A Day in the Life of a PCV

6:30 a.m. – Alarm blares from my cell phone. I promptly shut it off and see the sky is still dark and gray. I use my cell phone alarm because often the electricity will go out at night, thus negating the effectiveness of my alarm clock.

6:41 a.m. – Finally get up to check my email and read today’s news. Only two emails. Damn. More news of Iran and nuclear weapons. My fantasy baseball team is winning (finally!).

7:14 a.m. – I start mixing the dry ingredients for my Wicky Wacky cake, a vegan cake which actually is unbelievably tasty. I’m making it for the teachers at my school. In Bulgaria, when you have a holiday you must treat everyone with chocolates or food. Today is my two-year anniversary, so it seems appropriate.

7:34 a.m. – Put the cake in the oven and then hop into the shower. Lots of hot water. Yeah!

7:50 a.m. – I’m out of the shower and get dressed for the day – just jeans, a sweater and my running shoes. At my school the teachers rarely dress formerly.

8:05 a.m. – Take out cake. It’s a bit burnt, but smells good. I head out to the little store just down the street to buy powdered sugar for the frosting. I buy three packets. The woman looks at my funny for buying so much sugar. “You’ll get fat,” she says. Bulgarians, in general, are very blunt and direct when it comes to appearance. It’s a bit surprising when a sweet old grandma will smile and say, “Matt, you’re much fatter than before. You’re cheeks are so plump!” You just have to take it in stride.

8:45 a.m. – I leave for school, but pass through the center of town to pick up some napkins and forks. Our town center is little more than an intersection with a few cafes, a few shops, a gas station and a bus stop. The woman working at the shop can’t believe I’ve made a cake. It’s quite unusual for males to cook anything here.

9:20 a.m. – The bell rings for class to begin, but the teachers are still asking me why there’s a cake in the room. I explain. Everybody gets a bite before heading to class. Teachers don’t have classrooms at my school. They work in the teacher’s room and then go to all the different classrooms. Tardiness is tolerated.

9:30 a.m. – I start passing out a wordsearch and blank map of North America to my eighth-grade class. They have studied English for seven years. They have studied with an American teacher for four years (including me). Most of the original class left this year to study in bigger, better schools. I like all of them but I have many discipline problems with this class. Today they are very quiet and work diligently. I’m suspicious, but pleased. I’m surprised that some of them can’t differentiate between Canada, the USA and Mexico separate as countries – but that’s the point of this exercise, so it’s good we’re doing it.

10:05 a.m. – More teachers eat the cake and they seem happy. I give the recipe to the French teacher. The P.E. teacher tries the cake, puts his arm around me and tells me I’d make a good second wife.

10:11 a.m. – I enter the sixth-grade classroom and I’m met with yelling, clapping and cheers of “HELLO MEEESTER!” This isn’t because I’m some super-teacher; I think they just like yelling. I get them into their seats and ask to see their homework. Two don’t have it. I offer an extra copy to do. One boy buries his head and refuses. One girl is almost in tears because she forgot it. I explain that she can do it now in class for a lower grade. She finally calms down and understands what I’m trying to say with bad Bulgarian.

11:02 a.m. – Svetlin, a teacher, and I drive back to my apartment to get the new television for the foreign language room. This is part of a Peace Corps Partners Project, which I started last year. The project consists of turning an unused basement room into a nice classroom with a small library, a TV with DVD player, computers and many decorations – something none of the classrooms have here. Well, one year later we finally four walls, paint, as whiteboard, desks and electricity. So now we can use the TV.

11:20 a.m. – With the help of the two school “meisters” or fix-it men, we lift the TV onto the stand only to discover that the TV is way too heavy and the stand will tear out of the wall. Just one more hurdle. This is normal here. Dejected, I return to help the 7^th-grade class as I’m an assistant to the other English teacher, Velichko.

11:40 a.m. – We finish up class and celebrate Velichko’s final day of teaching. He has taken a job at the municipality in Razgrad (a city nearby). He will receive a significant pay raise, which isn’t saying much as teachers are paid a measly 220 levas a month. People aren’t necessarily inspired to become teachers like in the U.S. There is such little work in Bulgaria that they do it out of necessity.

11:58 a.m. – As I make my way out the door one of the cleaning ladies yells at me, “Merhaba!” (Hello!) She and some of the others always greet me in Turkish and teach me Turkish words (I live in a predominantly Turkish community). Now that I can finally respond, answer them and even ask some questions they beam with joy. I tell her to go and get the last of the cake. She had some, she said. It was “chok guzel” or “very beautiful” cake.

