I have been through some of the most travel-intensinve times in my life. I left the orphanage on Thursday the 15th at 6 pm, drove 3 hours to the train station, took a 32-hour train trip to Kolkata, then a 14-hour bus ride to Siliguri, then a 3 hour bus to Darjeeling. Coming out of Darjeeling, I took a 3-hour bus to Siliguri, then a 14 hour bus to Patna, then a 5 hour train ride to Varanasi. That made my week's total travel time about 75 hours, not including waiting time. I will never do that willingly again. Darjeeling, however, was definitely worth it. Set upon a ridge amidst lush green valleys, this old British hill-station is famous for its teas. It is one of the first places the British secretly imported tea to break the monopolies the Chinese and Dutch had upon the tea trade. Some of the original tea plantations still operate independantly and give demonstrations on how to make proper, high-quality tea and how to properly brew a cup or a pot. The most astounding part of Darjeeling, however, is the view. On three sides of the city, valleys drop thousands of feet down from the roads, and extend into true hill-country on the east and west sides. To the north, the land extends into the Himilayas, and dominating the view is a cluster of peaks containing Khangchendzonga, the third highest peak in the world. Clouds hang in the sky mid-way up the mountains and their shadows slide slowly across the villages in the hills below. Sitting at 7,000 + feet in Darjeeling, the crisp, thin air gives backpackers a giddiness that intensifies feelings so that many people just sit and stare at the views. There was a great coffe shop with mochas for 40 rupees (about $1), and I was sound as a pound. Mostly, I drank tea and read books. Right now, I am in Varanasi, a holy and grimey city. I just got into a bit of a scuffle, which could've easily turned into a fight. I took a picture of the Ganges near one of the funeral Ghats and some people accused me of taking a picture of dying people. I hadn't been of course, and anyway I was pointed the opposite direction. I showed them that I intended no offenseand they asked me to come and help an old woman, to say sorry. Trying to be gracious, I assented, but then they wanted money. I told them no, and then they started to follow me, saying it was what I owed. I told them that I didn't take a picture of the funeral pyres, but they didn't listen and said it didn't matter. Then one guy started to say that he would make truble for me; that was when I got mad and said he better leave me alone. He grabbed me and I pushed him off. Another American saw this and came over, told me that I shouldn't give them anything. He turned and told the instigators that there would be trouble and they would be IN trouble if they didn't leave me alone. He said they did the same thing to him yesterday and when a policeman walked up, they ran off. There were 6 or so of them, and I was lucky the guy came over. I am rather apathetic about the city on the whole, but I'm glad to have seen it. The ghats are mostly old and decrepit, the river is brown and smelly. Alas, I did not see a dolphin.

There was a bombing yesterday in the city, but it was on the other side and I didn't even know about it until it was on the news. So, I am fine everyone. Going to Agra tonight, then Jaipur. Home all's well and that everyone had a great Thanksgiving!

I have been traveling.

Much of it has been great, some of it frustrating, and all of it has been more expensive than I thought.

I am half way through the trip and still not too sick. In Turkey, I visited Cappadocia, Olympos, Fetiye, Ephesis, Selcuk, Pergamum, Yzmir and Istanbul. All were amazing, but I think my favorite was Pergamum. What a breathtaking Acropolis it has! It is set far above the city, and I am confident that if it were to still have many of the friezes that were taken abroad, it would rank among the world's wonders.

Africa was a bit different than I had thought. it took money to take all of the taxis around (for security reasons), organized tours and accomodations. I climbed Mt. Kilimanjaro and made it to the top, though my guide was pushy and annoying. Safari was great, and I saw nearly all of the African savannah game animals in my time on the Masai Mara, and at Lake Nakuru and Lake Naivasha.

I am in New Delhi right now, eating the best food I have in years. I walked around the Red Fort today, and went to the Gandhi Museum and to his funeral pyre, which is in the middle of beautiful parks. I have walked all around old Delhi, which is a warren of alleys and rickshaw streets, lined with shops and sales stands. It is still very eastern here, and retains a far different atmosphere than the western world. Tomorrow I go to Chennai for a week, where I will be working/helping out in an orphanage that was partially funded by my home church.

I have officially completed service in Bulgaria. What a journey it has been. I am writing from my favorite hostel in Sofia, where I am staying until my visa to India is approved. Perhaps it will be ready today, perhaps tomorrow. I have been here for a couple of days and have slowly given away clothes and trinkets so that my luggage is lighter. I am having trouble parting with some books and warm clothes, but I certainly have too much right now.

I feel a bit empty and lost, because I am constantly saying good-bye and cannot actually leave until the visa is ready. I need to get going and keep busy so that I don't slip into the depression of boredom. My airline tickets are ready, I am adequately vaccinated and I have purchased my anti-malarial medication. I have to find places to stay in Turkey and network with friends in Kenya and India, but otherwise I'm ready. My travel route is loosely as follows:

Turkey

Dubai

Nairobi/Kenya

Tanzania

Kenya

Delhi/India

Malaysia

Taiwan

San Francisco, and home

Dates are flexible and I'm keeping my options open on general travel and duration within each country. I'm out of time on the computer, so I'll write later about other aspects of my journey, and I will finally tell about Pompeii and the Vatican. Take care, all.

The end of my time here is coming faster than I'd expected. Doubts and worries swim through my mind rather than the sense of accomplishment I'd hoped for. I feel like I'm leaving friends behind and turning my back on a world in which I've spent so much effort to create mutual understanding. I keep telling myself that I have only been here for two years, and that when I leave, pretty much everything will continue here as it has for 7,000 years without my help. The personal impression I made is light, and will (by design) fade quickly. The impact of what I've worked with, however, will hopefully (I like to think that likely) continue. If all of this happens, our mission and designs are successful.

The evening outside is touched by the soft twilight and benches throughout the park sag with the weight of reclining pensioners. The culture of Stara Zagora is modernizing, but I hope that the relaxed atmosphere of early evenings, which Bulgarians commonly admire about this city, remains. I will certainly miss that aspect of life in Stara Zagora. Reading at cafe's has helped drastically increase my pagecount and is one of daily pleasures.

My current apartment has never really felt like home. Although I have lived there for 9 months, I have disliked it from the beginning. Leaving is like packing up a campsite. Neighbors weren't interested in much interaction and I was not able to join or create a sense of community there. I will always think of home here as the apartment near the brewery on Genberal Stoletov Street, with the smells of stewed grains and the pine trees of the hills, the views of the Thracian Plains, and friendly neighbors like Baba Netka, Slavov and Lena. I left home months ago.

Paperwork, paying final bills and saying goodbye take up most of my time these days. I am trying to sell a few of my things, but think I'll end up giving most of it away. OK, my counterpart is shoo-ing me away from the computer for coffee.

My bike was worn-out and broken when I bought it about a year ago. I rode it with difficulty around town, but I never took it very far because it was dangerous to ride over rugged ground or at speeds above, say, 15 Km/hr. Thus, when I had it repaired and upgraded to my self-imposed riding specifications, it opened up new possibilities for me with regard to fitness and entertainment and added a personal transport option. Due to work, I missed the bus to the Children's Parliament summer camp. I decided that I would bike there, and I expected a bit of adventure along the way. I got it.

I took the train to Tulovo, saving me the peddle over the Sredna Gora, and began the journey to Kalofer Panitsite. I had miscalculated both distance and elevation gain (or, rather, I had disregarded them), the side-roads were in worse shape than I had expected and riding with a 18-Kg backpack was harder on the butt than I had anticipated. My worst oversight, however, was traffic. Since the sideroads were too poor to bike safely, I rode along the highway. Of course I wore the Peace Corps helmet (as required by the program), but lorries and autos blew by at terrible speed, rendering the safety features of the helmet rather useless. I rode on a Friday which meant that Sofia-bound natives of areas around Kazanluk, Sliven and the Rose valley, who were eager to begin partying in the city, tested spedometer and RPM needles in the rarely visited high-end reaches of their instuments. Trucks and cars passed within inches of my left hand, blowing me forcefully to the right in their wakes. I disembarked the train in Tulovo at about 5:15 PM and arrived at the camp in Panitsite at 10PM, having covered 67 Kilometers and gained 200 meters of elevation. I was sore and hungry, but happy.

