letter27

Dear Family and Friends,

The signs of winter are all around me . . . I see the impending cold weather
in the people, the buildings, the shivering strays, the dying vegetation . .
. I see it in the fresh fruits and vegetables that keep dissapearing one by
one from market shelves, and I see it in my rosy cheeks and cold feet.
Winter is nigh, my friends, and I can gaurantee that it'll surely be a cold
one.

I remember when I was young in southern Arizona, the land of little snow.
It was such a treat to my innocent, vibrant eyes to wake up early and look
out my bedroom window to a blanket of freshly fallen snow, 2 or 3 INCHES of
freshly fallen snow, mind you. My Mom would then rush into my room in a
whirlwind of excitement and breath breathlessly, "Chan, it SNOWED last
night!" as she would fall beside me on my warm bed. I would continue to
gaze upon the winter wonderland before me and nibble on my bottom lip in
pure anticipation as my mind raced with all of the possibilities. "It
snowed," I would breath, bringing my warm comforter tightly around me. I
shared my Mom's excitement as we looked from the snow to one another in
unadulterated joy and then I pondered as any child would, "Do you think they
canceled school today?" And, then, I was off, like a bolt of lightening,
shreaking, "Aaron! Aaron! Look outside! It snowed!" until I startled my
mother, all three irritated cats, and my little brother in the next room.
Now, it never snowed often or much in the little town of Oracle, Arizona,
but, when it did, SOUND THE ALARM. Schools were called off, people fretted
to drive in "such awful conditions", hot chocolate lit up steamy kitchens,
and old and young alike engaged in winter games for hours on end. Since
snow usually meant no school, my brother and I were off and running,
throwing together the best possible winter gear that we could find, which
usually meant a mish-mash catastrophe of various sweats, gloves, jackets,
and beanies.

And, now, I am beginning to see the winter of my new land, as a pilgrim
forging a new destiny, a new frontier, and the harsh reality of winter. It
is just beginning and it has been relatively warm for so long, but, as we
ease into November and the holidays approach with rapid fire, I see the
beginnings of what will be the coldest time of my life. About a week ago,
winter seemed to be brought in by a blanket of the thickest fog I have ever
seen . . . . wait a minute, have I even ever really seen FOG?!!? I stood
shivering on my balcony as I marveled at not being able to see two feet in
front of me. "How," I questioned like a giddy school girl, "Will I EVER be
able to find my school today?!!" Since that day, temperatures have seemed
to plummet as I finally began to see the first signs of winter. I crunch
my way through dead leaves as the cool wind whips around me everyday, taking
in new sights, sounds, and smells. I notice the people bundled in jackets,
with beanies on their heads, and I watch them diligently as they prepare for
the winter months by canning foods and chopping wood; I smell the smoke
eminating from their canning fires and chimneys, thick black and gray
billows; I listen as their saws and axes chop wood and as teeth chatter all
around me. Many people in Bulgaria use coal to heat their homes, which is
then dumped into the dumpsters, setting the garbage within aflame and adding
a new smell to the world around me. I view the fresh fruits and vegetables
dissapearing one by one and I continue to wonder how in the world I am going
to eat this winter, with so little to cook with. I watch as the season
changes right before my eyes.

Tonight, I came home from watching movies with some friends in Sofia and I
stopped on my way home to grab the ingredients to make spagetti since I am
unsure how much longer I'll have tomatoes. The weather didn't seem any
colder than usual, but, when I came out of one of the stores, large
snowflakes were suddenly falling all around me. I gasped in utter shock and
amazement, my equillibrium suddenly off and my tomatoes, onions, and garlic
rattling in the bag between my fingers. I blinked ferociously, shaking off
the snow that coated my eyelids and looked for similar reactions from the
wet-haired, rosy-cheeked, cold Bulgarians around me. And, for some odd
reason, none of them looked as excited as I looked or felt. By April, I am
sure I will be cursing the very thought of snow, but I couldn't help but be
excited and exhilirated by my very first snow in Bulgaria. As the snow fell
and coated me, I searched desperately for a familiar face in the masses for
lack of my parents and my brother. Then, in the distance, I spotted one of
my students, a 6th grader, ducking out of a shop. "Hi, Miss," he greeted
when he saw me. "Hristo!" I screamed, overly-excited. "Hi! It's snowing!"
The young boy gave me an oh-so-cynical look and, with a hint of a grin
playing on his lips, nodded curtly as if to say, "Obviously!" and then kept
walking down the cold road as I stared after him in all my excited glory.
All night, I have gone to my windows like that child who used to look out at
the snow and then call to her brother to have a look. I have watched a thin
blanket form, though I am not sure we will get much more at this point in
the game. Though, when we do?!!? I just hope Bulgaria doesn't ship me home
for hitting children too hard with snowballs, making snow angels in the
middle of my school parking lot, hitting old babas in the shins with
homemade sleighs, and building snowmen that oddly resemble the Mayor of
Samokov. AWWWW . . . it'll be just like old times!!!!!

Love Always,
Your Cold and Shivering Peace Corps Volunteer,
Chantel

P.S. Thanks a bunch to all of you who have sent packages, cards, and
letters! They are greatly appreciated!

P.P.S. My parents will be here from December 28-January 5, so please keep
their visit in your prayers!