Israel Ironic... Don't You Think?

My short trip to Palestine was heart wrenching and overwhelming. The nausea I experienced through utter disgust was worse than any food poisoning episode in all of my world travels. Israel is a terrible, horrible, awful place. 

I went to visit my good friend Trevor, who has been working in Ramallah for over a year. Our first night was an ex-pat house party in the center of town. It was a good time, with lots of idealistic, passionate, and good people from all over. I was quite surprised to see how many expats, working on development, there were in Ramallah. But as each day brought new insights, I quickly learned that this is a place in desperate need of help.

My mind-blowing, eye-opening adventure began with a trip to Bil'in to watch the weekly Friday protest for peace. Unfortunately, our speed in the morning was not conducive to attending regularly scheduled events. We arrived just after it ended. We took the opportunity to have a peaceful look at the barbed wire which protects the settlement wall from the barbaric indigenous people.

Every Friday, for years, Palestinians gather in Bil'in and have a peaceful march to the new edge their property, where they make noise until Israeli Defense Force (IDF) soldiers fire tear gas into the crowd to break it up. These peoples' land was stolen from them by Israeli Settlers, who erected a wall to keep them out, and protect it constantly with IDF soldiers. The people of Bel'in are simple farmers, and lost a lot of their farm land with the development of the settlement. It's easy to understand their discontentment and even their meager attempts at retaliation. But in the end, the settlement is huge, the wall is concrete, and the sharp barbed wire holds signs that say trespassers are endangering their lives. The rocks thrown in frustration and retaliation to the tear gas are hardly effective against high-tech body armor, and a thick concrete wall - and they certainly don't warrant the gun fire that occasionally follows. Recently, a young boy was shot in the chest and killed for throwing rocks at soldiers. It's a messed up situation.

Not much grows in these rocky fields; mostly patches of grass, but there are some olive trees and a few grapes. For all the Bible-talk of this being fertile land, I'm pretty unimpressed with its agricultural growing potential, and generally astounded that people are fighting over the land in the first place. Maybe it's because I come from the Willamette Valley, or maybe I just can't understand the magnitude of the conflict here. Since 1967, more than 800,000 Palestinian olive trees have been cut down by Israelis for "security reasons" or random vandalizing by Israeli Settlers, resulting in a loss of approximately $55 million from the Palestinian economy! It's quite clear that their motivation is to destroy the land in hopes that it will then be undesirable to the Palestinians. I'm not good at understanding social injustices like these, but I understand perfectly well the environmental impacts of intentional desertification of the land. What a stupid tactic! I just can't get over this method of displacing people for eventual land annexations...

That evening we went into Jerusalem and walked around the old town until we came upon the Wailing Wall.

It was a giant stone wall that was supposed to be the only remaining piece of something from someone important. Religious significance is really lost on me. Anyway, it was a Friday night, the night Jewish people party and welcome in their holy day, Saturday. Outside, there were large groups - dancing and singing - it looked like a really fun time! I wished I knew what they were singing! Trevor and I found an indoor-room that attached to the wall and went in. As we entered, the fun and dance and song gave way to intense prayer. I've never seen anything like it. Shoulder to should guys in funny hats and hair were chanting as loud as they could.

Eyes closed with intense looks on their faces, their bodies would sway and rock back and forth with passion. I was awestruck! I felt like I was floating through a room filled with things that my mind just couldn't possibly comprehend! Trevor turned back to me and said, "Wow, dude! Shit just got real!" Haha! That brought me back to having control of my feet and we walked through the masses to observe for a few moments before deciding we probably weren't allowed in there.