I have been off-road biking quite a bit recently and had my first accident in a long time. I was coming down a particularily rocky area and knew that I fould fall, so I jumped off of the bike, rolled, and emerged unscathed. My bike, however, suffered several damages. The rear brake handle snapped and chunks were taken out of the right handle and the seat. It was exciting and I'm amazed that the experience came without injury. Knowing how to fall and roll with the problems is valuble, kids. Problem is, I need to fix my bike again. Darn-it.

And so, the next installment of my Italian adventure (I had no idea that it would come in Serial form): Naples en-route to Pompeii.

Pompeii is about 3 1/2 hours from Rome by train, with a transfer in Naples. When I arrived in Naples, I had some layover time, so I explored the bazaars. Naples has a distinctly dangerous feel. It is more modern than Rome and has a more visible lower class. It's bazaars are bustling with quiet deals between bargain-waders and energetic, smiling 'merchants'. In this Bazaar, among these loud, obnoxious throngs, I was scammed for the first time.

My beloved camera stopped working just before my trip to Italy. I had been looking for a replacement, but all of the models I saw were either insufficient for my needs and standards or too expensive. Pompeii was one of the most anticipated destinations my lifelong travels, and I sorely wanted to photograph it. This desire, with the greed that nearly always leads people willingly into scams, along with my disabled eyesight (my glasses had been broken by a careless hostel-mate the night before) and my personal carelessness, enabled the incident to progress.

Cameras were shoved at me right and left. A laptop computer with a dual-core processor was offered for 150 Euros, a camcorder for 100 Euros. I really only needed a digital camera. I saw a camera that was exactly what I wanted in a small shop; I figured this would be a bit more legitimate than buying something off of the street. I let the salesman pester me a bit, feigned disinterest in the camera but let him show me its features. I took pictures with it, looked at the SD card, made sure the battery was new-ish, and bargained down to 30 Euros. I bought it.

When i was walking away from the shop, a bag fell over behind me and some people started yelling and gesturing wildly at me. I thought I'd knocked it over with my bulky backpack because nobody else was near me. Random items from inside the bag littered the ground so I gathered them back into the bag they had fallen from and gave it to the person who was yelling. I picked up the package that I'd set down and went on my way. What had happened was somebody had thrown the bag at my backpack to make it seem like I'd knocked something over. When I went back to pick the stuff up I'd needed both hands to work, so I put the bag I was carrying down. A man with a bag identical to the one containing my newly-purchased camera, to the way it was tied, came up behind me, and switched it with mine. My concentration was on clean-up, so I didn't notice. Almost immediately, I realized something was wrong. I thought I'd been targeted, but hadn't realized a switch had taken place. I carefully left, watching my back and keeping a thumb on my wallet in my front pocket. I checked my camera box two minutes later and found only bottled water inside. I told a nearby policeman who simply shrugged and said, "This is Napoli."

Thirty Euros poorer and with a poor opinion of Naples, I continued to Pompeii.

Next: Pompeii and the Vatican.

Summer camp in my part of Bulgaria is generally less structured than what is experienced in the US. Directors schelule activities and meals rather loosely, yet it works most of the time. The flexibility gives the kids more choice in participation and responsibility for the camp's dynamics. The downside of this quality is that it polarizes the group into very active and very inactive cliques. If there is a popular group with a bad influence, the counselors/supervisors have to watch them more closely and focus their attention on those individuals to keep them busy and out of mischief. Fortunately, giving those individuals and even their groups (cliques) more responsibility often facillitates their need for attention in a positive way.

At the camp I helped out with last week, this was a vital scrap of managerial knowledge, as it rained heavily and continuously for 4 days. The children were stuck in their small, concrete bungalows with little to do. Thanks to the elder campers, who provided music, games, dance lessons and showed great leadership, I still have hair - and most of it is still dusty blond/light brown. I never want to show another card trick, however. The camp was nice, and the food was Bulgarian - style camp food. That means lots of yoghurt dishes, sausages and meats, tomatoes, tea and the occasional chicken. Simple but decent. I lost weight last year, but this year, the campers brought me their leftovers. I over-ate. Not good when cooped up in concrete bungalows. Just sits there instead of being used by day-long activities like football (soccer), basketball and volleyball. We did get out the last 2 days and took long hikes to the eco-trail near Kalofer and Panitsite, the hydro-geologic phenomenon of bowl-like cavities in the sandstone bed of the creek above town.

I worked late in the week, opting to finish 2 days of work and taking my own transportation to the Camp rather than accompanying the children on their bus. Friday the 3rd, after finishing work at 4, I took the train to Tulovo with my pack and my bike, determined to bike the rest of the way. I hadn't realized that I needed to take supplies that made my bag reach 30 lbs, that the way to Panitsite way nearly completely uphill, that the roads were in such poor condition that I had to take the highway, and that my route was 67 Km. I made it into camp at about 10PM, with very sweaty clothes and an aching rear end. Still, I made it and I am proud of that fact. I would not do it again. The trucks and cars rushing past at about 100+ Km/hr came within inches and their wake blows bike riders off the road.

On our hike to Panitsite, I experienced an infuriating example of a bad situation turned near-disaster due to an unwillingness to admit error. On a hike with 50 children, aged 7 to 20 and elder women with bad knees, we were running late. The sky looked ominous and both the children and camp staff were complaining of pain and fatigue. I had helped lead the group down from the ridge on a leaf-covered, hidden trail. We had lost the trail a couple of times, but marked it so we would know the way back. I am an experienced hiker and trail leader, having backpacked all my life and gone through many outdoor leadership programs. One of the rules of hiking, especially in such a large and diversified group, is that when you are in any sort of trouble or hurry you stick to what you know and can be sure of. The doctor of the group, who was being pushed to get back, took a wrong trail. I was one of the few people who noticed; I drew him aside (to help him save face) and carefully and privately pointed out that we were not on the same path. At first he argued, then said it was a shorter trail (aka-shortcut). I just nodded and took my place at the back, helping the stragglers. After a climb up several steep inclines and a twisted ankle in thick leaf-cover, people began complaining whole-heartedly. I kept my mouth shut, though we were going a far longer route than we had come. We lost the trail several times and had to trek through some wet and slippery areas, but eventually came out on a trail we knew and got back to camp. The worst part is that the Dr. put the more frail/inexperienced of our group at risk, simply due to the fact that going back the 100 meters to the marked trail would show that he had led the group into a wrong turn. Pride cometh before the fall.

The last week was filled with project proposal review and funding decision. It was tiring and difficult, but good and fruitful in the end. This was the last quarterly meeting for my committee and the final committee meeting for me in Bulgaria; huzzah! My responsibilities change from here on out into transition, travel preparation to leave, training activities and a bit of hosting. I'll depart Stara Zagora on Sept. 30 and Buglaria on Oct. 2.

Coming up... Pompeii and bike crashes.

I neglected to write yesterday about one of the most powerful trips I have ever taken. I had to use vacation days or lose them, so I took an unplaned trip to Rome, Naples and Pompeii.

