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Archive for October, 2009

Halloween Project

Halloween Project

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Pumpkins in BG

I just bought 10 kilos of pumpkin. Two pumpkins, 10 kilos and about eight blocks later I am tired and I have green pumpkins. Yep. One is green and the other one is some where between white and green. They are not orange.Pumpkins at Night

I like orange pumpkins.  In my mind, orange pumpkins are a part of fall.  Pumpkins sit on front porches, windows and we carve them.  We eat pumpkin pie, pumpkin muffins and sometimes even roasted pumpkin. But they are orange.

Okay, I don’t want anyone to think that I don’t like the green Bulgarian pumpkins–I do.  They taste great.  But they are green.  Somehow it doesn’t seem very fall to me.

Why, why oh, why Bulgaria do you only have green pumpkins?! Зелелна тиква–really!?

Still I bought two big pumpkins because tomorrow after English I am teaching my students how to carve pumpkins.  Heck I think that to have a well rounded eduction you need to have both academic skills but also real life skills–like pumpkin carving.

So we’ll be carving (or trying to) a white-ghost pumpkin and a green-goblin pumpkin… But I’m still wondering what makes some pumpkins orange and other green or white.

The Green Pumpkin and the White Pumpkin

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Good-bye Shoes

I bought these shoes last spring in Moscow visiting my cousin (Hi, Beth!).  Moscow was lovely.  I had a wonderful time seeing the city and while there on a rainy day I bought a great pair of shoes.  I didn’t even try them on.  I just bought a size 41.  I know, I know–big feet, I am after all 5’11 (or what… 180 cm) and they fit like a charm.

They looked good with jeans, skirts and leggings.  It’s too bad because they are dead now. Good-bye shoes.  (Parting is such sweet sorrow.)

Good-bye Shoes

Good-bye Shoes

Today they took on water. And dirt was coming in the crack.  Somehow though it wasn’t until one of my feet was wet that I realized what poor shape my shoes were in.

But they are dead now. Very dead.  So I threw them out this afternoon.  I am going to miss them. I know I didn’t pay more than $5 for these shoes at an outdoor market in Moscow but I’d really grown attached to them.  I liked the sculls. I liked how easy and comfy they were.  I liked what good traveling companions they were in Eastern Europe this summer. I liked that they made me smile when I was putting them on.  Now they are no more.  Good-bye tennis shoes.  I miss you already.

Finally, I am pretty sure that you’ll still be in my garbage can at work tomorrow morning when I get to school (since the garbage never seems to go out at night). I want you to know, it will be a test of my will not to extract you and pretend that I can rescue you.  Even though I know I cannot.  You’ve seen your best days.

Maybe one day I’ll be able to find another pair of shoes like you.

The last days of my shoes

The last days of my shoes

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Аз живея в апартамент.  Работя в Американския Колеж като Учителка по Англипийски.  Всяка седмица ходя на работа от понеделник до петък.  Всяка сътрин ставам в 5.45 часа.  Аз пия кафето чисто и закусвам кисело мляако с банан.

Обикновено ходя пеша на работа но понякога с автобус.  на работа преподавам, пиша в дневика и говоря с учиниците.  свъшвам работа в 5 или 6 часа.

След работа ас ходя пеша вкъщи, говоря с приятели, готвя вечеря и чета много книги.  Във бторник имам часове по йога и след това имам народни танци.  В четвертик имам чесове по народени танци отново.  През уикенда нодим с приятелка в центъра и пазаруваме.  Аз уча българиски език всеки ден и уча с Ивет в неделя.

(My MoM asked me to give a quick summary in English of my posts in Bulgarian.  Here’s what I am up to this post is all about my day and the things I do each week.  It’s pretty straightforward.  I get up in the morning, work and come home after that. Oh and there’s yoga and Bulgarian dance as well as studying Bulgarian on the weekends.)

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Morning at ACS

In the mornings, well when it’s not cloudy and rainy, this is my view from my classroom windows at ACS. Most morning it seems very lucky.  Some morning it seems just too early.

Morning View From My Classroom!

Morning View From My Classroom!

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A Baby in the Building

I’ve never seen anything like this before.  I think it’s part-bouquet, part-plastic and very, very pink.  I don’t even really know what to call it.

Plastic + Pink = Perfect

Plastic + Pink = Perfect

The pink thing says “Baby” and has a naked plastic baby doll attached to it. There are also a number of fake flowers of different varieties attached. If this isn’t enough there’s plenty of ribbon and pink glitter things stuck onto the four feet tall topiary.

It’s a really amazing baby statue/topiary/bouquet.

The thing is it scared me.  When I saw it, I was coming home one night this week.  The hallway was dark.  I flipped on the light and there it was sitting on the stairs staring at me.  I will tell you that the plastic baby is even scarier when you see it like a beacon at the end of the hallway.

Interestingly this thing only spent one night on the stairs.  The next morning it was gone. Luckily, I had my camera with me that night when I came home.

This baby-bouquet seemed to me to announce that there’s a new baby in the building.  So now I’ve been keeping my eyes peeled for a new baby.  Nothing yet.

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Tonight at Bulgarian Folk dance, I was trying my best to keep up with the dance steps.  It was hard.  So then I started watching the other women at the dance class.  There were about 20 people today and most of them are moms of our high school students.

I was jealous about how good they are at Bulgarian Folk dance.   Maybe that shouldn’t make me jealous seeing as they are actually Bulgarian.  But then I realized that these moms who have children who are between 14 and 18 years old and they look so good.  They look young still and most of them are very thin.

Standing at the back of the dance room I was really caught off guard by the fact that most of these moms are a good 15-20 years old than most of the international teachers who are dancing with them and from the back, with my American eye, I’d never know it.  Yep, I’d never know that these women are 15 or more years old than most of us.

How did this happen?

What is it about these women that they look so good? Or alternately, what is it about us–the American Girls–that makes us, um, not?  (more…)

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