Peace Corps Bulgaria First Email April 2004

These are emails I wrote back in April 2004 when I first arrived in Bulgaria as a Peace Corps Volunteer.

DISCLAIMER: I realize that some of these observations are inaccurate. In some cases they are flat-out wrong and I cringed reading through them! But they are valuable because they reveal some of the biases and misunderstandings many Americans (like me) might have when trying to understand Bulgarians and their culture. I hope if any Bulgarians read this they will laugh at my initial perceptions rather than become angry. So, enjoy!

April 25, 2004
What it looks like: Surpringsly, it's similar to the Northwest. Lots of big valleys with mountains, however the mountains aren't quite as big as the Cascades or Rockies in Montana. More like the foothills in Walla Walla. Everything is green right now and my allergies are having a fit, but that's OK. The towns are old, run down, but kind of charming. Most houses are small and all of them have these red roofs. It isn't uncommon to see animals such as cows, sheep, goats or horses walking or eating right in the middle of town. Horse-drawn carts are common, but most people drive cars -- old, used cars. Motorcycles seem to be popular with the young guys.

Plovdiv -- Yesterday I went to Plovdiv with my host mother and her friend. Plovdiv is the second largest city in Bulgaria with about 800,000 people. Parts of it were nice, others were not. We went to a Pazaar or flea market type thing. It was interesting. Lots of stuff to buy that was cheap. My host mother bought me two shirts for a total of 13 leva. Not bad and one of them was really nice. I wore it last night to the local discoteka where we danced to Puffy Daddy (sorry, P-Diddy) and other Bulgarian dance favorites. Anyway, Plovdiv does have this one really nice part that looks like an old European city like in France. I even got pizza there. Not bad, really. The rest of the town has these big, old towers called Blocks. They are Soviet style -- ugly and plain.

The People -- Bulgarians seem to be pretty friendly for the most part. I don't get much notice most of the time, but when I open my mouth I do. My language is coming along, but it's limited. A couple days ago in Strelcha (where we had orientation) I went down to this bar with a bunch of volunteers. I ended up talking with this old former captain of the army. He didn't speak English, but we had a good talk. I tried his food and he shared a bunch of wine and rakiya with me. He told me I would get more girls drinking that stuff and drinking beer. That's still up for debate, though. My host family is very nice and feeds me a lot. I'm going to have to run twice a day now.

Food and drink -- The food is good, but some of it is heavy. We have shopska salad for lunch and dinner always. It's this really good salad with cucumbers and tomatoes with oil and feta cheese over it. Very good. After that they serve chicken and pork or stuffed peppers and pastry dishes. All of it is decent. Rakiya and juice is served with every dinner. No milk yet. For those of you who don't know what rakiya is, it's basically Bulgarian whiskey. There's a plant here in Parashtisa (Perushtitsa -- at the time I could barely say the name), where I'm living, but many make it themselves. It's a bit strong. It will not only put hair on your chest, but on your back and neck (Jeremy White, have you been sipping on this all your life?) I've noticed people kind of pick at their food and sip everything. There are tons of cafes in each town. If someone asks you to a cafe that means coffee or tea or wine or beer or rakiya. It's all served. I'm not sure the drinking age, but I think we met some 15-year-old's that were drinking beer with us last night. Not sure if that's legal or not. Drinks are pathetically cheap. One lev (50 cents in U.S.) for a beer. Two leva if you want imported Heineken. A bottle of wine is about 1.30 leva. A big jug costs 3 leva.

Other news: I will be living in this small town for the next three months. It's at the edge of the Rhodopi Mountains (look it up) in the Southern/Central part of the country. It's 23 kilometers south of Plovdiv. There are three other volunteers here in this town. All of them are girls. Every other week we'll meet up with the other 40 volunteers in Pazurdik (Pazardjik) for other training. I'll get at least four hours of language training each day. But for me, it's way more than that since my host family doesn't speak English. Let's just say I'm learning a lot. I've been watching a lot of Bulgarian music on television. Europe MTV is big. Yesterday alone I heard Britney Spear's "Toxic" seven times on the bus, in the discoteka and cafe. Not sure that's a good thing. Shania Twain is big and so is DMX and 50 Cent. If you have any specific questions, just write me and I'll be able to get back to in a day or two.