On Saturday, we took a road trip to Hebron to watch the weekly intimidation march of the Settlers. These settlements are large communities whose locations are a blatant violation of international law. A new one pops up every now and again as Israelis find new Zionists who want to live on the frontier. In fact, their locations are very strategically planned out. As you monitor their coming into existence, you can see, quite clearly, there's an end game. Right now, that game is breaking up the West Bank into sections, which restrict indigenous movement as roads "have to" be built and protected. Ultimately, I believe that Israel would like to see the Palestinian population living on reservations of sorts, isolated and out of the way. Ah, that brought things close to home. Just because my country was founded that way, doesn't make it right.

In Hebron, a group of Settlers and Birthright tourists march through the old town, literally surrounded by a human shield of IDF soldiers - guns at the ready.

Said guns, btw, and other military supplies are given to Israel as aid every year by the USA to the tune of 3 billion USD! Birthright tourists are people who are given a free trip to Israel for being Jewish.

The hope is that they will be recruited to the Israeli cause, and maybe even to living in a settlement.

During the tour, Palestinians are forbidden to pass through their own streets as tour guides spout biased historical stories that justify their fanaticism.

It's true that the Jewish people have been severely oppressed at several points throughout history. Trevor brought up an interesting point that a Jewish state has every right to exist, but it should exist in Germany - where they were most recently victimized, displaced, and exterminated. But I'm missing the logic that affords them an excuse to kill and steal from the Palestinians who were just trying to live their lives in peace? Being oppressed doesn't justify oppressing someone else.

With the situation as it is, the Palestinian people are remarkably tolerant. I spoke with a number of them who speak of the situation matter-of-factly. They don't talk about hate or wanting to kill - they just want to live their lives. One young Palestinian man, 20, was clubbed upside his head when he was a boy for walking down the road. He had to have stitches in his eye. More recently for him, he was trying to cross town to get to his university for an exam. He was detained by the IDF for three hours and missed his test despite his pleas. I saw kids being detained by these soldiers - for no good reason at all. Just to inconvenience them and make life hard on them so they'll leave the city. These people are harassed daily, but it's the Settlers who are the real dicks.

International observers often have to help Palestinian children walk to and from school because Settlers will throw rocks at them. "They're crazy fuckers," said Trevor, as he once again brought me back from emotional overload. Sadly, I'm sure these stories are endless - this is just what I've encountered and it was disgusting.

Perhaps even more disgusting than the queasiness I got from being on the other end of so many guns, was the extreme candor with which the Settlers and Birthrighters approached the situation. "Take lots of pictures" they would taunt - completely oblivious to the fact that we were looking at them like savage beasts in the wild.

A few of them continued to try to engage us with crude arrogance in a display of power over another group of human beings. It made my blood boil. I understand an appreciation for history, and I appreciate efforts made at maintaining a culture, but I can not see how demeaning a group of people can ever do anyone any good.

The taxi driver that took me back to the airport early Monday morning was a friend of a friend. He was a really good guy that tried really, really hard to have a conversation with me with his limited English. In order to not have problems at the IDF checkpoints, he instructed me that I flagged him down on the street at 3am and that I had been staying in Jerusalem at the Avrahim Hostel. Those are easy hoops to jump through. Along the way, we talked a bit about travel and he said he's not allowed to have a passport. Traveling is my biggest passion - one that I wish everyone could experience, but these are the rules for Palestinians. =(

The first checkpoint was met with only mild hurdles. The second was a breeze. At the third one I got grilled by an IDF soldier. How long have you been here? Where EXACTLY did you go? Where did you stay? It's really nerve-wracking having some young punk with an American-made M16 give me the 3rd degree. I hated it! When we got the approval to pass, I complained to Basim, the driver, that even though there were no more checkpoints before the airport, I still had to go through all the security in the airport! His response was, "I live here. This is my life." I don't think I've ever been a more insensitive jerk. My heart sank. Israel is a terrible, horrible, awful place.

Wiggity Wiggity Waste!

