<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1865787048163199760</id><updated>2011-04-21T22:47:41.909+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Ms. W's Travels</title><subtitle type='html'>This blog consists of my own experiences, opinions and views. While I am a Peace Corps Volunteer, this blog does not necessarily reflect the views of the Peace Corps or the United States Government.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mswstravels.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1865787048163199760/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mswstravels.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Ms. W</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18207792972217989432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/RqEaT1VLJ2I/AAAAAAAAAAM/hiJF3HH1Rh0/s320/DSCN0270.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>36</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1865787048163199760.post-8627709536116980676</id><published>2008-05-20T18:33:00.002+03:00</published><updated>2008-05-20T18:49:28.428+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Construction</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/SDLv5CmswfI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/IjdL3Y62fEI/s1600-h/DSCN0791.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5202484282797113842" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/SDLv5CmswfI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/IjdL3Y62fEI/s320/DSCN0791.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;It is worth putting a picture of a typical construction site in Bulgaria, which is completely different looking than construction sites that I was used to seeing in the states. In Bulgaria, there is not so much of the wooden frame approach, or even too much in the way of metal I-beams. This is a small addition to my work building, a new separate enterance for this portion. You can see almost all the steps, from the concrete drying in its scaffold supported mold at the top to the brick fill at the bottom. The concrete is poured around metal re-bar. In this case, the workmen carried the concrete in buckets up the steps as they built them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At another work-site near my house, I once saw a man kick a board loose from the concrete mold to free fall to the ground...FROM 4 STORIES UP. And this mold was for the ceiling of the third floor, which meant that he was standing on the fourth floor with one foot, and vigourously kicking in mid-air with the other. Can you imagine how quickly an American construction worker would call his lawyer if he were asked to do that?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1865787048163199760-8627709536116980676?l=mswstravels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mswstravels.blogspot.com/feeds/8627709536116980676/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1865787048163199760&amp;postID=8627709536116980676' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1865787048163199760/posts/default/8627709536116980676'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1865787048163199760/posts/default/8627709536116980676'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mswstravels.blogspot.com/2008/05/construction.html' title='Construction'/><author><name>Ms. W</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18207792972217989432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/RqEaT1VLJ2I/AAAAAAAAAAM/hiJF3HH1Rh0/s320/DSCN0270.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/SDLv5CmswfI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/IjdL3Y62fEI/s72-c/DSCN0791.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1865787048163199760.post-2022588160590336567</id><published>2008-04-20T19:07:00.003+03:00</published><updated>2008-04-20T19:14:20.791+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Sex sells....</title><content type='html'>...but cucumbers? Do we really want to think about the further implications here? It is a dark path, and this blog will not go there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5191360131542219986" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/SAtqiN2y_NI/AAAAAAAAAIw/YJUZqG6c4pc/s320/DSCN0808.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;This is an advertisement in a food store window near my apartment. They do, in fact, sell cucmbers and I often buy them to make delicious traditional salads. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1865787048163199760-2022588160590336567?l=mswstravels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mswstravels.blogspot.com/feeds/2022588160590336567/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1865787048163199760&amp;postID=2022588160590336567' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1865787048163199760/posts/default/2022588160590336567'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1865787048163199760/posts/default/2022588160590336567'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mswstravels.blogspot.com/2008/04/sex-sells.html' title='Sex sells....'/><author><name>Ms. W</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18207792972217989432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/RqEaT1VLJ2I/AAAAAAAAAAM/hiJF3HH1Rh0/s320/DSCN0270.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/SAtqiN2y_NI/AAAAAAAAAIw/YJUZqG6c4pc/s72-c/DSCN0808.