Old Peace Corps Bulgaria Memories

It's been almost six years since I arrived in Bulgaria as a Peace Corps Volunteer. I was going through some old files and found old stories I posted on my now defunct website. It's interesting to look at how I saw Bulgaria back then. I thought posting them here on this blog might be interesting to future PCVs or those who are interested in Bulgaria. I realize that some of these observations are inaccurate. In some cases they are flat-out wrong and I cringed reading through them! But they are valuable because they reveal some of the biases and misunderstandings many Americans (like me) might have when trying to understand Bulgarians and their culture. I hope if any Bulgarians read this they will laugh at my initial perceptions rather than become angry. So, enjoy!


May 3, 2004 (I arrived in Bulgaria in the middle of April, 2004)

FOR THE TEACHERS
I have taught two micro-sessions. I call them micro because the teachers only let us teach for about 10-15 minutes. They are very controlling. I should take that back. One is great, but you have to do everything by the book. Nothing is done outside of it. Very old style. If I were a kid, I would be bored to tears. The other teacher we are working with is difficult to deal with. I tried to meet with her before class to get some sort of idea of the lesson plan. She said, "Don't worry." So we go to the classroom and she decides to start class 10 minutes early. I guess that was my time. She hands me a book and says to have the class read outloud and maybe ask them about some of the vocab. That's it. Nothing else. These are third graders, so I try to act out some of the stuff and make them laugh, but they are shy. She tells them (in broken English) to "be courageous" and "act natural". It was weird. She was very controlling. Also, the teacher sat at the desk and never moved around. She hardly even looked up. Today, this girl was in the back of the class and had no book. She also had a vision problem, yet she was all by herself and the teacher didn't do anything. So, we got her a book. It's just weird. This is one of the many obstacles we'll be facing the next two years. Oh, and never, ever complain about supplies and facilities. They are awful and in some cases, nonexistent. And this town isn't really, really poor. It's like walking back to the 1950s when you go through the halls. The other day the classroom door wouldn't open because the siding had busted. I thought we were going to be trapped.

ROMA SITUATION
One thing you notice here is the division between the Bulgarians and the Roma, or gypsies. They used to be in separate schools and the kids don't interact all that much. On many occasions Bulgarians have told me, "I'm not racist, but the gypsies are no good. They steal and are lazy." This has come from city and village people. Peroushtitsa didn't used to have a gypsy population, but now it's pretty big. They all live on one side of town. Things aren't violent. I would liken it more to the American South during the 1950s between whites and blacks. The Bulgarians also don't care much for Turks either. Especially here. In 1876, Bulgaria was still under Turkish rule. A lot of local rebels began fighting for independence. The Turks killed about 200 men, women and children in this church in town. It's a very famous event here. This guy, Kosho, is seen as the town martyr. He killed his children, wife and himself right before the Turks burned the town. What a hero?? Anyway, there's some Bulgarians that still remember that and don't care for Turks. There aren't any Turks here, but there is a Turkish village about 2 kilometers down the road.

YES AND NO
I really didn't believe it until I saw it, but Bulgarians shake their head for yes and nod their head for no. It can be confusing when learning the language. If you're trying to explain something and they agree, they'll shake their head (like no in 99 percent of the world). They'll shake their head and go "Da, da, da, da, da". I've gotten used to it, but some times I'm caught off guard.
Also, people walk very slow here. And you can't talk and walk at the same time. If you say something, you must stop, look at each other and then continue. It takes forever to get places some times.

