Beauty Shop Polly

Miscellaneous musing on a Thursday afternoon.

My friend Payka.

Bulgarians, like people everywhere, are curious. And there is nothing more interesting to people than other people. The one difference in Bulgaria is that people here are more likely to try to satisfy their curiosity by asking personal questions. It’s not considered rude to ask someone their age or more personal things. Peace Corps volunteers are the frequent recipient of these personal questions because they “are the new kids in town” and are from someplace foreign.

Because most of the volunteers are young and unmarried they are frequently grilled: Are you married? Why don’t you have a wife? Do you have a boyfriend? Never mind you should be married and have children but we will start at the beginning. Do you have a serious boyfriend? I can introduce you to… I have a son who… My neighborhood has a son. You will like him!

To stop the matchmaking or just to slow down the questions, Peace Corps volunteers sometimes come up with imaginary fiancés or even spouses. And you thought that imaginary friends stopped at age three or four. Some volunteers, including gay volunteers have purchased wedding rings as “proof.”

One of our fellow trainees now has a “girlfriend” name Payka. This is a common Bulgarian name. Payka now has a complete bio that can be shared with anyone who is interested. What isn’t immediately obvious is that Payka is the pig in his backyard who is slated to be the guest of honor at Christmas dinner. But for now, it’s his friend Payka.



Beauty Shop Polly

A haircut is an easy thing, isn’t it? Isn’t it? Well I’ve been putting it off since I left Arizona six weeks ago yesterday because:

a. I’ve been too busy. The Peace Corps keeps me going all week with classes and self-study.
b. I’ve been too busy on the weekends, seeing and doing and picnicking and hiking.
c. In this town of 5,000 people I’ve yet to see a barber shop.
d. My language ability is slightly above a three-year old.
e. Even in Arizona I hate to take the time to get a haircut.
f. All of the above

And the answer is, of course, (f.) all of the above. But now I was turning into my own shaggy dog story so it was time. Down the street from Lyuba’s house is Beauty Shop Polly. It’s a modern one-chair beauty salon built on the front of a house and facing the street.

You remember Lyuba, Shirley’s host mother (who is younger than Shirley) who knows everyone in town and knows everything worth knowing in town. Before there were newspapers, there were Lyubas.

So I told Lyuba that I needed a haircut. Maybe she noticed that already? Of course for me to tell someone involves a certain amount of pantomime but I got the point across. Lyuba got on the phone with Polly and talked for five minutes. “Hey, wait a minute. We’re only talking a haircut here not a complete makeover!” The phone call over, only one word was spoken, “Sega!” (Now). She motioned come on and I followed along like a dutiful puppy down three houses down the street.

It seems Polly already had a customer. Polly had just washed her hair and was getting to do whatever comes next. But then she got the customer out of the chair and took her outside and put her in a lawn chair next to the curb and told Lyuba and me to come in. Does Lyuba have pull or what?

Now came this verbal dance with Polly, me and Lyuba. How shall we cut his hair? What do you think he wants? Let’s ask him. What did he say? Did he understand the question? Short on top, longer on the side. What do you mean longer? Don’t you want it cut? Do you want it cut with scissors or a machine? Hopefully the word machine means electric clippers.

Clippers it is. I showed how short I wanted the top where there isn’t much hair left anyway. I assumed she’d start there like my barber at home did. Nope she fired up the clippers and immediately started on one side and hair fell. Now I know how a sheep feels. At this point I can only go with the flow and let the other side match the first one. More hair fell off the other side, more yet off the back. I had forgotten that I had six-weeks worth up there. Finally she got to the top and we made several tries at hand motions, fingers held just so far apart and a few words from me which may have been Bulgarian and the top was just right. Now how do I say “off the ears and even up the sideburns?” And of course, all the time Lyuba has a running commentary which frequently has the word “dobre” (good.)

And then it’s done. Shirley says it looks good so that’s good enough for me. The price for this adventure? Three leva which comes out to about $2.40. Tipping is not big in Bulgaria but I threw in an extra lev ($.80).

Oh yes, now that Lyuba’s friend from America was done the previous customer can come back in and get the rest of her hair done.

One really strange thing happened during this haircut. Much of the dark hair she cut from my head magically turned gray by the time it hit the black protective cloth around my shoulders. I’ve never seen anything change color so quickly. I mean it dropped only a few inches and already changed color. Strange, I never had any gray in Arizona. Did I?


A Hint of Autumn

There is a bit of a disconnect between what I see and what I feel. What I feel are temperatures still around 90 down from 97 last week. It feels balmy and most pleasant to be outside although shade is still preferred. It certainly feels like wonderful summertime.

What I see however is frequent hints of Fall. The deciduous trees on the mountainsides are now a lighter shade of green with a few yellow leaves mixed in. Last month when I arrived the deciduous and evergreens were the same shade but now the leafy trees stand out. It’s too early to say Fall color and too late to say mid-summer.

Almost every house in town has big stacks of timber rounds, sawmill scraps, or four-foot long logs piled along the curb waiting to be cut up into firewood for winter heating stoves. Electricity is too expensive to be a sole heating source.

This seems to be the week when everyone is canning tomato juice and tomato sauce to bottle up the bounty of the garden. In the garden itself all the onion plants are laying over. Their stems are spent. People are now digging potatoes for the winter.

Haying for winter feed is in full swing. Yesterday I watched one man and two women gathering hay and loading it on a large hay wagon being pulled by a horse. The two women were raking up the hay using wooden homemade rakes. These looked something like a garden rake except that it was entirely made of wood. The business end was a good three feet wide and the tines were 6” wooden pegs spaced 6” or 8” apart. The man loaded the wagon with a hay fork (which has three tines while a pitch fork has four).