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1865787048163199760.post-3329649939868270593</id><published>2008-04-13T12:56:00.008+03:00</published><updated>2008-04-20T19:21:08.455+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Field day with falcon boxes!</title><content type='html'>So, we spent last Thursday in the field installing nest boxes for the Red Footed Falcon, which is a globally endangered species. Historically, Red-Footed Falcons do not build nests, but use the nests from old Rook colonies. Rooks are not so popular with the farmers, so they have been "persecuted" in recent years, and their colonies have been in decline. Also, the falcons like to live in tree stands near open areas (like agricultural land), so that they can hunt for insects (the falcons are pretty small).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, we placed some nest boxes out among some tree stands near agrilcultural land. Often near water swarming with all sorts of "falcon food." We did this loop during the day in northwest Bulgaria, covering quite an ammount of territory actually. Where we were is much flatter than most of Bulgaria (most of which is just chock-a-block with mountains), but the region is scattered with rolling hills with some limestone outcroppings up above river valleys. We passed through all these dreamy-quiet little villages of ramshakle little old houses with gorgeous flower gardens full of tulips at the peak of their blooming. It makes me happy to see that even in the poor regions outside the more quickly devloping larger towns, that people still have some beauty in their lives. We passed over the Iskar (among other rivers I believe); it was brimming with spring runnoff and far enough away from the bigger roads to be relatively free of litter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Frankly, I am not sure how to react to the litter problem here. My instinct is to condemn it! To scold Bulgarians that I see littering in the same way that I would scold any American that I saw littering back home (full disclosure: I was once a volunteer park ranger, so shaming people into picking up after themselves was part of my JOB!). In the US, we are told from a very young age, "Don't through that on the ground! It is bad for the animals!" I remember all the education campaigns about birds getting their heads stuck in the plastic rings for soda cans, and endangered sea turtles dying from ingesting plastic bags that resembled jellyfish. Plus, in the US, there are signs everywhere warning of steep fines (I've seen $1,000 posted) for littering.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The hidden linchpin in the American system is this: we have had for years, and continue to have, a dependable and efficient waste collection/disposal system. Despite the fact that we are filling landfills and as a nation, produce far to much trash, that trash has a destination. And when the land fills are full, they are capped, burried, monitored and turned into parks! In Bulgaria, I have seen trash heaps on the side of the road, and official landfills and are not nearly as well contained as the ones I grew up seeing (and I grew up going to the dump with my father, as we didn't have collection in our town). Here, if you throw your trash in the dumpster, it is possible that it will be collected in a timely manner. It is also entirely possible that it will stay there until the dumpster overflows and the trash blows around on the street.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In any case, I picked up a few pieces of trash at the end of our field day (causing the Bulgarians to scratch their heads), at our last falcon box site. It was near a fishing pond, with islands in the middle, that happened to be home to a breeding colony of White Egrets (Бяла Чапла) and Night Herons (Нощна Чапла). I had never seen Night Herons before, so it was a highlight for me! Here is a wider shot of the pond.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5191362270435933410" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/SAtset2y_OI/AAAAAAAAAI4/pF0JR9lRQBg/s320/DSCN0789.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Here is a "close up" in relatively speaking terms. The white things in the trees are the egrets!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5191362966220635394" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/SAttHN2y_QI/AAAAAAAAAJI/8a5NEZvQeS8/s320/DSCN0787.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1865787048163199760-3329649939868270593?l=mswstravels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mswstravels.blogspot.com/feeds/3329649939868270593/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1865787048163199760&amp;postID=3329649939868270593' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1865787048163199760/posts/default/3329649939868270593'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1865787048163199760/posts/default/3329649939868270593'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mswstravels.blogspot.com/2008/04/field-day-with-falcon-boxes.html' title='Field day with falcon boxes!'/><author><name>Ms. W</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18207792972217989432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/RqEaT1VLJ2I/AAAAAAAAAAM/hiJF3HH1Rh0/s320/DSCN0270.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/SAtset2y_OI/AAAAAAAAAI4/pF0JR9lRQBg/s72-c/DSCN0789.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1865787048163199760.post-8299859846657435833</id><published>2008-03-14T17:31:00.014+02:00</published><updated>2008-03-21T22:59:15.703+02:00</updated><title type='text'>My Best Day Yet!