WINE
Sorry to make Bulgaria seem like a big drinking fest, but it seems like the thing to do. There are vineyards everywhere here. Lots of people make their own wine and rakiya (plum brandy that is very strong). The wine industry used to be bigger, but is hurting -- just like all the agriculture here in Bulgaria. My neighbor, Vlad (yes, that's his name and he looks like a Vlad with his big barrel chest, huge Russian mustache and thick accent), he used to be head operator at the local winery. He got laid off seven years ago and has been unemployed since. Unemployment is a big problem. I think this town has about 38 percent unemployment. Lots of guys just sitting around in cafes sipping on beer or coffee. This town has a little more than 5,000 people, yet I know of at least eight cafes and 10 mini markets. That seems like a lot for a small town like this. I have no idea how they are stay in business. Anyway, for you wine lovers, the merlot and cab are very good.

OTHER STUFF
Every person who speaks a little English wants to talk with me. I tell them I need to learn Bulgarian, but they really don't care. Then they tell me how terrible it was under Communist rule. It was interesting at first, but now I know what to expect when they talk with me. Kind of irritating.

I've learned that you don't talk to Bulgarians you don't know. Even if you make eye contact with them on a the street, they don't say hi. And women, they don't even look at you. I'm not sure where are the girls are. Probably in Sofia and Plovdiv. I was told that bad girls go to cafes and hang out. That's probably why when I go to the cafe with my three female volunteers all the guys look at us weird. Seriously, the ratio will be 29 guys smoking, two Bulgarian girls and then us. Spooky.

Bulgarian food makes you fat. I was served pizza for breakfast and i get ice cream or some type of cake every day. I'm running each day as a result.

Fish net stalkings seem to be the rage for city girls here. Also, really tight pants and tacky, bright orange tops. I'd say about 60 percent of the women have their hair dyed that noticable reddish/purple color. That's young and old females. It's awful looking.

Also, I have become inspired to take care of my teeth. Dental care seems to be a real issue. I've never seen so many bad teeth. I don't know why this is, other than they don't brush their teeth.

What I do Here (Bulgarian Language and National Identity Issues)

I just realized the other day that I have yet to explain exactly what I am doing here in Bulgaria. This became clear after talking with many friends (and even family) who were a bit confused about the substance of my fellowship and what type of research I've been doing. So, I might as well write about it here.

I'll admit that this stuff is much more exciting to me compared to the average person. But my topic has a direct and important link to the present-day situation of Bulgaria. So, I'll start from the beginning.

In May of last year I was awarded a Boren Fellowship. This grant is given to graduate students who want to study a less-commonly-taught language somewhere around the world. The fellowship is offered by the National Security Education Program (NSEP) in Washington, D.C. Its goal is to train as many graduate students as possible in languages, so that these students can then work for the federal government in some capacity of national security. I chose Bulgarian because I already have extensive experience with it and it was part of my graduate program at the University of Washington.

The agreement was to study Bulgarian four months in Sofia while exploring the role of history textbooks in national identity for my master's thesis. Mostly my research involved going to the library and finding contemporary textbooks as well as old textbooks. I interviewed a few professors about their opinions on certain events in Bulgarian history as well as how the whole textbook writing process works here. I interviewed a few teachers, some administrators, and other academics. I even talked to a few students.

Like many places in the world, history textbooks have been directly linked to the building of nation-states and national identity. National history is supposed to reflect the glory and accomplishments of the "nation". This breeds a sense of patriotism, collective pride, and general togetherness. These are not bad traits, in general. People can accomplish a lot when they come together. However, the problem with many Balkan countries (and even the good old USA) is that history textbooks often tell only one side of the "facts". There have been many conflicts in the Balkans, and each nation-state has a different perspective on certain events (ie. wars, battles, etc.). The result is that "victors" get turned into "aggressors", "liberators" turn into "traitors", and "heroes" turn into "rebels".

It's been proven that history education can have a dramatic effect on the identity of us and how we see the world. When you learn over and over that the Turks were treacherous people or the Greeks did this and that in a war against "your people" then it's very difficult to shake off that perspective when you come into contact with them on a personal level. You carry with you many biases and stereotypes. This prevents mutual understanding and peace.