The storks are no longer coming back to the huge nests on the power poles. The young left the nest sometime ago but the adults still used the nests as roosts but now no longer. Soon, maybe in two weeks, they will be leaving for Africa.

It feels like summer but I can see hints of Fall. Some mountain villages may see their first snowfall in six weeks. I wonder if Shirley and I will be in one of them? If so, I hope that there is lots of firewood.



Miscellaneous Pictures

*

Storks on the Nest

We see these on the streets several times a day. Cars are certainly more common but not as picturesque.

Yes women sometimes dance the horo in 4” heels.

Even novices are allowed in the horo.

The White Brotherhood

The seven Rila lakes are a sacred place for spiritual communion with nature for the White Brotherhood. Each year on August 19 they come from all parts of the world to the Seven Rila Lakes to mark their holiday for a week or more. Barefooted and dressed in white, they sing, dance, greet the sun and see it set under the majestic peaks of the Rila Mountains.

These videos have been posted on YouTube of the same event in previous years but it looks just the same as what I saw last Sunday and, of course, takes place in the same meadow where I was. In the background you can see the high meadows of the Rila, here above timberline. And yes, those white patches in the videos are snow in mid-August.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h5Zo9W696C8

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Clqi-5WHGJU

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nXT1PnDbx70


The Bulgarian Peter Danov, the Master of the White Brotherhood, started this teaching which has found followers in Bulgaria, USA, France, and other countries. Danov the son of an Orthodox priest, and himself studying for the priesthood, went to America 1878 to study theology in the Theological School of Boston University. Upon his return to Bulgaria, Peter Danov gave lectures, published booklets, and disseminated his teaching about the Universe and the future perfection of mankind, who according to his teaching, has to live in perfect harmony with nature and the laws of its Creator. In 1922, after long preparation, Danov opened his school, which acquired great popularity in Bulgaria and abroad. In 1929 the White Brotherhood made their first trip to the seven Rila lakes with the Master and fifty followers. They were captivated by the beauty and purity of nature here and became admirers of this magical place, where for years they would come every year on August 19 to perform their mysterious rituals at sunrise, by dancing unity dances to the music of violins and guitars. The vicissitudes in the historical and political fate of Bulgaria reflected on the life of the White Brotherhood during the communism era but in later years the brotherhood rose in popularity and in 1998, seventy years after the first visit to the seven Rila Lakes, 3200 Danovists climbed here again to meet the sunrise and dance their Paneurythmia dressed in white.

Every rock, every glade, lake and peak plays a role in the life and rituals of the White Brotherhood and are given names that are invested with deep symbolism. The first of the Rila lakes they call Maharaji, the Great Respite. Here the Danovists take their first long rest before climbing the next ledge where they usually camp. To get to this lake one hikes a long way through glacial ridges and into a typical glacial valley. The first lake captivates people with its limpidity and calmness and leaves an unforgettable impression. From here one can see Mt. Kabul, which has the form of the Heops Pyramid.

The second lake is called Elbur, God is the Strong One. A camp, which lasts one or two weeks, is pitched here at the second lake. In the early years there were about 500 campers who had organized their life in compliance with the laws of the White Brotherhood. Now, some years there are many more. An anchor is cut on a rock above the spring from which they get water, symbolizing the descent of the human spirit to earth and its embodiment in matter. The water of this spring , according to legend, comes from the next upper lake, The Lake of Purity which is the next destination of the White Brotherhood.

For years the brotherhood had their own boat, which they constructed in Sofia, transported in pieces to Sapareva Banya, and carried up to the crystal lake, where they assembled it. This boat was used only for cruises on the lake and talking and having photos made with the Master, which was a great honor and experience. Every time they broke camp, the brothers sunk the boat in the water so that no one else would use it for fishing and disturb the peace of the lake. In the glade by the second lake in 1938 the members of the White Brotherhood built the famous stone spiral with moraines, where everyone sat at lunch or after meditation. The spiral, in the words of the Master, symbolizes the evolution of man, the people and the state where one was born. Around this spiral the Danovists performed their Paneurythmia for many years.

When in 1955 the authorities decided to build a chalet here, the base stone of the spiral happened to be exactly where the entrance of the new building was to be. The workers however, refused to obey the orders to blast it. With great efforts they managed to move it aside because everyone in Rila knew the great respect of the White Brotherhood for the stone spiral and nature in general.

In 1939 thirty guests from France, adherents of Peter Danov’s teaching, came to the camp of the White Brotherhood. The French brought to the Master a new and very well equipped tent but he refused to enter it. Asked by his astonished compatriots why he would not accept the gift, he retorted, “I haven’t come for the Frenchmen, I have come for the Bulgarians.”

From the spot where the white tent of the Master Peter Danov stood there is a wonderful vista of the valley and the surrounding peaks, reflected in the silver surface of the lake. From the tent of the Master a path led down to the glade where the Danovists camped and every night lit a camp fire, called The Path of Jacob, which had 72 steps, the number of the first followers of Jesus.

Every morning before dawn, while they were camping at the seven Rila Lakes, the members of the White Brotherhood, numbering several hundred, climbed the peak called The Prayer Peak which is on the left side of the lake to meet the first rays of the rising sun. “We walked carefully in a file along the narrow path and climbed the Prayer Peak. Everyone sat at his or her habitual place in silence, reflection and contemplation till the moment the sun rose. Once the sun showed up we said a common prayer. We sang songs and then the Master read a short lecture…” For the worshippers the first ray of the sun is not just a sign of the sunrise but a sacred idea, which they try to abide by in their every act.

