Jiggety Jig!

Home! What a wonderful word! We're home. Crossing the border into Bulgaria two weeks ago was one of the most extraordinary moments I have experienced. For exactly two months and two point five weeks we were just one country away from all that is home to us. We were not allowed to go home. We could not return to our beds, our Christmasy stuff, our apartment, our routines, and most importantly, our friends and those who have become family to us in Bulgaria. Mere red tape prevented us from crossing the border.

On January 28th, that reality changed for us. We crossed the border! Life is returning to normal. Disclaimer: I, actually, do not know what a normal life might look like but for all intents and purposes, I will use the word "normal" in this post.

Bulgaria / Greece Border Crossing

We sat at the border late that Friday afternoon between Greece and Bulgaria, waiting to see if the border guards would indeed stamp our passports and send us on our way. All seemed to be in order. The guard returned our stamped passports and we were in Bulgaria!

Wow. Seeing the Bulgarian flag and hearing the guard speak Bulgarian to us were the first of many reminders that we were indeed home. Excitement grew in the car on the ride from the border to Sofia as we encountered simple, but very tangible tokens of home. A red Happy sign told us we were in Bulgaria. The snow-peaked mountains sitting in the east as we drove, the billboards of Bulgarian mobile phone operators, villages through which the highway took us . . . all reminders that we were going HOME!

Two weeks later and life is slowly falling into a rhythm. The kids are back at school. After recovering from a bout of illness, overnight visa travel back to Greece, and a school road trip for John and Luke to a basketball tournament in Budapest.

We are excited about what's ahead. We are thrilled to see the kids bounce right back into their social circles and school - and into basketball! We are thankful for friends here who have taken care of us physically and emotionally. We are thankful for family and friends at home in the US and abroad who have done the same, without whom we could not be here at all. We are thankful to be here, where - good or bad - all of our senses are met with a warm greeting of Welcome Home.


Now . . . back to work!

Tea and a Haircut

I wasn't there to get a haircut. The matters at hand were a new buzz cut for Andrew (his latest style) and a bang trim for Sophie. I was trying my best to keep up with the fast-talking, Macedonian-speaking (Macedonian is a close relative of Bulgarian) receptionist to make their appointments and I noticed the male stylist approaching me. Strangely, he began running his hands through my hair, paying close attention to my bangs. He began speaking to me in a tongue I could not quite place. I questioningly looked at the receptionist for a translation. She began in Macedonian once again, telling me that he would like to cut my hair and that he could make my bangs lay in such a way to make my eyes "pop." Being the adventurer I am and relishing in communication other than in my own native English, I made an appointment. I mean, it's not every day someone says they can make your eyes "pop!"

Two days later I entered the salon, ready for anything. This particular haircut took three people. Me. Stylist Guy, and Assistant/translator Girl.  Assistant Girl was particularly useful b/c she translated everything he told me . . .  into the clearer Macedonian and gave my answers back to him in their mysterious tongue.

Haircut in full swing, I cannot stand it any longer. I ask AG (Assistant Girl) where the stylist is from. My assumption was Albania or Kosovo, being that they are nearby and Albanians make up 30% of the Skopje population. But he did not seem Albanian to me. "He's from Turkey," she said. Aaaaaah! Turkey! Also nearby. That made sense.

As he cut, he would talk to me, which was rather comical because he knew I did not understand him. Perturbed, he would summon AG to come translate. I would answer in Bulgarian through AG and he would go back to cutting. At one point he yelled something across the room to dear AG. She quickly appeared with hot tea, in a small, glass cup that is becoming all too familiar  to me. "Drink," SG (stylist guy) stopped his cutting and commanded. I obeyed.

Cutting finished; time for drying. Right? Nope. SG asked if I would like a hair mask. Why not? He slathered a cream in my hair and sat me under a steam dryer. But, then he started talking to me again. I do not understand you, I scolded him in my mind. AG, help! Sensing that communication was being attempted without her, she dashed over to translate. This time I could not grasp what she was saying either. Loud music, louder hair dryer, different hair treatment terminology than that of Bulgarian, I was stumped. SG wasn't! He beckoned me from my chair over to the computer at reception where he found a translation program.

So there we stood at the computer. Me, foil dangling from the ends of my hair in anticipation of the mask to do its magic, and SG, pecking his Turkish words onto the keyboard. I looked at the printed translation on the screen before me. Oh! I thought. That's what you were trying to tell me??? All I  needed was one word in response! “Okay,” I said to him confidently, knowing he would understand.

As I sit back down to my steam-dryer, I notice a fresh cup of hot tea waiting for me. Nice! Keep in mind, I never asked for tea, nor was I offered it, it simply appeared.

Okay, if you've read this far, the oddest part of the entire deal is here. Picture this. AG dries my hair until it is acceptable to SG. She then moves out of the way, but is still holding hair dryer, still turned on. He grabs a round brush, positions it in my hair, and takes hold of the drying end of the dryer while AG is still holding onto the power end. She never, ever, lets go of the hair dryer while he dries. Ever.

He finishes styling. Very nice!