Because history was linked so closely to nationalism and (in the case of Communist Bulgaria) ideology, many people have only heard one version of their history, which may or may not be entirely accurate. In textbooks during Communism, history was often exaggerated or certain information was omitted. Here in Bulgaria, the injustices of losing territory in the Balkan Wars and World War I and II is painfully stressed and explained. Massacres suffered under the Turks are also told in great detail. However, Bulgarian students are also taught about the glory of Bulgarian kings from the 8th century. There is little reflection on how history can help today. In many ways it's like a big, long advertisement showcasing the greatness of one's nation. And more importantly (and tragically), one's nation is not based on current citizenship, but on ethnicity and religion.

This problem of history teaching was/is instrumental in the former Yugoslavia. Under Tito (Communist ruler during the 50s, 60s, and 70s) each separate republic was allowed to learn history according to their own historians. These academics didn't work together and were extremely biased. (Think of analysts on Fox News, but 10 times more obtuse.) In Serbia, historians exaggerated the death toll and the reasons for those who died at the hands of Croats in WW II. In Croatia, historians did the same thing, except exaggerated that they were the victims. Over a few generations of stories from families and history textbooks which told them over and over and over that this is what the "other" has done to them, the two sides fought a nasty war throughout the 1990s. Now, there were many other factors involved in those wars, but when outsiders ask how some people can be filled with so much hate and fear of their neighbor, one can look to how they learned history in school.

Although the situation in Bulgaria is much calmer than Yugoslavia, there are still some major problems with Bulgarian history in schools. It still has a nationalistic overtone. While it's not overt, how it's presented and what topics are chosen for discussion, leads students to learn in a nationalistic way. This has a tremendous effect on how Bulgarians interact with neighboring countries, but more importantly, how ethnic Bulgarians interact with other minorities within their borders -- for example, Turks. A researcher told me the other day that when she was in Turkey interviewing Bulgarian-Turks who fled Bulgaria in the 1980s they told her, "We were never that offended by Bulgarians in our towns and when traveling from village to village. The time we most felt like outsiders and were offended was with teachers and how they taught the history."

This nationalistic trend is fading away a bit. However, Bulgarian education is failing in another big way -- explaining Communism. Today's generation knows almost nothing. Many teachers prefer to skip or glaze over the information. Many young Bulgarians I have talked to say they studied up until the WW I or WW II. Absolutely nothing after that. To enter the history program at Sofia University, there is a test you must take. Students study for months to be able to qualify and get a spot. According to professors at Sofia, there are NO questions on the exam covering history after 1944, which is when the Communist Party essentially took over.

So these are the issues and themes I study here. To some it's boring. To others it's a chance to see how we formulate our identities and how we see the world. For me, the more I learn about this in another part of the world, the more I can critique my own American outlook on life. In my opinion, this is the most valuable lesson one can learn from traveling. When you step into another world and sincerely try to learn its traits, characteristics, and points of view, all of a sudden you understand your own world better. I don't think everyone has to agree all the time, but everyone benefits when they at least understand another perspective or point of view.

I think this is the first step in trying to build a more peaceful world.

The Toilet of Europe

Bulgaria is the toilet of Europe.

At least that's how many Bulgarians are interpreting a Czech artist's newest creation that is displayed in the European Council building in Brussels, commemorating the Czech Republic's new six-month presidency of the EU. The art piece depicts all of the EU countries in an satiric way -- poking fun at each nation's prejudices and/or stereotypes. For example, The Netherlands showcases minarets in water, France has a "strike" tag on it, and Germany has an autobahn in the shape of a swastika. Britain wasn't even included in the piece -- maybe a symbol of the UK's "euro-skepticism" and detachment from Europe?

As for Bulgaria, the shape of the country is made up entirely of small squat toilets, or better known as Turkish toilets. If you've never had the privilege of using one of these, it's quite an experience. You better have some strong quads. One can interpret this in many ways. Whether it references Bulgaria's 500 years under Turkish influence or simply that Bulgaria has a lot of squat toilets even in public buildings today (my school had pit toilets), Bulgarians haven't liked it.