</title><content type='html'>So, just a quick one on what I think was my best day yet as a Peace Corps Volunteer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On my way to work the trees looked like this: &lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/R9qblBmm9bI/AAAAAAAAAH0/nssuaMI_vwA/s1600-h/DSCN0735.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5177621782003643826" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/R9qblBmm9bI/AAAAAAAAAH0/nssuaMI_vwA/s320/DSCN0735.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/p&gt;I went to a village and presented to a room full of kiddos about migratory spring birds. I think it was almost all the kids who were in school that day. They were SO attentive, and knew a fair ammount about birds, from living in a small village. They have at least one stork nest there, but the weather was bad so I didn't get a chance to see it. In any case, I had a great time presenting, and the kids were very welcoming. I like to have a little fun when I present, so I made them sing like cukoos, which they did wonderfully. In the photo with me and the two girls, the girl on the left was my little helper...I gave her the "job" of pressing the arrow on my laptop to advance my presentation. She took it SO seriously, and being one of the younger kids I think she was kind of proud that SHE was picked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/R9qbDRmm9ZI/AAAAAAAAAHk/zAIzWie4Dww/s1600-h/DSCN0734.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5177621202183058834" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/R9qbDRmm9ZI/AAAAAAAAAHk/zAIzWie4Dww/s320/DSCN0734.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/R9qbERmm9aI/AAAAAAAAAHs/IMVvZcnX0EA/s1600-h/DSCN0726.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5177621219362928034" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/R9qbERmm9aI/AAAAAAAAAHs/IMVvZcnX0EA/s320/DSCN0726.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/p&gt;Then I had what is arguable one of the best lunches in Bulgaria, called Surmi. Little bundles of rice and meat wrapped up in grape leaves and steamed. Mine were served with yogurt. There are vegetarian versions and versions with cabbage as well, all delcious.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/R-QYb23x3xI/AAAAAAAAAIE/8PAIG4fJu4E/s1600-h/DSCN0736.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5180292338247917330" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/R-QYb23x3xI/AAAAAAAAAIE/8PAIG4fJu4E/s320/DSCN0736.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After lunch, I did a little bit of translation for BSPB's website, which I is challenging, but teaches me better Bulgarian. Then, I had my Bulgarian lesson, and would have normally been headed for home, except I had an operetta to go to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A musical theater company in Veliko Turnovo was putting on "Die Fleitermaus" (English: "The Bat" Български: "Прилепът") by Johan Strauss. They did a FABULOUS job, and I thoughoughly enjoyed the show. I had heard lots of the music before; Die Fleitermaus is supposedly one of the examplars of the genre, and for good reason. Operettas are supposed to be "lighter" in subject than operas, and this one is a society comedy set in old Vienna. The plot has all sorts of kniving behavior and intrigue, and was well acted as well as well sung. Plus there were some only in Bulgaria touches, aside from being performed in Bulgarian. At one point the scantily clad bat dancers (who attend the midnight ball taking place in the second act) let out a pretty distinctive whoop, that is very similar to what you hear from young girls doing traditional folk dances.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here are some pics from my up high seats (I got comped). I did not manage to capture the bat-dancers unfortunately!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/R-QewG3x3yI/AAAAAAAAAIM/Dy_M9xgxbDo/s1600-h/DSCN0739.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5180299283210034978" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/R-QewG3x3yI/AAAAAAAAAIM/Dy_M9xgxbDo/s320/DSCN0739.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/R-Qewm3x3zI/AAAAAAAAAIU/JH_UVd4yYjs/s1600-h/DSCN0741.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5180299291799969586" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/R-Qewm3x3zI/AAAAAAAAAIU/JH_UVd4yYjs/s320/DSCN0741.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/R-QewG3x3yI/AAAAAAAAAIM/Dy_M9xgxbDo/s1600-h/DSCN0739.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1865787048163199760-8299859846657435833?l=mswstravels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mswstravels.blogspot.com/feeds/8299859846657435833/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1865787048163199760&amp;postID=8299859846657435833' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1865787048163199760/posts/default/8299859846657435833'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1865787048163199760/posts/default/8299859846657435833'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mswstravels.blogspot.com/2008/03/my-best-day-yet.html' title='My Best Day Yet!'/><author><name>Ms. W</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18207792972217989432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/RqEaT1VLJ2I/AAAAAAAAAAM/hiJF3HH1Rh0/s320/DSCN0270.