I have decided to start a new website with my wife. Read as we finish our time in Bulgaria, move to America and try to find new jobs, an apartment and try to keep our sanity. Come see our new digital home!

I have been teaching here at the American University in Bulgaria since July and it has been great. I am teaching 29 class hours a week, I am usually at the language center from 11:00 am everyday to 8:00 pm, but I couldn't love it more. I have great students and my colleagues are great. I even have enough time in the morning to go to the gym and wake up not too late.

Today is Friday and so I only have one class. And it's done. I still don't have Internet at my apartment and so here I am still at school writing and downloading the 1978 AL East Playoff game between the Red Sox and the Yankees. MLB.com has a new service where they let you download old games and -starting this playoff season- new games for only $1.99 a game. The games are posted a day later, but for a fan living in Bulgaria while his team is on the way to the world series, the charge and the time delay is nothing. Real baseball, I can't wait.

As I have a free afternoon, I've started thinking about somethings. Mostly, the way my life has been going and where it will go in the future. And I am amazed at how my life has taken some turns I could never have imagined. So, I have decided to compile a top-five list. I hope you enjoy:

The Top 5 Things I Wasn't Expecting in my Life Ten Years Ago:

1. I would be living in Bulgaria. I gotta admit, this current situation was quite a surprise. I'm not sure 15 year old Andy even knew Bulgaria existed, besides some hazy notion of Bulgarian Olympic gymnasts. I never thought I would learn Bulgarian, make Bulgarian friends, eat cow stomach soup, can my own peppers and peaches, pick and dry herbs, or fall in love with a country so different than my own.

2. I would be teaching. I remember a teacher in my AP Biology class suggesting to me that I should look into teaching because while it is a really tough job, I would love it. Well, it's true but I thought at the time, "yeah, right."

3. I would be contemplating law school. I'm still shocked and unnerved by this one but there it is. I always thought that law school was for other people, not me. This was the same feeling that I had when I thought about applying to Ivy League schools and the Peace Corps. They were things that I always heard about growing up, but always thought they were not possible options in my life. Now, as I am once again standing at the door, I am beginning to think that this choice may bring me as much happiness and success as the other two.

4. I would miss New Hampshire and Concord. When I was 15, like most teenagers who grow up in a small town, one of my constant thoughts was how to get out. I was sick of how boring it was, how small it was, and how everywhere I went I kept running into people I knew. Now, after living abroad for 2 1/2 years, I have started to realize how much I took my state and my hometown for granted. I am looking forward to returning at the end of July to my home, my family, and friends, with an excitement that is both sweet and heartbreaking.

5. I would grow so much. I used to think when I was 15 that I was at the peak of my emotional, intellectual, and spiritual growth. Of course I would have never admitted it, either aloud or to myself, for fear of being labeled naive, but still I carried this sneaking suspicion inside me. After these two last years, I realize how much I have grown and yet how much this growing never stops. I know deep inside that we never stop growing. As long as we are active and care and try, we will never stop. And that excites me most of all.

He is alive and well in Blagoevgrad, Bulgaria. Unfortunately, he has yet to get internet in his apartment. There has been some problems with finding an internet company in his new home. He is on vacation in his new apartment doing little more than watching TV, reading, and playing computer games. He feels like a slug because there is a whole internet world he can't access unless he wants to come to this dingy old internet club and pay too much money for too slow access. You can tell he is really upset because he is using third person speech. Anyway, until he can return to the 21st century, enjoy your internet access and think of him...

Tonite is my last night in Bobov dol and my last nite as an active Peace Corps volunteer. I'm struggling with what that all means. Of course, I am not leaving Bulgaria; unlike all but three volunteers in my group, I will be staying for an extra year in Bulgaria and work in the American University as an English teacher. So while I will not technically be in Bobov dol, I will be only about a 40 minute car ride away. And while I will not be an officially active volunteer, I will continue living in the same country and continue teaching English. Things change but end staying the same...As a way to say thank you to all the people here in Bobov dol, I hosted a banquet tonite at my favorite local bar. There were about 14 of my closest and most important friends here. There were people who took me to their village and taught me how to can peaches. There was the woman who gave me Bulgarian lessons, twice a week, for two years. There was her son who was in my seventh grade class, who despite all the other crap in his life, still has a grasp on English that is unnatural for this place. But more important than that, has a flame in him that refuses to be extinguished. There was the woman at whose apartment I was always welcome and with whom I ended up eating many dinners when all I wanted was a coffee. There was the counterpart who selflessly took over the position when my old counterpart left for the big city. She was like the big sister I never had who was there no matter what and was not afraid to tell me when I messed up. And the list goes on. In between the eating, dancing and laughing, I started to grasp, albeit only in the most general of concepts, what actually happened here in these two years. I think it will take the rest of my life to actually figure that out exactly, but I did start to get an inkling. Here I was, surrounded by so many people who I can count on no matter what. People who I would trust with my life, though I have known them for two years, and many with whom I have only spoken to in a language that I have only been speaking for two years. I came to this town knowing no one and yet am leaving, feeling like the king of the town.I knew I wanted to be a Peace Corps volunteer when I was about 6 and used to wake up early on Saturday mornings to watch cartoons. In those days, they used to have very simple commercials for Peace Corps, so simple in fact that I only remember the punchline: "Peace Corps: The toughest job you'll ever love." It sounded so perfect for a kid growing up on adventure shows and GI Joe. I liked to believe that I was tough, and the toughest? Well sign me up! I have learned what tough means in these two years. But that was something that I was expecting. I knew it would be hard and that I would be tested. I know that I would be going into a possibly hostile environment, away from everything and everyone I had previously known and be expected to succeed. I knew that and it definitely lived up to those expectations. But in these two years, I learned something else. I learned that the second part of that slogan was the more important part. I learned what it means to love. To love a job, to love a place and to love people. Sure my job was infuriating at times, so much so I would have done anything to not go in some days. Sure Bobov dol made me angry sometimes, and made me question my hope in the future. And sure people here made me mad and made me question my hope in people. But through it all, I learned to love them all despite all these things. All these bad things don't make you love less, they make you love something more. Because it is easy to love something that provides no resistance, something that is welcoming of your love. It is so much harder to love something that acts like it doesn't need or want you, something that sometimes acts like it hates you. If you can persevere and love it despite this, your love will become so strong and will grow. I thought when I became a volunteer that this job would be tough because I would love it and put my whole heart into it, but I never expected I would love it because it was so tough. Thank you Bobov dol for teaching me love. And thank you for being so tough.