The art piece has triggered overwhelming criticism from the Bulgarian press. Bulgarian diplomats were also offended. Standart News, one of Sofia's major newspapers, was exceptionally critical, saying that the art piece offended "the national dignity of the Bulgarians." This prompted the Czech leadership to quickly apologize publicly and as recently as yesterday cover up the "Bulgaria" part of the structure. The Bulgarian government wants it removed completely and replaced with something else.

The controversial artist has come forward and apologized, although in some Bulgarian newspapers it said he hasn't. Evidently he proposed to commission artists from each of the 27 countries and collaborate. But because of time and money, he and some Czech colleagues just did it themselves. "We did not want them (the Czech authorities) to bear the responsibility for this politically incorrect satire. We knew the truth would come out. But before that we wanted to know if Europe is able to laugh at itself."

Not everyone is laughing. Yesterday a Bulgarian socialist youth organization sent the Czech ambassador to Bulgaria a toilet bowl. They requested that he send it on to the artist.

The twist of the story is this (other than that Bulgarians seem to be extremely sensitive to any outside criticism): While the rest of Brussels is basically yawning at Bulgaria's protest of the art, the new president of the EU, Czech leader Vaclav Klaus, is a well-known Euro skeptic. He has disagreed with Brussels on many issues in the past and refuses to even raise the EU flag at his castle in Prague. He has been overwhelmingly sorry for the actions of artist David Cerny, the man who created the art structure. His order to cover up the Turkish toilet depiction has been seen by the Bulgarian press as a sign of solidarity. However, his stance could be a calculated position to challenge the status-quo in Brussels. The Czech Republic and Poland have been a thorn in the side of the EU ever since they joined in 2004.

There also are several angles to look at this event. As one writer points out, Bulgarian officials still are very sensitive to anything that depicts the Bulgarian nation in a poor light. This was a trait from the Communist era, of course, but it still seems to prevail today. For example, Bulgaria is the only EU country to ban the BBC World Service on the radio. The official line is that the BBC is in violation of its license since it no longer broadcasts in Bulgarian, according to the Electronic Media Council. However, a more likely reason is that the BBC has been fairly critical in its coverage of the Bulgarian government recently. Investigative journalists have reported on corruption scandals and social injustices in the past few years.

Another controversial documentary, "Baklava", which shows the lives of some Bulgarian orphans in Burgas, was banned from theaters in Bulgaria. The local government has gone after the director on charges of child abuse and pornography. Instead of critically looking at the problems that the country is facing, politicians are looking for a scapegoat.

The whole "scandal" illustrates how Europe remains very separated. As much as the EU is pushing to create an all-encompassing "European citizen" the results remain uncertain. As the EU's grip tightens on more aspects of European society and Brussels becomes larger and more bureaucratic, the average European citizen is getting fed up with it. Europe still doesn't see itself as one.

The other thing this "toilet" story shows is that Bulgaria is in a very fragile state of national identity. After living here for awhile, studying issues involving national identity, and simply watching Bulgaria's reactions to critical or outside commentary via the media, it's clear that the "identity" of Bulgarians during this transition period is very much up in the air. There are several historical, economic, and cultural reasons for this. I spoke with a professor about this exact subject yesterday. She believes that Bulgarians are at a "critical point" in understanding who they are and where they come from. Because of the painful switch from the former repressive regime, which rapidly built a different type of society, to the present chaotic, capitalist society, many citizens are still searching and contemplating what they want their society to stand for.

Bulgaria is not the toilet of Europe. It is a great place to visit and I really like it here. But Bulgarians must realize that it still has a long way to go to erase those prejudices and prove to the rest of Europe that it has become a successful and reliable member of the European community. The fact that Bulgaria cannot poke fun at itself shows that this has yet to be realized.

Photo credit: Toilet-related-ailments.com (Yes, this site really exists!)

A Day in Bulgaria: An American Perspective

The sun is peeking out from under the dark clouds and reflecting brilliant orange rays against the windows of the block apartment building. It's 7:31 a.m. on a Saturday in Sofia, Bulgaria. It's the middle of January. I zip up my jacket and head to the bus stop. I have a long day of ahead of me.