During one of my final days at work in Portland this winter, a customer came in with some light bulbs, some batteries, and a camera. Often times people don't understand what kind of waste goes to the hazardous waste disposal facility. Actually, I think this is a reflection of how little people understand of waste in general. Anyway, just so every knows, cameras are not hazardous. This particular camera caught my eye. It looked new, I recognized the model, and it was really nice. I told her she could simply throw it away with the rest of her solid waste at home, but asked if it was still under warranty. I continued, by asking what was wrong with it, maybe it could be repaired? She said it started out being a great camera, but just stopped working one day. She said she didn't want to bother with repairing it because it's already been replaced. Fine. One of my favorite coworkers, Craig Lyons, the Salvage King, had found an old camera a week prior, and used some compressed air to blow dust out of its gears to get it working again. I thought I'd try the same. I told this responsible, yet slightly ignorant citizen, that I would relieve her of her burden of waste.

When I had a free moment, I flipped on the power switch, thumped it, blew on it, and then set it down cause it wasn't working. I went home thinking it was no big deal. I wasn't able to turn on a broken camera that someone was throwing away. Stranger things have happened. But, like many things, it wouldn't get out of my head. I was reminded of something a really weird guy told me one time, "The average person is pretty dumb, and half the population is worse off than that." It occurred to me that I wouldn't be able to notice if I fixed the camera unless it was getting power to turn on. So, when I returned to work, I dug the charger out of the trash, pulled the battery out of the camera, charged it up, returned it, and flipped the power switch to on so that I could begin "fixing" it. Well, the camera came to life and worked as it was designed to before any of my pokes and prods began. The only thing I could find "wrong with it" was that the battery was dead. Is that a good enough reason to throw it away? I think most people would say no. But obviously that lady didn't want it anymore - so it was just garbage to her. One person's garbage is another person's treasure. True, but it's how we manage this garbage and treasure that define our problem with waste.

To draw a contrast between societies, in very general terms, if a Bulgarian person saw someone throwing away a camera that worked just fine, they'd likely be thinking, "What an idiot. I could sell that to a guy I know!" But at the same time, if a Portlandian person saw someone throwing away a plastic bottle, they'd likely be thinking, "OMG! You're gonna kill a bird! Let's recycle that or make something useful from it!" One is not better than the other. The point is, the concept of waste. The problem is not that this camera lady is dumb. The problem is that there is a meme in our society that is responsible for very easy outlets for things we no longer want. But that outlet is not environmentally, socially, nor economically responsible. Waste is not just something that you don't want anymore. If something still has a use to someone, it's a resource.

To prove this point, I used my new position with Trash for Peace to create something wonderful from trash! Trash for Peace is an education based non-profit that collaborates with school groups to build recycle bins from “trash” to illustrate how creativity and innovation can solve the problem of waste. It's a great fit for Portland, but I struggled to make it fit in Bulgaria.

In fact, Bulgaria still does not have an infrastructure for recycling so making recycling bins didn't seem like a worthwhile endeavor. They have containers for collecting recyclable materials, they have recycling centers that process those materials; but they do not have a collection strategy, nor, most importantly, a mentality for recycling.

Many people in Bulgaria will tell you that recycling is a Gypsy job. What they mean is that the Roma dig through municipal dumpsters and collect things they perceive as having value, ie - paper, metal, etc.  Really, though, this is just an excuse so that they don't have to think about recycling anything, including items of lesser monetary value, like plastic and glass.

An example of the trash collection strategy.

Actually, many things are recycled in this way, but the waste management system as a whole leaves so much to be desired. The government is haphazardly trying to develop the existing system, but the giant disconnect between people and government is usually an impenetrable barrier. In the many small towns and villages of Bulgaria, waste collection does not happen on a regular basis and often runs out of funding. This is not perceived as such a big problem because, inevitably, someone will throw away their embers/ashes from their stove which catches all the garbage in the dumpster on fire. Waste incineration, albeit unintentional, is one of the main ways waste is managed here. 