Opposite this peak is another one given the name of Peak of Contemplation. On its steep slopes near the bank of the inaccessible Lake of Contemplation, stands a huge rock in the shape of a pentagram pointing upwards.

The third lake the brothers called Balder Daru, meaning The One Who Gives Good. This was the place for those members of the brotherhood who had achieved a stronger inner experience. This area is conducive to mystic experiences. The panorama is captivating with the majesty of the peaks surrounding the lake, standing like protectors.

A narrow path up the ridge leads to The Lake of Purity which is on the eastern side of Mt. Haramiyata and is sunlit from morning to nightfall. To make the way to the lake easier, the members of the brotherhood dug out 122 steps, which also had symbolism. From The Lake of Purity another path leads to The Peak of Contemplation.

The fifth of the seven Rila Lakes is kidney-shaped and is called Mahabur by the Danovists. It is large and is one of the deepest Rila lakes. “We formed a chain on the bank of the lake,” recounted one of the participants in the ritual. “W sat on the bank, put off our shoes, and then walked knee-deep in the water. We had to splash water with both hands, wash our face, say a few formulas and thus come in contact with the lake inhabitants.”

West of the fifth lake rises high Mt. Kabul. The locals have a legend about a maiden who threw herself from this peak rather than betray her Christian faith.

The sixth of the seven Rila Lakes became the favorite lake of the Master and he called it The Heart. And indeed, viewed from a certain angle it has the shape of a heart. This lake is free from snow usually at the end of the summer and beginning of the autumn. During some years the large snowdrift on the left side of the lake never melts. Peter Danov said this snowdrift was the barometer of Bulgaria. Its melting meant a favorable year for the Bulgarians with more radiated and received warmth and love and vice versa. Here the acoustics are like in a church and the White Brotherhood often makes violin concerts there. The Master said that one of the entrances to Agata is in this area. This is the name the White Brotherhood gives to the fabulous city of perfection, which modern humanity has not yet reached.

The seventh, highest and smallest of the seven Rila lakes the brothers called Shemhaa, the Head, because it is the head of all lakes. This lake is not different in beauty and purity from the other lakes but it is inaccessible, according to the brotherhood for those who do not bear inner purity. The Danovists believe it has the extraordinary property of mirroring not only appearance but also the human soul.

The Seven Rila Lakes

High above Sapareva Banya are the Rila Mountains, the same area where we stayed during our first four days in Bulgaria. But this Sunday my host family and I went much higher. We 4-wheeled up a rutted, rocky, sometimes muddy track that could hardly be called a road. Bouncing along on one of the steeper parts, we suddenly had to stop to adjust the ancient vehicle. First they jacked up the rear to tighten something around the rear axle, then they jacked up the front for another tightening and then it was back to the rear axle again. Repairing this vehicle must be a frequent occurrence since they always carry tools and a blanket to lie on while crawling under the vehicle.

Our rutted track apparently has been used to build and maintain a ski lift that we drove under several times. Finally we were up above 7,000 feet and it was time to hike. Soon we were at timberline where short, stunted trees give way to grasses and wildflowers. I thought that I was used to mountain hiking at this altitude but this trail was steeper than anything on Mt. Wrightson and I was breathing heavily.

The centerpiece of the Rila Mountains is the Seven Rila Lakes, one of the most famous tourist spots in Bulgaria. The Rilas are glacier carved and rugged with numerous moraine ridges and cirques. Here above 8,000 feet and approaching 9,000 the cirques contain many lakes, some only temporary for a few months of snow melt but others are permanent lakes, not overly large but crystal clear and cold. On this August day there are still a fair number of snow patches in areas protected from the sun. We are as far north as central Wyoming so some of this snow is year round and will not melt. As I hiked higher I saw and passed each of the famous seven lakes each at a different elevation. It was an absolutely gorgeous place and from the ridges I could see forever.

In such a remote mountain spot I would have expected lots of solitude. Instead I had lots of company. These mountains in August are popular with hikers, backpackers, and people just wanting to escape the heat of the lowlands. Because of the 4-wheel drive we only had a hike of a couple miles to reach the lakes but people with ordinary sedans had a walk of five miles or more and all uphill at high altitude. I was surprised to see not a few intrepid souls but rather hundreds of people all bringing lunch, packs, blankets, etc.

Our lunch was, you guessed it, tomato and cucumber salad with feta cheese on top. There was sausage something like overly large hotdogs cut into pieces. Salami and yellow cheese were finger food. And always there was bread. There is no Bulgarian meal without bread that I know of. Beer came along and of course rakia. Water bottles had been filled at springs along the way.

We finished our picnic at the second lowest of the Rila Lakes. The three men in the group felt the need for more rakia and/or a nap. The three women and I decided to hike up farther to see more of the lakes. It was a steep hike to the third lake and there two of the women decided to rest and enjoy the view and a cigarette. That left only Ralista and me to hike further. So now I was following a 23-year old woman who jogs for fun. Needless to say it was a quickly moving hike but I managed to keep up with a young woman almost a third of my age. It was great fun and the view was spectacular even with all the people. There were at more than 300 of us hikers and sightseers.

But even with our numbers we were not the only people on the mountain and, in fact, we were outnumbered by people who were on the mountain for another purpose. This weekend, plus the whole week, is the time for the annual gathering of the White Brotherhood. Another posting on this blog will give you more information on the brotherhood itself so I won’t duplicate it here but I will tell you what I saw.