I step onto the No. 85 bus and proceed to the front to buy a ticket. Even though the sign says I can buy tickets from the driver when the bus is stopped, the driver indicates to me by nodding his head up and down (they show "yes" and "no" the opposite way in Bulgaria) that he's not selling them today. Fine, I'll ride for free.

The sky is clear and the Rila Mountains to the south rise above the hills in the early morning light as I head east toward Plovdiv. We fly by quiet villages tucked away in the distance. Small billows of smoke rise from the chimneys. A Bulgarian-dubbed version of "Beverly Hills Ninja" starring Chris Farley is showing on the bus's two TV monitors. One woman throws a coat over her head to block the morning rays. Or maybe she's trying to ignore the loud yelling from the film.

It's busy at the south bus station in Plovdiv. People sit in the outdoor cafe sipping strong coffee in small, plastic cups, while smoking cheap cigarettes. A gypsy woman holds her baby and talks to her other daughter. Old men in wool sweaters and English caps pass by. A woman with big hair, a tight blouse, and long black boots hurries by.

My bus doesn't show up. It doesn't run on Saturday, says the woman at the desk. There is no bus schedule on the wall or any information readily available for the average traveler. You just have to know. So I jump on a bus to Peshtera. The driver says my destination, Batak, is about 20 kilometers from there. The bus heads southwest toward the Rhodopi Mountains. We pass abandoned factories, shepherds, donkey carts, small churches. The road gets bumpier as we approach the mountains.

The Peshtera bus station is under construction. (But what isn't in Bulgaria?) The woman at the desk informs me that there isn't a bus to Batak until 2:30 p.m. I've got about three hours to kill. As I approach the main square in Peshtera I'm met with a distinct, pungent odor. It's worse the closer I get. I'm downwind from the famous rakiya and wine factory. Gallons of alcohol are within reach, but all I want to do right now is run away. The Saturday market is crowded. Children are running around while elderly couples cross the square and up through the meandering streets. I make my way through the labyrinth of cheap shoes, shirts, socks, underwear, batteries, knives, CDs, rugs, T-shirts, electronic toys, fresh vegetables, fruit, camouflage jackets, boots. A gypsy woman sells small bundles of kindling.

This looks like any normal weekend market in Bulgaria, but something is different. Everyone is speaking Turkish. Women cover their heads in multi-colored headscarves. Turkish music can be heard in the distance. After not hearing Turkish on a regular basis for awhile, the memories of my two years in northeast Bulgaria race back into my mind. This is Bulgaria, but definitely a different Bulgaria than Sofia.

I buy some popcorn. The cardboard cup has "popcorn" written in English and shows characters from Winnie the Pooh. Two older gentlemen discuss painting their cars and the difficulty of keeping their vehicles clean during the winter. Two very small gypsy boys watch the man making cotton candy. He tells to them to run along. They stare at him. One of the boys waits for a customer to come along. While the man spins the cotton candy for a girl, some of the candy floats into the sky. The little Roma boy snatches it, stuffs it in his mouth, and smiles. He approaches the candy man wanting more. He grumbles again and flicks a cigarette at him. The boy stamps it out and waits. Knowing he has a persistent adversary, the man gathers up some extra cotton candy and gives it to the boy.

Soon two Roma teens come sit near me. They are friendly and we chat a bit. "You're an American?" one of them asks in disbelief. The other one admits he's never seen or met an American in real life. "You speak perfect English? And you know Bulgarian? Do you know Spanish? I lived in Spain last summer. I worked in Madrid." Two more friends arrive. They are in 8th grade, except for one. He's 17 years old, but dropped out of a school a few years ago in order to work. All of them are extremely polite and friendly. I'm suspicious. I've heard too many stories that gypsies are involved in scams. I should be careful I keep telling myself.

They invite me for a coffee. They seem harmless, so we proceed to a cafe nearby in the center. I ask them questions about their family. Do they like sports? Do they have girlfriends? They all like Levski, the Sofia-based soccer team. They all have worked in another country -- Turkey, Serbia, Portugal, Spain -- at some point. They all speak Bulgarian, Turkish, and Roma language. On Saturdays they usually meet up in the center for coffee, eat a big lunch in the late afternoon, then head to the discoteka for girls and drinking at night. "It's a good life," one of them says.