There is less than a month less to vote for the new 7 world wonders! Go to this website, register and vote for what you think are the most important wonders in the world. It's free and a great way to take part in a truly worldwide vote. The results will be announced on 07.07.07 so you have little time left.

http://www.new7wonders.com/index.php?id=315

And if you are trying to decide on a 7th one to vote for, pick Petra. I've been there and can personally tell you how awesome it is. Or just check the comments page for my cousins, I'm sure they'll have something to say about it soon...

I'm grading a pile of tests from my 7th graders and it was the usually bunch of bad news, until I got to one of the last tests. One of my best students got an American superstition a little confused...

Task: Write 5 American superstitions

4. "When you step on a crack, you will bake your mother's bag."

I'm sorry Mom but with a little honey, they don't taste all that bad.

Apparently it is trying... Chalga- the part pop, part traditional music, all cheese- music style that is all the rage in Bulgaria and the rest of the Balkans has been exported to the Middle East where it is challenging existing conservative views. According to this BBC article, while this music isn't called Chalga, a new style of music has sprung up in the Middle East that smacks of the Chalga we have all grown to love. Cheezy videos, subtly (or not so subtly) erotic lyrics, scantily clad singers and controversy; yup it's gotta be Chalga. Good luck Arabic Chalga, I hope you can limit that religious extremism that decades of war haven't.

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/europe/6666725.stm

I've been learning how to dance shopsko horo lately. Horos are traditional forms of Bulgarian dancing. It is kind of like the Greek dancing you may be familiar with where the people line up, hold hands and move in a line, at the end of which they throw plates down on the ground. Horo is like that but without the broken plates. Shopsko horo is a form of horo that is particular to my region of Bulgaria and just happens to be the HARDEST horo in Bulgaria. It's not so difficult because of the steps, they are fairly easy once you get the hang of them. The problem is that it is danced at an insane pace. The music is incredibly fast and your steps have to match the music. Think "River Dance" on crack and you start getting the idea.

I've been interested in learning Shopsko Horo for a long time. I know a bunch of other horos but after watching the beauty and skill of Shopsko horo, I decided I would give it a chance. And since the senior prom is coming up- one of my last chances to dance horo here in town- I thought I would get serious about it. I've been getting lessons from one of my 12th grade students, 2 or 3 times a week. But despite this, I'd been unable to move my feet fast enough.

And then today, like a puzzle, things fell into place. I was hitting the right steps and at a fast pace. The key? Stop thinking and just feel it. I have danced a lot of different kinds of dances. I learned Argentine Tango, Rumba, Waltz, Swing and Foxtrot, and the key to all of them is to just let the music flow over you. Of course at the beginning you have to spend a lot of time understanding the steps: where the left foot goes and then the right. But with dancing, you have to get to a certain point where you stop thinking about the steps and just feel the music. You stop watching your feet, you stop counting the beats, and you stop thinking about the next steps. You listen to the music and let your feet do their thing. You get into a zone where you are only conscious of the beat you are on and your body. You are completely in the moment, in the music and in your body. And you just do it.

Anyone who knows me, knows what a giant klutz I am. I trip on nothing, I clip my shoulders on walls and I always hit my head on everything. I am not coordinated. And the reason is that most of the time I am thinking about stuff. For a lot of my waking day, I am conscious only of the world inside my head. I think about things too much and usually get so wrapped in those thoughts that I have a hard time, at first, learning new skills. But here I was this afternoon, dancing up a storm. How? I stopped thinking about everything and just started feeling. I've been thinking about this all afternoon (of course), and realized that I am at my best when I am doing this. I teach my best classes when I forget my lesson plan at home and instead feel the class and teach to them instead of teaching to what I think is them. I am best in my relationships with people when I am feeling them and really trying to understand them instead of trying to understand who I think they are. I am best in my faith when I open up my heart instead of doing what I think I should do. I am thankful for my two years here in Bulgaria. I am thankful for what they have taught me and what I have learned. I am thankful for my new skills, my new friends and my new way of thinking. But I am most thankful that I am beginning to learn how to feel the music.

I leave New Hampshire for two years and finally exciting things happen. The state becomes democratic, we get civil unions, and now we have two nuts in Plainfield, Ed and Elaine Brown, who are refusing to pay federal taxes in excess of $750,000. They have recently been sentenced by the federal courts to five years in prison and fined for the full amount of back taxes. But instead of facing the music and doing the right thing, they are fortifying their home in preparation of a siege.

Their logic is wrapped up in typical small town militia mindset: the federal system is corrupt, we don't have to answer to anyone but God, there is a "new world order" conspiracy... But the thing that gets me is the glaring contradiction. What would happen if a Muslim couple did this? What if a Muslim group refused to recognize a court by even showing up, refused to face their punishment, fortified their home with weapons and then posted everything on the web, including solicitation of violence against law enforcement and federal employees? I'm sure that the Department of Homeland would be there in a heartbeat. Instead authorities seem happy to wait for them to accumulate more weapons and more supporters (they are still allowed to have guests) and in the meantime ignore the rule of law.