I have to say, this was the most delightful haircut I have ever had! The tea, AG, SG, Google Translate, and Eastern music playing through the salon made my current exile from Bulgaria a bit more palatable. . . that day. I am thankful today for the immeasurable variety that makes up the peoples of the earth, all  with such great beauty and vast differences that each lend to a picture of the earth's exquisite palate - no matter who or where we are.

I am now working to learn the Turkish word for “thank you.” Teşekkürler!

Falling Slowly

The fall was a 10-meter, slow-motion, backwards spiral into oncoming traffic. At last, when the inebriated man could no longer support himself, he fell like a sack of potatoes right in front of our slowing car.

We had had a nice day. This was our first journey outside of Sofia together as a family since our almost three months in Bulgaria. A friend had invited us to her place for the day. She lives in a beautiful little town that sits on the edge of the Rhodope Mountains. We enjoyed the fall colors and snow-peaked mountains as we drove the short hour-and-a-half distance. 

Once we reached our friend’s apartment, we were greeted with a feast for lunch. She had prepared a variety of traditional Bulgarian foods which we began devouring with great speed. By the time the main dish appeared, our appetites had waned. This was only a minor obstacle, however, and did not put a damper on our ability to consume the Moussaka before us. 

After lunch, our hostess suggested we drive a short distance to the island where the Maritsa river surrounds a bit of land joined by a separate branch of the river. This pleased the kids greatly because a zoo is the central attraction. They even found cotton candy and Sophie got her first taste of fluffy sugar! 

Once each cage was investigated and we were sure we had not missed any animal, we set off for the mountain where Julija knew of the ideal place to sit and have coffee. The drive did not disappoint. Winding roads gave way to brilliant hills laden with reds, oranges, yellows, and greens that together created a breathtaking view. We found the restaurant and all sat down outside to enjoy coffee in the chill of the late sunny afternoon.

The setting sun told us that it was time to hit the road for Sofia. We set off for the town to leave our friend and say our good-byes. As we approached town, we glimpsed something questionable in the distance. A man was leaving the sidewalk, backwards. We then noticed that his gait was not normal. Well, I guess walking backwards into traffic is not normal either, but this gave us greater insight into the man’s frame of mind . . . or lack thereof. John began to slow his speed and the man continued to weave backwards, trying hopelessly to catch his balance. His efforts were in vain because just as he approached the path of our oncoming car, he dropped like a rag doll, hitting his head with great force.

Our path impeded, a helpless fellow lying before us, John did the only thing he could. He put on his flashers and exited our car. When he approached the man, his eyes opened and John put his hand out to help him up. He gave the man a good jerk and he came to his feet. The two walked across the road together, John leading the way, and John left him sitting safely on the sidewalk. 

I have dwelt much in my thoughts about this man and the nuisance he was to our otherwise peaceful day. His fall was rather disturbing to my emotional capacity. Then I was reminded that I had had a brilliant day. In fact, most of my days are good. This poor man had not enjoyed a peaceful day. I wonder how long it had been since he’d had a good day. I was then driven to appreciate his situation. Perhaps he had once been a man of hope, a man of great education or even notoriety among his sphere of influence. Now, he is a nobody, a drunk. What happened? Of course I will never know the reality of his situation but thinking about it helps me as I encounter people in the course of my day. So many around us - wherever we are in the world - need education, hope, love, a place to go, etc. This is our commandment. It is not a nuisance.

Dirty Smiles

I have had the joy in recent weeks to work with Roma kids at a literacy program in Sofia. My friend, Terry, started the program three years ago and it is proving to have great success. The Roma peoples make up 8-10% of Bulgaria’s population and are a suffering minority. Few Roma children attend school regularly. Their parents remain uneducated and do not motivate them to learn. The reasons for this are many but I will not dwell here for this is not my reason for writing today.

One of the girls who attends literacy each week is fifteen years old. She asked me yesterday, “Mrs., what is five minus five?” I was aghast by her lack of skill in problem-solving. Gina was working on a color by numbers page that required her to calculate certain problems to discern the answer and thus the appropriate color for that part of the picture. I showed her what five minus five is by using pencils as a visual example. She seemed to grasp the concept and quickly shaded in the correct color. To my surprise, three minutes later she asked, “What’s six minus zero?” Again, I was taken aback by the utter lack of understanding and education provided this young, beautiful girl. 

I cannot say Gina knows nothing. This is untrue. She has probably seen more life than I will ever see. She sometimes attends lessons with a 2-year-old child/relative in tow to whom she shows great skill in the care she gives. Hygiene and basic trust have been lost on this developing young lady, but she knows how to survive in a world with no education, no attention, and few of life’s luxuries. When I say luxuries, I do not mean getting to eat at McDonald’s or hopping in a car to go see a movie with a friend. The luxuries I am talking about are having running water, a toothbrush, a fresh change of clothes and of course, an education.

The words in my heart are difficult to share beyond this point. The need is so great that meeting it seems unattainable. If we speak honestly, we know that it is. But that does not negate the beautiful smiles through rotting teeth and dirty clothes that I see when I teach and play with them. Bringing joy to the “least of these” is never unattainable. 

Laura