Each of them shows me pictures of their girlfriends on their cell phones. The oldest one says he has a girlfriend, but she is pregnant. It's not clear whether she will abort the baby or if she already has. At any rate, she wants to get married. She's 17 as well. He wants to wait until he at least has a car and a driver's license.

The time goes fast and they escort me back to the bus station. One of them insists on giving me his headphones as a present. We exchange phone numbers and they tell me to call them if I have any problems getting back from Batak. You're welcome to stay with our family, one of them says.

The bus leaves on time and we climb up into the mountains through a narrow ravine. After a half hour we reach the mountain town of Batak, the site of Bulgaria's most famous massacre. In 1876, groups of Bulgarians led an armed revolt against the Ottomans. The officials in Istanbul learned about the revolt earlier and organized Bulgarian-Muslim irregular soldiers to suppress the rebellion. They crushed the Bulgarian rebels, executing large numbers of civilians. Batak suffered the worst. An estimated 5,000 people lost their lives.

I climb the white stairs that lead to three statues of the socialist-realism style. These were built in 1976 to commemorate the 100-year anniversary of the April Uprising. On one stone, the father of Bulgarian Communism, Georgi Dimitrov, is quoted, "Batak is the fortress of Bulgarian patriotism."

Down below in the center is the museum. It's closed for remodeling. It's been closed for three months, but there are no signs up. A woman says that for two leva I can look inside the church where the massacre happened. The church is simple. Signs point out bullet holes in the wall. A copy of Andrew MacGahan's story is displayed in Bulgarian and English. MacGahan was an American journalist who let the world know what happened in Batak.

The sun is fading in the sky and it's quite cold, so I go into a cafe near the museum. It looks more like a dance club. Pictures of Finlandia Vodka and Jack Daniels Whiskey are all over the wall. The stereo is blaring the song, "We Are the World". A couple sits in the corner, but besides that it's just me. I order hot milk with cocoa.

There really isn't a bus station in Batak, only a place off the side of the main road that goes through town. Inside a window I see a timetable, but the times don't match up with what people told me earlier. There is a group of people inside. After about five minutes, I get up the courage to ask when the next bus is coming. "Tell me what's up, boy," the man asks. I need to get to Sofia. What is the best way? I ask. He explains in great detail where I need to go and when. He is very helpful and tells me to sit down.

The whole room seems amused by my presence. They smile as the one man asks me questions. "You're a true American? Your mom and dad are not from here?" he asks. "What are you doing in Batak?" I explain that I used to be a Peace Corps Volunteer, but now I'm a student in Sofia. I came to Batak to see the museum and the church. "Do you know what happened here?" he asks, but he doesn't wait for answer. He proceeds to give me a detailed account as though reading from a history book. I know all of this, but I let him tell me. Every once in awhile the grandmother, who is wearing a black sweater and headscarf, chimes in to add to the history lesson.

"After the Americans turned us down to come and help, the Russians volunteered to help fight the Turks," he continues, referring to the 1878 Russo-Turkish War. "We are Slavic brothers -- we have a connection. They came and fought the Turks and liberated us. America is a good, rich country, but what has it done for Bulgaria? We owe great appreciation to Russia." Trying to change the subject, I ask if any Turks lived in Batak today. None, he said. Just in the villages nearby. The Muslims are trying to take over the world, he says. "Who is that Turk in Sofia? What's his name?" the woman asks. "Dogan," the man answers. "He's nothing more than an agent of the Turkish government."

I try to change the subject again. So what do most people do for work here? There isn't any work here, he says. "I'm not a Communist, but things were better during Communism. There was work. There were factories. People lived well. Now Democracy has taken away everything." I agree with him that the economy has turned bad. "We had a thousand sheep in this town," says. "Do you know what sheep are?" I tell him I do and that my parents used to raise sheep. "Bah, no one in America has seen sheep. Not like here."