I don't like paying taxes. I hate seeing how much money I am losing every payday. But I understand, as most rational people do that our taxes are being used to do things that we as individuals could not accomplish. Being here in Bulgaria makes me appreciate those things more and more. I have come to appreciate the things our federal government does to protect its citizens. In most places in America you can drink water right out of the tap, thanks to federal laws like the Clean Water Act. You can feel safe that the toothpaste, medicine or soap you are buying really contains the ingredients it says it does and will accomplish the things it says it will. You can buy food that is safe, untampered and unspoiled. Most places in America are subject to the rule of law. You don't have to fear saying something that might upset the local Don or gang boss. You have reliable electricity, water, postal and phone service. You have an effective road and highway system. You are protected at work from accidents and greedy bosses. And while these things might not always work 100% effectively, if something goes wrong you have a recourse for your grievances, a recourse that does not require having the largest guns, or the biggest army or the most money.

I think that if this couple really wants to live without paying their taxes, let them. But don't let them ride free on the services and infrastructure that the rest of us are paying for. If they feel that the federal system is wrong, fine. Then they won't mind losing their electricity. Federal regulations ensure that we don't have a monopoly and subsidies help private companies provide better service. I guess they also don't mind losing their phones and Internet. Again, our communications system is built upon years and years of federal funding and laws. No more water for the Browns, at least no more clean water. I sure hope they have a well that hasn't met certified levels of lead and other contaminants or else, sorry, they can't use that either. Mail, nope, that too is organized by the federal government. Roads? I hope they aren't expecting any out of state guests because it might take them a while to arrive if they don't use any interstate highways. I hope they don't need to make a 911 call because guess where New Hampshire got major funding for its state-wide 911 system? That's right, the Feds. And while they may say how corrupt law enforcement is and that they are a bunch of thugs doing the dirty work of the federal government, I'm sure they would prefer these thugs over any other group of nuts with more and bigger guns. Because once you start complaining about the federal government and calling for its downfall, you are attacking the very system that lets you say that. I would love to see how long Mr. and Mrs. Brown like living their anarchist dream without electricity, water, communication, safety and security.

Mr. and Mrs. Brown and all who inhabit the same imaginary planet, stop with the fantasy. We all know how this is going to end, you will lose, and you will end up hurting a lot of innocent people.

I have a strong personal distaste of the branding of cultures and races. The "Indian" mascot, and people arguing that Indian mascots are ok, boils my blood. While I was at Dartmouth, every year the argument would come up again and even this year there was another attempt by ignorant people at defending the former unofficial mascot. In an act of brazen racism, this time the conservative newpaper published a front page featuring a drawing of a native American holding a scalp with the headline "The Natives Are Getting Restless."

I found this multimedia article today in Slate Magazine and was stunned at how other rascist branding is still around, this time in the advertising of Uncle Ben and Aunt Jemima. I hope you take a second and check it out, you'll never look at them the same.

http://www.slate.com/id/2164062/nav/tap1/

I'm trying to get back to communicating with the outside world. I have added some captions to the Yordanov Den album. I also look forward to posting pictures about upcoming adventures, including my school's prom, our trip to Greece, Children's Day, Spazov Den and the end of my service in Bobov dol. Stay tuned!

I've been reading our weekly free Newsweek and I have been absolutely sucked into the April 2nd Special Issue "Voices of the Fallen." Most of the issue is letters from American soldiers who have died in Iraq. And there are dozens of these letters. You read over and over again these soldiers making plans for when they return home only to read at the end of the letter how they were killed by a roadside bomb, or "small arms fire" or some accident. It is so sad that I have had to stop many times. Reading these letters, you get an idea of how separated we non-soldier Americans are from the fighting. We are so numb that these dead men and women are usually nothing more than an increasing number on the evening news. For the lucky ones of us, we don't know anyone who has been wounded, let alone killed in Iraq. We have not been asked to sacrifice ANYTHING, while our fellow citizens are giving the ultimate sacrifice in the belief that they are protecting us. I like to think that I am serving my country- and the greater world- here but these men and women, were asked by a country they loved and trusted to fight for it and put themselves in the line of fire. They did so willingly and bravely. Many have died in order to fulfill that request. Yet here we are, whether in America or abroad, without having to sacrifice a thing. Sure, prices have raised but what else have we given up? I remember when I was a kid, seeing the ration coupons my grandparents kept from WWII and hearing the stories of living under rations. I was amazed at the idea of "Victory Gardens," scrap metal drives, and the idea that it could actually be hard to buy flour. To say it was hard is an understatement, but everyone was in it together. Our country was at war for something we believed in, and everyone pitched in and sacrificed. Where are our Victory Gardens today? Where are our ration coupons?Our country is trying to wage a war on the cheap. We cheer on our troops, we stick magnets on our cars, we wave our flags, but what are we sacrificing? Politicians are anxious to send more young men and women to fight a war without fronts, yet how many of them have children or grandchildren who are there? How many of them have seen war? How many know what a roadside bomb does to a vehicle or what a bullet does to a face? It may seem that many Republicans sacrificed their offices for their support of the war, but I tend to see that as justice. I'm not sure exactly what I want to say here. Maybe I am just trying to wrestle with emotions that can't be written down. I feel ashamed. I feel sad. I feel afraid. I feel very unAmerican. Here I am living a challenging, yet safe life while people my age and younger are dying because they think they are protecting us. And I am doing nothing to help them. Heck, this year I didn't even have any taxes. I am not joining the military to cover their back, I am not rationing my food, I am not saying prayers every night for them and I am not working to make better armor or vehicles. All this makes me angry because NO ONE IS ASKING ME to do anything. The government was so anxious to go to war, but so unwilling to do the brave thing and make this war real. No one wanted to risk their jobs and say, "hey we are doing this because we think it is right. It is so important that we win and because of that, things are going to hurt. We need everyone to sacrifice." I can think of two reasons why no one said this. Maybe our leaders didn't have an ounce of the courage our soldiers do and were too afraid of losing their jobs. They thought that this war was important but didn't want to stick their necks out. If this is true, then I am disgusted. The other reason, if it is true, makes me furious: the politicians sent our brothers and sisters to fight and die for a reason that wasn't worth the sacrifice. Maybe no one asked us to sacrifice because the war isn't worth it. We know now that the claims of WMD were false, that Saddam didn't have links to terrorists and that he didn't pose a threat to us or anyone else, but if the president ordered this war without ordering us to sacrifice, maybe he knew this truth then...In any case, I know this isn't much of a sacrifice, indeed it isn't a sacrifice at all, but I just wanted to say to all of the troops in harm's way and all their families and friends back in states: "Thank you." Thank you for answering the call when our country called. We will find some way to match your unmatchable sacrifice.

