Attempting Professionalism

With the end of my Peace Corps service in sight I've started thinking about the best way to explain the last two years on my resume. Here's what I came up with so far...


U.S. Peace Corps 2010-2012                                                                  Varna, Bulgaria


Unlicensed Medical Practitioner:

• Successfully treated 2 cases of food poisoning,  1 sprained ankle, 1 sinus infection and numerous airborne viruses, equipped with nothing more than a briefcase full of expired medical supplies. 
• 0% mortality rate.

Freelance Translator:

• Fluent in Bulglish. A contemporary, hybrid language popular in the International Education System.
• Adept at improvising when the conversation gets complex.

Director: "What did she just say?"
Me: "Ummmm...she has a pet monkey...called Oscar...and she likes your shoes...yup, that's exactly it"


Survival Expert:

• Specialized in winter survival. 
• Endured extensive exposure to sub-zero temperatures with nothing more than a Baba blanket for warmth.
• Experienced wolf-slayer. 
• Competent in utilizing every aspect of an animal carcass for sustenance, including brain, liver, heart, intestine, tongue, testicles.   

          

Spring is nature's way of saying, "Let's party!"

Today, Thursday March 1st, 2012 unofficially marks the beginning of spring in Bulgaria. This in itself is an exciting event celebrated with the exchange of red and white friendship bracelets (martinitsi), but what's more exciting is it means it's only a few more weeks until the Raffy Ice Cream man comes back! Hot diggity.

Until then I am left wearing all 23 ridiculously awesome bracelets that were ever so kindly given to me by various students, colleagues, old ladies on the street, you name it, all in an attempt to appease the finicky weather God, "Baba Marta". Turns out she's a temperamental old coot. I walked to work this morning in a snow storm, took a nap this afternoon in the sunshine and am now hunkering down before the rain comes this evening. She's not really helping the female image...

Sunday Thoughts

This morning, over a questionable breakfast of cake and ice cream, I got to pondering the benefits of living so far away from the parental units and came up with this:


10 Reasons EVERYONE should live far, FAR, away from their parents at least once
(No offense to my parents, I think you're pretty cool as far as parents go)


1. Care packages, duh. From what I've heard nobody living in their parent's basement gets boxes full of candy and toys in the mail.


2. Laundry time coincides with shower time. And.it.is.AWESOME. 


3. No matter what happens you will always be the "hero" when you go home. Case and point; Amanda Knox...too soon?


4. Every day you're gone Mama's cooking gets EVEN better. There is no scientific evidence to support this claim but trust me.


5. Clothing optional. I don't think this one needs explaining.


6. No curfew. Parents will never know how often you watch the sun rise as you walk home.


7. Culinary exploits. Ever wondered what milk tastes like straight from the carton? Always missed out on the chance to double-dip your spoon in the jar of peanut butter? Go forth my friends and wreak havoc.


8. Spontaneity can strike at any time. So turn the music up to 11 and get your dancing shoes on!


9. Balloons! That's right. You can finally answer the age old question of "how many balloons would it take to fill this room?" guilt free.


10. It's a good conversation piece. "It's so weird dad, your beard is almost identical to the lady's who lived down the hall from me"

People vs. Nothingness

The following is a post I wrote a while ago, but never got around to sharing. It's not quite the traditional Thanksgiving post that some of you might be looking for but I think it's still relevant.




It was around this time last year; winter was starting to creep in, extra layers of clothing were getting piled on and hot cocoa consumption was at an all time high. I don't remember what class period it was or even the day but the feeling of complete and utter loss was unshakable as my counterpart, Petinka, and I entered the 3rd grade classroom. The usually rambunctious students sat there in silence as their class teacher collected her belongings, she too was somber. Before leaving the classroom she muttered a few words to my counterpart who immediately turned her attention to one student who for the sake of this story will be called "Henry". 


At 8 years-old Henry was an eager student, classed as "low-vision", with an unwavering devotion for the "Ninja Turtles". On most days Henry waited by the classroom door to greet Petinka and I as we entered the room but on this day we found him sitting at his desk, silent, with his head hanging low. After a minute or two Henry's shaky voice cut through the silence as he told us how he had woken up that morning to complete darkness. What little vision he had, gone. Nothing.


Holy crap.