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/R9qblBmm9bI/AAAAAAAAAH0/nssuaMI_vwA/s72-c/DSCN0735.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1865787048163199760.post-3311968794393835997</id><published>2008-03-07T10:23:00.004+02:00</published><updated>2008-03-07T10:54:27.800+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Spring? Maybe?</title><content type='html'>So, it being March, and I being from the American Northeast, I will not say that I have survived my first Bulgarian winter just yet. I think the places where I have lived in the states have prepared me well for the fits and starts of spring, that may happen here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been thinking quite a bit lately about my role as a PC volunteer here. The economy here changing rapidly. One of the surest signs of economic growth that I have seen is the new construction projects that seem to be all over the place in Svishtov. And these are not just personal homes, these are pretty big buildings with retail and living space going in. Having lived in some rapidly growing areas in the US, the sound of hammers has always been sort of symbolic of economic growth to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now of course, that doesn't mean that there isn't work to be done here. The economy is growing, but that doesn't mean that it will help everyone equitably, nor does is mean that it will grow in an environmentally sustainble fashion. While I know some Bulgarians would disagree with me, the problem doesn't seem to be the money. The problem is what is done with the money.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think it is difficult for Bulgaria, because this is all happening so rapidly. They have not had time to mature as an economy like many western nations. The EU is having conversations about limiting carbon emissions, corperate social responsibility and sustainable development. This is something that western nations are arriving at after many years of economic prosperity, whereas here, it was only 10 years ago that they had to whack three zeros off the currency because of runaway inflation. To many Bulgarians these concepts seem to be luxeries that only rich countries can afford, whereas westerners see them as things that we can't afford to ignore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In any case, I am not sure what to make of it. Far be it from me to post a conclusive statement on issues that are still playing themselves out. What I do know is that spring is beginning to arrive, flowers are popping up, and that everyone here seems to be cheering up. I have been visiting some classrooms, and I am trying to wheedle myself into a group of teachers that really care about enviromental education, and try to meet some of their needs. More on the day to day stuff later, I was more in a big picture mood today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OH.....before I sign off, if you are reading this anywhere in Europe and you like birds, being a nature geek, being outside or the arrival of nicer weather, you should log onto &lt;a href="http://www.springalive.net/"&gt;www.springalive.net&lt;/a&gt; There are at least versions in at least 2 dozen languages! So righteous!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1865787048163199760-3311968794393835997?l=mswstravels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mswstravels.blogspot.com/feeds/3311968794393835997/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1865787048163199760&amp;postID=3311968794393835997' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1865787048163199760/posts/default/3311968794393835997'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1865787048163199760/posts/default/3311968794393835997'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mswstravels.blogspot.com/2008/03/spring-maybe.html' title='Spring? Maybe?'/><author><name>Ms. W</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18207792972217989432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/RqEaT1VLJ2I/AAAAAAAAAAM/hiJF3HH1Rh0/s320/DSCN0270.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1865787048163199760.post-878660755326646551</id><published>2008-02-01T14:27:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2008-02-01T16:42:48.480+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Riding the rails to Karlovo</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/R6MRtYIuHVI/AAAAAAAAAHE/29CwiKWGSNI/s1600-h/DSCN0693.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5161989069167533394" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/R6MRtYIuHVI/AAAAAAAAAHE/29CwiKWGSNI/s320/DSCN0693.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;div&gt;Last weekend I took a trip to Karlovo to meet up with some fellow PCV gal pals. This trip marked a few of my firsts: first weekend trip out of Svishtov (other than the holidays), first train trip in Bulgaria and first time to Karlovo. It was a welcome change, to break out of my life here for a short time. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Karlovo has several things going for it on the tourist attraction front. It is right at the foot of the Central Balkans, so there are these absurdly gorgeous mountains looking down at you everywhere you go. Also, &lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/R6MRw4IuHXI/AAAAAAAAAHU/d3WI5nUg1Lg/s1600-h/DSCN0689.