An example of the disconnect between government and people can be seen below in a picture by Greg Kelly (Peace Corps Volunteer, 2005-2007), where the municipality of Sliven tried to implement a cheaper and more durable plastic garbage dumpster. It was a valiant effort, but obviously there was a misunderstanding. A big one. A misunderstanding that carried over to the introduction of a recycling program.

As I understand it, certain parts of Bulgaria initiated a municipal recycling program in 2005. The idea was to introduce waste separation in order to wrap people's heads around the idea of recycling. The municipalities put out some recycling containers into the streets, with no educational or marketing campaigns whatsoever. It's fairly easy to read the side of the container, though, to know what's supposed to go inside. Unfortunately, they didn't do anything else. It was explained to me that the plan was to have these containers in place for three years so people would be familiar with them, at which time they would be in a position to introduce some kind of collection infrastructure.

So, for three years people watched the municipal garbage man mix all of their separated recycling materials with their trash and haul it all to the landfill together. Okay, so it didn't take three years for people to give up on the idea because there was obviously no point in them separating things if it was all going to be mixed together anyway. It didn't take too long at all before these recycling containers became just containers.

This container is for plastic and metal but as you can see it's just filled with garbage.

This container is for paper and cardboard, but again, it just holds garbage.

With the pollution awareness campaign I ran last winter, I decided that I would encourage proper disposal and draw attention to the concept of waste as a resource. Instead of constructing a recycling bin out of plastic water bottles, I built a garbage can out of the lids from plastic water bottles. These lids are 100% unrecyclable in the USA, not because of the type of plastic, but because of their size. Where recycling fails, I will succeed in showing that they can still be used as a resource and not have to be waste! 

I spent three weeks collecting materials for this project. While in the restaurants and bars that I frequent, The Motor Bar, The Sea Wolf, and the Three Lions Pub, I explained what I wanted to do and asked if they would help me collect these materials instead of throwing them away. It was a great way for extra flirting time with the waitresses! After a week or so, I noticed that people at my gym, Fitness Classic, drank a lot of bottled water so I asked if they would collect for me, too. They ended up being the largest contributor, by far. Below is a series of self-explanatory pictures that illustrate the construction procedures

Three weeks worth of collecting waste from local restaurants and my gym.

This is not necessarily a safe technique I would promote.

By the way, that printer in the background is from 1996, and still working. Thanks, Hewlett Packard.

Built to hold the most common size of plastic bags handed out in the local stores.

100% of the materials I used to create this fully functional, super attractive garbage can, came from stuff that would otherwise have been considered waste. Everyday these things are thrown away, all across the world, but I've used them to create something aesthetically amazing and extremely useful! And it wasn't difficult. All it takes is wrapping one's head around the concept of waste as a resource and incorporating it into your way. And maybe a little tickling of your creativity to get it going again. In this case, an old plastic bottle cap is not so different than a fine digital camera with an uncharged battery. A mentality of waste is a waste of mentality!

I have 4 or 5 presentations in schools scheduled in the coming weeks. I will take my beautiful garbage can with me to show an example of my extreme innovation skills and push my agenda for treating waste like a resource. Hopefully I will inspire some kids to be more creative themselves.

Ice, Ice, Bulgaria!

Although I've spent a significant amount of time in Bulgaria, there are still so many things that are foreign to me. The recent weather has been just that. I've experienced cold before, but this is ridiculous! I walked to work the other day when it was 5 degrees Fahrenheit, and that was without wind! The internet told me that wind brought the temperature down to -20, and it seemed to always be windy while I was outside! So, so cold! To point out a silver lining, though, a week before the big cold hit, there was a terrible rain storm! When I left the bar, my stubbornness prohibited me from taking a taxi home. I hate taxis with a passion! Anyway, I walked home and got soaked to the bone. In fact, because of the fear of air flow here, and lack of heat, my jacket and shoes were wet for a full week! But my heavy wool pea coat was made in America by union workers and it kept me warm despite the wetness!