Finally we agree on something....

"And there is distrust in Washington. I am surprised, frankly, at the amount of distrust that exists in this town. And I'm sorry it's the case, and I'll work hard to try to elevate it."— President Bush speaking on National Public Radio, Jan. 29, 2007.

Listen to it here. The "Bushism" is at 17:21.

My mom and other members of my family used to constantly be after me to buy new socks because different parts of my feet would always be poking through some hole or another. I used to think they were crazy; these are socks after all. They are meant to be hidden in shoes. Well, today I found this article about Paul Wolfowitz and it appears that having socks with giant holes in them really can come and bite you when you least expect it. And so, because I know that I am at least as smart as him, I must say, "No more holey socks for me!"

I’ve been listening to a CD my friend Jessica sent me last year over and over again. I love the CD and all the songs on it, but we have both acknowledged that this CD contains some of THE SCHMALTZIEST songs of all time. And I have gotten to thinking: What exactly is the all time cheesiest song? I thought I would enlist the help of the internet to figure it out. The choices:

“High Enough” – Damn Yankees

“Sometimes When We Touch” – Dan Hill

“I Want to Know What Love Is” – Foreigner

“I Can’t Fight this Feeling” – REO Speedwagon

Feel free to write in a candidate…

The polling booths will close in a week.

I have been thinking of punishment a lot lately. In particular, I have been thinking about how my school hasn’t any. Of course there are some so-called things that pass as punishment in our school but they have no substance and if the kids ever found out, we would have full out anarchy in our school. How can this be you ask? Simple: it’s a product of population mathematics.

Schools, whether in America, Britain, Timbuktu or Bobov dol, run on an economy of attendance. You attend school, study hard, pass tests and move on to the next grade. After repeating this cycle 12 or so times, you graduate -you are certified- and you go out into “the real world” and either get a job or enter college to repeat the cycle. If you fail any of the prerequisites for completing a step (not attending, not studying, not passing tests), you have to spend another year attempting to complete the step or you get removed from school. If you are removed from school, you lose your chance at certification, you don’t get a job and you end up mooching off your parents for the rest of your life. In order to maintain a conducive learning environment, schools also threaten expulsion if you do not behave in the school. It’s a simple economic system really; if you want to “buy” certification, you have to “pay” with effort in the form of good behavior and studying.

The problem is, here in Bobov dol, this system has broken down because they have taken away the granddaddy of punishments: expulsion. Whether you like to admit it or not, our education system ultimately comes down to this threat: “Do this or you will fail!” Like many schools in Bulgaria, ours can no longer say this because we don’t have enough students. Due to population decline, if we kick out any more students, we will not have enough students to continue the grade. That means that we wouldn’t have enough hours for teachers and we they would lose their jobs. Without the threat of expulsion, there is little you can do to motivate a student.

It goes something like this:

Me: “You were late today. Please come on time tomorrow.”

Student: “Why?”

Me: “Because you are missing material in class.”

Student: “So?”

Me: “You will not learn the material.”

Student: “So?”

Me: “You will do badly on the test.”

Student: “So?”

And that’s where the next logical answer is “You will fail.” Most logical thinking students would at least have reason here to pause and consider the weight of this punishment. Unfortunately here the next answer is “…” NOTHING! There is nothing more I can do beyond this step. They got me! This kind of dialogue is repeated daily on everything from skipping classes, not doing homework, kicking our brand new whiteboards (happened today…) to fighting in class and cheating on tests.

Maybe I am an unimaginative teacher but if you take away the ultimate punishment, how can you motivate students to learn the modal verbs and past perfect continuous tense?

Something I have realized lately is that punishment is a form of love. No, seriously. As much as the kid in me tries to convince me otherwise, punishment is an act of love. I am not taking here about cruelty or revenge or sadism. I mean punishment as a part of justice. When you, as an individual or society, stand up and punish someone who commits a crime, you are showing that you care about the future and want it to be better. You are loving the person who was wronged; you are restoring their faith that someone cares about them and their live. When you punish the aggressor, you are loving them by making them aware of their error and hopefully dissuading them from doing it again. I was reading the Letter of Paul to the Romans the other day and was struck by Paul’s words. He talks about the punishment of the idolators and Israel and how God’s wrath was an act of love. Justice is obviously a virtue, it is even one of the 4 Cardinal Virtues of the Roman Catholic Church (Bonus points: Anyone know the other 3?). But Justice cannot exist if Punishment does not flow into and from it. There can be no Justice if injustice is not punished and Justice is corrupted if Punishment is unjust. I had never thought of it that way but it makes perfect sense.

If this is hard to imagine think of a small child. Say the small child steals a candy bar from a store. You as the parent find out later that day. You have two options. You can pretend you didn’t see it and do nothing, or you can punish the child and make him take the bar back to the store and have him apologize. Of course the second option is embarrassing, awkward and painful for both you and the child, but it is an act of love. You are teaching the child that stealing is not okay. They will learn that they should not steal and hopefully grow up to be a more moral person. The storeowner is reassured that people care about him and his business. Society as a whole benefits because the child will grow up into someone who appreciates justice and the storeowner will continue to believe in justice.