My trip started out with reservation problems in Rome. I am low on cash, so I opted to rebook at the least expensive hostel I could find. The hostel was central, relatively clean, and had no curfew. I went immediately to get food for a picnic and took the subway to Circus Maximus. When I reached the street, I gazed in awe at the ancient stadium, now a bare valley with a mound where the median of the stadium used to be. This small field between the Palatine and Aventine hills was the no-man's land in the mythical conflict between Romulus and Remus that established the ancient city and its earliest administration. The day was sunny and warm with a light breeze. After lunch, I walked to the nearby Piazza de Rocca and fell asleep in the cool grass under a pine tree. I awoke after an hour to a classical concert nearby, listened for awhile, and then walked to the Isola Tiberina and strolled, thinking, along the Tiber. I decided to wait for the next day to tour Rome. I would simply enjoy my books (Collapse, by Jared Diamond and Travels by Michael Chricton) and experience Rome. I looked at the cobblestone streets, the businesses, the schools and the alleys. I went to an internet cafe to do some work and then went to dinner. After dinner, I went to the Giovanni cathedral and read in a cafe, enjoying espresso and ginger cookies.

How expensive Rome is! But the food is so good, I had to enjoy a fine dinner. I am a decent cook, but they use such fresh and good spices in the bistro I went to that I couldn't come close to reproducing the auromas and flavors in their pasta sauce. Their bread was good too, and I ate as if I hadn't eaten for days. I think that is the best thing about Italian food: spice and freshness. The wine was full of flavor and had a good aftertaste. I couldn't afford to go go out for most of my trip, but I was determined to try good Italian cuisine at least one night. Man, was it worth it!

The second day I walked all around ancient Rome, starting in the Forum. The arches, pillars, frescoes, mosaics, and foundations all once used to be part of the largest and most important city in the western world, and I marvelled at the pieces of history and culture that remain. I read and ate lunch amongst the ruins, sitting on foundations that supported city baths and palaces. I climbed the Palatine hill and walked passages once reserved for the most powerful and influential people in Ancient Roman history. The view was spactacular and the day partly cloudy. The strong Italian sun was again tempered by the clouds and the breeze which rustled the leaves and pine needles of the trees in the gardens. The museum atop the hill displays artifacts from the prehistoric Urnfield culture found beneath the forum to late Imperial Rome. The foundations and support holes for huts were found on the Aventine side of the hill, dated to the 8th century BC. The museum pushes the theory that this was the site of Romulus' city and the first Roman kingdom. It is nice to think about, anyway.

I entered the Colosseum in the early afternoon and took hours studying and absorbing the architecture, scale, and complexity of the building. How impressive it is! I'm glad it was voted one of the 7 modern wonders (though I don't really support that contest or idea). It is such a beautiful, powerful building its presence is inspiring. I have seen it is pictures and on television all my life, but seeing it in person was a fully different experience. If it were built in the United States today, in the same scale, it would be impressive. With the artistry and detail, and considering the common scale of other man-made structures, it must have been other-worldly. The gallery inside the Colosseum had an exhibit of Eros artwork from the ancient world. I had a good time hearing American tourists realize what they were looking at in some of the mosaics/pottery on disply. "Oh my goodness, would you look at that! Do you know what that is!?" "That is disgusting!" "They were perverted!" "Let's go kids. Let's see the Forum. Who wants Ice Cream?" It was hilarious to see people's reactions to the explicit artwork.

I am off to a children's summer camp right now. I will retun to Stara Zagora in about a week, where I'll continue this story and write about recent experiences. Have a good week everyone!

It has been nearly two years since I arrived in Bulgaria for the first time. I am having a hard time contemplating departing for life elsewhere, and I'm beginning to prepare myself for the transition. The last 2 months have been packed with activity and responsibility. I have been running around establishing networks for kids and the Roma community, working in Plovdiv as a day camp counselor for an under-privilaged community, helping edit and subtitle a children's film, I directed a group discussion/powerpoint lecture on Geology and Geomorphology in Bulgaria, I briefly met President Bush on his visit to Sofia, attended a conference for departing volunteers in Bulgaria, met and spent time with my Parents and friends visiting me in Bulgaria, and so much more.

I have hit, however, a lull in my work brought on by the extremely high temperatures in Stara Zagora (up to a humid 107 F in the last week). Nobody wants to work or even be outside/in places without air conditioning. Many people have headed to the beach or the pools around the city. My air-conditioning does not work, so I take cold showers. I have indeed kept up running, though a few days ago in 100+ heat, I hit a wall and my legs refused to keep going. I knew I had to keep walking, so I walked the mile or so back to the river and shade to cool off gradually.

Due to the heat, I have found an lost a passion in the past 2 weeks - watermellon. I have bought three and consumed them in rapid succession. I find that it is best to chill them for a day in the refrigerator before cracking and eating them. I suppose I have eaten about 9 Kg or so of watermellon (the mellons are about 5Kg, sweet, and crisp-perfect), and I am taking a break. I'm returning for the meantime to fruit juice and tea (iced tea). I found a place that serves chilled coffee with iced cream floating on top, which might become my pep drink of choice.

I am beginning to plan my way home, figuring out a route and determining the costs. I may need to live lightly on the road, though there are things that I will not skimp on. I have my shots and stocking up on meds. I need to buy a mosquito net and some good boots before I go. Hope everyone is well. Margaret is finishing up her CA Bar exam today, and deserves everyone's congratulations. She has worked so long and hard through law school, it is time for a break before work. She'll come to visit Bulgaria in late August, and I'm looking forward to seeing her.

Having run about Cairo, we met a friend's college pals. The expat community is chummy in Cairo, and they welcome travelers with a relaxed interest and antique charm. My friend Nevine took us out and around and we visited a beautiful restaurant on the nile. The next day, we visitedthe Pyramids, Sphinx, Step Pyramids in Sappho and Memphis. The nile valley is much like the Egypt Museum. Hyrogliphs and statues are everywhere. Papyrus and papyrus painting institutes are also everywhere. The nile floodplain is a lush tongue of land sitting between rocky, desert ridges. Sand literally pours down to the edge of plantations and forms a night/day stark/lush boundaryline. Date palms line the edge of fields and (away from sitting water and canals) the air carries the warm, slightly sweet aroma of subtropical agricultre.

The pyramids are astounding. I saw them from a distance at first, as they slowly emerged in the landscape through the smog. In one of my favorite old movies, a depressed and lost character says, "Ive seen the pyramids and the other wonders of the world. They aren't so wonderful." His wise uncle replies, "Then you haven't really seen them." Before leaving Bulgaria, I had been afraid that my recent apathy towards antiquity (which is completely out of character for me) would poison any enthusiasm I had for the wonderous sites I would see. I've kept this odd numbness secret for awhile because friends and family would know that it is a symptom of discontent and perhaps depression. I can understand where the character could catch this sort of touristic blindness and I was afraid that it was happening to me. Petra might have overwhelmed my historical senses, but the pyramids reanimated my intense love of history and archaeology. These have been mysterious wonders for nearly all of written history, and it struck me that I was about to join the legions of travelers that, through centuries, have made the same journey. The enormity of the Great Pyramid and its neighbors makes one forget that they were man-made. Seeing grown men scamper up its blocks like puppies on stairs reminded me how small each of us is in the shadow of history.

While wandering through the pyramids, a sandstorm hit Giza. Although it was mild, the conditions were difficlut to bear. Dust got into everything. If the eyes were at all opened, even but a crack, dust stung them incessantly. Tears turned to mud at each end of the eye and breathing, though through cloth, tasted like dust. Describing the conditins do them little justice; I do not want to ever experience a major sandstorm.

I entered a pyramid at Sappho. The heiroglyphs were nearly perfectly preserved, and still showed the individual scratches of their authors. On one wall, one passage was repeated ad nauseum throughout the inscription. The sarcophagus was still there, opened and eerily empty. Heiroglyphics decorated its inside, which was big enough to lie down in (about 6 feet long and 2 1/2 feet wide). The tombs in Sappho are intricately carved and painted. Many aspects of life and personal character along the nile are depicted, from special ritual to daily life, war to sex, slave to god. I hadn't heard how extensive they are. That night, from Cairo, we left on a train to Aswan. More on that later.