Near the shore of the second Rila lake is a very large meadow. Through the years the brotherhood has constructed three concentric stone circles, the largest over 50 yards in diameter. At this site, picture if you will, more than 500 people, almost all dressed in all white and barefoot. In the center of the circle are five violins and a guitar, a half dozen singers and a leader to direct. Stretching out from the center are double lines of white-dressed people forming numerous spokes of a wheel. The circumference of the circle is again a double line of people. While singing and chanting are going on, the rest of the people alternate in slow ritualistic movements that is something between dancing and marching while at the same time doing many different arm motions. There is stretching arms out, putting them overhead, bringing them in in supplication, clapping, and other movement usually done while also dancing or walking. Those who know the words sing along. Everything is choreographed because there is the belief that the unity of movement increases the power force. The name of this singing and dancing is ‘paneurhythmy” a word created by the brotherhood.

To an outsider it all looks like something “New Age” but this has been going on for more than 80 years. It’s not technically a religion because followers are encouraged to follow their own religion whether Christian or other. It seems to be more of a belief in cosmic forces.

When I arrived these dances had been going on, off and on, since sunrise and would continue, off and on, until sunset with people dropping out and joining in as they felt like it. In the distance I could see small circles of participants at other lakes.

If I have peaked your interest, check out the next blog posting in a few days which will have more information on the White Brotherhood and hopefully some videos of this annual August happening.

Where are we going?

Our Peace Corps pre-service training ends the second week of October and we will be leaving Sapareva Banya and will living and working on our own. Where will we be going? At the moment we do not know and neither does the Peace Corps. It’s not decided yet.

This week Shirley and I will have placement interviews with program director who will then meet with senior staff to decide where to place all the trainees. Of course, our placement is complicated because we are a married couple and need to be placed in the same community. In two weeks we will be told our permanent assignment. We, like all the other trainees are eager to learn where it will be.

Our trainees group consists of 30 people, 16 men, 14 women. Twenty-six trainees are in their 20s, most under 25. One man is in his 30s and one in the 40s…and then there is us somewhere between 30 and 80 depending on the day. Fourteen of the trainees are in the Youth Development Program. The remaining 16 of us are in a program called Community and Organization Development (COD) which includes Shirley’s specialty of business development and my environmental programming. Considering only COD, here is the information that we received on a paper Thursday.

Of the 27 applications that Peace Corps received from Bulgarian agencies wanting a volunteer, the Peace Corps has tentatively approved 19 sites. Of course there are only 16 of us so three of those sites will not be filled this time. Here’s the information the Peace Corps has given us:

Types of organizations:
11 Municipalities (local government that serves a region of 3-5 small towns and villages)
2 Mayoralties (mayor's office in one of the towns of a municipality)
5 Non-governmental organizations
1 Nature Park Directorate

Types of Activities:

..General (applicable to all sites)
….Project design and implementation
….Grant proposal writing and search for funding programs
….Proofreading and translation
….Establishment and development of international contacts and partnerships
….English language, computer literacy, project design and management, and teamwork building
….Work with local kindergarten, school, cultural center, tourist information center, youth or pensioner’s club, orphanage, etc.

..Specific (applicable to some sites):
….Tourism development: best practices exchange; assistance with promotional materials and website design; work with local businesses on customer service and advertising; trail marking
….Business development: market research; investment and marketing profile development; consulting to small and medium size businesses; establishment of business contacts with Bulgarian and international organizations; business plan development

Sites and infrastructure
..Population:
….4 sites with population up to 1,000 people
….12 sites with population between 1,000 and 6,000 people
….3 sites with population above 9,000 people

..Ethnic composition of the population:
…Sites with predominantly Bulgarian population
….Sites with predominantly Turkish populations (traditionally conservative communities)
….Sites with mixed population: Bulgarians, Roma, Turks

..Geography:
….17 sites in mountainous or hilly areas
….1 site on the Danube River
….1 site near the Black Sea

..Weather:
….Cold and snowy winter in mountain areas

..Transportation:
….Some sites has both train and bus
….Some sites have only bus, some only 1 bus daily
….In general the public transportation is well developed and a bigger town can be accessed within an hour

Housing
..Separate apartment – municipal or rented
..Separate house
..Separate floor of a house with own kitchen and bathroom
..House with a host family with own kitchen and shared bathroom
..When accommodated in a house in a mountain area, a wood burning stove might be used

Another Sunday Picnic

We’re off for another Sunday picnic, this time with my host family and Shirley’s host family plus a couple others. Somebody has to carry the coke and the beer. Others carry the food as we set off on a mile’s walk to a small monastery.

The forest is green in August and the small stream tumbles over many small waterfalls. It had rained earlier in the morning but now there are only cool clouds and an occasional drop from the sky.

We came for this small monastery for our picnic. Although this is called a monastery, no one lives here. It’s more like a chapel in the woods. This one was built in 1997 on the 700th anniversary of something I didn’t understand except the date 1297. Behind the chapel is a bell tower. Many (most?) of the smaller churches have bell towers that are separate from the church. Behind the wooden railing (fence?) is a sheltered picnic spot under the roof with tables just waiting for us.

Ralista, the daughter of my host family and her boyfriend Ivan (left) and cousin.


In the sheltered picnic spot is Ralista with Valentina (left) the mother of my host family and Lyuba, Shirley’s hostess.


The wood was wet and it took a while to start a fire. Yordan, my host is kneeling (center) while somebody has to supervise.


Ground pork patties, chili peppers, and strips of pork fat (Bulgarian bacon) are on the grill.