The cold has been quite unpleasant, but this weather has not been without beauty. Last week, I was looking out the window from the bar and it seemed to be snowing, but the snow was not all falling, and it wasn't white. I had to ask. Iliyan told me that was the humidity in the air, freezing to form tiny ice crystals which reflected the light from street lights like millions of tiny prisms floating in the air. It was incredible! I was in total awe - until I had to go home... It was a windless night, and the twinkling in all directions made me feel like a fairy prince in a magical land, but by the time I got home,  my scarf had frozen solid from the moisture in my breath!

That was a first. Snow is not foreign to me, though. I grew up playing in the white stuff, and I love it! But somehow, the snow this year in Bulgaria is different from what I know. I'm familiar with different sized flakes, but in one way or another, they always just look like shaved ice to me. Until recently. It was the final predicted day of super cold, before next week's regular cold begins, and my jacket was collecting a lot of snow flakes on my way home from work at 2am. They caught my eye in a moment because they looked like the paper snowflake cut-outs that I used to make in school for Christmas cards and such. They were clean and perfect and amazing! Just like the paper ones I used to make! Impossibly beautiful with their exquisite symmetry and infinite uniqueness! And they were everywhere I looked! Billions and billions of them, falling from the sky individually, not tangled with others, not forming shaved ice, just perfect snow! But it was cold so I went inside.

Beyond the weather, there are still other things foreign to me, like the language. Even though I speak as good as a local (a local 4 year old), language mistakes are inevitable. Usually, the magnitude of those mistakes is controllable. Usually. I was walking home from the bar with Adele, the French gal that is volunteering in our office. She was telling me that she may have to go home for some time. I thought I heard the reason as being that her grandmother had a concert. Cool! How many grannie bands do you know?! When I got excited she stopped me and tried to explain further. It took us a few minutes, but I finally got it - her grandmother doesn't have a concert, she has a cancer... Man, did I feel like a jerk. So, I blamed my mistake on her accent.

Another incident happened when I thought I must be misunderstanding, but understood perfectly. Among the group that I hang out with is an Orthodox priest. I've seen him at several functions - he once tried to bless me with some holy water flung from some herbs on Nikolov Den (the fish holiday). Every time I see this guy, he's wearing his full uniform, as if he had come directly from church. So, we were all at a bar, celebrating a birthday, and someone made the joke that I needed a Bulgarian woman. I get this one a lot, and I like hearing it - you never know what someone might end up offering. So, I agreed to the accusation of needing a Bulgarian woman and the priest says, "Or you could just get a magazine." Haha! I laughed so hard because it was so inappropriate that I thought I must have misunderstood, which made it even funnier to me. Later, Iliyan explained that I had understood correctly, and it was funny because it was a joke. (?)

The jokes I hear quite frequently are funny because my sense of humor is so flexible. I mean, I love bad jokes, but some jokes really push the limits. Here are two that I've heard in the last couple days that are absolutely not worth repeating:

The Flash was cruising along and came upon Spider Man.
"Hey, let's go get some girls!"
"No. I have to make this web..."
The Flash continues on to Batman.
"Hey, let's go get some girls!"
"No, I just saved the world and I'm tired."
The Flash continues on and on; Superman, Aquaman, Hulk, Ironman, everyone! Finally, he sees a really pretty girl on the top of a building making some really sexy movements. So, he goes really fast, cause he's the Flash, and fucks her quickly, cause he's the Flash, and then leaves!
"Invisible Man, did you feel something?" She asks.
"You have to ask my ass."

A horny samurai girl walked into a bar and went around until she found the guy with the biggest package. She pulled him into the bathroom and took off his pants to give him a blowjob, but his package was too big for her little mouth. She pulled out her sword and cocked it back.
"No! No!" He screamed!
"There is no no!" She yelled, as she swiped her sword to cut her mouth so it would open further!