I think a society that has lost the capacity for love would first stop punishing people. They would not even have enough love for each other to say that pain and hate will not be accepted in the community. They would not care enough about the future to stop problems before they balloon out of control. Unfortunately I see that in my school. Kids fight in the halls between classes and teachers do nothing. Students skip classes by smoking in the cafeteria and teachers say nothing. Today, in my 12th grade class, a kid kicked one of our brand new whiteboards. The class is divided into two groups and he is in the other group. As he was getting up to go to the other classroom he, for no apparent reason at all, kicked the board. He walked out and I chased him down. There were two other teachers who saw him do it. One teacher came out and followed me. When I caught the kid I grabbed him by the arm and started yelling at him and came dangerously close to throwing him up against the wall and literally choking him. I was surprised at how close I was. I was trying to say something to him in Bulgarian but nothing came out. I was hoping one of the other three teachers (an extra one was in the hallway) would do something, but they did nothing. Nothing. I was so shocked and dismayed that I have been bummed all day. Could this town be so gone that it doesn’t even have the concept of Justice and Punishment, basic ingredients of love? I pray to God that it isn’t.

I’ve started going to the local “fitness center” here in Bobov dol. I was really into weightlifting when I was in high school, college and in the year before I came to Bulgaria. My brother introduced me to it, and – this may not make sense if you have never done it – I became addicted to it. I never became huge like Arnold but I can honestly say that I was able to lift quite some weight for someone my size. When I came to Bulgaria, I kinda got over my addiction because there was nowhere for me to get my fix. But I have recently discovered the Bobov dol fitness center and have been going frequently for the last month.

It’s quite different than any fitness center I’ve gone to in America. I have joked with people that I feel like Rocky training to beat that Russian dude. For one, there is no heat. I usually see my breath when I work out. The walls are covered with posters of various steroid-using body builders in Speedos. Anyone remember King Kalemeni? Lou Ferrigno? Bill Pearl? The equipment is old and… unique. The dumbbells I use are old train wheels welded to lengths of rebar. And unlike every other fitness center I’ve been to, there is no Metallica or AC/DC cranking out the speakers. Instead, we have Bulgarian pop-folk. The weights that do exist are in kilograms and I don’t know if you have ever tried it, but going up in weight by 10 kilograms (over 20 pounds) is quite a step. Trust me, I tried it today. One of the other people there told me that my “face is like a big tomato!”

So why do I go? There is something comforting about being there. It reminds me of my life in America. I like the time to myself to forget about what the girls in 11th class did, or what my colleagues said to me. There is also something so black and white about lifting. You can either pick up the weight or not; there is no cultural misunderstanding there. Everyday is a test, and the result is always up to me. I can’t blame it on my bad Bulgarian, or my inexperience teaching. If I fail I fail on my own. And there is something strangely comforting in that. Of course, if I succeed, I succeed solely on my own too.

Anyway, all that for 50 stotinki ain’t too shabby.

These pictures came from a recent trip I took to the Rila Monastery with Rebecca and her parents. People always talk about how beautiful the Rila Monastery is, here is why:

Thanks to Rebecca's parents for organizing the trip and inviting me. I had a wonderful time and enjoyed meeting you and talking with you.

Happy New Year! I hope everyone has been having a great 2007 so far. I recently returned from an amazing trip to Bonn, Germany, and I have some great pictures which I will post tomorrow. I also want to wish everyone a happy Yordanov Den as today is my favorite name day. Once again I went to the village of Saparevo and once again I watched the kids jump for the cross thrown in the fountain and once again I ate too much. But what a fun, beautiful day it was.

For those who don’t remember from last year Yordanov Den is the holiday in Bulgaria which celebrates the baptism of Jesus (Yordanov = Jordan). A year older and hopefully wiser, this year’s celebration was different for me. I had the extreme luck and privilege to actually visit the baptism site of Jesus in Jordan. I consider myself lucky and privileged not only because most people don’t get the opportunity to visit Jordan but also because for so many years the site was closed to the public due to hostilities between Israel and Jordan (the Jordan river is the border between the two countries). I am thankful that a site which so strongly symbolizes our hope for peace is once again peaceful.

This year in Saparevo as we were waiting for the cross to be thrown into the fountain and the kids to once again dive in after it, I began reflecting on the amazing trip that the Christian religion has gone through to get where it is now. Maybe I have been reading too much from the “Der Spiegel Special International Edition: The Power of Faith” magazine I picked up in Germany (I highly recommend this issue of the magazine. It’s in English and you can order it at http://www.international.spiegel.de/ The whole magazine explores different issues regarding faith throughout the world and encompasses all faiths from Christianity and Islam to Taoism and Atheism. It is very balanced and highly informative). But lately I have been thinking a lot about the role of religion in the lives of people. It is amazing how faiths have crossed varied cultural and geographical boundaries to create a patchwork of beliefs across the whole world. It is also amazing how these faiths have affected and been affected by the cultures where they are found. Speaking specifically of the Christian Faith we have Catholics, Orthodox, Anglicans and Protestants as the three main branches, but from these have sprouted many different branches depending on the place you are talking about. From Catholicism, you have eight branches including Roman Catholic, Byzantine Catholic and Armenian Catholic. In the Orthodox faith you have Russian, Greek, Bulgarian, Serbian etc. From the Anglican religion you have British Anglican, African Anglican and American Episcopalian (which itself is right now undergoing many changes based on very heated cultural dialogues) and others. And finally, the Protestants have more branches than I can keep track of, from Lutheran to Baptist to Methodist to Pentecostal.

