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
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.
No comments:
Post a Comment