Anyway, something that is not foreign to me is fun! Despite the cold, the snow, the wetness, the bad jokes and misunderstandings, I'm still having an awesome adventure!

Let Me Be Your Hogmanay!

Oh man, this is late in coming! So sorry! Basically, I've been between deathly illness and having the time of my life. That's a very broad spectrum that doesn't allow for much time to write about my emotions, which is a big deal because everyone knows how much I love to write about my emotions. Well, now I have freshly clipped fingernails, and I'm ready to tell you what I think.

I spent Christmas in Kaspichan with Iliyan's family. It was so great to see everyone again. They're a big happy group that argue a lot and have sincere interest in whatever I'm trying to say. It's a great thing to be listened to. It's also a great thing to talk - and I'm good at it! In between my explanations of Obama's low approval ratings and questions about the effect of the crisis in Greece on Bulgaria, they took lots of liberties to ask me questions. In different settings, I kept getting asked why I was still single. I told them it was because half the women in Portland aren't interested in men, and it really limits my ability to meet anyone compatible. I'm really holding out for a woman that's looking for a man. This man:

They thought that was so hilarious and wanted to hear me say it again and again. I mean, I'm glad they found my misfortune entertaining, but I felt like I had to validate myself somehow. I explained that I had gotten four phone numbers in the last week from interested European women - and then, with muffled laughter, they wanted to know how many numbers I got in Portland... Hhhh...

As per Christmas Traditions in Kaspichan, there was a lot of work to get done. They had decided to kill two pigs this year! Just like the last two pig slaughters I attended, they dressed me up in thick, old clothes and took turns telling me that I have to kill the pig this year, but when the time came, they just told me to stand out of the way and take pictures. I have a bunch of photos, though, from the two other pig slaughters and I wasn't in the mood to photograph the same thing. I mean, it's disturbing, and it really isn't that much different each time. So I stood around in the cold and watched, until finally someone handed me a knife and said, "Get to work!" Woo hoo!

It was fun learning how to butcher a pig and being told that I did it perfectly! Ha! I could see the mistakes I was making, but they were all very encouraging and supportive the whole time. Plus I felt useful. I love feeling useful!

The main event for the Christmas holiday is, in fact, Christmas Eve. After the pig's been mostly processed, everyone gathers around the table for a feast. A giant feast! We ate and drank till it hurt! It was glorious! Then it was time for Santa to visit. Iliyan played the role of "Grandfather Christmas" this year and handed out presents to everyone. He was so drunk, though, that he was being ridiculous and everyone was laughing hysterically! I swore his mom was gonna have a heart attack!

His beard kept falling down, he was speaking with a crazy accent (Grandfather Christmas is from the Netherlands), and he was saying a bunch of wild things that had the adults failing to contain their laughter, and the one little girl confused between excitement and terror! It was really funny! Maybe I don't understand kids enough, but I couldn't believe that the child was so intimidated by him. She couldn't let go of her grandmother's hand! I guess he's about 5 times her size, and drunk, but Iliyan was in the room just 5 minutes earlier! I guess with a costume, and stage performance like this, none of us really knew what was going on. Finally, although he wanted to continue talking and soliciting songs from the kids, the old folks kicked him out and said all the other children were waiting for him. It was a pretty spectacular moment.

I was home for a few days after Christmas, before I was to head off to the UK for NYE. My apartment is a bit of a conundrum. It's brand new, made of all the finest plastic from China, yet there seem to be so many issues! For example, every time someone uses the elevator, the entire building loses electricity. I've kinda dealt with that, but on one specific night, the power would go out every 10 minutes or so. I was trying to download The Daily Show so it was really inconvenient. Finally, some guy came knocking on my door to tell me the power was going out. Thanks. I asked him why, in a new building, are there so many problems with the electricity? He explained to me that too many people are using electricity so I should turn some things off... I asked the same questions again and his response then was that the building was not permitted for inhabitants yet so the only electricity coming to the building was meant for the completion of construction. Great. I'm squatting. I asked when the building would be finished and he said, "Next year." Ah, Bulgaria.

