This week though it just snowed and snowed.

ACS in the Snow

I’d guess it snowed for nearly 24 hours.

The kids at school loved it. There were plenty of snowballs being thrown and other snow related shenanigans. Leave it to teenagers to come up with ridiculous things to do in the snow.

At school we probably ended up with 12 inches of snow. The poor maintenance men shoveled our sidewalks endlessly so while the rest of the city is mired in snow we have nearly clear side walks and piles of snow.

Sanders in the Snow

Campus is beautiful. A winter wonderland if you will.  The snow has cast a layer of white on every available surface and at times like these that it’s difficult to believe that we’re actually in Sofia.

Everything else? Well it’s hard to enjoy Mladost when you’re trying to make your way through inches of grey-brown slush on the sidewalks, climbing on the crowded buses and trying to fall down on un-shoveled stairs.

Hey Look! We have sidewalks. ACS in the Snow

Of course, as luck would have it, there’s no warmer weather in sight. Just frozen slush. The temperatures are supposedly dropping into the -12 to -15 C range. It’s going to be cold outside. The school is worried enough about the weather that we’re having a half hour delay for finals week. Rather than starting at 9am, we’re beginning finals next week at 9:30am.

And it’s been quite a week. The semester ended. I’ve been under the weather. Students have been stressed out. There’s been tons of snow. I’ve had a couple of late nights. I gave an exam this morning and proctored one this afternoon.

But now the weekend is here. Sure I’ve got nearly 40 final exams to grade (and a fair amount of homework to check) but all of this seems manageable-ish in comparison to the week I just had.

Oh and tomorrow I am going to Pernik for the Surva Festival. On top of the cool folk-life tradition of the event, I also understand that drinking hot wine and rakiya is encouraged. Yes please.

Between the new metro stop set to open this year, the new  skaldkarnitsa, me finding the post office (block 555) and a bike pathcutting through greater Mladost, there’s a lot for a girl to do, to see and to eat.

I heart Mladost 1A

I’ve been busy supporting local business. There’s the corner shop I call my own and the guy who works there laughs at me every time I fail to open the door correctly–is it push? is it pull? I don’t even know now. I’m in the process of single handily keeping my drugstore in business. Plenty of times over the last few weeks I’ve thought about getting my hair cut but I’ve been too busy to make an appointment at my salon across the street. I must remember to do this. I’ve worn my hair in a ponytail for the last week.

Though recently, we’ve had one loss. The hardware, plumbing supply shop that opened in my building about a year ago closed over Christmas. This of course was a shop I never went it but it was a comfort knowing it was there. The good news is that the sex shop which moved in about the same time still seems to be going strong. Okay I see the girl who works there out front smoking and drinking coffee more often than not so I am not sure how good business is but whatever.

Here’s what I know: things are happening in Mladost 1A. And now I have a t-shirt to prove it.

We had one last year. I wrote about it here. I was bitter that the kids got to stay home for the week but as teachers, we had to go to school and sit at our desks. We had one the year before that too. The big different was that I was actually sick that year. Really sick.

There’s this article in the Sofia Echo which seems to suggest that a flu vacation is possible (if not imminent). The cheering kids at school in surgical-esque masks in the picture is pretty great. In my mind it seems to highlight the absurdity of the whole thing but maybe that’s because I am a foreigner and we don’t do flu vacations where I am from.

The good news is that I haven’t noticed too many absent students. Then again this is the last week of the semester at school and the kids are desperate not to miss any review/preparation for final exams. Fingers crossed that everyone stays healthy and that there aren’t any closures this year.

When I’m well and communicating in Bulgarian there’s an element of fun and achievement upon getting what you need or want across to someone who doesn’t speak English. When you’re not well, there’s nothing fun about it. It’s not a game and no, I don’t feel like coming up with another creative way to try to express myself.

Learning Bulgarian: things attached to the head

Luckily for me I’ve never been seriously sick in Bulgaria. To date, I thought I had strep throat once, I had a flu that kept me home in bed for three days and most recently I’ve had a urinary tract infection (twice). All things considered, this isn’t bad for three years living in Bulgaria. Oh and I also got pneumonia (and a chest x-ray) last Christmas in the States but that doesn’t really count because there I speak the language.

Anyhow I got a comment on my last post about visiting the doctor’s office and my inability to integrate in Bulgaria. I read the comment, rolled my eyes, sighed and then I didn’t approve the comment for 24 hours. In the meantime, I talked about my unwillingness to approve the comment with my parents during our standing Sunday night skype date. My MoM wisely (and rightly) pointed out that I never get worked up about comments on my blog and must still be recovering.

Learning Bulgarian: irregular plurals and the body

She’s right. I never get worked up about what people write. I don’t approve spam or racist/homophobic comments but pretty much everything else ends up on my blog. By in large, people are really kind and supportive. Well, aside from the people who take the time to write me some version of the-if-you-don’t-like-it-here-then-leave comment.

