letter29

Dear Family and Friends,

Walking On Ice:
If I would have known I would one day be living in my own personal ice skating rink, I would have signed up for the Olympics and beat Nancy Kerrigan with a big stick a long time ago. For those of you who are experienced ice walkers, stop reading now to spare me at least a LITTLE embarrassment, but, for the rest of you, imagine a bunch of snow . . . snow is that cold white stuff that falls from the sky in some parts of the world. When the snow is falling and I am indoors wearing 15 sweaters, 23 pairs of pants, 8 pairs of socks, and at least 2 blankets, it takes my breath away as I look out my window and think, "Wooooow, what is that fluffy white stuff? Is it cotton candy?!" Never fail, it makes me totally punch drunk. But, did you know that that fluffy white stuff begins to melt eventually and turn into ice and slush, making sure that it doesn't quite melt completely? Even though I have already sworn up and down a million
times that I would become a wart-covered hermit with greasy hair and NEVER leave my apartment for the rest of the winter, I have to leave eventually. And, when I do, there's danger to be had. Before I continue, let me
reiterate two very important points: 1.) I AM FROM ARIZONA. 2.) I WENT TO SCHOOL IN GEORGIA. In both of those states, if, say, four or five flakes of snow just so happen to get lost and get separated from the "smart
snowflakes" who are having their way with North Dakota, Illinois, or Wisconsin, there is a cause for a "national crisis" and everything shuts down, including the 6:00 news weather forecasters. So, needless to say, I am insanely jealous of both the Bulgarians and the Peace Corps Volunteers who slide right over this stuff like it's a plate of Philadelphia Cream Cheese. To me, it's a hairy amusement park ride that I don't even have to wait in line for. With or without snow boots, kneepads, protective padding, and a bicycle helmet, I slip this way and that without any control. I
usually walk like a toddler just learning to walk to prevent slippage, as Bulgarians whip past me. I toddle along with my arms spread on either side of me (I am ready to join the circus!) as I keep one eye on my out-of-control feet and the other on the Dyado (grandpa) with the cane and hunched back pushing me out of his way or the Baba (grandma) running over me with her little milk cart. My arms go flailing in a hundred different directions as my 20-minute walk to school turns into 4 hours and I wish I had a sled so that I can just be pushed to school from in front of my block.
If I go anywhere with friends, I end up picking my nose and dusting off icicles five miles behind everyone else. I told someone that when Arizona got it's four or five snowflakes, SURE I went in to yard and played in it, but heaven forbid, should I actually WALK in the stuff! Awwww, Arizona, the land of unbearable heat, scorchingly dry pavement, and cacti to break your fall caused by those five evil snowflakes! And to think, I could be in
Africa or the Pacific Islands in a sarong and a bikini about now, but, instead, my "hills are alive" with the sounds of my frightened screams and giggling snowflakes, which are pleased with the results of their mission. Awwww, Bulgaria!!!

Broken Glass:
Last Monday was a zoo. The kids were bouncing off the walls more than usual and driving me to the point of delirium. Again, I blame it on the snow outside, but my hair fell out in clumps, I developed a nervous tick, my
mouth foamed, and my eyes glazed over anyways. Let me tell you, these kids were beyond bad. So, I was in my last period 6th grade class trying desperately to teach. This group of kids is by far my worst and they were beyond horrible last Monday. So, I was at my wits end and then some. When I am teaching on the first floor (I teach wherever there's a free room), I often have the trouble with students who have a free hour coming to the
windows and yelling and screaming at my students and me and causing a disruption and a half. Usually, I just say goodbye, ignore them, and they eventually go away. But, this still bugs me more than anything else! But,
this time I was already at my wits end. So, I approached the window as I continued to teach with the intention of knocking on it just hard enough to scare the students away from my window. Now, I forget to take into account
that Bulgarian glass is as cheap as snot and I probably hit the glass a LITTLE too hard . . . my fist went right through that window and glass went everywhere. I was shocked by the incident, especially since I didn't have a single cut or a scrape from punching right through glass. The hoodlums at the window took off running into the darkness and a few, "Whoaaaaa!"s echoed through my silent classroom, but I kept on teaching like nothing had happened, despite my shattered nerves and the shattered glass on the floor. Needless to say, it sure improved the behavior of my class! I should break things more often! And then, I ran like an escaped convict into the hills, and to the warmth and safety of my little apartment.

Language Litany:
I spent most of last week in a small town called Velingrad for a Peace Corps language in service training. We were in this hotel that was pretty much in the middle of nowhere, so we were forced to make our own fun and create our
own discos most of the week. You know, I never would have SET FOOT in anything resembling a disco in the states, but, I guess since this is the European thing to do, I gyrate and dance with the best of them, resembling a cross between a hog just released from captivity and a nervous, pimply seventh grader at a junior high dance. And, believe it or not, I actually have fun. Our days of IST were consumed with various language and culture classes. I stuck to mainly intermediate or intermediate/advanced level courses since I tested at the intermediate level at the end of training and I learned a lot in just three days. Languages are complex! Especially when every word is assigned a gender and you have to deal with determining what is male and what is female. For instance, juice is a male, while boys and
girls are neither male nor female, and books and pens are always girls; carrots are definitely male, but strawberries are most certainly female. I learned how to say things like, "I'm sick of you!", "I am scary!", "Be afraid!", and "You tremble!", all valuable phrases after three months of
teaching. Plus, it was so good to see so many friends who tend to stay at their sites drinking rakiya and eating stomach and tongue all the time. I don't know how ready I am to go back to school after a week of all of this excitement! But . . . here we go again!!!

Lots of Love,
Chantel

P.S. The Countdown begins . . . 26 days until my parents get here!!!
(December 28)