With that, I packed my bags and headed to London! NYE was simply amazing! I met Tim Wade, my partner from Supercross08, and his wife, cousin, and sister in-law in London. We rented a giant mini-van that had nothing mini about it and road tripped our brains out to an unknown town in Northern England. The next day, we headed for good old Edinburgh - home of Hogmanay, an old Scottish word symbolizing the Viking gifts of fire, drinking, and explosions! This year, Hogmanay was only 3 days of events and celebrations, which were kicked off by a torch light procession that began in Parliament Square and wound through the old cute streets of Edinburgh to a place called Calton Hill. It was incredible to be in a march of torches, and looking out over the dark city seeing torches for miles! Very cool! To end of the procession, on Calton Hill, there was a giant firework show set to music and then a giant bonfire! It was sooo cool! And I was all kinds of giddy!


After some rest, it was time for the main event! New Year's Eve! My favorite holiday in the world! Oh man, I dyed my manly mustache blue and added white hash marks to symbolize the Scottish flag. People loved it!!! Some gals pulled on it a couple times, which didn't make me too happy, but they needed to see if it was real. We started out at our favorite little pub and then hit the streets.

Tim had his flask of fancy pants Scottish whiskey, but I'm not so excited about whiskey so I made myself a super dirty gin martini - the kind that really gets ya dancing! It got really warm in my jacket so it didn't taste very good at all by the time we made it down to the street party, but it sure did make me dance!

I danced my brains out! Pretty much all night - and I'm pretty sure I was amazing - I'm a great dancer! When it came time for the 10-count, I realized the effect of my dirty gin... I missed the first seven numbers, but managed to get in on the last three! And then there were fireworks! Huge, awesome, sky-covering fireworks! It was absolutely incredible! Five minutes after they stopped, the skies opened up and unleashed the most intense rain and wind ever! At this point, though, I couldn't really see so it didn't bother me, but everyone else wanted to go back to the pub. Tim put on his mad Scottish accent during our walk back (he was helping me walk) and mocked the weather, tempting a "real" storm! I could not stop laughing. My gut hurt more than ever before - I think my abs are getting really strong or something.

On the first day of 2012, we took the traditional hike up to King Arthur's Seat. It was dry, but no less windy - and very cold! Stayed long enough for a picture and then called it a day.

It was a super, super great NYE! Everything was perfect! Took a long road trip back to London via small country roads and then went out for Mexican! Mmmm! Here are more Hogmanay photos if you're dying to see! 

Got back to Varna to witness one of the most interesting holidays in Bulgaria: Jordonov Den - where young men prove their bravery by racing for a wooden cross that's been blessed by a priest and hurled into the water. It was a pretty big competition in Varna - and a pretty neat show! And it was sooo cold!

After the ceremony, a lot of people from the crowd collect water from the sea, or washed themselves with it. It's probably symbolic of something. Anyway, I finally did my first piece of real work! Delivered a ton of kids books to a children's hospital! So, see, I am doing some really helpful things over here!

Somewhere Over The Atlantic!

My reception in the Peace Corps office when I arrived in Bulgaria was a giant ego boost! My former language trainer tried to subtly ask me if I was on steroids, while the Peace Corps doctor pretty much accused me of being on them, and gave me a health schpiel about how they're destroying my kidneys and liver! One of the Americans on staff just said I look the same except I'm much bigger, like I'd spent a lot of time at the gym. I'm sure there's a cultural diplomacy difference to be addressed with all that, but I'd rather address the fact that no one said anything about my awesome mustache! Well, until I got to Varna, where everyone asks me if I'm from Texas.

In Varna, I had to wait a few days for my counterpart, Iliyan, to return from a summit in Brussels on transparency in eurofunds for Bulgaria. I asked him what I should do until he gets back and he told me to exercise! =) I arrived to beautiful weather and made use of it by reacquainting myself to my old home.