I have been very busy in Bulgaria. When I returned to Bulgaria, I had my work cut out for me. Reports and project proposals had already started coming into my email for peer review and advice, and my own project entered its implementation period. Over the first week after I returned to Bulgaria, I was up late nearly every night working on something and up early for a meeting or deadline. I went to sofia to see a friend off at the airport and deliver the second edition of my Bulgarian folklore books to eager customers.

Having arrived in Sharm-El-Sheik, we checked into a hotel (Hostel for me and Trevor) and walked through the spotless and artifical lamp-lit streets. The famous resort is like a dimented mixture of Las Vegas and Disneyland, with waterfronts. Many of the beaches are privately owned by the adjacent resort-hotels like Movenpick, Hilton and Radisson. After dinner at a Lebanese restaurant (where rolls were baked in an oven next to the tables and served piping hot, seconds from the oven) we prepared for a hike up Mt. Sinai.

Mt. Sinai, where Moses was supposed to have received the 10 commandments from God, is in the middle of the Sinai peninsula, surrounded by little more than desert, camels, Bedouin and a steady stream of tourists. We arrived at the base about 1 AM and began the cold, slow trek to the summit. Just after St. Katherine's Monastary, our guide told us to be quiet in order to keep from disturbing the camels. Throughout the valley, camels were visible in the moonlight. There were so many that their silhouettes appeared as far as the eye could see. We were later told that there were approximately 300 resting there every night. Along the way, Bedouins sold trinkets, camel rides and food at the trailside or in scattered stone huts. After 3 1/2 hours of hiking, we reached the summit. Dawn broke over far ridges and bathed the surrounding mountains in a soft, gentle blanket of light. The landscape of Sinai is some of the most rugged, parched terrain that I have ever seen, however, in that auroral glow, it seemed rather welcoming.

We visited St. Katherine's Monastary after our descent from the peak and visited what was presented to us as the burning bush. The bush, as the legend goes, has been flowering since it burned before Moses. The monastary was built around the holy ground and has been expanded and rebuilt since then. There is a mosque in the monastary as well as a church. Most of the existing buildings at the monastary are several centuries old at least. The monastary sits in the base of a stark valley and contains a garden of palms and vegetables.

After returning to Sharm, I went with Trevor to check in to a reed hut at Shark's Bay, a cove community east of Sharm. After check-in, we rested on benches and sunbathed. We ordered a beer (rare and expensive in the middle east) and walked carefully out on the coral reef. Multi-colored fish and other marine animals darted to and fro in the shallows beneath the waves and curiously peeked out from small caves and tunnels. After awhile, we met in town and had coffee and a good dinner (shwarma and shisha). The next day we gathered in Sharm to relax and wander the bazaars. It was our last day on the sea and we wanted to soak it in. I headed off alone into the city and had a dinner of spicy salad and flaky flatbread. After a night plagued by mosquitoes, we departed for our flight into Cairo and a day at the famous Egypt Museum.

The Egypt Museum in cairo is perhaps the most packed archaeological museum I have ever visited. It is also the most disorganized and cluttered academic institution I have ever seen. Artifacts are placed everywhere and are often unlabeled. Packed artifacts are labeled and placed in the middle of its hallways on the lower level and some that are in the middle of study or preservation serve as benches for the tired egyptian student. Currently, a world-class building for the new museum is under construction in Giza, near the Great Pyramids. The Tutankhamen exhibit was at home and I was able to gaze at the rich sarchophagi and the famous burial mask. I had seen so many pictures of the mask and I was so framiliar with the outside that I looked up into the mask from below. The flaws in metalwork and hammer strikes are still visible on the inside of the mask. The cobra on the top of the mask has a body that extends back to the occipital region, winding back and forth all the way. The museum was filled with artifacts dating through the Pharaonic times to Roman rule. Curiously, I did not see exhibits of artifacts from mideival or more recent Egyptian history. Nobody ever seems to think about the major role the land played in the crusades, the Nepoleanic or more recent World Wars.

Next entry....Egypt to Nubian territory, long bus rides and my recent Bulgarian adventures.

I realize that I've been remiss in my writing duties. For that I apologize. In the last month, I have been quite a busy dude. I have: written project grants, traveled, planted trees, been in the paper and on TV, given a grammatically flimsy interview, been to sushi, bartered, gambled, eaten Indian food, had dysentery, drunk non-alcaholic beer, rock climbed, dune-jumped, dived, been in a sandstorm, had grants rejected, sat in a sarcophagus beneath a pyramid, sat in front of royalty on a plane, had a grant approved, been hit by a car twice, grown tomato plants, eaten rice and so much more! Where do I begin to write? (ok, relax mom. The car tapped me the first time in the Stara Zagora bazaar, and I just went on eating my falafel sandwich without more than an annoyed glance at the driver. The second time, I hopped over the hood and finished crossing the street. That was in Cairo where it seems like the Taxi drivers aim for pedestrians.)

My multi-national adventure started out with a morning flight to Amman, Jordan from Sofia. We flew within sight of Stara Zagora and I was just able to make out my neighborhood from the plane. The photo, however, did not come out. On the second leg (Istanbul to Amman), I sat in the front of the aircraft amongst a group of Swedish diplomats. Near the end of the flight, I learned that Princess Victoria was one of the attractive and friendly young ladies sitting behind me. None of my friends believed me, as the VIP entourage departed by the time they disembarked from their aft seating on the plane. We headed to Petra, which is an astoundingly historic place. Today, it is probably best known for its appearance in Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade as the site of the Holy Grail. Only one of its hundreds of sites is shown in that movie. Petra was inhabited by Nabateans, Macedonians, Romans and others through history. Temples, tombs, sacrafice sites, sculptures and more were everywhere in the rocky valleys throughout the region. I was there for 2 days, but could have easily stayed a week to explore the extremities of the area. I could see Aaron's tomb on a far mountain top, but did not have the time to hike there.

After Petra, we camped in the deserts of Wadi Rum in southern Jordan. Sweeping vistas, towering rock formations, oases, neolithic carvings and Bedouin tents dot the valleys of this region. Most of the desert scenes of Lawrence of Arabia were filmed there. We went to Lawrence's spring and the ruins of the house he stayed in when in the area. From this valley his allied army attacked and captured Aqaba, which is where we headed next. Aqaba is a Jordanian city that has not yet been filled with foreign tourists. Although it has been a vital trading port for millenia and still has spice and clothing bazaars standing on the same plots as their ancient predecessors, the city does not have a public museum. People had come from Amman and all of Jordan to the beach there to enjoy the holiday weekend. From the hotel window, we had a view of the end of the gulf, over the last stretches of Jordan, the intensely developed Israeli coast, and then the cliffs and dry mountains of Egypt. A strong military presence in the city accompanied the entourage of Angela Merkel, who was on a diplomatic visit to the King's residence on the Aqaba waterfront.

From Aqaba, my friends and I took the ferry to Neweba, Egypt. Out the windows, Saudi Arabia crawled by on our left and Egypt on our right. The ferry was supposed to have been the fast ferry, but we waited on the boat far longer than than the 2-hour transit. Our whole trip took more than 4 hours. Upon reaching Egypt, we learned quickly about the cultural difficulties of traveling. We continuously had to haggle for EVERYTHING including transportation. First, we made a deal with a driver who reneged after we went to the ATMs and missed the last bus to Sharm-al-Sheik. We had to re-haggle and eventually settled on a price for drop-off at our hotel. He tried to collect passengers to other destinations along the way (who they had tried to use beforehand as a bargaining tool) but we didn't let them. When we arrived in Sharm, the driver dropped us off kilometers away from our hotel and told us that it was just a few blocks away. I was furious and took charge of the group's payment. We tyold him that since he broke the deal, we would only pay him for part of the journey. He knew he'd lied to us and, seeing three angry, imposing men, accepted.