I think this is a true testament to the desire of people to make sure that they understand faith in the context of their own lives. As the many controversies in faith show today, especially the widening chasm in the Episcopal Church and the changes in the Catholic Church, people are still searching for the truth. Faith has never been static and this search for the ultimate truth has created the beautiful patchwork we see in the world today.

As I was watching the Mass and later pandemonium in the fountain today, I was struck at how beautiful and intriguing this search is. Sometimes everything seems so foreign here; the language, the culture and the religion. And while the faith here seems so foreign to what I grew up with, as the same time the search is the same. Today I saw people worshipping the same God and the same Trinity that I do. I could feel the same piety and love in their hearts as in mine. And I shared with them the same hope that the people who witnessed Jesus’ baptism almost 2000 years ago must have felt. I am still charged about it.

It also inspired something else in me which I have been doubting: my future. The faith I saw today and a story I heard has made me think very seriously about starting a Master’s Degree in religion. The colleague who I joined in Saparevo told me about her personal baptism. Her father was a communist. He was a manager in the coal mine here in Bobov dol and as such was required to be a communist member. My colleague’s grandmother, however, was a committed Christian and wanted to make sure all her grandchildren were baptized. So she took my colleague when she was a baby and had her secretly baptized in the church. Imagine the risk this woman put herself and her family through in order to pursue the Truth. And this made me think of all the old babas I saw ringed around the fountain. How did they maintain their faith through those 50 years? How did those 50 years change the faith of the nation? How have people rebuilt their faith after having it forbidden? And then I realized that these questions go on and on. How does faith grow and change in relation to culture and historical events? I would love to spend more time investigating these questions. Thank you once again, Saparevo, for stuffing my stomach with food and my mind with thoughts!

School is quickly wrapping up for the year and it could not come soon enough. I am exhausted and ready for two weeks off. I am looking forward to celebrating Budne Vecher (Christmas Eve) with my colleagues and then going to the beautiful new cathedral in Sofia on Christmas day to celebrate Mass there. I am also excited to go to Germany for a week to celebrate New Years there. But first I have to make it through two more days.

Monday started with a nice chill, we had no coal in the school. People laugh when I show them my thermal underwear, but I wear them precisely for days like this. I knew something was amiss when I walked into the teachers room in the morning and saw my breath. It was later confirmed when a colleague told me that the classes were shortened because it was so cold. So the kids wouldn’t get sick sitting in a cold classroom, they shortened the class periods from 40 minutes to 35. I’m sure we dodged the bullet on that one. I walked into my sixth grade class as they where mutinying. Some girls in the class had apparently been influenced by their 10th grade boyfriends to leave school early, and were trying to take the whole class with them. Applying two lessons I have learned over the last year and a half (ie, students will lie right to your face, even when confronted with overwhelming contrary evidence; and always, always trust your instinct) I stopped them from escaping, even when they told me that they had notes (which turned into, “well, we’ll bring in notes tomorrow” after a little questioning) and telling me they would get sick and it was all my fault.

All week I have been showing my 12th graders “It’s a Wonderful Life” during our class periods. At first my motivation for showing the movie was that I loved it and I wanted to share it with them. I thought maybe they would think it was interesting, but too old, too boring or too American. But much to my surprise they LOVE it. And they get it. We have the final installment tomorrow, but already I can tell that they are totally into it. They laugh at all the right times, they “ahhhh” at all the touching moments, and they are absolutely quiet at the really intense parts. I can’t wait to see their reaction tomorrow at the end of the movie.

What is it about that movie? What makes it so universal? Why can I, a 24 year old living in 2006, feel like a movie from 1946 was written about me? How can a group of 18 year olds in Bulgaria, feel similarly? I think the movie speaks to something deep inside of us all. We all struggle in life to do our best, and I think we all feel like we fail more than we succeed. And no matter how much people may be reluctant to talk about, I think we all worry that our life doesn’t add up to much in the end. I am reading “The Alchemist” right now and it hits a similar chord. It talks about how we are all created to fulfill our destiny, but so many of us are faint of heart and don’t follow through on our mission. I think that is true to some extent: we are all created to live for something greater than us. We are created to make this world a better place. But life beats us around and makes us think that we will never succeed, and all too often we believe it.

When he is young, George tells Mary that: “I'm shakin' the dust of this crummy little town off my feet and I'm gonna see the world. Italy, Greece, the Parthenon, the Colosseum. Then, I'm comin' back here to go to college and see what they know. And then I'm gonna build things. I'm gonna build airfields, I'm gonna build skyscrapers a hundred stories high, I'm gonna build bridges a mile long...”

After a few years of being worn down by life George listens to his fears, this time in the form of Mister Potter: “Look at you. You used to be so cocky. You claimed you were going to go out and conquer the world. You once called me "a warped, frustrated, old man!" Who are you but a warped, frustrated young man, crawling in here on your hands and knees begging for help. No securities, no stocks, no bonds. Nothin' but a miserable little $500 equity in a life insurance policy. You're worth more dead than alive.”

I wish this wasn’t how life worked. I wish that we could all fulfill our destinies with ease. I wish we could go out into the world and do what really made us happy without this constant doubting. I wish when we tried and failed, that we would know that flying and crashing is better than not taking off at all. But life isn’t like that. In each day, life will test us to our limits and take away the things we want the most.

Friday is the darkest day of the year. My hope for you this Christmas season is that the light and hope that that famous birth brought will awaken in you the strength to fight back just a little longer. I hope it will light your path to your true destiny and true passion. I hope that you will remember that you are a special person and that if you had the opportunity George Bailey had, you too would run through town laughing and shouting at the top of your lungs.

