White Christmas

Today I met Meike in Düsseldorf this afternoon. As a lifetime resident of Ddorf (as she spells it,) she gave me the full tour of the altstadt—which, by the way, is really nice. It was cold but clear and sunny when we started our little walk, but the within 20 minutes the weather took a drastic turn. We ordered waffles from street vendor, and while I had my back turned for a few minutes, it began to rain and then snow. Never the less, we marshaled on into the blizzard. The reason for the title above is that, in Germany, the 26th (zweiten feiertag) is as equally considered Christmas day as the 25th, so indeed I did experience a white Christmas.

BTW, this was the first time I drove a car in 5 months. I surprised myself that, even with minimal directions, I found my way to and from Düsseldorf without getting lost.

Froehliche Weihnachten

Just had a nice family Christmas Eve with Oma and the Bulirsch's (Oncle Werner, Tante Eva, cousins: Tatyana, Esther [with her two boys Maurice & Jonas,] and Denise with b/f.) BTW, Oma just celebrated her 96th birthday on the 18th, and—despite currently being under the weather—is still going strong. Earlier this evening we went to church where Maurice played a donkey in the nativity play. Afterward Tante Eva prepared a wonderful meal for everyone and the we all exchanged presents.

Enroute

I’m bored. I arrived at Budapest’s Ferihegy Airport this morning before 8:00 and now I have to wait until 17:55 for my flight to Germany. I guess I could have went into town, but it’s a 12 Euro round trip, the weather is not the best, and I’ll be back here for a few days next week; so I’m cooling my heels here at the airport. Thankfully, they have free wireless Internet—the only reason I’m writing this post.

Skipping around a bit/hitting the highlights: The Serdon Christmas party was enjoyable last night; after a failed attempt to leave, I snuck out at midnight to pack and try to get 4 hours of sleep. As expected—but still jarring—my alarm clock awakened me from my slumber at 4:00. I got up, took a shower, dressed, closed my bags, and by 4:30 I was out on the deserted streets of Sofia looking for a taxi. I arrived at the airport only to learn the flight had been delay 1¼ hours; that extra hour of sleep would have been sweet!

I arrived at Ferihegy Terminal 1, where I saw no mention of Air Berlin. I confirmed—as suspected—that Air Berlin leave from Terminal 2, and that I would have to pay 500 Forints to catch a shuttle bus to the other terminal. Of course that meant I had to get some Hungarian Forints first; the ATM machine presented 6 options: 1000, 2000, 5000, 10000, 15000, and 20000; which one would you choose if you hadn’t research the exchange rates in advance (as I should have done?)

Just wondering: Why, in America—for airport security screening—do we have to put up with the indignity of taking off our shoes and the inconvenience of removing our laptop from our bags, when—in the rest of the civilized world—this is not necessary? In my mind, there seems to be only three possibilities: 1) the rest of the world has a cavalier attitude toward the safety of the flying public—doubtful, 2) the TSA is significantly less competent at screening, thus requiring this extra help—hopefully not, or 3) America has such a paranoia about hijackings since 9/11, that no cost/benefit analysis is considered when implementing these extraordinary procedures.

On a lighter note: If you go to “preferences” in Google, you will notice that you can change the “interface language” to any one of a few dozen languages including “Elmer Fudd,” which basically just throws in strategically placed W’s. Well, apparently the departure board here in Budapest is set on this as well; check out how Tel Aviv is rendered (below Warsaw.)

Since I’m in another country, let me wish you a Merry Christmas in yet another language: Kellemes Karacsonyi unnepeket

Vesela Koleda!

Yesterday I went on a Christmas gift buying spree for the Bulirsch family and my grandmother, with whom I’ll be spending Christmas; as well as my boss, Gergana whose name I drew in our office “secret Santa” present exchange (not to be confused with the Gergana pictured below; it seems to be a very common name here.) Just a few weeks ago, I went to the grand opening of a store called “Ten Senses – Fair Trading Company.” They specialize in handicrafts made by disadvantaged Bulgarians, and their prices are quite reasonable. (BTW, for any of you in or coming to Sofia it’s located 1.5 blocks west of Vitosha Blvd. on William Gladstone St.) So I stocked up on all kinds of little authentic Bulgarian trinkets that can be easily transported in a backpack.

This morning we exchanged the gifts. I gave Gergana my present—a ceramic Christmas bell. She loved it and gleefully rang it so everyone could hear it as well as see it. Unfortunately, within 5 seconds of receiving the gift, it slipped from here hand and shattered on the floor. I was—of course—shocked and saddened, and even wanted to give here another one that I was going to take with me to Germany, but she reassured me that breaking glass or ceramics in Bulgaria is considered good luck! Later in the day one of my coworkers accidentally knocked a glass of wine to the floor not one meter away from the first incident; to which I immediately said: “Oh great, more good luck!”

Well, tonight is the Serdon office Christmas party, and tomorrow I have to be at airport at some unholy hour of the morning to catch my 6:00 am flight to Budapest. The flight arrives in Hungary at the same time (they’re one hour behind us,) and in the afternoon I fly another two legs to Düsseldorf, where Oncle Werner will pick me up—it’s going to be a long day.

As this is my last post from Bulgaria for the year, let me wish you a “Vesela Koleda” (Весела Коледа) [that’s right, in Bulgarian, Vesela’s name means “merry.”]