Two smiling faces enjoying the fact that they can wear a jacket on an August rainy afternoon.

There are smiles all around.

“Аэъ съм въэкресението и живота” Господ Исус Христос. ” “I am the resurrection and the life.” Lord Jesus Christ.

In Bulgarian, Jesus Christ is pronounced EESUS HREESTOS

On the way down from the picnic I found a story tree. I have no idea what the story is because I haven’t written it yet but a tree like this must have a story just waiting to come out.

Views of Sapareva Banya Part 2

I promised more random scenes from our Saturday walk around our town, Sapareva Banya, so here goes.

An alternate way to make hay bales is to bring the hay home in a horse-drawn hay wagon and then make the bales by hand. Here you see the wooden box open on one end. The man is stuffing and stomping the hay into the box until it is full and is now a compressed hay bale. The hinged box opens on one side to take out the bale and the man will tie several strings around the bale to keep it tight. This method works well. It just takes a little longer than a machine.

Why should bee hives be only one color?

A few houses in town are quite modern and beautiful.

These grape arbors are in front of every house to provide both grapes and shade. This is one of the smaller arbors and thus easier to photograph. It is difficult to take street scenes here because the front of most houses is blocked from view by the arbors.

Many people walk to work or to the magazine (store) but the majority of families have a car or SUV. There are a few vans and small delivery trucks and highway-sized busses but what is missing are pickup trucks. This is the Sapareva Banya equivilent of the pickup truck. There are box type wagons for hauling produce or fire wood and open type wagon for hauling hay. See the picture of the hay bale project to see a hay wagon. The wagon in this picture is being pulled by a donkey but most are pulled by a horse.

Recycling has come to Sapareva Banya but more education is needed to ensure that these containers are used more frequently.

Shirley loves to take pictures of flower boxes.

Look carfully and you will see lots of plums. They are in full fruit right now and people are canning whole plums and plum juice. I love these sweet plums.

I love this old barn. In it's various sections it is constructed of half timbering, wattle and daub, adobe bricks, soft baked clay brinks, stone, and planks. One uses whatever one has at the moment. And of course, here is another wagon. All wagons have rubber tires like this one.

Welcome to Sapareva Banya, our home town for the next 7 ½ weeks.

Views of Sapareva Banya Part I

Welcome to Sapareve Banya, our home town until the second week in October. We enjoy walking around this town of 5,000 people. Here are some of the pictures that Shirley took last Saturday. The first is a typical street scene with the hills in the background. You will notice that most of the houses are two stories plus a basement half in the ground. Note the church (Bulgarian Orthodox) bell tower on the left.

This is another street scene. The upper part of the town is hilly.

This is the street that Shirley lives on but her house is not visible in this picture.

Modern mural outside the local church.

This is a restored church from the 12th century built of brick. Note the 12-side cupola on top. The building is quite small. Even today many Orthodox churches are not large although certainly larger than this. Churches do not have to be as large because there are no pews. Everyone stands during the service, except there are a couple benches to the side for older people who cannot stand that long. The service may last more than two hours while everyone stands. Bulgarians are a religious people but church attendence is low.

An older home, not unusual in size. Houses often have multi-generational families.

White Storks are protected and welcome in town. In this town they frequently build very large nests on top of telephone poles. In other towns they build nests on the roof of churches or other buildings. Therre are nests close to my residence and to Shirley's. We can hear the storks clacking their bills which is one way that they communicate. This species of stork is the one that is reported to bring babies. Shirley says that she is not worried.

In Bulgarian, stores are called magazines. In small towns like ours the food store are quite small sometimes not much larger than an American living room. Shirley's host family is here shopping for a Sunday picnic.

A most honored member of the family is the baba (grandmother). Here in Shirley's yard is her family's baba (on the right) being visited by other babas from the neighborhood. Visiting is a very important activity in Bulgaria.

Welcome to our home town. We'll post more pictures soon.

Culture is Like Kansas

I have many friends who have driven across Kansas, some twice a year while moving between summer and winter homes. Others use it a easy get-away from hot Missouri Augusts to Colorado’s pine-rimmed meadows. They value Kansas for its straight, fast highways that allow them to distance many miles in a day. If asked to describe the state, they mention the wheat fields that measure in hundreds of acres. They know about the vistas that stretch 30 miles to the next grain elevator. They recognize a difference between Kansas and their home state because they see fewer lakes, flatter land, and a seeming absence of trees. Many times they’ve driven Interstate 70 or Highway 54. They’ve seen Kansas.

I grew up in Kansas and have traveled to its various corners. I know Kansas but I know a different Kansas from my friends. I know the Flint Hills of Chase County, green and wild-flowered, that belie the image of a flat state. I know the Cheyenne Bottoms, a huge wetlands important for migratory waterfowl that refutes the claim that Kansas is waterless. I know the lead, zinc, and coal mines of southeast Kansas. Who knew that the wheat state had mines?

Kansas is not just a land, it’s a people. I know the Amish of Yoder and the German Mennonites of Newton, who immigrated here from the steppes of Russia and brought the red winter wheat that makes Kansas famous. I’ve been to the Scottish Festival in McPherson that celebrates another heritage. The first homesteads of free African-Americans occurred in Kansas. In spite of Ft. Sumpter’s claim to fame, the American Civil War really started in Kansas with pro- and anti-slavery forces warring and pillaging each other two years before the cannonballs flew in Charleston Harbor.

Many farming states celebrate the harvest in late summer or early fall when the corn is in the crib or the potatoes are out of the ground. In Kansas we celebrate the harvest in June. Our winter wheat ripens early and by middle or late June we want our crop stored safely in the grain elevators before the July hail storms flatten the stalks to the ground.

