letter32

Dear Family and Friends,

Whooaaa, what a whirlwind of activity the last couple of weeks have been! I suddenly feel as if I have been tied to a rapidly moving train on a one way trip to madness . . . but, to tell you the truth, I'm loving every minute of it. That's why you are going to get not just one but TWO WHOLE E-MAILS from me in one night . . . it's your lucky day. After all, I could NEVER do justice to all of my many adventures in just one e-mail! So, here goes . . .

You see, first there was Christmas . . . awww, CHRISTMAS. That "oh-so-merry" time of mounds of dirty, knee-deep snow that threatens to cut your life short every time you set foot in it, little icons of the virgin Mary holding a frightened-looking baby Jesus, tiny "Charlie Brown" Christmas trees begging for compliments, and, of course, lots of greasy Banitsa . . .at least in Bulgaria that is!! It was my first Christmas away from home and I thought about my family in blistering Arizona as I trudged to that little home away from home in the heart of old Panagyurishte. And, as I stepped into a steamy kitchen filled with all of the smells of the season, I saw the tired, haggard demeanor of a host mother who had been cooking all day, to make the seven traditional Bulgarian dishes, each of which did not include meat. One dish is made for each of the seven days of the week and they are all made with vegetables, fruits, breads, nuts, etc. to clelebrate the harvest.

As soon as the hearty meal was laid before us and the candles were lit, we greeted Baba, who assisted an ancient Dyado (Baba's father), and a hunched-over, blind-as-a-bat Baba (Baba's mother) ("She can't see you, she's BLIND.") to their seats around the table. Katya covered the table of plenty with a cloud of thick blue incense, we all did the sign of the cross about 50 times (forehead, chest, left right . . .), and then we prepared to feast. The special Christmas bread was broken and we all dived into our pieces, looking for that one tiny stotinki that would promise us riches in the new year, or tiny pieces of encrusted paper entitiling us to love, fame, success, and happy households. My little piece of encrusted paper said "love" . . . hmmmm . . . interesting . . . And then we ate all of the stuffed peppers, banitsa (flaky pastry) filled with pumpkin, rice, tangerines, potatoes, etc. that our poor stomachs could possibly hold, remembering to dilligently pause now and then to toast the rakiya, chew carefully, and wish one another, "Vecela Koleda!" ("Merry Christmas!").

And then, Christmas day was consumed with na gostis to one household or another, a day of non-stop feasting, drinking of wine and rakiya, and gabbing with friends who seemed to be experiencing the same Christmas cheer that we were. There's nothing that could humble you more than spending Christmas day with children who don't receive presents for Christmas and are content with the small ammount of candy from various friends and family members; there is nothing like the eye-openers that these poor countries provide, making me feel unworthy of all of the wonderful gifts that
Christmas has brought me throughout the years.

And, then, I waited . . . and WAITED . . . will my parents EVER get here?!!?
And, then, they did.

And, then, there was New Year's . . .