More on the trip to come in the next post.

Fast food means toasters, duners, or pizza in Bulgaria. My preference has cycled through all three choices while I have lived in the BG. Toasters are patty or cutlet - filled buns crushed and toasted in a sandwich grill. They come with fried onions, lettuce, yoghurt sauce and salad and are the healthier choice. Pizza is a little bit different than the American style by-the-slice variety. Although it is still sold by the slice, Bulgarians are conservative with their pizza sauce, but top their slices (which often include pickles and corn) with a thick layer of mayonnaise and/or ketchup. Duners are the third option, (in Stara Zagora, the most delicious in my opinion) and are the most varied in quality. There are good Duner stands and bad ones; the secret, it seems, is in the sauce. A good garlic sauce and well-crisped meat makes a good duner.

Laundry is a chore over here. That Bulgarians wear the same clothes for multiple days is not surprising considering the work it takes to hand-wash clothes. I have about 9 pairs of underwear, which means that I have to do at least 1 load of laundry a week to keep abreast of the daily demand. When sheets, shirts, jeans and jackets also need washing, the laundry becomes a desperate struggle. Laundermats are not popular, and machines are expensive for Bulgarians. Thus, when a friend kindly offers his/her machine to use, I am grateful. My current problem is drying the clothes. I used to live on the on a nice, breezy hillside with a large, airy balcony. My new apartment is in the stagnant downtown next to the industrial district. If I leave my windows closed, drying laundry takes ages and mold quickly introduces itself across my walls. If I open my windows, soot settles on the whites. Quite a catch-22.

In happier news, I went to Kukeri in Shiroka Luka a couple of weeks ago. Kukeri, some readers might remember, is a fesival of noise to chase bad spirits away in order to properly usher in the fertility of spring. I stayed with a friend about 10 km away in Stoikite and hiked down the mountain to the festival in the morning. What a beautiful country Bulgaria is in the middle of the Rhodolpe Mountains! It was a crisp, sunny morning with the babbling river rushing swiftly next to the road and songbirds calling. I met the Minister of Smolyan District and the Mayor of Shiroka Luka before the festival and enjoyed the festivities with many friends from all over Bulgaria. Although there are other Kukeri festivals in Bulgaria, the festival in Shiroka Luka is famous for its folk music, creative and authentic costumes and of course locally made Rakiya. If I return to Bulgaria later in life to attend a cultural festival again, I will come for Kukeri.

While a friend is in Sofia, I am caring for her cat. Bulgarian domestic cats are wilder than most in America. While American cats are scared if they are feral, Bulgarian cats can be vicious. Of course, I am generalizing. Costa is often a sweet cat, but he will turn on you and attack without warning. He also makes noises that I have not heard from any domesticated cat. I fed him this morning and he rubbed up against me, purring. when I petted him, he was receptive and happy, but then suddenly attacked my hand with an unexpected ferocity and hissed. Scary. From such a little creature, too...

Here are quotes from inside jokes between family or friends over the years. See if you can pick out the jokes/good times that we've shared. Some are in my distant past, and some are in my distant recent. Remember, these are inside jokes, but you might still find the quotes amusing.

"Ok, I'm going over there to hide and you come and find me, ok?"

"I don't know man, she has a Chewie thing going on."

"Louder! bigger!" "Ahe blough mai nouse ein your gen-e-rahl dahe-rection!" "Bigger, BIGGER!" "Yough dou naught fraighten us, yough Ainglish Piegh-doghs!...."

"What would Superman do?"

"I can't go. I have two finals to study for, a paper to write, my country's 500th anneversary to plan, my wife to murder, and Guilder to frame for it. I'm swamped."

"I give them 3 months." (6months later) "I give them 3 months" (1yr after) "I give them...I don't know! and I don't get it!"

"There's nothing you can't cure with white-monkey juice. Go climb a tree."

"No, no! It's pronounced Goo-mie Bears, right?"

"What have I gotta do that I can't spare 15 minutes?"

"What is that?" "Shhhhhh! It's the secret popsicle- and lolliepop-stick burial grounds." "But it's right out in the open." "Well it's still a secret."

"Shut-up Cas. Would you please shut-up?!"

"Shut-up Koubi. Would you please shut-up?!"

"My toenail is severed on three sides" "you're an a**hole!"

"It's a hot night and I'm doing push-ups in nothing but a tool-belt. And I'm drinking Budweiser."

"I'm lonely and my pockets hurt."

"Hope all's well! Heading to the sea and will vomit in a cafe for you!"

"Anna gets around."

"One divided by three is.....Zero!"

"So, after seeing you across the conference table last friday, I have come to several conclusions: 1. You're cheerful, even during meetings. 2. You don't make wandering eye contact very well in said meetings. 3. Or you were avoiding it. 4. The dudes are right."

"I, too, went slumming once."

"I see you have braces. I, too, have braces."

"Haro!"

"Where did you get that cut on your forehead?" "Don't you remember? You threw me across the room last night."

"I would take the high road, but it's too high."

"Mr. Ingrao, you're a genius. Or you don't care about your car-seat. Anything else here for us to pick?"

"It's a non-issue." "What's a non-issue? We have to talk about it and that means it IS an issue." "Whatever, I'm declaring it a non-issue. I can do that."

"If it gets too expensive to feed them, kill and eat the rabbits."

"Did you guys just hootie-hoo that girl?" "HOOTIE-HOO!!!"

"This is the best movie ever. I love this movie, sooo much. (10 mins later) yeah, I don't like this part either. (and 10 mins after) no, you have to look past this at the whole picture. (and 10 more mins) yeah, this movie sucks."

"GUS. Okay, that's perfect. Who's G?" "Well, you know, she should be." "Why?" "well...because of the string, the spot, all that."

"Well, I trust that the KDR radar will take me safely home tonight."

Coming soon: The thrills of fast-food, Bulgarian style

My current interests: Working out, Mere Christianity, LOST, Viennese coffee, making fun of site-mates.

Working out:

I have not been running much. When I ran in the cold, I got sick. Consequently, I have decided to keep my runs short (1-2 miles) and spend time in the gymn. I joined a fitness hall that is adequately equipped, cheap, and close to home. Most of the clientelle is younger, but they keep away from me and let me just work out. Once or twice, they have obviously tried to show-off or intimidate, but I ignore their efforts to get and keep my attention. One young man started to punch a bag as I walked by, but he was hitting it with vigor and at angles. His wrists weren't straight, and I told him that if he hits the bag that way, sooner or later he would break them. He was surprised I spoke Bulgarian and asked about me. No problems after that. I lift weights and run 3 or 4 days a week.

Mere Christianity:

Mere Christianity is a pithy, dense book. It has so much meaning and has had such an effect on me that I have taken months to read it. CS Lewis makes so many important points that I cannot ignore, he so plainly and logically discusses what christianity means to him and many thoughtful christians, and it is so important to me as a christian to be careful in my reading, that I have trouble reading too much of it at any one time. Consequently, I read little of the book at any time and think about it frequently and persistently. I will finish it soon, and pass it on. Thanks, Greg, for passing it to me.

LOST:

The television series LOST has become one of my obsessions. I was not interested in the show until last November, when I inherited copies of the first 9 episodes of the second season. I had ignored it, even when friends had raved about the quality of the show. When I was bored one evening and had no other new material, I popped the DVD in and began to watch. It grew on me, and by the 6th or 7th episode, I was hooked. Recently, I borrowed the entire first season from a friend. It cleared up a few points for me, but I'm less taken now with the plot or the characters. It wasn't really necessary to see, though I am glad to have seen it. Not many people seem to really like the characters I do, nor dislike certain characters as much as I do. After having seen the first season, I think the whole group would have killed each other off. The plotholes are more apparent to me. In any case, I'm still looking forward to seeing the rest of the second season. It's a good, safe escape and the scenery is beautiful.