Kansas is so many thing and so many people. It’s different from Tennessee or Montana or even neighboring Oklahoma but that’s not always obvious while speeding along on our wonderful highways.

Culture is like Kansas. Sometimes you have to slow down to see the differences.

It’s easy to see some differences in Bulgaria from the United States. The cars are smaller. This is Europe after all. Yes, houses in small towns have gardens but then we had gardens in Kansas too. But in Kansas we grew gardens to have fresh food. Here people have gardens not only for fresh but also for winter food…and winters are long. And yes, here in Sapareva Banya there are cows and goats going down the streets early in the morning on the way to daily pasture, so some differences are easy to spot. But other differences take a little longer to sink in. Just as driver has to slow down in Kansas and take the roads less traveled to see the nuances of the state, I am trying to slow myself down to see life as a Bulgarian.

I got one little lesson today. My host bought some green beans at the little store a few blocks away and I was helping him to shell them. We were talking about the difference in price for beans between Bulgaria and the United States. It’s a frequent conversation between us that allow me to practice using numbers in the Bulgarian language. In the discussion, with my limited language, my host was surprised to learn that in America fresh green beans cost more per pound than green beans in a can. In Bulgaria people buy fresh produce because canned goods are more expensive.

Then we finished shelling the beans. Now what do we do with the empty pods? In America, we throw that in the trash because we’re done with them. In Bulgaria you feed that to a horse. And if you don’t have a horse, then you find a neighbor who does and you give the bean pods to him.

So, there were two little lessons in culture today. Culture is frequently nothing more than a different way of looking at life. I’ll let you know when I am able to see more.

There are no photos in today’s blog. Pictures are for looking at. Most often culture is for experiencing.

A Time to Store Up

Sapareva Banya (Сапарева Баня) lives by the seasons. We have all been taught that there is a time to plant, a time to grow, a time to harvest, a time to store up, and a time to eat that which was planted. But in our modern cities, with trucks, ships, and planes to bring us produce from around the country and from around the world, we have forgotten that seasons have rhythms. Sapareva Banya still flows with the calendar and the sun.

Cucumbers Becoming Pickles

Unlike larger cities in Bulgaria where many, or most, people live in large apartment blocks, Sapareva Banya (population 5,000) is almost all single family houses one, or more often two stories, with a basement that sticks halfway out of the ground so that a person has to go up a half-flight of stairs (inside or outside) to get to the first floor. Houses sit on large lot, between ¼ and 1/3 acre. The whole yard is fenced. Sometimes there is a little bit of front yard but often none. Frequently there is some outdoor living space because there is no air conditioning. (Tomorrow it will be 34 C [93 F].) All the rest of the fenced yard is either garden or orchard with a small shed/barn.

Now is the prime time for harvest, some to eat today and some to store up for winter. At Shirley’s house today green beans in canning jars were boiling for two hours in a large washtub over an open fire when I stopped by for lunch. Cucumbers were becoming pickles and only boiled for six minutes. The berries I helped pick last Sunday are now compost. Plums are now ripe and ready for canning. Apples, apricots, and peaches are coming on. Later cabbages, potatoes, and onions can be stored whole.

Shirley's Host Mother Making Pickles

These are not hobby gardens or a local desire to go organic, these gardens are a necessity for getting through the winter. In towns of this size, people grow much of what they eat, even meat. Yes, it’s partially a matter of limited money but it’s also culture. It’s the way that things are done.

Seasons also determine what we eat on the table today. This is not the season from green salads with lettuce and radishes. Lettuce doesn’t do well in the hotter part of the summer. Right now salads are tomatoes and cucumbers with a little oil. I think I have probably had this salad for every meal including breakfast since I have been in Bulgaria. We even take it on picnics. These home-grown tomatoes are wonderful and full of flavor. And I love all the fresh cucumbers. A national dish in Bulgaria is shopska salad, which is tomatoes, cucumbers, onions, peppers, and other optional veggies (not greens) with oil and always topped with white feta cheese.

Baba Venetka Removing Pickles

The Goat Barn has Adobe Bricks

Bulgaria is famous for its yogurt. It’s somewhat like American unflavored yogurt but with less of a bite. It’s used in many dishes as well as alone. I had yogurt tonight on top of chili peppers stuffed with rice. Yogurt is often used like sour cream. There is a cold, uncooked, soup called tarator which is chopped cucumber, yogurt, and water with a little salt. It’s a soup but it’s served in a glass not a bowl and we drink it.

Beef is expensive. I haven’t seen any yet. But pork, chicken, and fish are plentiful, particularly pork. There are cows here but they are for milk not meat. Goats are common for milk and cheese. Goats, cows, and even horses are not kept in fenced pastures in our area. Rather they are penned at night and taken up into the hills or out in the country in the daytime to be watched by their owners all day long. When I am walking to class every morning a man with three cows meets me in the middle of the street. My fellow trainees encounter herds of goats or sheep on their way to language class. Shirley’s host family has one goat which baba (grandmother) takes out to the edge of town each morning. This particular goat doesn’t need tending and baba returns home to other chores. Each evening the goat returns home alone to be milked. Baba gets about a half gallon each day which she can use to make feta cheese.

Today when I visited Shirley at her host family there were homemade donuts with sladko, a thick fruit preserve. In this case the sladko was strawberry and it was delicious. Afterwards we walked around town to see how people live.

