "a sweet little thing." Bridging the gap between Americans and Bulgarians: done. At first, I wasn't so sure, but now I know that I like this man and I'm looking forward to another year of his advice. Just think of how much wiser I'll be when I come back!

My Blog Has Been A Victim...

...of neglect. I know it and I apologize. The fact of the matter is, I'm lazy. There's really no other reason. This has been the problem with me having journals throughout my entire life. I begin with such zeal and commitment and then once it's been going on for a few months, I just lose interest. To be honest, I was kind of surprised that I went as long as I did before I began to stray. But, due to the amount of encouragement (or heckling, whichever you'd like to call it) I have decided to be better about keeping up with my postings. I'll start including the little stories that happen so that all of my posts aren't eight pages long. From this point on, I'll be a better blogger.

Now, time to play catchup. OK, so since our Christmas/New Year's break some things have happened (as they tend to do over a two month period). School started back up and I returned with a new since of excitement and my students...did not. I have recently come up with a new grading system that I'm pretty excited about. It allows for the students to have more grades, but it also holds them accountable for more things. I put the fear of God in my 8a class when they looked in my notebook and saw failing grades by almost all of their names. I explained how it worked and they relaxed a bit, but now I'm hoping for better participation and actually completing assignments. I'll keep you updated on that.

In other school related news, I have a new tutor. My old tutor is in university in Sofia, so that made things more difficult to meet or have sessions over Skype. It's much easier having someone here in town. His name is Plamin and he's the Bulgarian Language teacher at my school. Oh, did I mention that he doesn't speak a word of English? Because he doesn't. This makes explaining things a little more difficult. However, it is also really exciting for me when he explains the meaning of a Bulgarian word IN Bulgarian and I understand it. We also have our sessions in the Teachers' Room in the school and often other teachers are in there during our sessions. At first, I was nervous because well, who wouldn't be? But, after a few sessions, I noticed that those teachers would talk to me more because they realized that I actually CAN speak Bulgarian. Once other teachers saw this, they began talking to me more often. It's nice to go to the school now and actually have conversations that go further than just "Hello, how are you?" (zdravae, kak si?). I also got my very own drawer in the Teachers' Room! Now, this might not sound like a big deal to those of you who have all the drawers you want at any given hour of the day, but I will have you know that storage is a HUGE deal to me here. I lack storage space, both, in my apartment and in the school. We got a new set of cabinets with more drawers than the last ones and so I was presented with one. My name is on it and everything. Of course, after I came back the next day it was filled with Plamin's things on top of my own...but the point is: I have a drawer just like the other teachers.

In Peace Corps news, I went to Sofia and attended a banquet in honor of the 50th Anniversary of Peace Corps. The senior staff was there, as well as the very first Peace Corps Bulgaria staff, other volunteers, Bulgarian staff, new reporters and the American Ambassador. It was a nice event, though it didn't last very long. I can say that I hung out with the American Ambassador for Bulgaria and that's something that not everyone can say. Also as the school year is winding down, I must come up with something to occupy my time with over the summer. Now, what I'm thinking is...I have no idea. Rory said something about doing some kind of thing where we organize games at the stadium. But, if we do that, it needs to be before it gets too hot or else no one will show up. Other than that, I have no idea. If you guys have any ideas, feel free to post them and I'll be sure to give you credit in the name. :)

Something else you may be interested in is my recent trip to Greece. I went with Kerri and Adrienne and we went to Athens and Santorini. Let me begin by saying, if you ever decide to travel from Bulgaria to Greece, I suggest you DO NOT take a bus. We made this mistake. It was supposed to be an eleven hour bus ride from Sofia, Bulgaria to Athens, Greece...FOURTEEN hours later, we're still on the bus stuck in traffic. If trains are available, I suggest those...with sleeper cars. We got to Athens and got situated in our hostel (Athens Backpackers), which was awesome! We were right in the tourist center of the city and could see the Acropolis from our street. Amazing. We walked around for a little bit and then we went back and rested up before our night of unintentional partying. We had a nice, relaxing dinner at a little corner restauraunt and then decided to go to the sports bar that was owned by the hostel. Two words: Karaoke Night. We walked in and were greeted by Americans, Aussies and good drinks. We met some cool people and ended up heading over to a tiki bar until we finally headed back to the hostel. The next morning, we were woken up by the sound of the other girls in our room asking us if all of our stuff was still there. After checking around, we all said that it was and they told us that one of the girls had her purse stolen. She had locked it in her suitcase and it had been CUT out. The suspect (who we believe is still in question) was another girl in our room who was mysteriously missing that morning and never came back. Weird. Luckily, all of our stuff remained with us. That day was just spent wandering around the city and doing some light shopping. Our final day in Athens, we made it our mission to go see the Acropolis, however, because it was still "winter season", it closed at 2:30 (who does that?!) so we missed it. After a rather long, exhausting and ridiculous journey to a travel agency, we decided that after Santorini we would come back for another night in Athens and see the friggin' Acropolis. We may actually be the worst tourists ever.

The next day, we got up bright and early to catch a ferry to Santorini. We were under the impression that it would only be five hours...EIGHT hours later, we arrive. After the tossing of the ferry, I wanted to kiss the ground of the port, but I didn't because it was really gross. We hopped in a taxi and went all the way across the island to Perissa Beach, where our hostel (Stelio's Place) was. It was the cutest thing I had ever seen. It had the prices of a hostel but it looked like a resort and it was right on the beach! It was perfect. There was a little restauraunt/bar that we ate at every night because it was our only option since it wasn't tourist season. It was nice, though, because we were basically the only people there we got things for free. Our first full day on the island we rented a car (because in a non-Peace Corps country we're allowed to drive) and drove to Fira, which is the capitol of the island, and Oia (pronounced like "ee-ya"), which is another bigger city. Both were pretty, but Oia was simply amazing. It looked like all of those postcards you've seen of Greece with the little houses with white walls and blue doors and rooftops. Yea, they're real. The next day, the sun was out and gorgeous, so we layed on the black sand beach for a while and got our sun on. After soaking up some sun, we took a little drive to Red Beach which is pretty much just what it sounds like. The beach is made of red volcanic rock, instead of black volcanic rock. The reflections of the blue sea and the red rock made for some amazing pictures (please see my Facebook page for these photos).

The next day we woke up early to catch our ferry back to Athens and at least this time we were prepared for the eight hours. The trip back wasn't nearly as bad as the trip there. We were inside in a nice seating area with comfortable chairs and a snack bar. We went back to the same hostel in Athens and had a nice, relaxing dinner. Our last day in Greece and we finally made it to the Acropolis! It was so awesome to be around one of the oldest structures on the planet. I wish there would've been more plaques around to tell more about it (or I wish that I had done more research before I went there), but that's my only complaint. That evening, we boarded a bus for another fourteen hour bus ride back to Bulgaria. Aside from our poor planning, the trip was absolutely amazing and I hope I'll get to go back to Santorini and live there forever because it's gorgeous...and WARM!

Well, that's pretty much what's been happening lately. Those are the main points, anyway. Look again soon for new stories. Don't give up on me. I'm sure my students will do something worth writing about!