Other stuff:

I have Viennese coffee almost every day at my favorite cafe, and the few minutes of alone-time has almost become ritualistic. My closest friends in Bulgaria have begun to make fun of each other, but in a friendly, comfortable way (most of the time, anyway). Am I the butt of any jokes? Of course I am. More on that later.

The chill has arrived. In the last 2 days, the temperature has dropped an average of 12 degrees celsius, freezing puddles and covering trees with thin coats of frost. I awoke last night to the sound of my chattering teeth, so I piled more covers on and turned on the heater (a momentous occasion). The apartment was warmer than ever this morning. I couldn't fall back to sleep. I looked out the window at the cloudy, moonlit sky and watched the moonbeams shift quickly with the racing gaps in the cloudcover. Winds must have been terribly strong, as the entire sky moved with amazing speed.

For a year, I have been trying to work on a recycling/garbage collection system in my city. I have had small meetings and conversations, I have been welcomed by some and maligned by others. All of that was done in the name of health, modernization and progress. My efforts have now officialy been snubbed. The city has placed recycling bins in a few places, but has not emptied them in weeks. They fill with garbage, which is to be expected without an information campaign or at least a bit of advertizing. It's a bit discouraging, but there's hope brewing: some of the youth and children in the community understand the need for recycling and environmental care and are interested in learning about recycling and its social effects. Slowly (little-for-little in Bulgarian), the community might become waste-conscious and change.

In the coming weeks, work will take me back to Plovdiv, Topolovgrad, Varna and other Bulgarian regions I love. I'll be teaching and leading discussions on geology, project design and amnagement, among other things. Gonna be busy. Ciao!

It has been warm here, and snow has not yet made an appearance in the New Year in Stara Zagora. Snow improves the appearances of the city, and people here have expressed their dissapointment at a winter so far without snow. Skiing in Bulgaria is not going to be great this year. I, myself, feel a bit deprived of a winter wonderland. If it were snowing now, however, the general sentiment would be that the weather is bad and the cause of illness throughout the city.

I took a friend hiking yesterday in the hills behind our lovely city, and we covered perhaps 10 miles of sunny, snow-free terrain. Dogs, cows, goats and squirrels ran about outside and birds chirped from the woods. I can't help but wonder whether the other shoe will drop soon and we will be hit with an impenetrable front of wind and ice. We'll see.

Last week, I visited Stara Zagora Federal Prison, where I sat in on a group therapy meeting of inmates who had a history of narcotics abuse. They were shy, but warmed and gained confidence as the meeting progressed. At the end of the meeting, they asked me exactly what drugs I've tried. I did not want to distance them with a 'none' answer, and I didn't want to invent an inaccurate response, so I tried to slide by with a vague answer about living in Berkeley, which is known for its drug culture, going to school at UC Berkeley and having friends who have been addicts. They were not thrown and repeated the question. I told them that I could understand their experiences, and they were better satisfied. They opened up a bit and shared some interesting anecdotes. The men in this group have been through rough times. More about the group in later dispatches.

Good tomatoes are gone. The mandarin orange season is drawing to a close as well. This is the time of year that canned goods become important due to a lack of produce. Though Stara Zagora has produce year-round, the quality drops and the price climbs. We'll be out of it in 2 months.

I am in Bulgaria once again after a whirlwind visit to my homeland, the San Francisco Bay Area. I'd forgotten how much I love that place. It was great to see family and friends and to get some long-awaited business done. Some thing I was prepared for, others I did not expect. When I return at the end of this year, I will be looking for a car again - that I expected. The cleanliness of everything - that I expected, but it still surprised me. The absolute waste that pervades US culture - that surprised me, though I have always seen it. How can people throw so much away? How can people spend so much money on simple entertainment? How can real estate be so expensive, even in comparison to average wages?

I am recovering from illness. I developed infections in my sinuses and throat when I got back and have been bed-ridden for awhile. I found mold creeping through the paint in my apartment and I also have bathroom odors from other floors. Quite a nice welcome back to Bulgarian life. This week, I've met good friends for dinner and pow-wowed with my counterparts about good prospects for projects, so life and business here seems to be taking off well again despite the little problems.

Stara Zagora is slowly getting cold, though it is not nearly in the low temperatures it posted last year. The city continues to elude snowfalls and the sun makes almost daily appearances. I have not gone back to my good old cafe "Amadeus" for my Viennese Coffee, but I might this afternoon. That's it for now from this side. Take care and may all who read this have a lucky weekend!

It has been quite a busy month since my last post. I've been up to my neck in work, moving, cleaning and socializing. Some more of my friends have left for greener pastures in work and life, and my social circles have changed a bit. My new apartment is small but decent. I've put a fair amount of elbow-grease and work into making it homey. Little paint here and there, little linoleum over the concrete, little bit of cleaner and plaster, and it has been transformed into my new digs.

The weather has not cooled as much as I expected. By this time last year it snowed several times and was in the negatives until March. Thick fog invaded the city for a week earlier this month. Walking through the streets was eerie, especially as the concrete blocks emerge from the fog here and there, dripping condensation like in James Bond films. Speaking of 007, I walked to the train station one night to catch a midnight train to Varna. Passing through the park reminded me of the statue garden level in the original 007/James Bond Nintendo game. Angular, communist-era concrete statues emerged right and left from the fog as I made my way, my footsteps speaking in muffled echoes in the dense, quiet night. I walked by a man who was standing with his hands in his pockets looking like a covert contact; that was the guy who would get the knife in the back before 007 would be captured.

I've been working with several development projects in Stara Zagora and advise on others throughout Bulgaria. It is heartening to see how people are happily working to improve their communities and provide opportunity to their neighbors, especially children. One of the projects was an improvement for an archaeological museum and simply requested a media set of a camera/scanner/computer for database purposes. Simple low-cost requests like these can help preserve or even save artifacts from destruction by overhandling or poor storage, though until now funds were unavailable in a developing country like Bulgaria.

I joined friends in Vratsa on November 24th for Thanksgiving. We all pitched in and made a terrific dinner. Our group included a mix of Bulgarians and Americans. One of my friends there, Bojan, is an artist/potter from whom I bought most of my Christmas gifts this year. He was trained in Sweden and is quite skilled. I am a bit concerned about transpoting them back to the USA; we'll see if I can get most it back undamaged. With that said, I will visit the homeland for two weeks and return to Bulgarland on the 4th of January. I'm sure I'll miss her.

We enter the winter again at this time of year. The autumn is now cold and grey. Today is sunny, but the wind carries a gnawing chill and heavier clothing is required to keep from shivering. It snowed while I was in Greece, but hasn't since. Leaves are in the midst of falling; the wind blows them in low cyclones across the park and around the main street. Everthing about the the parks at this time of year reminds me of Yuri and Lara walking in the center of Yuriatin in Doctor Zhivago. The city statues, architecture, fur clothing, hard faces, the color of leaves, varying strength of the wind, rosy cheeks and they way people walk all make me think of that movie and that scene. Although this climate is much more temperate, pieces of the Soviet-era style and culture remain alive and/or evident here in Bulgaria.

Though there were serious problems with government and society in the Soviet sphere at that time and though people living under the systems suffered in many ways, I respect some principles of that ideology: common effort, value of intellect, repect for courage, thrift, respect for culture and society. Living in the aftermath of that system of government, however, I see major pitfalls to the ideology, too: seeming efficiency at the expense of originality, quantity at the expense of quality, less attention paid to detail, poor vertical management, little attention given to individuality and resistance to change. Bulgaria seems to be pulling away from the stagnant influence of life under that system, but (as many Bulgarians tell me) Bulgaria needs time and more independant political development to realize its potential as a nation.