I don't know why I took my parents to the Panagyurishte Hotel that cold, blustery New Year's Eve . . . it was just on impulse (honest) . . . I really thought that my host family wouldn't have room with the various other houseguests who I knew would be staying with them for the holiday . . . I should have know when I saw their nephew sitting there in the hotel lobby . . . Katya (my host mom) and Lydia (her sister-in-law) burst into the lobby in a whirlwind of fur coats, stale cigarette smoke, and frantic Bulgarian as I waited for my parents to come down after check-in. "Why are you staying here?!" my host Mom asked. "We have plenty of room! Why aren't you staying at our house?!" So, I spent the next 20 minutes apologizing profusely and explaining my assumptions, regretting my impulsive decision with each confused word from my rattled host mother, I honestly didn't think they had room and I didn't want Katya and Georgi to feel like they had to give up their bed for us! But, we made it to their house for a festive New Year's Eve celebration . . . and I prepapred myself for the immense, frightening My eye sanxiously darted from my parents to the room full of curious Bulgarians . . . my mind soaked in everything I heard more than ever before as I concentrated on each word that I was in charge of translating into either English or Bulgarian. My Dad rattled off something and, as I searched my mind quickly for the correct words to use, Katya or Georgi were at the other side of the room clouding my mind with rapid Bulgarian, in which I had to search for the English words for. "Micah! I mean Mommy!" I cried as my mind begged for mercy, a victim to the languages swirling around me like taunting rain clouds. I switched from Bulgarian to English like a pro, quite impressed by how far I've come in the last six months when surrounded by two people who didn't speak a lick of Bulgarian and about 10 who didn't speak a lick of English. "Dah, Te imat Mnogo rakiya," I quipped to my Mom, realizing 20 minutes later that I am speaking Bulgarian to a woman who is giving me a blank stare as I am piping up to my host mother, "Sure, I would love some juice!" I made the occasional mistake of crossing the "language lines", but I was forced to sit and really listen intently to each conversation, each burp, each hacking cigarette cough, so that I was able to translate what needed to be translated, even if every Bulgarian in the room was yelling at me at once with all of their questions, comments, and blatant curiosity. At one point, I dissapreared with Iva into the kids' room just for a quick breather, when, all of a sudden, I hear the voices of both of my parents five minutes later screaming in fear, "Chantel!"

At one point, my Dad tried to communicate a little on his own, making an incredibly funny blunder. Again, the fact that we were staying in a hotel was brought up, and my Dad and Mom had joked earlier that they should just stay at the house and give Katya and Georgi a night away in the hotel room. So, my Dad used his sign language and new knowledge of Bulgaria and said like a cave man just released from captivity, "You, Georgi, hotel!" as he pointed at Georgi and Katya with two sharp points. "Georgi, hotel!" he bellowed as the room suddenly erupted. Lydia about fell out of her seat as her smoker's cough wrenched her entire body and Katya and Georgi burst into laughter. I laughed so hard I cried as I whispered to my bewildered Dad and giggling Mom, "They think you wanna do a little 'switcheroo' and have Georgi sleep at the hotel with Mom and you sleep here!!!" "No!" my Dad exclaimed, finally catching on, as he began to laugh as well.

Awww, what a night it was! My Mom gave Iva a Barbie doll with a set of Barbie clothes (she barely has any toys, much less Barbie dolls) and her little eyes absolutely lit up. Barbie must have changed outfits atleast 20 times that night! We danced the horo in the living room and feasted on turkey and other Bulgarian dishes that just seemed to be growing on our plates. The new year approached, 7-9 hours before any of our friends or family members would celebrate 2002, and we toasted champagne as the president spoke and the Bulgarian national anthem rang through the house. The kids immediately reached for a special stick entwined with ribbons and bows, which they used to beat upon our backs and chant, a special ritual asking for candy and money for the new year. And, then, in a flash, we all threw on coats and jackets and raced to the center of town, where the entire town had gathered.

The center was exploding with voices, firecrackers, music,and "horo galore." We danced through the center like mad, as firecrackers exploded, soft snow fell around us, and voices rang in yet another year. The Panagyurishte band even played, in between the speeches which welcomed 2002 with open arms and lots of hope. I gathered at the front of the crowd like \a drooling child, taking it all in and flinching everytime a firecracker went off. And then we all gazed into the snowy sky, gazing in pure wonderment at the fireworks display above us, a display so suitable to welcome 2002 and the first
snowfall of the new year.

I left all of this with a headache and a whole lot of Bulgarian spinning through my poor frazzled head, but I also left it in awe of all that I had seen and taken part in; my parents left it, having taking part in a cultural experience they won't soon forget, one which perhaps gave them a little more appreciation for Bulgaria, it's people, and all that I am doing here. One
could only hope.

I hope this letter finds you all well and happy. And I hope your Christmas and New Years were as good as mine were, surrounded by people you love dearly. Take care and I hope to hear from you soon! Tommorow, it's off to London!!!!!

Love Always,
Chantel