12:35 p.m. – I slurp up the last of last night’s homemade chicken noodle soup. My site mate, Mike, lives across the hall and we often cook together. It is unusual that two PCVs are in a small town together. He works as a youth development volunteer at another school outside of town, so I usually see him only in the evening.

1:10 p.m. – I wait outside on the curb for my ride to show up. They said 12:45 p.m. but I’m not worried as Bulgarians are often late. Since cell phones are expensive and home phones don’t work well, people can’t notify you if something will delay them. So it’s better just to wait and assume that person will eventually show it. I’ve never been to a meeting or concert that has started on time.

1:15 p.m. – They show up and we’re off to Razgrad for the regional teacher’s sports tournament. We will play volleyball and soccer today. I’m looking forward to it as I was ill last year and didn’t play.

2:46 p.m. – I sit on the hard concrete and I’m sweating a bit. We just got whipped 3-0 by a team from Razgrad. They were older, but bigger and better. I got moved to goalie in the second half and didn’t give any goals, so I guess I contributed a bit. Now onto volleyball, another sport I’ve never really played competitively.

3:30 p.m. – We score the final point and pull off the upset against a team that clearly became frustrated against us. We’re not all that good either, but somehow come together. I was a college athlete, but I’ve never been into volleyball and my ugly bumping and setting are evidence.

4:00 p.m. – More waiting. Lots of screaming in Bulgarian. Lots of conversation in Bulgarian. I’m starting to daydream and wander into that world where you block out everything else out.

5:45 p.m. – We’re losing our second match. There is a lot of arguing but I’m not really understanding all of it. Sports can be difficult if you can’t communicate. I keep quiet and keep playing.

6:02 p.m. – We leave the old, decrepit gymnasium after losing. Some of the female teachers who were playing at another school congratulate us on our performance. “Matt, very good playing!” one teacher tells me in English. We reach the parking lot and several of the teachers start lighting up their cigarettes. It seems a strange contrast from playing sports to smoking, but smoking is still a favorite pastime here. At least half the people in our group of 12 are smoking now. They can do it because it’s affordable. A pack (depending on quality) cost between 1.90-2.60 levas. That’s less two dollars a pack.

6:14 p.m. – We chow down on duners, a Turkish food consisting of roasted chicken pieces mixed with cucumbers, tomatoes, cabbage, mayonnaise and chili sauce wrapped in pita bread like a burrito. This place is great! Unlike most places in Bulgaria, they have great customer service. Most times when I eat out or shop I feel like I’m inconveniencing the waiter or the clerk. No smile. No greeting. But here the man smiles and says, “Here you are, my friend!”

6:58 p.m. – We’re cruising through the countryside back to Zavet. The sun is beginning to set and the rolling, green wheat fields are covered with an orange tinge from the sky. This area looks a lot like Iowa – fields with little forests in the gullies, then more fields, then a small village every 10 kilometers. The road is awful with lots of holes and cracks, but better than is used to be two years ago.

7:20 p.m. – We reach Zavet and go directly to The Apple, the main restaurant in town. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been here. We all sit together and order something to drink. I get some juice and a palachinki (fried pancake filled with chocolate). I call Mike to come. Like every Bulgarian nagosti (gathering or visit) there is a lot of talking, yelling, drinking, eating, smoking and laughing.

8:41 p.m. – Tired and sore, I say my farewells and head home. Most have classes the next day, but I don’t as I have an early meeting with Peace Corps in Razgrad. Mike goes to the store to pick up some bread while I continue on home. The stars begin to show and the sun’s last rays are slipping behind the abandoned, half-finished building across the street.

9:35 p.m. – After taking a shower, I get online to check email and chat with my friend, Jeremy White. Since getting Internet at my house last April I’ve been able to stay in contact with people much better. Before I rarely wrote as access was dependent if one of the three computers in the center was free. Now I can chat with friends occasionally. I tell Jeremy about the day and we joke a lot. It’s a nice release to discuss things in English.

10:05 p.m. – It’s early, but I’m tired so I head to bed. I’m reading “Bright Sun, Strong Tea” by Tom Brosnahan. It’s a book I picked up in Turkey about a travel guide writer who was a PCV in Turkey during the ’60s.  Not a bad read.

10:35 p.m. – I turn out the light and another day is done. No crickets yet. Too cold. I can see the moon glowing overhead. A man is talking to someone outside. The sharp tones of his Bulgarian give the evening that exotic feeling that happens even after two years here. It’s in those moments I realize that I’m an ocean and two continents away from home. I get that feeling of excitement all over again. I close my eyes. Another day waits.