Most of the work I'm doing now concerns the development of local NGOs. In one project, I am helping establish a 24-hour hotline for troubled and at-risk youth. I'm cooperating with a youth psychologist who has established a volunteer committee of 4 certified psychologists to be on-call 24-hours a day. A central, toll-free number will dispatch to 4 available GSMs, each manned by the on-call psychologists. We will also create announcements and informational stickers about the hotline and post them throughout the city of Stara Zagora.

On the anneversary of my apartment troubles, I have new ones. I have to move suddenly - my landlord needed to sell the apartment and I have a few days to pack up and vacate. The only problem is cost of the new place and neighborhood. Fortunately, I have people helping me and leads on new places. I may not get what I want, but at least I have a support network to help me through the transition. We'll see what happens.

I'm settling down into small runs in the aftermath of the marathon. My big toe (which was literally capped and ringed by a huge blister) has healed nicely, though my second toe on the right foot has a very colorful nail. No more running-related aches and pains, and my shoes are also fine (they didn't fall apart as I thought they might). I want to keep running but the light has faded by the time I get home and my new digs might be in a bad part of town. I'll find a way to stay fit, regardless.

Well, off to look at the last few apartments before I have to make a final decision. Ciao i priaten den vsichki!

The Marathon was a unique experience in my life. The unity of my passions in history, fitness, charity, literature, photography, travel and comeraderie (and laziness, too) have rarely if ever been matched by this event. My final, official time was 3 hours, 59 minutes and 45 seconds. Not bad for a first marathon; I beat 4 hours!

I thought about a lot along the course: the parched Mediterranean hills between Marathon and Athens, Phidippidus and why the heck didn't he just ride a horse, my friends running with me (for a few kilometers, literally; I ran with my pal Greg for 3 or 4 Km), the Bulgarian Scouts we were running for, my training, lines from the Iliad, Thucidites, Plutarch and others, about when to snap pictures and more. I brought a disposable camera along with me for the entire couse and have some serviceable snapshots. People around the finish line who cheered me through the marble Pan-Olympic Stadium laughed as I pulled up my camera for the finish-line photo.

I had a very good first half-marathon, finishing 21.1 Km in 1:48:12 or so, about a 3:35 marathon pace. At Km 27 or 28, my muscles uncontrollably cramped in dangerously painful and sudden ways. I promised that I wouldn't let myself push to injury, so I began a stretching-walking-running routine for the remainder of the race. The frustrating part was that from 30.5 K to the end of the race was fully downhill or flat. I wasn't very tired, but if I ran too hard or far, my legs would cramp so intensely that I could not bend them without stopping to walk. I did some unwise things during the race: I drank powerade and ate GU gel in addition to drinking water. All of my training was performed without either methods of electrolyte replacement, and I suspect that my body was simply unused to the extra nutrients. Well, that last 12 Km was just about the hardest running I've ever done.

When I crossed the finish line, all of the pain and effort, the training and anticipation, the days of emotion, the joy of completing such a trek hurt and broke through my chest. I saw my pal Thomas, who finished the race just ahead of me, and wanted to cry (but I was dehydrated and am a big man, hardy har). We walked a bit, then sat and drank water in near silence together. We soon found others in our group and cheered our remaining team-mates as they neared the finish line. I am still amazed at the sincere and universal support the greeks gave runners along the length of the course. People would stand cheering with their children, "Bravo, bravo! Gud Djob! Bravo!" old or young, sometimes in chairs at the side of the road. It gave me energy to see and hear them giving such sincere support.

What an experience.

It is raining now in Stara Zagora and in most of central/southern Bulgaria. Grey weather has finally come, and with it a forgotten chill. After a hot summer this change is not entirely unwelcome, though it is a harbinger of the piercing cold that is likely this winter. I sat in bed this morning (because of an infirmity I shall reveal shortly) and listened to the patter of drops on the tin flashing around my neighbor's windows. No more birds wheeling about or bats at night, but no more bugs either.

On friday, while I returned to Stara Zagora from my conference in the mountains, I grabbed a bite in Sofia. I felt a bit car-sick in the bus (or bus-sick, rather) but thought nothing of it as I'd travelled for 5 hours. I went to a friend's house for dinner, but couldn't eat it. One would think that hamburgers would simply disappear down my gullet, so obviously something was wrong. I made as graceful an exit as I could, but another friend was stuck in Stara Z and had to stay at my place. Too bad for her - I had just about the worst food poisoning I have ever experienced. I couldn't stop being sick all night and the next day. Though I was camped out on my kitchen bed, I'm sure she was privy to noises from everything I was going through just down the hallway. I guess whatever had insulted my gastro-intestinal tract had done a very thorough job, because my body expelled everything it possibly could. It is Sunday night and I feel far better, though I have the lingering effects of sickness in my system. No more Sofia fast food for me, thank you.

Those who might be interested in donating/sponsoring the Scouts through my Marathoning, please read the clip I've attached from my colleage's email. It explains a bit how to do so. I'll send out an email as well in the next week.

For those of you who have been following the funding struggle thing.

We now have somewhere to put the money! Scouting Europe will accept

the funds through their web portal... now all we have to do is

convince people they want to give support.

As for the tax receipts http://www.irs.gov/taxtopics/tc506.html they

are just as deductible as what PC offers. You should read the linked

tax law (this is my serious face :| ), so you understand. Basically

it doesn't matter unless you itemize your deductions.

As for where to go and how to do it? well here is some preliminary

information, we will redraft the letter that was uploaded earlier.

By credit card, donors can pay on:

http://www.scout.org/donate/

Select "Scouting in the European Scout Region",

Select the currency "EUR, USD, ..",

and mention "World Scout Jamboree 2007, support to Bulgaria and the

name of the donor"

Making sure this information gets out will be up to us, so post on

your blogs or put them in your mass emails...

Thanks for reading everyone, and remember to always flush!

It has been almost a year of service. Many of my American friends here have begun to go back to the United States and readjust. Some are travelling, some are starting school, and some are out of money. These are really good people and I will miss seeing them here. That is life in foreign service/international volunteerism. People come and go quickly all the time. The positive side of this phenomenon is that some very strong friendships form through common problems and experiences. The negative side is that they are transitory, those involved moving to many different places continuously. Living through a year of this has made me write more because I'm afraid of forgetting important events, moments and people in the quagmire.

The Marathon is coming up. I'm not ready yet. I ran a 12-mile run today and felt strong, though I have blisters from running so far, daily. I'll buy new shoes soon so that they'll be broken in by November 5th, The Day of the Marathon. The group I'll be running for/with has started a sponsorship fund. We will give all donations to the Bulgarian Scouts to send a group of 10 scouts to the World Jamboree/100th annevarsary of Scouting in the UK next summer. This should be a magnificent moment in the children's lives, as they have not left Bulgaria before. They are good kids. Some of my friends work with them frequently (weekly or so). I'll include details on how to donate/sponsor in my next blog entry.

Winter is coming. It has started to get cold and the rain comes every afternoon. Tomatoes will soon be scarce, so I am savoring them while I can. I'm fortunate enough to be in a community where fresh produce is available year-round, but it will be expensive and poor quality starting in about 2 months. Walking through the city, one can smell stewing of all sorts and compote-preserves production. Peppers roasted on one corner, figs stewed on the next. Sometines, bonfires roar against the concrete wall of a block apartment with meat or peppers drying a short ways away. I have some that I didn't finish from last winter. Lots of neighbors gave the poor American a jar or two to sustain him. They're generally quite delicious, though I've opened one or two jars that have not matched my tastes.

I bought a jar of Blueberry preserves last fall in Bochkovo, near the monastary, that were absolutely delicious. I can't find anything like them anywhere in the city. I might have to go back that way simply for that product. Well, I'm off but I'll write more soon. Ciao Vsichko!