Today is Thanksgiving. It is my second Thanksgiving away from my family and country. In some ways, these times have a twinge of melancholy. What is Thanksgiving without gathering around the dinner table with your friends and family and gorging yourself on turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, and cranberry sauce? Here in Bulgaria, we have work today. There is no Macy’s parade. I have no family here. There is no chance of turkey or cranberry. And my mom won’t buy a whole carton of eggnog for only me. As I look out my window, I can see only a gray downpour. I am still stinging from a horrible day at school yesterday, in which I made two girls cry. I am dreading going to school tomorrow and facing that class again. Tonight, I am teaching at the prison.

But I have plenty to be thankful for. And continuing my infatuation with lists, I proudly present the

Top 10 Things Andy is Thankful for This Year: {Drum roll optional}

1. Despite the gray outside right now, this is a wonderful world. Look around. If we look hard enough, we see we are surrounded by love. We are the children of God and as such have inherited a perfectly formed world. Of course it is broken in some serious ways, but underneath all that crap, it is beautiful and runs on love. I am thankful for this.

2. I am heading to Razlog tomorrow to have a proper Thanksgiving with a bunch of other volunteers. While I love my friends here, there is something to be said for gathering with Americans on Thanksgiving. You remember all the great things about home and tend to forget the bad. You share memories and you laugh.

3. I have friends here. Tomorrow I head to Razlog for an American Thanksgiving, but tonite my colleagues and I will gather in my little apartment for a Bulgarian Thanksgiving. In the true tradition of Thanksgiving, tonight’s meal with be a joining of two cultures and their food. There will be pumpkin banitsa, calf meat, tsarska salata, mashed potatoes, onion soup, bread and mashed pumpkin. And of course there will be rakia, which will be washed down with Coca-cola, and bezalkohol. Besides the food - which of course is a big deal - I am happy to have the friendship. I am so lucky that I have such close friends in two countries, across very different cultures. We have helped each other get through some hard times and my life would be so much less without them.

4. I am thankful for the family and friends I have back home. You are my compass as I explore my life here. A day doesn’t go by when I don’t take out that compass and use it to find my way; sometimes out of desperation and sometimes just to double-check that I am on the right path. Thank you for that. I love you all and miss you, and someday I will be with you again.

5. I am healthy. I can walk to school every morning,I can breathe easily, I can manage on my own, I can do anything I want. Though I am putting on some weight around the middle, I can still challenge anyone I meet to a 400 meter dash.

6. Speaking of gaining weight, I have food. I can eat when I want, and I have never known what Hunger really means.

7. I can bounce back from problems. There are so many people in this world who can not get over things. I have only pity and love for them. I hope someday they learn that when things really hurt, there are ways to overcome it. You can talk to trusted friends, you can pray, you can see a therapist, you can try a new route, or you can simply laugh. Sometimes when things hurt the most we must just step back and laugh. To use a quote from one of my favorite books (and least favorite movies) “One Flew over the Cuckoo’s Nest”: "While McMurphy laughs. Rocking farther and farther backward against the cabin top, spreading his laugh out across the water- laughing at the girl, at the guys, at George, at me sucking my bleeding thumb, at the captain back at the pier... and the Big Nurse and all of it. Because he knows you have to laugh at the things that hurt you just to keep yourself in balance, just to keep the world from running you plumb crazy. He knows there's a painful side; he knows my thumb smarts and his girlfriend has a bruised breast and the doctor is losing his glasses, but he won't let the pain blot out the humor no more'n he'll let the humor blot out the pain." I am thankful that I will even get over the disaster that was yesterday.

8. I am thankful for my new relationship with God. Though some days are hard and I feel like throwing the whole thing away, He is patient with me and blesses me everyday with all these things. I am also thankful for His Catholic Church here on Earth that has made me feel as welcome here as back in my hometown. I am thankful for all the priests I have met who have helped me, especially Father Nolan in Monaghan, Ireland and Father Marcel in Franconia, New Hampshire. My new relationship is very personal, but I couldn’t make a list without including the Big Man and all his helpers.

9. I am thankful for the Internet. Strange I know, but I am thankful for this giant amazing thing that is so full of possibilities. Like any human invention, it is full of both good and bad, but it is still beautiful. I use it daily to keep in touch with those I love, for help with classes, to become a better teacher, and to simply expand my knowledge.

10. I am thankful for my school’s new multimedia room. I am so thankful for all the people with whom I worked to bring this wonderful new educational tool to Bobov dol. It is a big change from last year when I only had chalk and my imagination as classroom materials. Today I taught 3 classes in it, and all classes complained when they had to leave. On one class I had to turn off the lights to get them to leave. That kind of excitement is what makes teaching worth it.

So whoever you are, where ever you are, I wish you a Happy Thanksgiving filled with love, peace, happiness, and lots of things to be thankful for.

One of my favorite movies of all time is High Noon. I don’t know if you’ve seen it or not, but you should. Even if you don’t like Westerns it is such an important movie to see. Of course there is the underlying anti-democracy in the movie that got the writer black-balled during the 1950s but besides that it is a great example of a person standing up and doing what needs to be done. The main character, Marshall Will Kane, is getting married when the movie opens. He has just retired from being the local sheriff and plans to move far away. As the ceremony ends, he gets news that a dreaded cowboy gang that he previously kicked out of town is coming back to take over the town when he leaves. As much as he tries to rally the town to fight them, everyone has an excuse why he can’t fight. So at the end of the movie, he goes out to face the gang alone, with only his trusty six shooter to help him.

I love this movie because Will Kane “does what a man has to do.” Even though he will probably end up getting killed for it, he does what is the right thing. Alone. And I think that is what draws many people to the movie. I think all too often we believe we are in this alone. It is me versus the marauding gang; me versus the competition; me versus the world. We need movies like High Noon to motivate us and wanna go out there and kick some ass. Alone.