So we started joking about the whole thing. Me at the doctor’s office armed with my textbook Bulgarian and the various sentences I have command of (or not) as the case may be.

The first time I had a UTI, I went by myself on a weekend. Ug.

Of course the thing is that when you have a UTI, you know it. There just aren’t any external signs. The result of this is that you get to say things like: it hurts me here and gesture. But if you stop and think about it for a minute the emerging problem is that there is a lot that you could be gesturing at. It’s not a having a sore throat or needing stitches. It’s all internal.

Learning Bulgarian: stick boy and body parts

For me, it was about this point that I realized that this all I could say because I realized that I don’t know verbs either in the perfective or imperfective form for to pee in Bulgarian. I know how to eat and to drink in Bulgarian but apparently nothing’s coming out of my body in Bulgarian. This was about the time I started cursing at myself for not looking some some words I might need before heading to the doctor’s office or for not having a smart phone.

But, really, who thinks about these things when they’re sick?!

Learning Bulgarian: some internal organs

The result is that your forced to put on a smile, the best you can, and say things like: I have to go to the toilet, at lot. Then you try the it hurts me here business again. Another semi-reliable trick seems to pronouncing English words related to the body with what you think might be Bulgarian emphasis. Hello, sinus and синус. This however is an imperfect science.

Mind you, I got pretty far with this exchange in Bulgarian (if you’re dying to know the specific details, I got all the way to giving a urine sample–in the same kind of cup that my morning .70 leva coffee comes in–don’t think about that too much) but then the doctor started asking me questions in Bulgarian.

Questions that I didn’t really understand. This is of course the worst part because you actually want to give the right answers at the doctor’s office. The smile and nod business that I can sometimes get away with just doesn’t cut it here. Sure, I am not allergic to any medicine that I know of but I’d like to know that I’m taking the right medicine.

So I got my cellphone out and tried to figure out which of my female Bulgarian friends I could call on a Saturday morning to talk to the doctor for me. I actually have a fairly large circle of Bulgarian friends but one who would be up on a Saturday morning and know enough medical English to help me narrowed my list significantly. Needless to say, I caught a friend at home who gladly helped me. Or at the very least, I was glad that she helped me. This was the stuff that comedy is made of. There was a lot of back and forth–me to my friend, my friend to the doctor, the doctor to my friend, and my friend back to me. And we played that game few times. Phew. I was glad when that was over and I had a prescription for antibiotics in hand.

At the pharmacy near my house, I had an awesome back and forth with the pharmacist about whether or not I was pregnant. I, of course, didn’t understand what she was asking me and she was unprepared to give me the prescription without confirmation that I was not pregnant. She somehow dug out a picture of a pregnant woman–advertising of some sort and pointed at the picture and then me. Luckily I am good at both pictionary and charades (you definitely want me on your team. Just saying).

Needless to say, this time around, I was very happy to have an appointment with an English speaking doctor under control before I arrived at the clinic on Friday. Could I have managed without this? Well, pretty clearly the answer is yes. Would it have been easy? No but I’d have done it.

So that’s that. Sometimes you get sick. It happens. But I think it’s ultimately how you handle the whole thing that really matters.

Being sick in a foreign country is especially hard. At home, you’d know exactly what to do, who to call, where to go and/or what medicine to buy but abroad, everything is strange, different and difficult. Of course it doesn’t help that you’re sick and likely feel horrible.

The difference when you’re living abroad is that you often have to ask for help.

In my case, I marched into the Deputy Director’s office at school and explained my symptoms and what was going on. Mind you in the States, I would never do this. I believe in a pretty solid work-life divide where work is work and what’s personal is personal and never shall the two meet. However sometimes (and this was one of those times) you have to take a deep breath and just get over whatever hang ups you have about these things and ask for help.

Somehow, being sick makes it slightly easier to do this.

Luckily, she was really gracious and recommended a doctor (who speaks pretty good English), called the clinic, made a same-day appointment for me and at the end of the day checked in with me once I was back at school.

The funny thing is that I’ve been taking my antibiotics for only 48 hours and I already I feel a million times better. I didn’t realize how un-good I was until today when I find myself feeling significantly better. Ah, medicine.

In hindsight, maybe I should have known sooner that I was sick and gone to see the doctor a little sooner given the fact that at one point last week I thought: I’d rather go to sleep rather than cook dinner, blog, watch tv, grade papers or read a book.

Now that I am on the mend, I still don’t feel like grading papers but the other things seem don’t seem so hard.

I hung it back in my closet. Why I am not sure. It felt too hard at 6am to part with it. So now I have an unwearable sweater hanging in my closet. That probably says something awesome about me especially if I was Freud and knew how to read these things.

Anyhow, I find myself surprised by how sad I was to see the hole. Because really, it’s just a hole, in a sweater, a light gray one. One that, in fact, I was never 100% happy with because the sleeves never fit exactly how I thought they should. So when a sweater meets the end of it’s regular life, most people wouldn’t worry about it. Out with the old and in with the new.