Oh, by the way, it’s snowing...again! (intoned like Forest Gump)

Yellow Submarine

After some last-minute preparations Friday evening, I waited for my guests to arrive. My first guest, Jennifer the Peace Corp Volunteer, arrived around 7:30 after searching a good part of my neighborhood. We talked about the environmental NGO she wants to start (and that I’m assisting her with) until the next batch of people arrived: three of Julia’s coworkers from Job Tiger (pictured to the right.) Julia showed up a little later with much needed and delicious snacks. Monica, as a Bulgarian, also explored all of Gurgulyat Street before finding my door, but everyone else seemed to have found my place with little problem.

Apparently it is traditional to bring a bottle of wine with you to a party; at one point there were at least 8 bottles of merlot on my counter; however, by the end all but one were empty. I also scored a nice sweater from Niltay, a Cyrillic keyboard from Paris, a business card holder pre-populated with Job Tiger cards, a wall calendar from Doriana (VEGA), and a candle. Thank you all! (BTW, the picture to the right is the Serdon contingent: Gergana, myself, and Vlado.)

I had my computer plugged into the stereo system, and Delcho became our DJ, playing from my library as well as downloading songs from the net. Everyone was commenting on the yellow color scheme of my place, so at one point he downloaded the Beatles’ Yellow Submarine, to which we heartily sang along.

According to the timestamps on my pictures the party lasted until 1:00 am. A final count—to the best of my recollection—would include 9 Bulgarians, 2 Turks, and 6 Americans for a grand total of 17 people in my little apartment! Everyone seemed to have good time and make some new friends (I’m especially pleased that Jennifer was able to network with some Sofia residents for her NGO) In general, I would have to say it was a smashing success in that nothing got smashed or otherwise broken! ;-)

The aftermath: I spent a good part of Saturday morning cleaning my apartment. Even now, I need to make a second pass over all the floors to get my place back to pre-party conditions. Note all the glasses I had to wash (right.)

When I peeked out of the window Saturday, there was a nice, fresh blanket of snow on the ground, and it was still furiously snowing—throughout the rest of the weekend, in fact. That afternoon, I joined the Hash House Harriers for a walk in the park. Since there was little wind and big, fluffy flakes, the trees were laden with snow—very beautiful. Walking under low hanging branches it was, of course, tempting to give the branch a little tug as I walked by and watch the person behind me (usually Monica) get their own personal snow shower. Later, I figured out that I could give small trees (about 6 inches in diameter) a sharp kick, and after about 5 seconds an avalanche of snow from all branches would douse the 2nd or 3rd person behind me. Eventually this devolved into a snowball fight, especially with the kids. In any case, it was all great wintertime fun ending with Dutch gluwein for the “down downs.”

Sunday morning, the accumulations were now at least one foot, but everything was still running despite a not seeing a single snowplow on the roads all weekend (unlike South Carolina, which shuts down for a trace of snow.) I caught a tram to church and had a nice lunch at Divaka afterward just like any other Sunday. The only hardship is negotiating un-shoveled sidewalks as a pedestrian (especially at the curb were slush and standing water due to snow-clogged drains are guaranteed to get your boots soaked.)

Even now, under a bright sunny but cold sky, it is a veritable winter wonderland out there; and I—as a southern boy—am still loving it! Again, I am posting my outdoor/weather-related photos to Wunderground.com; check 'em out.

Mi rojden den

That’s right, tomorrow is my birthday, so I need to make some preparations. For work, I need to buy a box chocolates or two; it is customary to treat your co-workers with chocolate and/or wine on your birthday and your name day (the day your namesake saint was born on—in my case July 13.)

Then on Friday, I am hosting a party in my apartment. I’m expecting about 20 friends and colleagues. So now, I have to spruce up the place (I’ve already bought a Christmas tree) and stock up on snacks and libations. Should be fun; hopefully it won’t spin out of control (Paris spent the weekend cleaning his apartment after his Halloween party.)

BTW, I left “My birthday” (in the title) in Latin letters instead of Cyrillic because I copy & pasted it from an invitation I got from my landlord—he is home for Christmas (from grad school in the US) and celebrating his birthday this week as well. This 'Latinization' of Bulgarian is common in SMS and where Cyrillic characters are not available. 'I' substitutes for the backward N, 'r' for 'p', and so on. Young people are quite comfortable with this, but it causes great concern among language preservationists. Unlike Serbian, Romanian, Azeri, etc. (which were forced to use Cyrillic during communism, and have since reverted to a modified Latin alphabet) Bulgarian is at the center of this alphabet; Cyril and Methodius invented it right here.

Just cut my hair

Today I finally got a long-overdue hair cut. As I walked in to the place, I immediately suspected the middle-aged ladies cutting hair would speak no English (as opposed to anyone in the service industry under 30—especially girls—who, without exception speak a passable English.) When it was my turn, I got into the chair and she started rattling away in Bulgarian. All I could say was “не разбирам вългарски” (ne razbiram bulgarski,) I didn’t even know how to say “short.” Of course, the first question always is “how do want your hair cut” which—even back home—I never know how to answer. My feeling has always been: you’re the hair professional, you figure it out. And don’t make me remember clipper guard numbers—just cut my hair so I don’t have to go through this again for another 2 months.

However, this was my only accomplishment for Saturday. I slept til 11:00 and spent most of the day indoors; it's cold, gray, and now—snowing again. Oh, except this afternoon I went to see the new Jody Foster movie Flightplan with two Bulgarian girls. I don't want to give it away, but there is a not-so-unexpected twist near the end.