Why? Because it is so unnatural. We are not meant to go out into this world and “do it alone.” Of course, there are times when we need to stand up and do what is right, even if the popular consensus is against us. That is a given. But we must also not shut ourselves off in our drive, quest to do what is right. We are human beings, Homo sapiens. We are naked, clawless, fangless, weak animals. If we had been a non-communal species out on the savannah, we would have been a tiny blip in the history of the world. The first proto-lion would have torn us apart and the world would now be ruled by cockroaches. In addition to our brains, our ability to organize and band together allowed us to move from a second rate hunter on the savannah to the biggest kid on the block, er, world.

I am all too often guilty of this. I never ask for help because I don’t want to trouble anyone. I don’t want to be seen as weak. I ant all the glory for myself. The list goes on… But days like today make me remember we can’t live like this. I had a crappy day at school. I had to give two periods of oral exams to my sixth graders and had to listen to such nonsense as this: “What time is it? (pointing to the clock)” “My cat!” I had to break up a fight as I walked into my seventh grade class between seventh grade girls and tenth grade boys. Then I had to teach the tenth grade and ended up spending most of the class taking away cell-phones that kept going off. By the end, I had seven. At the end of the day I was actually hoping that one of my seventh graders who was climbing over a fence outside the school would fall on his head.

All I wanted to do was to go home and feel bad about my classes and the fact that my water boiler died last night. But a colleague invited me to lunch. I have a hard time refusing food so I went. And I think that lunch saved my sanity. Just talking with her made me feel better. We talked about what it meant to be a teacher, and especially what it meant to be a teacher in Bobov dol. Part of the reason I was feeling down was because I too often think that I am failing. But I was reminded today that the problem is bigger than me. This colleague teaches math and told me that in the twelfth grade class, she has students who can’t multiply 7 and 5. I know this student and can vouch that he seems like a pretty intelligent, with it guy. I felt better because I learned that I was not in this by myself. Here I am surrounded by a group of colleagues who, day in and day out, slog through the same problems I do. Colleagues who, for the most part, try their hardest to make a difference. And I was reminded that the rewards for this work aren’t measured in days. You don’t know what you accomplish at the end of the day. You don’t know at the end of the year. You don’t know even when the child graduates. Our success is measured in lifetimes. And even if we don’t see our rewards in this lifetime, I have faith and hope that someday, somewhere, I will reap these rewards.

Know what makes me love High Noon even more? Will Kane didn’t do it himself. As much as it is advertised as “one man against the world” in the end his wife stands by his side. No one, not even Will Kane, can do this all by themselves. I’m trying to remember this everyday…

I grew up in New Hampshire believing three things were eternal:

1. The Red Sox will never win the World Series.

2. The Old Man of the Mountain will always be around.

3. New Hampshire is a Republican state.

Well, over the last few years the first two myths were shattered. The first one for the good, the second for bad. But somehow I still believed in the third. I believed in it so strongly that I almost didn't vote. I believed the US House race was definitely going to the Republican candidate and there was no way the Democrats would win either the NH senate or the NH house. But with a pathetic optimism I picked up in my 24 years of cheering on the Red Sox, I filled in the bubbles on my ballot and mailed it in, hoping beyond hope that "this was the year!"

Well wasn't I surprised when I read this article this afternoon:

Democratic Sweep Puts Lynch In Driver's Seat

Legislature Shifts To Democratic Control

CONCORD, N.H. -- The political landscape in New Hampshire shifted dramatically on Election Day, and observers said Gov. John Lynch may now have clear sailing to pass his entire agenda.

For the first time in history, New Hampshire Democrats will be in charge of the governor's office, Executive Council, state House and Senate. Democrats last held the governor's office, House and Senate in 1874.

Lynch was re-elected with a record 74 percent of the vote.

So let me just repeat this for those who don't quite understand.

November 6th

Democrats: Governor

Republicans: US Representatives; US Senators; NH House of Representatives; NH Senate; Executive Council

November 9th

Democrats: Governor; US Representatives; NH House of Representatives; NH Senate; Executive Council

Republicans: US Senators (they weren't up for election this cycle)

The Curse is Dead!

PS. (Special for my fellow New Hampshirites) Good luck Sylvia Larsen! I hope you get the President of the Senate position!

Two Saturdays ago, I canned hot peppers with one of my colleagues. First we cooked the peppers on the stove. Literally!

Then we added salt, vinegar, sugar, parsley, garlic and crammed them into the jars. We were a little disappointed to learn that 3 kilograms of peppers only makes about 6 jars...

After putting the ingredients into the jars, we boiled them.

After boiling, we put the jars upside down to cool. Yes that is me with the Satan eye.

And then we ate. The results? Sinus-clearing delicious! That's right, I got my canned peppers and peaches, my dried parsley, thyme and mint, bring it on, Winter!

I hate Mondays. What happened this Monday? I flipped out in my 7th grade class and had them spend the last 15 minutes of the class copying new vocabulary over and over again. In this class there are 23 students, all in the throes of puberty and unable to maintain a thought process for longer than 30 seconds. I warned them but they just wouldn't listen. Not that I think "duvet" and "face flannel" are especially important words to know in English but it's the principle... Tenth grade class wouldn't listen because they were too busy trying to keep from shivering. I was a little easier on them... 12th grade was good. We learned how to use monolingual dictionaries. We also learned how different words are related. My personal favorite was making the sentence, "the captors captured the captive."... My 11th graders began the class by running around the classroom hitting each other. They are all girls.

I feel very bitter today. Anyone who wants to cheer me up, give it a try. I really need to shake this day off.

In other news, VOTE! Even if you don't agree with my politics, go out and vote. I have a new appreciation for democracy and urge everyone to exercise their freedom. My 10th grade students skipped school on Friday and one student's reason: It's a free country now, I can do what I want. Democracy isn't easy. Democracy, like faith, is something you must work for. It may be a pain to fit voting into your busy schedule, but it is important. If you don't vote, you are saying that you don't care about democracy, you don't care about the sacrifices generations have made before you and you are too weak to decide your future. Go out and just do it!