Obama is lemon?

Wednesday was the Day of Babas and here in my village we had a celebration in our chitalishte. I went while the kindergarteners were napping and found the place warm from the stove and the folk music loudly playing. Some people were up and dancing the horo while everyone else sat at tables filled with food they brought and homemade wine. I sat at a table with five babas who would yell at me to eat more salami. "Yash!" they'd say as I meekly grabbed another piece of meat, "Mmmm, fkoosno." Then a diado came and sat next to me, resting his battered accordion on his lap. He started to play, the notes filling the room with music, and the five babas began to sing. They sung old folk songs of love, youth and loss. They all sounded similar to me, all with a somber melody. The diado tried a more upbeat song but he didn't know it all and only one baba knew the words. I just listened, amazed that people with so many missing teeth could sing so well.

Barack Obama has been big news around here, of course. I went into town to watch the Inauguration with four other volunteers. We all enjoyed the historic, and long-awaited for, moment. In Bulgaria when you are celebrating something you say chestite, or 'congratulations'. It works for all occasions. Chestite Birthday! Chestite New Year! Chestite New Haircut! Chestite New Axe! When you are celebrating something or you recently purchased something nice for yourself, it is tradition to share your new fortune by passing out sweets to your friends. So we all had bought chocolate candies and passed them out at work, celebrating the inauguration.

I was at my colleague's house watching the news with her husband and they were talking about the Obama Inauguration. He has very limited English but he's always excited about practicing it on me. We joke him endlessly because one time when he wanted to say that he likes banitsa, he ended up saying, "I like to be banitsa." At one point in the broadcast he looks at me and hesitatingly says, "Obama is lemon?" and he raises his hands. "Ummmm, what?" I respond. "Obama is lemon?" he says again. He raises his left hand and shakes it, "Lemon?" "Ohhhhh, yeah, Obama writes with his left hand. LEFT. It's LEFT."

So I bought an axe yesterday and walked all over Razgrad with it resting on my shoulder. I felt like a much, much smaller and weaker version of Paul Bunyan. I run into a Bulgarian friend on the streets and he grabs my axe to inspect it. "How much did this cost?," he asks. "There should be some metal here. This wood will wear down. I know where you can buy a better axe." I take it to my colleague's apartment and her husband inspects it. "It's strong," he says. "But you should put some metal at the top of this handle. How much did this cost?" As I'm walking to the bus I pass by an elderly couple sitting on a bench. The old man looks at me and says, "An axe?" Yes, I reply. "How much did it cost?" I take it out for him to look at. "Yeah, there should definitely be some metal here. I know where you can get a better axe." Then he says some things I can't understand and I laugh when he laughs. On the bus I run into a friend from my village and she says, "An axe? How much did that cost?" Oh the joys of a new axe.

By the way, it cost 20 Bulgarian leva.