The Parents Meet Bulgaria

ZAVET – I celebrated the Fourth of July indoors this year.

   No fireworks, no barbecue, no stroll through the park. We – my parents and I – spent our nation’s birthday in my small, muggy apartment while rain poured for almost 24 hours straight. It wasn’t like home, but I can assure you it was better than being alone. Instead of hamburgers and hotdogs we ate chips and salsa (brought from America) and had chicken fajitas with rice. And we had brownies (another product from the US) to not only celebrate the holiday, but remember my one-year anniversary in Zavet, the town where I live.

   For the first time in more than a year I was greeted a familiar face from home. They spent 10 days seeing the best – and worst – of Bulgaria. We went on to Amsterdam and made our way through the canals and clouds of marijuana before jumping on a train to London just a few days after the 7/7 terrorist bombings. In all, it was a memorable trip.

   To be honest, I don’t think my parents’ first impressions of Bulgaria were all that great. My first glimpses of them revealed exhaustion, bewilderment and a bit of fear. In my infinite wisdom, I suggested they travel via Romania since the capital, Bucharest, is much closer than Sofia. A nice, 2-hour train ride would be just the ticket after flying all day and night from Portland. However, I had forgotten how unsettling and confusing life can be here – especially your first time in these parts. To describe it better I’ll quote my father.

   “We get off the plane there’s no one around,” said my wild-eyed dad as he cracked open a Heineken. “Then this taxi guy just latched on to us. We had no idea if he was for real or taking us to his house. But he turned out to be OK and got us to the station on time. Then we get our tickets and find the platform and I see this old train down a little farther. I think, ‘That’s got to be just for show.’ But then we realize that’s THE train. This thing would be condemned in the U.S. And these really rough looking guys are all hanging out the windows smoking cigarettes and staring at us. And here we are with our suitcases and bags and it’s like we have a sign on us that says ‘Tourist’. I thought for sure we were going to get mugged.”

   They survived the train ride, even through an hour and a half border check on the Romanian side in the blistering heat. My dad’s story made me remember my first moments in this country and how strange it can make you feel. When I arrived in Sofia last April two taxi drivers approached me speaking only Bulgarian. I didn’t understand a word, but worse I couldn’t even tell them yes or no or “I don’t understand you”. Then later, a child at a rest stop came up to me and babbled something. Again, it was a paralyzing feeling to be so helpless.

   So I had some empathy when my folks came off the train a bit wide-eyed and weren’t going nuts with hugs and kisses. They were still in a bit of shock. The next day we went to Metro, the local Costco, to find a fan and some food they would like. Within the first five minutes security wanted to talk with my dad. He had taken a picture inside and weren’t quite sure what to do with him. A man slowly approached him and told him in broken English that he “did not have the right to take pictures here”. My dad pretended to delete the photo and turned off the camera. It was just another warm welcome from the Bulgarians.

Then my friend, Svetlin, picked us up in his car to take us to Zavet so they could experience the “village life”. We all crowded in and again it was hot. I’ve been accustomed to the bad, bumpy roads here. And all the bad drivers. But when I turned around to see how my parents were doing they shot my glances that said, “WHERE ARE WE GOING!”

   We made it to Zavet where it promptly began to rain for the next three days. It was rain like I’d never seen. There were flash floods and my apartment leaked. But they got to meet all my friends. Four different times people mistook my mother as my sister! We ate at the local restaurant where they tried different grilled meats and tomato and cucumber salad. I did my best to translate conversations. And we even took a small excursion to some tombs that are in almost perfect condition from 300 B.C.

   The rest of our trip went smoothly. We stayed in Varna for three days and made day trips to small, tourist towns along the Black Sea. They were especially impressed with the nine prostitutes we saw on the side of road out in the middle of nowhere. Then we headed for the mountains and saw the ancient capital, Veliko Turnover. We returned to Romania, but this time with a taxi. It was worth the 150 leva that we paid (around $100). The driver told stories about corruption on the border and that even he has to pay guys every once in awhile. He drove us by the Romanian palace and told stories about the old Communist days.

   To sum it up, my parents visit to Bulgaria was a vacation and an education.

   “We never envisioned the infrastructure being so old,” my mom told me. “But it’s very beautiful here and the people are so kind and humble. They are very real and down to earth.”

PASS ME A BEER, I’M A SIXTH GRADER NOW!

   We all celebrate the end of the school year. But I’ve never seen it done like they do it here in Bulgaria. On the night of June 15 many classes had class parties at local restaurants or discos. I attended the seventh grade party. Since there is a shortage of restaurants in Zavet (three), the fifth grade also had booked their party at the same, small restaurant at the edge of town. This was a big letdown for the seventh graders.

   “They’re so small and stupid,” said one anonymous 7^th-grade girl.

   Anyway, the seventh graders, being old and mature, ordered beer. This worried me, but I had seen this happen before. Only a few abused this privilege and it was difficult to watch such young kids lose their innocence so early in life. Anyway, soon the fifth graders were ordering beer. This surprised me a bit, but what was even weirder was that the woman bartender had no problem with handing over these 500 ml bottles of beer. The legal age in Bulgaria is 18, not 11. Soon these kids were yelling and screaming and dancing everywhere. In fact, one little boy – barely up to my waist – had downed a bottled outside the restaurant, had ran around and yelled a bunch and then puked.    

   One of the other teachers finally stopped the madness and took the beer away. They complained but agreed.

PROJECTS

   Just to spread the word, but we were able to find funding to build a language resource room at my school. We found the money within a week and we will start the remodeling next week!

   We also are in the midst of selling calendar/posters of the “Kids of Zavet” to help raise money for the annual summer camp that will be held at the end of August. We need money to buy supplies, food, T-shirts and other necessities. The municipality gave us 50 leva ($35) to run the week-long camp. This camp is incredibly important as kids rarely have the opportunity to do activities like this. We will have sports, games, drama, music, arts and crafts, a field trip and health and safety activities. We had 40+ kids last year but could have easily had more. This year we’re expecting maybe closer to 70 since we will advertise in the six surrounding villages. Think of this as the one week that this town has a place like the YMCA to go to on a nice summer day. Every other day the kids either go to the computer club or stay at home watching TV. If you would like to make a donation, email me how much you want to give (any amount is great!) and I can send up a poster/calendar (it’s for 2006 and they are were professionally made) and information on where to send the money. Plus, I can send you some information on Zavet.