The thing is in my past life, in Washington DC,  it was always much more of: in with the new, in with the new, in with the new and out with a piece that I just don’t love any more. It was out not because it was old, ripped, worn-out or otherwise damaged but because I just didn’t feel like I wanted it any more. So I’d give it away or donate it to a local women’s shelter.

My life abroad has forced me to pare back.

Today I have fewer clothes because I have what I need. I’ve been forced to pick what I actually use over what I want or desire. Sure I could buy more clothes, many more in fact, but I don’t because anything I buy I’ll have to move at some point.  I’ve downsized and I think that I am a better person for it. I try to buy only what I love and need.

Now I find myself short one sweater in the middle of winter. This is clearly not a void that I can escape from filling so I’ll have to buy another.

All of this said, it’ s nice the way that living abroad often challenges you to be a different (and maybe even better) person that you were at home. Even if it’s just little things.

This happens sometimes.

At school we have a different schedule each day and sometimes one day of the week is hit especially hard given holidays and what not so then the school announces Wednesday is going to be a Thursday schedule.

This is exactly what happened yesterday.

So I taught my Thursday classes yesterday and today. The thing is I am a creature of habit so when I woke up this morning, it felt like a Friday. Only it’s not. It’s Thursday.

However, I can’t stop thinking: today’s the last day of the week.

But it’s not. Tomorrow is Friday. Tomorrow is the last day of the week. This seems especially cruel right now.

The only thing I have going for me this week is the fact that our school isn’t observing the Saturday is a work day as the rest of Bulgaria is this week. The Bulgarian government in their infinite kindness gave an extra day off at some point between Christmas and the New Year and Bulgarians are now working on Saturday to make up for this.

But I’m not.

How do I know this? Well, it’s snowing right now. And, for the last few days the temperature has been hovering below zero (you know in celsius). I’ve had to wear my boots everyday this month.

It snowed more than a week ago. Our school quickly shoveled the sidewalks and main paths. It seems relatively safe to walk around. The rest of a the city seems like a death-trap or at least the world’s most poorly maintained ice-skating rink. Then there are the three steps at the front gate of school. These are the worst.

There are exactly three steps. Each is domed with ice. This ice used to be snow but none of the men who guard the gate could be bothered to shovel the snow from the steps when it was just snow so now it’s a good two inches of ice. These are the men who are supposed to be checking identification of everyone who comes and goes. They are supposed to be guarding the police academy and the Mladost police station. I haven’t had my ID checked in weeks. It seems like the least they could do is shovel three steps. But they don’t.

It’s snowing again today and I can’t help wondering if theses steps will be coated in ice until spring.

Of course the problem is that recently I’ve begun dreaming of my ballerina flats and imagining outfits for early spring. Floaty skirts and tights, my three-quart length sleeved coat and skinny jeans, flower prints and bright colors. The reality is that I am bundled up. I’ve layered myself into a semblance of warmth and then I top the whole thing off with a scarf. Because scarves make everything better, right?

Today I find myself sneezing. I wonder if it’s psychosomatic or if I am actually getting sick. I hope it’s the first because I don’t want to be sick. I tell myself that coffee can (and will) work wonders on my sneeze so I move on to my third cup for the day.

And maybe some orange juice.

I’ve got to try to fortify myself somehow.

Borough Market veggies

I am glad that I did. The colors were wonderful. The flavors both sweet and savory. The whole experience was delicious.

Borough Market

It was so interesting to see people doing clever things with food but I liked the sense that I got that this market was a mix of tradition and innovation. Moreover, everyone was having fun. There were tons of people but no one was pushy. There were lines but people stood in them. There were samples and people politely took one and then talked to the vendor.

Owl Shortbread at Borough Market

I’d wished that I had access to a kitchen of any sort because everything looked so good. The American in me also just about died when I saw fresh cranberries. I love cranberries during the holidays and they just aren’t that easy to come by in Bulgaria. Last year I saw them once at Hit. This year I never saw them.

Shopping at Borough Market

The crazy person in me thought about buying some but really, what I am going to do with a bag of cranberries while traveling!? It’s not like I am going to be eating them straight out of the bag.

Borough Market and a car in the air

So I admired.

Pot Pie

Yum, yum Guinness Stew

I also bought a big dish of stew. Guinness stew to be exact. I guess the base of the stew is made out off Guinness beer and to this chunks of beef, cubed potatoes, carrots and leaks are added. This was really tasty and heartwarming. I was a little nervous about spilling this stew right down the front of my coat. I was given a big dish of it in a styrofoam container with a wooden spoon/fork combo. Given the fact that the container was very full, the market was crowded and I know myself I thought I was doomed but somehow I escaped unscathed.

Hot Mulled Cider

Then I had a cup of hot mulled cider. Yum, yum.

Sweets at Borough Market

I’d definitely go back to the Borough Market. It felt local and accessible. Sure there were plenty of tourists there but it wasn’t too much. Yes you could easily eat too much but the market itself was very do-able in terms of size and scope.

Oliveologly at Borough Market