Two buses arrive and the people tell me which one to take. They wish me the best and to say hi to America. They smile warmly and I step out into the cold air. The minibus rumbles down the hill toward Pazardjik. Forty five minutes later, I wake up cold and hungry when we arrive at the train station. I wait at the kiosk for a woman to come to the window so I can buy a ticket. The women are chatting away but no one comes to help. A young guy in his 20s with Chinese characters tattooed on the side of his neck rolls his eyes, showing me that he's just as frustrated as I am. The woman finally comes and sells me a ticket for Sofia.

Only a handful of people wait on the platform as the last rays of light fade behind the hills. The stars are bright. It's gorgeous right now, but I'm so cold my teeth are chattering. The train comes right on time -- 6:04 p.m. I'm relieved to find that the train is brand new. I huddle up against the heaters on the floor as we make our way through 20 villages and small towns. Septemvri, Belovo, Kostenets. We keep stopping, but hardly anyone gets on. I suddenly feel far away from everyone and everything. A near-empty train slowly chugging through village after village on a Saturday night in southeast Europe.

I arrive in Sofia. Ice is everywhere. I wait for the No. 7 tram to take me to Vitosha Blvd. near where my friend lives. We enjoy a nice dinner of standard Bulgarian food -- fried potatoes and some fried chicken bites. I call for a taxi. I wait for an hour and finally one arrives. The driver doesn't seem thrilled to be driving me to such a close location (about 2 miles). He drops me off in Hadji Dimitar, the place where I started my day.

Before entering the gate, I look up at the sky. I can see the stars in between the bare branches of the trees and the block apartment buildings. This urban neighborhood seems a world away from Batak. And I experienced both today.

There still is so much to see in Bulgaria, I think.

So much to see.

So much.

Peaceful Protest in Sofia, Bulgaria

Just as I finished writing such a Debbie Downer entry earlier today the skies brightened, the snow began to melt, and I witnessed a peaceful, positive public event near the center of Sofia.

Another protest was planned today. However, student leaders brokered a deal with the police to make sure the event didn't get out of hand like yesterday's chaotic disaster. The police coordinated a perimeter around the block and frisked people as they made their way to the protest. Strangely, they didn't check me even though I had a full backpack. (Do I really look that harmless? I knew I shouldn't have shaved.)

Anyway, there were a few hundred people chanting, blowing on whistles, and basically just hanging out. While there was a positive feel to the event -- people were holding hands and chanting -- it seemed as though the protest had lost some steam by the time I got there around 1 p.m. I shot some video and this is about as wild as it got.




I feel I should give a clearer picture of what has happened this week. Some distinguished Bulgarian friends gave me some constructive criticism by pointing out that I had cast Bulgaria in a fairly low light previously. While I contend that everything I wrote was honest and objective, I should add some more to why people are protesting and what happened yesterday.

Led by a group of students dedicated to pressuring the government to make some serious changes in the country, several different groups from all over Bulgaria were invited to join in a protest yesterday. The students spread the word mostly through the internet. They had previously protested in December to show their dissatisfaction with the government's inability to enforce the rule of law. A few months ago, a student accidentally got involved in a scuffle with some drunk guys in Studenski Grad (Student City). He was killed in the brawl. Many students have called for increased police presence in the area that houses most of Sofia's university students, as well as an array of nightclubs and restaurants.

As word spread about the upcoming protest, many worried that the football hooligans would show up to have some fun. According to newspaper reports, many people arrived with metal and wooden sticks. People started throwing snowballs and other objects at the police and it wasn't long until fights broke out. Many people became frightened and left as others continued to fight with police. It was a mess and destroyed the whole point of the protest. See here a graphic, up-close look at what happened. Here's a well-edited video at the protest.

However, the protests (which may continue tomorrow) seem to lack a certain sense of passion. It's true that Bulgarians are tired and dissatisfied with how their government has run things since 1989. But it doesn't seem as though there is a clear objective of how to change all the problems here. I don't have any answers either other than it will take some strong leadership from the younger generation to end the corruption that continues to plague the current administration and society, in general.