At no point in my 11 weeks of Peace Corps training had anything like this come up. Heck, in my 23 years of LIFE nothing like this had come up. What do you do? What do you say? Do you take the hard line and tell him "everything happens for a reason", "buck up kid, you'll be okay" or do you go with the false hope that "maybe it'll come back", "nothing a quick shot of rakia won't fix, am I right folks?" My counterpart and I did the only thing we could think of; we each took turns sitting with Henry sharing his grief in the silence. There were no harsh realities or fictitious tales, just silence.


In some of my darkest moments here I have often found myself thinking back to that day. Henry's vision never did return but since then he has learned to live life in spite of his visual impairment. While I will never understand the grief he felt it is hard not to feel a new found appreciation and gratitude for the people and things we have. I hope I never have to experience anything similar to Henry's story but I know that if I do I have some good friends and family that I can call on to sit in the silence with me, I don't think we can ask for anything more than that. 




How's that for a Thanksgiving wrap up?

The Quitter

By Robert W. Service


When you're lost in the wild, and you're scared as a child,
And Death looks you bang in the eye,
And you're sore as a boil, it's according to Hoyle
To cock your revolver and...die.
But the Code of Man says "fight all you can,"
And self-dissolution is barred.
In hunger and woe, oh, it's easy to blow...
It's the hell-served-for-breakfast that's hard.


"You're sick of the game!" Well now, that's a shame.
You're young and you're brave and you're bright.
"You've had a raw deal!" I know - but don't squeal,
Buck up, do your damnedest, and fight.
It's the plugging away that will win you the day,
So don't be a piker, old pard!
Just draw on your grit; it's so easy to quit:
It's the keeping-your-chin-up that's hard.


It's easy to cry that you're beaten - and die;
It's easy to crawfish and crawl;
But to fight and to fight when hope's out of sight-
Why, that's the best game of them all!
And though you come out of each grueling bout,
All broken and beaten and scarred,
Just have one more try - it's dead easy to die,
It's the keeping-on-living that's hard.

Bulgaria vs. The World

“Have you ever been to Turkey?”
“No, maybe one day I…”
“You should go. It’s much nicer than Bulgaria. You should live there, not here.”
“Oh...really?”
“Of course. I don’t understand why people want to come to Bulgaria, Turkey is much more beautiful, cleaner, and the children show respect. You must go there.”

At this point in the conversation I realized that any attempt I made to defend Bulgaria would be futile and the cynical old lady on the 4th floor would not be swayed.


This conversation took place a couple of months ago, but her words have stuck with me. For a while I thought that maybe she was right, I mean, she’s spent her whole life within these boundaries, she’s seen the fall of an empire, the entire country has changed right before her eyes, surely she couldn’t be wrong about something like this, right?

As I sit here writing this, in my big comfy armchair with the rain quietly falling outside, it’s easy to get lost in the memories of the past 15 months. In the last 6 weeks alone I’ve clocked more than 24 hours in trains and buses; I’ve camped on the beach, rambled around mountain villages, celebrated town holidays, folk festivals, birthdays, eco-camps, you name it. Having never been to Turkey I can't easily make the comparison, but I don't think I'm ready to give up on Bulgaria yet. After each of these trips I’ve never been anything less than amazed; be it from the generosity of the locals to share their culture (and their dinner table) or the spectacular landscape that some people might struggle to even imagine.

Now I’m not claiming to be an expert on this, due to a lack of television and general apathetic nature towards politics, but from what I’ve heard I’m pretty certain the world is falling apart these days. If that’s the case, then I think I’ll stick with Bulgaria, thank you very much. I might just run up to the 4th floor to tell her that.

World 1 - 0 Hannah

Congratulations World, you win! I finally caved and decided to join the 21st century with my fancy, shmancy, new blog (don't worry, I still have the same rickety old phone and computer.)

In all likelihood this will probably be my first and last post, I've never been very good at this sort of thing and it usually ends up with me forgetting passwords or a sudden onset of crippling apathy. BUT, if all goes to plan I hope that this will provide a means for me to share a little glimpse of my life with those of you who are so far away.

I've never really known where to start with something like this, I think most of that comes from that fact that I never really know who's reading it; that and I've never been one to share my journals with other people...I think that's cheating.

Welp, I think that's good enough for now,

See you soon...