The Seven Rila Lakes

On Thursday Sarah and I held an informal English class for five kids which reduced to four when one received an important call and had to step out for a bit. We taught them eight clothing words and a phrase. It was a lot harder than I expected, especially when they had giggle fits every time I held up my bathing suit. I'm pretty sure 50% of our students failed to retain anything but they've already come up to me asking when is the next lesson.

 

On Saturday, fourteen of us spent the day hiking to the breathtaking Seven Lakes in the Rila Mountains. Maybe the most amazing part was how many different weather conditions we endured. The hike started with sweat dripping down our backs, next was a nice biting breeze, then a freezing gust, then icy rain and finally hail. Oh, and we mustn't forget the mud.

We couldn't help the references to Mordor and Middle Earth, even though we were revealing our true dorkiness. Wherever there are nerds and mountains, there will be Lord of the Ring analogies.

 

I think this is lake four.

 

We climbed to the very top of this peak to see lakes six and seven. I know it looks dinky in the picture but I swear it was a brutal climb to the top. Just look at the picture below, look at those rocks and then find that red dot of a person in the center to get a good perspective.

 

At the top of the peak the rocks were so smooth and flat that over the years people began to stack them and now they cover the mountain, as evidence of human presence. Some even gathered the rocks in the form of a heart as a lasting expression of love.

 

Here are views from the top. If you look closely enough you can see on the closest grassy plane a circle with three rings. This is the meeting place of the White Brotherhood, a cult that gathers here to dance and worship and have cult bake sales.

 

 

 

Me on a ledge, fighting the wind, in front of 4 of the lakes.

 

Tobias and Sarah tired after a long hike upwards.

 

We are now immortalized on the peak. This is a picture of Tobias dedicated our piece of B-24 history.

 

 

Sarah and Billy sharing some music during a break.

 

 

 

It is hard to get the whole experience of the hike in a picture but here the wind is blowing with force and the rain and hail is coming in from our left side.

 

We certainly were thankful when the rain gave way to the sun but it left its damage and down the mountain we carefully trudged our way through the mud.

Awkward moment of the week: My host family owns a bar and oftentimes I sit out front talking with the older gentlemen that frequent the business. We clumsily try to communicate and they always buy me juice or coke. Friday night Emil was sitting out front and there are only a few words he knows in English but he uses them often. They include: hello, I love you, and motherf****r. Friday night he put his arm around me, and waving his other in the air he says, "Sasha, I love you!" Then he leans back and mumbles a word in Bulgarian. I ask him what it means and he says proudly, "Motherf****r!" He persuades me to say more English curse words, he has a thirst for knowledge, and I must thank the late George Carlin for my response.

To see some beatuiful pictures of Bulgaria from a great photographer then go to my friend Billy's website:
www.billyknox.com

Babas make me wiser

Last Sunday my group and I had an informal meeting with some village kids. We are doing a project to promote community pride and reading amongst the youth. This is kind of how it went (except it was in Bulgarian):

Peace Corps Trainee: Do you like basketball?
Kids: No. Hate it.
PCT: Do you want some chocolate?
K: From you? No way.
PCT: Do you have any ideas? Activities you'd like to do?
K: --blank stare--
PCT: Umm, do you want to play games that day?
K: -----tug-of-war?
PCT: Yes, alright! Anything else?
K: Soccer, three-legged race, sack races, drawing, arm wrestling, volleyball, egg relay!
PCT: Wow, thanks for your help.
K: I see you have a basketball, want to play?
PCT: I thought you hated basketball!
K: Oh, yeah, and we'll take that chocolate now.

 

Then on Monday we went to a school gym to hear our permanent sites announced. They made a map of Bulgaria on the floor, announced our names and gave us a flower. I felt kind of like a secret agent because they gave us folders with our "Assignment Description" inside. Then it self-destructed in 30 seconds.* I am going to a village of 350 people and working with an NGO called Future for Europe Association.

*That is a bold-faced lie.

 

 

 

Those of us in northeastern Bulgaria; Greg, me, Theron and Glenn.

You read correctly, I said there are 350 people in my village. And, gosh darn it, I am going to know the life stories of each of them. They were excited to have me there and every baba has made it her personal goal to take care of me, which includes teaching me how to cook, teaching me how to knit, and finding me a husband. I've already learned a lot from Baba Dora, who I spent the week with. She taught me how to make homemade french fries, how to hand wash clothes, how to make homemade jam and how to use a wood burning stove. And what did I teach her? How to slam a frog in a door. I'd say we both learned a lot.

For the next two years I will be working a lot with children, creating after school activities and teaching English to the kindergarteners, also to the municipality. I will help attract tourists (they have a wonderful museum and cultural life) by creating a website. And so much more I don't even know yet.

Some pictures of my village:

 

The town square.

 

The Bulgarian Orthodox church.

 

Baba Dora heating up jars of jam on the wood burning stove.

 

Me and the police officer. I repeat, the police officer (and he commutes).

 

Babas and diado hanging out in front of the store. They call me "their volunteer".

Rila Monestary

A summary of my week in a haiku:

My son you marry?
Too much horo, I'm weary.
Woot, monastery!

Yesterday, we left before the roosters crowed to go to the Rila Monastery. It was built in the 10th century by a monk who lived for 12 years in a cave with no material possessions. It was so picturesque, the black and white striped arches, the Eastern domes and the way the clouds nestled between the mountains. Inside its doors, amongst the glow of candles, we saw a priest offering Holy Communion to a small line of the faithful. He held out his hand, they kissed it lightly and he handed them bread. The church was painted with frescoes, not an inch on these old walls was spared.

 

 

 

 

Proof I was there.

Afterwards, we walked 2 miles to the monk's cave. Even the walk itself was exciting because we ran into what can only be called "wild" cows.

 

Bulgaria: Where speed bumps are called cows.

For those of you unlucky people who have never been in a cave it is quite exciting. Just imagine a hole that is dark. Or you can just close your eyes and touch a rock and you've pretty much recreated what it's like. Kidding aside, this cave was way cooler because it has a vertical tunnel which you must climb through to reach the outside world. The legend goes that the highest offense against God is gluttony and only those without sin can pass through the tight passageway. I am pleased to say we all made it, even Billy with his thousand dollar camera and tripod.

 

We joked, saying it was like being birthed by mother earth.

Later in the day we went to a folklore festival where the horo group from my village was performing. There were groups from local Bulgarian villages, and from Serbia and Macedonia. This past week I went to a couple of the horo practices where you can see all generations locking arms and laughing. They were excited to see the Americans there, and they took the time to teach us some horo dances. Instead of playing music, they sang the songs as we twisted around the room kicking our feet.

 

 

 

Serbian kids dancing.

 

My village performing the story of Goritsa's wedding.

Awkward moment of the week: I live at the top of a large hill and on Friday I was playing basketball with 3 girls. We play at the end of street using as our basketball hoop a rusty iron frame nailed to a wooden shed. The ball bounced off the side of a house and started to roll down the steep hill. I ran after it, speeding down the unevenly paved street with a growing momentum. I ran past old men, a birthday party and kids playing while I chased after this unstoppable, rolling basketball.

 

Petia, one of the girls from my street.