I played Monopoly a few weeks ago with Bulgarian friends. The game was illegal during the communist era before 1991. It was considered to be a filthy capitalist propaganda toy, so it was popular to counterfeit by rebellious teens. The set we played with was completely copied by hand (the British version) in painstaking detail. The money, which counted in the 100s of bills, was hand-made from light cardboard. The set is a testament to the allure of the forbidden. I was thrilled to play on that vintage piece of history.

The bulgarians began the game better than me, as I kept landing on the Income tax and Jail spaces. When it came to trading and purchasing real estate from opponents, my experience and tough capitalist sense for business came through. I bought up the St. Charles Place - New York Ave. side of the board so that they couldn't avoid paying out to me nearly every trip around and put as much of my money as was safe into real estate for those spaces. I also out-bid one of my opponents, paying $2000 for Ventnor so that she could not claim a Monopoly. I eventually won, thanks to my childhood experience playing against my cutthroat sisters. Monopoly is one of the few mediums in which my capitalist greed comes out. Thanks, Uncle Ken, for teaching me to play (I still remember that long night in Martinez and eating too many cookies).

On September 2nd, Gurkovo (a village in the Rose Valley north of Stara Zagora) held its annual donkey races. I went with a group of friends and rooted for two American Peace Corps Volunteers (also friends of mine) participating in the competitions. They were lent a donkey and its cart, which we decorated with a strange fusion of hippie and cowboy memorabalia. We transformed the cart into a Conestoga wagon with a tie-dyed canopy and adorned it with signs for donkey rights. The participants occasionally smacked their donkeys pretty hard to make them go faster, a circumstance that we all felt warranted some good, old-fashioned American peaceful protest. The participating volunteers wore cowboy hats with tie-dyed shirts and bandanas. The donkey was draped with a super-freaky, hippie-style sheet. The Bulgarians seemed to love it.

The competitions included a cart-race, a bare-back donkey race, a donkey pull (like a tractor pull but with donkeys and carts - this was my favorite event), a donkey football (aka. soccer) match and a donkey beauty competition. The MCs also named a King and Queen donkey of Bulgaria. What a great day.

At the end of the day, my friends and I went to a nearby river to camp. I built a campfire and we cooked dinner on the fire, had some wine, sang, talked, joked, wrestled, roasted marshmallows which are nearly non-existent in Bulgaria, and slept under the stars. We were even visited by coyotes (called "Chakali" here) throughout the night. It was back to work on Monday.

I went to Sofia last week for all of my medical checkups. It looks like I have a filling or two that need to be repaired, which I'm very happy to have done. My dentist here is Swedish/Bulgarian, and is just nuts. He is also a terrific dentist. When I looked at a postcard from Stockholm on his wall after a checkup and identified Gamla Stan, he erupted in joy and a flurry of questions. We talked about Stockholm for too long, cutting into the beginning of his next appointment. What a jovial and friendly man. I'll be back for the filling repairs in late September.

I had some routine TB tests and blood tests which I had to wait for results on, so I stayed the weekend in Sofia and went hiking on Vitosha, the 2,500-meter mountain just south of the city. It is beautiful and clean, with views accross the plains to the Balkan, Rila and Rhodolpi Mountains. The villages that sit on the mountain slopes have outdoor cafes and small markets with friendly people. On the way back down the mountain, an old man lay accross the trail. I helped him to his feet with my friend Sarah and asked what was wrong. His name was Philip. He said that he had been in the hospital and was sick with a cyst in his neck. He threw away some empty plastic bottles he had been carrying, saying that he would buy more. Generally, I see these filled with wine and/or Rakiya. He had been drinking and was VERY drunk. We asked for some help from some passing hikers, who finally called an ambulance and had him taken back to Sofia.

The other hikers walked with us down to the next village and invited us to sit for lunch. We ordered a round of Buffalo yoghurt with honey, which was delicious. We talked about mountain teas and honey, youghurts, places to go in Bulgaria, and drunk old men on Vitosha (there seem to be plenty) who are nearly always jolly, as Philip was. When we parted company in downtown Sofia, I realized that we had spent a terrific afternoon and evening together but had not even exchanged names.

On monday, after I found out that I'm a fit, healthy and strapping young man, I headed back to the beautiful city that I now call home. I came to Stara Zagora for the first time a year ago today. I have learned so much about the city, I've met and made so many friends here and there is so much to do that I wonder at what my life has been for this last ride around the sun. I also think about my friends and family back in the States, and I feel a bit of guilt for not being there, knowing about your lives for that time. Just know that you are in my heart and thoughts, and I miss you.

I spent the last 10 days on the staff of a summer camp for the Children's Parliament of Stara Zagora. I have been to a number of summer camps over the years in the United States, but was surprised by the Bulgarian style of summer camp. The campers here were very well behaved, though there were some cases of "Mamba" in some of the rooms at night. "Mamba" is when a stealthy camper applies toothpaste to a victim's nose in his or her sleep. The 50 campers ranged from 7 to 19 years old. The younger kids gave their extra food to older kids and the older kids helped the younger ones with washing clothes, keeping rooms clean, etc.

The last night of camp, I stayed up with the older campers to have a bonfire (starting around 2AM). They didn't want to go to sleep, but the director finally came out and told everyone to go to bed. I got to sleep after 4, but was up, packed and eating breakfast by 8:30. I'm still pretty tired from that after a couple of days. Probably the most impressive group activity of the camp was a 8-hour, 15 mile hike up to Rai, the tallest waterfall in Bulgaria. The entire group participated, and the children were surprisingly well behaved. There were very few complaints from the group.

Well, I am pretty tired and not writing especially well, so I'll provide more detail later. Good night, everyone!

After a long day of work and a long walk uphill, I arrived home on Tuesday to a hallful of shouting Bulgarians. I thought, "Geez, somebody riled them up" as I fumbled with my keys. At my door, I heard spraying water and my hair stood on end. I quickly opened my door and the shouting people, who had just seen me, were already there. "Where have you been?!" "What did you leave on in there?" and "The stupid American has flooded the place" were some of the things I heard. I rushed in, saying, "I didn't leave anything on, a pipe must be broken," in my best Bulgarian. The incoming pipe to my boiler (waterheater) had burst and the water shot into the hallway, flooding my kitchen, hall and storage closet. In the corner of the kitchen, the water was over 2 inches deep. I turned off my water and let the neighbors see what had happened. When they saw that it wasn't my fault, the started laughing and patted me on the back. We called my landlord, who rushed over to help me dry my things out and clean up. Rust, lime and sand from the pipelines had been thrown all over, but we cleaned everything up pretty well. In the end, only my cookbook and some Bulgarian homework was damaged. The line was repaired the next morning. No problems now. My bulgarian nieghbors are more friendly now, and they casually wave instead of stare. Big step, I'll tell ya.

The last few days, I've spent test-driving my baking again. My friends Jessie and Larry each had a birthday this last weekend, so we celebrated with a party. I made the desserts. One of the terrific things about Stara Zagora is that seasonal fruits are cheap. I bought peaches for cobbler and Raspberries for pie. The Peaches were 80 stotinki (50 cents) /Kg, and the Raspberries were 3leva ($2)/Kg. I bought a kilogram of Raspberries. Yeah, wow. The Raspberry pie was a great success (about12-in in diameter and 2 inches deep) and the cobbler was delicious. I also brought my host-father's homemade Rakiya, which the group happily drank. Larry made terrific chili and Jessie made the cornbread, which was also great. Everybody was happy, which is important on birthdays.

In other Alex news, I was just granted the title of "Pharaoh" for the first time in my life, and I saw junebugs mating this morning. I'll be off in the mountains next week for the Stara Zagora Children's Parliament summer camp, so I may be out of touch for a bit. I miss all of my friends and Family. Take care, all!