The Bean Snapper

Almost every house has large gardens that take up almost the whole lot. A typical garden will include a large grape arbor, plum and apple trees, possibly pear and peaches and blackberries. There will be beans and cucumbers and large patches of peppers, tomatoes and onions. Frequently there are good sized strawberry patches. The grape arbors are particularly nice. They are eight feet off the ground and often cover 1/5 of the lot with wonderful shade while other garden plants can grow beneath them. Our training center in Sapareva Banya has a garden outside the center with a picnic table under a large arbor which provides a great space to enjoy cool shade on a hot day.

This week seems to be bean picking time. The other day Shirley was sitting outside at her host family working on flash cards for learning Bulgarian. The hostess was breaking bean pods into manageable lengths in preparation for canning. A five-gallon bucket of beans was setting next to Shirley so she started snapping beans. When she finished, a second bucket magically appeared which Shirley finished and then a third bucket suddenly appeared. Shirley now has strong hands, but she’s not yet ready to milk the goat.

Baba Milks the Goat Every Day

Shirley and I are enjoying this harvest season and we eagerly wait to see what happens next. There is something primal about being connected with the soil and the seasons.

p.s. Did I mention the homemade stills? That’s where the rakia magically appears from grapes, plums, or apricots.



The world is a book. Those who do not travel read only one page.
Saint Augustine

Sunday is for Berry Picking

Sunday is for berry picking. Last day I was off with my Bulgarian family, Yordan and Valentina and their 23-year old daughter, Ralitsa, and her boy friend, Ivan. High above Sapareva Banya we headed for Rila National Park in the Rila Mountains. This is a popular park on an August Sunday and more than a hundred cars were parked at various places along the dirt park roads.

Ralista drove up as high as we could go and then we set out to hike. Ivan frequently hunts in these mountains and he knew the way. He likes to hike and has a degree in natural history, so he was a good companion for me. Up above 6,000 feet we left the other park visitors behind. Ivan knew where the good berries were.

The forest was absolutely beautiful. At this elevation it was all evergreens, spruce and fir. Down lower were pines and deciduous trees but up here were only conifers. We hiked over several small streams with water pure enough to drink. The water was so cold and refreshing. I was glad that I kept in good shape. Everyone here was 15 to 40 years younger than I and the hike proceeded at a pleasant pace.

Although no animals crossed our path we did see signs of deer and small rodents. Ivan showed me pictures of the bear that his father shot high in these mountains. I kept an eye open hoping for a sight of a mechka (bear) but had no luck today. Maybe they were hiding because I was up here to pick bear food, the berries.

I did get to see 1% of a life bird. Ivan found a tail feather of a capercaillie, a large black grouse almost the size of a turkey. But one feather does not make a bird and I couldn’t count it on my life list. I took this huge feather along and it now decorates my bedroom.

But we were really not looking for birds and bears. We were here for the berries. They’re small, the size of a garden pea. They’re also purple and delicious. I just had to eat some while the picking was going on. Some came back to town inside of me instead of in the bucket. These berries grow on short bushes, often no more than a foot high with only two or three berries per bush. I thought that this could take a long while to pick by hand, one berry at a time.

Ivan had the answer. He brought some berry pickers. These were small boxes about 8” x 6” x 4” thick and open on one end which was lined with metal teeth like a comb. With the box we could comb the bushes and the berries popped off into the box to be later emptied into a bucket, at least the ones that didn’t end up in me. These boxes looked like the ones I’ve seen for picking cranberries.

Of course, there was a picnic. Food is an important part of all events. Our picnic in the forest included tomato and cucumber salad with feta cheese on top. A string of sausages tasted like hot dogs. We washed it down with cold mountain water. Of course rakia was available along with a thermos of café (coffee). I’ve always loved fresh cucumbers and the tomatoes here are the best I’ve ever tasted. I’m sure it’s because they are all garden fresh.

It was a wonderful way to spend a Sunday in a beautiful forest, with delicious berries, good company, cold mountain water, and 1% of a life bird.



The world is a book. Those who do not travel read only one page.
Saint Augustine

A Saturday Picnic

Ding, ding, dong. Ding, ding, dong. Ding, ding, dong. Ding, ding, dong. It’s 6:30 and the church bell on the corner is ringing as I write. I’ve just come back from a Saturday picnic as the guest of Shirley’s host family. This picnic was a dramatic pageant so I suppose I should take a moment and write down the order of the play.

As in any good drama I should introduce the characters. Shirley’s host mother and grandmother (baba) live near the center of our new town Sapareva Banya. They have a delightful older home surrounded by flowers, a full vegetable garden, and several fruit trees. There is also a dog and a goat at the house but they don’t figure into this story.

The husband and son of the host mother have returned today for the father’s birthday. Normally this father and son live in another Bulgarian town where they work and they come home when they can.

The married daughter is also here now with her husband and daughters age five. Most of the year they live in Italy but they return to Sapareva Banya for one or two months each summer. Due to the local economy, it is common for parts of families to live outside Bulgaria wherever they can find jobs. Almost everyone we meet has a family member in the U.S. or a European country.

There is also a nephew living here during the week and returning home to Sophia on the weekend. He is volunteering his time and labor for three months to help build a monastery up on a hill several miles from town. There are many monasteries in Bulgaria; this district alone has twenty-two. All here belong to the Bulgarian Orthodox Church, which is very similar to the Greek Orthodox Church. The nephew is currently part of the household but he has left for a day trip to Greece, three hours away, so he doesn’t play a part in our play.

