Transport is arranged

Today Liz told me that mornings make her miss Bulgaria. She said she misses seeing goats, old women in the gardens, and small shops long her walk to work. I completely get what she is saying. Waking up to the decor of new cars, vinyl siding and parking lots doesn't give me the same gumption.

I've been trying to narrow down what it is about other places and cultures that makes them seem so much more charming or interesting or whatever you want to call it. And the biggest factor I can see is space. We have a problem with space in America, we have too much of it. We spread out big houses over vast amounts of land, our cities cover more ground than others, but hold fewer people.

This space issue has lead to, and in some ways is caused by what has been called our Car Culture. Walking, biking, or taking public transportation is, in many other places, the norm. Here, it is the exception. And so, if everyone is driving everywhere, why not spread out? And when everthing is spread out, why on earth would you walk anywhere? Just drive.

One thing I loved about Bulgarian cities, towns, and even villages is that they almost always have a town "center" that was blocked off to cars, and was full of businesses. People would go there to do their shopping, eating, banking, and other business, all on foot. It was so much more communal. You got to see everyone else who lived in your town, because everyone else was there too. There's something so isolationist about drive thru services, or even private parking lots.

This is one reason I enjoy living in Ypsialnti. I can take a bus or bike to work, I can walk to a food co-op for groceries, great coffee shops, bars, and restaurants, and also my friends' houses. The only time I drive is when I leave town or have to do laundry.

It's still not like waking up to goat herds and mountains, but it's about as good as it can get right now.

Moving On

When first arriving back to the states, I had two major feelings going on. The first was that I really missed Bulgaria. The second was that I hated living in America. And while I still strongly feel the former, luckily, the later has subsided.

It helps that I love our new town and apartment. (I'll post either a video or some pictures of it soon.) I am withing walking distance of almost ten of my best friends from college, an amazing coffee shop with the best espresso I have ever had, a really great food co-op that ensures I rarely have to go to a large supermarket, several great bars, and a park by the river where Wes can run around.

This is the first time I have ever lived anywhere indefinitely. At home, college was in the future, during college I knew I would leave after my four years, then in Jackson, we knew we would leave the country in eight months, and PC had a time frame as well. It's a strange feeling to not know that I will leave. It also helps that I can actually see my future beyond this week or month. Now that jobs are settling in, Liz and I are looking at grad school options and long term plans.

I promise to try and update this more often. Things happen to me, I should write about them. I don't. I apologize.

Orientation at new job today. I'll be a Server Assistant at the Chop House in downtown Ann Arbor. The job is more or less glorified bus boy, but the shifts are 5pm-10pm, and I will usually pull in $80-$100 a shift. And I can move up to server pretty quickly, which means even more money per shift.

We also found an apartment in downtown Ypsilanti. We will be moving in this week. It's a great location, beautiful space, and really cheap. It's going to be nice to have our own place, and get back in to the flow of things. Transitioning always kind of sucks.

Ok, after being back a while I have a list of things that I definitely notice more after living abroad.

1. Parking Lots - I saw one parking lot in all of Bulgaria, and it was tiny. Every time I see one here I'm always thrown.
2. The space between things. -From houses to grocery store isles, I can't get over how much space there is in between things.
3. The size of cars - I saw maybe 2 pickup trucks in Bulgaria, and even small/midsized cars here seem huge to me right now.
4. Warning signs - I saw a warning sign on a window letting you know that children can fall out of them. Compare that to the doors of death (a.k.a. the people's doors) on the Sofia pubic trams.

and last...
5. The meaninglessness of life - OK, lemme explain. I'm having a hard time putting meaning and value to things here. I think that because in Bulgaria, nothing came easy, everything was more meaningful. It was a huge deal when we bought a blender. A giant accomplishment when we properly communicated to the lady at the post office. And visiting friends seemed so much more urgent and necessary, and it took so much effort, that it was always incredibly meaningful. I think that because things here take so much less effort, they feel a bit cheapened.

I can feel myself starting to slide back into things, and I think overall this is a good thing. I gotta look ahead, gotta stay positive.

The future is food.

With all the changes in my life over the past few weeks you would think I would have something to write about other than cooking.

but.

well.

I'd rather not talk about the other stuff right now.

Tonight I made probably the best pizza of my life. A lavender dough topped with fresh mozzarella, goat cheese, parmesan, tomatoes, garlic-stuff olives, chicken, arugala, and a tomato-pesto sauce. And a salad with arugala, spinach, honeycrisp apples, pecans, strawberries, avocado, and gorgonzola, with a honey-lime vinaigrette.

Good food and drink are about the only things keeping me sane in America. I love having access to this stuff, I just hate how much it costs. I'm probably either going to be working as a cook at whole foods, or serving at a really nice restaurant in Ann Arbor. Either way food is in my future. Hooray.

Closing Time

I would say that I hate goodbyes, but let's be honest, everyone hates goodbyes. I've never met someone who has said "Man, I love saying goodbye." If that guy exists, he is either a liar or an asshole.

That being said, there is no way for me to put into words how difficult these past few days have been. It's been harder to let go here than it was at home. And even though I know it's for the best, I really don't want to go. I'm not ready to go. I have too many people I want to spend the next few years with, too many experience I want to have, too much everything. And while there are so many people and things I am looking forward to seeing and doing, it's hard to focus on that when everything I will miss is still staring me right in the face.

Life will go on. I will readjust. I will be OK. I will feel much better in a week or two.

To everyone who came or wanted to come see us off, I appreciate it more than you can imagine. I needed that closure.

To everyone back home. The one thing keeping me sane is knowing that I will see you soon. I'll be at the Town Bar in Jackson this Thursday, Spring Arbor for the weekend, and in Ann Arbor next week. Liz and I will probably settle in the AA/Ypsi region.

In the prophetic words of Semisonic, every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end. I'll try to remember that as I drink this last bottle of Rakia.

Saturday in the Park

Yesterday Liz and were walking in the park in Botevgrad, talking about our lives in Bulgaria, our lives back at home, working situations, general feelings of uselessness, you know the usual. But when we turned to the topic of our students I came to a hard realization.

The students Liz had last year in Jackson need so much more help than the ones in Botevgrad. And for that matter, my home city needs so much more help than here. When I walk around Botevgrad I don't see an eviction notice every five house, I don't see bums outside liquor stores, I don't see furniture lining the street, (ok, I do see boarded up windows but most of those are former communist buildings that no one wants anymore.)

Liz's students last year had issues like parents in prison, not enough food on the weekends, no beds to sleep on, and being raised more by pit-bulls than their dads. Our students now have ridiculously expensive cell phones, go shopping in the capital on the weekends, and mostly just act like a bunch of spoiled brats.

It's just hard to justify acting like some great humanitarian when I know that I left somewhere that needs more help. And I have tried just looking at this as "working and living overseas" rather than the expectations I had for Peace Corps, but I didn't come here for that.

But then again, at home I was working in a call center. I guess at least this is something.