Guy taking a break from the day with 1.5 liters of wine and the company of Old St. Nick, the giver of fish!

Gal filling up her old water bottle with some stank mineral water that tastes like rotten dragon eggs.

My apartment is amazing compared to last year. It's brand new and no one has ever lived there before. I really like the cleanliness, but the construction methods leave a bit to be desired. While everything is new, most of it is cheap Chinese crap. I broke the toilet seat on my first sit, and I burned out the light bulb in my entry-way before the end of the second day. Nevertheless, it's quiet, clean, safe, and pretty much perfect.

In actively striving to make the most out of my time here, I decided to host some guests for my first Friday night. I love being a guest, and I love hanging out with people, but it's another matter entirely to host guests in Bulgaria. Here, the host has the responsibility of making sure that there's enough food and drink for everyone, that everyone's glass is always full, that the temperature is just right, that everyone's having a good time, etc. It's more along the lines of being a server at a restaurant than simply hanging out with your good friends. But it's still a very good time - especially with such great people! Helene, the French gal with whom I used to volunteer in 2006; Darina, the woman from whom I asked for 10 children for a project, but my Bulgarian accidentally said that I wanted to make 10 children with her; Nora, the gal who teaches me most of my Bulgarian slang; and Aaron and Sara, a young married couple who are currently serving volunteers in Varna.In the middle of our fun, Darina endearingly called me a "fucker" or at least that's the closest translation we could find. Aaron and Sara, not knowing me very well, and wanting to learn more Bulgarian, did some research on the word in the following days. Someone told them that it meant, "a guy who has lots of sex with lots of women." Pretty literal, I guess. Later in the week, I was expressing my concern to Iliyan that I think these two were getting the wrong impression of me. He pointed to the wall where he keeps a collection of Bulgarian proverbs. The one he pointed to translates to something like this: "Everyone can be a hero. It just depends on how his friends talk about him." Not quite the consolation I was looking for, although he insisted it was a great compliment.

My first day in the office was more of a reunion than a productive day of work. Iliyan called me around 10am and said, "Are you coming to the office?" =) We "caught up" for the first hour or so and then opened a bottle of a whiskey. We talked and joked a bit more and then migrated towards our computers.In attempting to be consistent with Bulgarian traditions, I brought a box of liquor-filled chocolates with me to work. Typically, when someone gets something new, or has a birthday or whatever, they "treat" their colleagues or friends with some kind of chocolate. So, I walked around all day saying a rough equivalent to congratulations on your Andrew, and handed out treats!

My first day of work just happened to be International Volunteer Day, and their just happened to be a big party after work. Iliyan and I headed there with one of his friends. I had no idea what to expect; all I knew was there would be food and drink. For the first hour, the entire hour, two announcers took turns announcing peoples names to come forward and receive a gift package. I tried to keep clapping, but when volunteers went forward two, and three, times, I was done. When the food and the drinking commenced, I found myself extremely uncomfortable.The girl to guy ratio was about 3:1, all the food and drink was free, and there was a DJ playing rock music that slowly changed into pop as the night progressed. This is pretty much a recipe for a great time! The problem: everyone was 15 or 16 years old... And that's just the beginning of my discomfort. They started playing games.One game involved some gal running around the room with a pen writing letters on everyone's hands. Then an MC would try to line up their hands so a word was spelled. All the words were somehow related to sex. Rough sex, hard sex, strong sex, etc. And they thought it was so funny! They were really having a good time. I got out of it with my good ole faithful standby excuse: I'm allergic. I can practically get out of anything with that. And no one ever questions it! Thank you, ignorance!After a while, though, I started dancing and having a blast - even when a drunk Portuguese guy tried to steal my dancing partner.This first week has been super great! This is going to be the best winter ever!