So far we have mother, grandmother, father, son, married daughter, son-in-law, granddaughter and a nephew and, of course, there is Shirley who is now a member of the household and part of our cast. We can take out the grandmother who stays home with the dog and goat and the nephew who is off to Greece for the day. But now add me in as the husband of a household member and thus I am now part of this extended family. And of course we’ve added Leslie, another Peace Corps trainee, who is staying with a host family a block away. For good measure throw in a nine-year-old girl, a neighbor, who has had a year of English in school and who might be useful. Now the cast is up to ten and the small family car can’t hold us all. So let’s add a friend who owns a van and a female friend. So now we have our main cast of characters.

Act One begins with preparations. A trip to the market finds fresh tomatoes, chili peppers and watermelon, as well as cheese. The home garden contributes cucumbers picked this morning. Grandmother butchered a pig last winter so there is pork. The female friend brings fresh brown eggs, laid by her chickens just today. Lastly there is a big bottle of beer and an equally large rakia, homemade brandy made from grapes from one of the local gardens.

Act Two arrives with the van and we all pile in. There is only a front seat so everyone else in the back has a short stool or kindergarten-sized chairs. Three in the front and nine in the back we bounce up the dirt road which quickly becomes mountain steep. A sudden lurch when the driver of the antique van changes to a lower gear sends my little chair rocking backwards and I go flying into the lap of the married daughter. The van is bouncing uphill so steeply that, for seconds that seem like minutes, I cannot get enough balance to extricate myself from a lap where I don’t belong. Everyone is laughing joyously and I cannot get up. Another twenty minutes of bouncing, lurching, and exceedingly tight turns on the one lane mountain road brings us to a small Orthodox monastery high in the forest overlooking Sapareva Banya. Fifteen cars are already here. This is a favorite, cool picnic site for families on a warm August Saturday.

Act Three is eating and talking, always the longest act in a play on Bulgarian life. Shopska salad is a traditional dish, primarily tomatoes, cucumbers, and oil is served on several small plates around the large table. Other plates hold fresh yellow cheese and little slices of salami. This will hold us for an hour or more. We don’t use individual plates; rather everyone uses their own fork to take a slice of tomato or cheese whenever we want one. Of course, the rakia and the beer come out and there are frequent rounds of “nazdrave” (cheers). There is coke and Fanta for the children. And of course we talk. With a family this size there is always talk. For Shirley and me, our Bulgarian is limited yet but we still enter in to practice what we know. Shirley has brought some copies of Arizona Highways for show and tell and they make great conversation starters. People are amazed to see cactus 15’ high. When the collective limited Bulgarian and English fail, the married daughter throws in some Italian, which I can sometimes pick up with my limited Spanish. We’re multi-lingual and having a good time.

In a pause in the continual eating, drinking and talking, the nine year old takes us on a tour of the monastery chapel. At the doorway we purchase thin candles to light for twenty stotinki (cents). Upon entering the chapel she crosses herself in the Orthodox manner, up, down, right left. The right and left are reversed from the Catholic version. She then goes to the first two icons and bends over and kisses them on the glass. The chapel has icons of Jesus and Mary but also many saints. Prominently displayed is an icon of Saint Stefan, after whom this monastery is named.

Then Act Three continues with more eating of salad, cheese, and salami and the drinking of more beer and rakia. After an hour of salad, the meat arrives hot off the grill. Grandmother’s butchered pig is now ground pork patties, pork steaks, and strips of grilled pork fat, like pork cracklin’s but not quite as crisp. It tastes like the fat part of excellent thick-sliced bacon. I love the taste and eat more than I probably should while my arteries harden from the grease. Lots of talking, lots of eating, several rounds of nazdrave follow for the next two hours. Frequently other people come up to the table, friends and neighbors from Sapareva Banya. I’m introduced to more people than I can ever remember. Some of them speak some English. This one lived seven years in Chicago. That one has a daughter in New Jersey. Bulgarian people are well aware of the world. Many have traveled out of the country or know someone who has.

Act Four is music. A priest from the monastery has an operatic voice. He comes around to various picnicking groups and bursts into song. Shirley’s host mother and others sing along. Of course I don’t know the songs but they sound like folk songs to me. The priest sings loudly and wonderfully. Someone else comes along with and accordion and then someone has a guitar. The priest is now a trio and these three troubadours saunter all over the monastery grounds serenading different groups and people enthusiastically join in. When I meet the priest, he looks about fifty, has a short beard, and is dressed in a black shirt and pants. There is no clerical collar or anything else to indicate his station. He tells me, in Bulgarian, that he has a daughter in Florida. I had forgotten that most Orthodox priests can be married.

After almost four hours it’s time to close the curtain on our little pageant. We have eaten, talked, sung, and drunk enough. It’s back to van and the little chairs and stools in the back and we bounce back down the mountain. It has been a perfect Saturday picnic on a beautiful August afternoon.

As a postscript, Shirley and I are trying to learn to eat in the Bulgarian manner. As Americans, we are used to sitting down to dinner and then eating from start to finish. Yes, we can carry on conversations while we eat but basically we keep on eating from one course to the next and the actual meal takes 30 minutes or less unless there is lots of wine. Now if we ate that way (continuously) at a four-hour Bulgarian dinner we would soon be fatter than grandmother’s butchered pig. Our Bulgarian families eat two or three bites of tomato or cucumber and then talk for five minutes or more and then take a few more bites. Even the main course goes this way and dinner lasts for hours. In the end no one has eaten more than one would at an American meal and maybe even less. There are certainly fewer overweight people here than in America. Shirley and I will have to alter our habits.

Picnics are wonderful and life is good.



The world is a book. Those who do not travel read only one page.
Saint Augustine