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5161989129297075570" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/R6MRw4IuHXI/AAAAAAAAAHU/d3WI5nUg1Lg/s320/DSCN0689.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Karlovo is the site of an annual rose festival, being right in the middle of Bulgaria's famed rose growing region. Bulgarian rose oil goes for tens of thousands of euros per kilo, and is highly prized in the perfume industry. Last and not least, Karlovo is the birthplace of Vasil Levski, Bulgaria's famed "apostle of freedom" who was the major leader of the National Revival period. The National Revival took place late during the 500 year rule of the Ottoman Empire, and was the beginning of the eventually sucessful push for sovreignty.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;We did not get to the Vasil Levski museum, but we did go for a lovely walk in a park at the base of the mountains, and ended up at the waterfall pictured here. And because I was crazy enough to clamber down off the bridge over the stream, I also got this shot of Cindy, Joan and Rajun peering down at me. What can I say? There was a cool rock down there that I wanted to take a look at. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/R6MRwIIuHWI/AAAAAAAAAHM/UM47kmpNAPQ/s1600-h/DSCN0692.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5161989116412173666" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/R6MRwIIuHWI/AAAAAAAAAHM/UM47kmpNAPQ/s320/DSCN0692.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;On our way back, Joan and I were able to ride together for a good portion of our journey on the train. I've noticed that Bulgaria PCV's either fall in to the categories of "train people" or "bus people." After my journey, I am FIRMLY a train person now (Thomas, if you are reading this, I have seen the light). The train travels at a nice constant speed and does not ever need to pass slow ladas (a Communist era model of car, not famed for horsepower) on the highway in the fog, nor swerve back into the other lane when an oncoming vehicle is spotted. There is a bathroom on the train. The windows on the train are bigger, &lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/R6MsrYIuHYI/AAAAAAAAAHc/SYvbyWfWr8c/s1600-h/DSCN0695.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5162018721621745026" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/R6MsrYIuHYI/AAAAAAAAAHc/SYvbyWfWr8c/s320/DSCN0695.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;so you can see the often GORGEOUS scenery and the interesting little tiny train stations in the middle of the country like this one shot through the somewhat grimy window (note the EU flag, right there next the the BG one). There is more space on the train for baggage, legroom, and possibly for lying down to take a nap. Finally, the train is way cheaper than the bus. To temper my accolades, the bus is a little faster than the train, and there are some destinations to which I would still consider taking the bus if it was a straight shot, versus a complicated set of transfers. The final factor for me though, is that I tend to feel a little motion sick on busses and feel like pondscum when I arrive at my destination. At the end of a train journey, however, I feel like a real human. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1865787048163199760-878660755326646551?l=mswstravels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mswstravels.blogspot.com/feeds/878660755326646551/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1865787048163199760&amp;postID=878660755326646551' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1865787048163199760/posts/default/878660755326646551'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1865787048163199760/posts/default/878660755326646551'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mswstravels.blogspot.com/2008/02/riding-rails-to-karlovo.html' title='Riding the rails to Karlovo'/><author><name>Ms. W</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18207792972217989432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/RqEaT1VLJ2I/AAAAAAAAAAM/hiJF3HH1Rh0/s320/DSCN0270.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/R6MRtYIuHVI/AAAAAAAAAHE/29CwiKWGSNI/s72-c/DSCN0693.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1865787048163199760.post-7737973723304269428</id><published>2008-01-24T12:57:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2008-02-03T18:01:38.837+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Mid Winter Bird Count.....better late than never!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/R5h2FYIuHSI/AAAAAAAAAGs/ls8HnM0BNHg/s1600-h/DSCN0679.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5159003207903354146" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/R5h2FYIuHSI/AAAAAAAAAGs/ls8HnM0BNHg/s320/DSCN0679.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So it has been almost two weeks since the mid-winter bird count, our biggest field excursion of the winter months, but I am only addressing it now. I have had a mild case of the winter blues compounded with some delayed-onset culture shock as I encounter more everyday situations. I think that my brain and my enthusiasm had frozen over for a short time, but they seem to be recovering nicely now. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;To illustrate why I am experiencing culture shock I will provide a fun example of a completely alien everyday activity. Did you know that in Bulgaria to retrieve a package you must: &lt;strong&gt;1st)&lt;/strong&gt; Notice the absense of a log book in your PO box &lt;strong&gt;2nd)&lt;/strong&gt; Stand in line in the PO box office window to inquire about it and then sign to receive &lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/R5h2F4IuHUI/AAAAAAAAAG8/l5QjrudIOQ8/s1600-h/DSCN0680.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5159003216493288770" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/R5h2F4IuHUI/AAAAAAAAAG8/l5QjrudIOQ8/s320/DSCN0680.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;an "invitation" to retraieve your package &lt;strong&gt;3rd)&lt;/strong&gt; Go stand in line in the parcel office that has it's own separate entrance from the other side of the building in order to be issued a payment slip for a small fee of undetermined origin. &lt;strong&gt;4th)&lt;/strong&gt; Go to the payment office (yes, another seperate office) on the second floor to pay and have the slip stamped to prove payment. Oddly enough the parcel office does except payments for stamps on outgoing mail, but not for this particular procedure. &lt;strong&gt;5th)&lt;/strong&gt; Return to the parcel office in order to submit the properly stamped payment slip, so that you can fill out a form with your national ID number and signiture. &lt;strong&gt;6th)&lt;/strong&gt; Receive the package! Even more perplexing, is that this procedure has been DIFFERENT every time depending on the weight of the package, whether it fits in the post box, who is working that day and possibly the angle of the sun. Again, this is not to criticize Bulgaria as a whole, but it does take a lot of energy to negotiate these wrinkles of being in a new culture, when the wrinkles so often seemingly come out of nowhere. To paint a fuller picture, all of the various ladies behind windows were extremely patient with me in my confusion, and helped me jump through these various hoops. It seems though that I am the only one confused by the existance of the hoops in the first place. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5158997594381098210" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/R5hw-oIuHOI/AAAAAAAAAGM/SXf8pGw3ZVo/s320/DSCN0678.JPG" border="0" /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It is high time to get back to the birds. It was one cold day, although very interesting. We saw pelicans, ducks, cormorants, eagles and buzzards! It was extremely exiting to see all this, even in our limited visibility. We were in quite a cold snap at the time, and so many of our small local wetlands had been frozen over. The mighty Danube was mostly clear (although we had some concerns leading up to the day that icebergs which had been spotted upstream of us might arrive), so birds were concetrated there. Even with the cold, we were lucky to be out there. So many potential logistical snafus could have reared their ugly heads, but Emil managed to make it happen. Some of these said snafus: if the roads would be clear to get the boat to the river and allow a jeep to transport our other team along the banks of a smaller river, whether we would be able to see any birds at all in the fog, whether the Nature Park staff would be able free their boat from under the snow in time, whether the engine could be coaxed into working in the cold, which volunteers were crazy enough to come with us and no doubt, myriad other details that were lost in translation. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/R5h2FoIuHTI/AAAAAAAAAG0/_QFWY3c9vYY/s1600-h/DSCN0683.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5159003212198321458" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/R5h2FoIuHTI/AAAAAAAAAG0/_QFWY3c9vYY/s320/DSCN0683.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;On the boat ride, we actually were doging floating ice. As you can see, it is an open boat, so it was not the warmest place I've been. It was also not the coldest (having grown up skiing in New England), and I should have been quite comfortable in my absurdly warm ski gear, except for the fact that I needed to go to the bathroom for about half of the duration of the trip. Anyone who has worked outside in the cold knows that "holding it" is about the most cold inducing thing you can do. But what could I do? I was a girl on a rapidly moving open boat accompanied by all males! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/R5hw-4IuHPI/AAAAAAAAAGU/N2I5fFc7lSo/s1600-h/DSCN0682.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5158997598676065522" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/R5hw-4IuHPI/AAAAAAAAAGU/N2I5fFc7lSo/s320/DSCN0682.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;In the end though, it was a sucessful day. I was glad to be a part of it, and glad to help compile our data afterwards. Is it weird that I find data entry relaxing? In any case, I am continuing to learn a lot and am looking forward to our next field opportunity.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1865787048163199760-7737973723304269428?l=mswstravels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mswstravels.blogspot.com/feeds/7737973723304269428/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1865787048163199760&amp;postID=7737973723304269428' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1865787048163199760/posts/default/7737973723304269428'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1865787048163199760/posts/default/7737973723304269428'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mswstravels.blogspot.com/2008/01/mid-winter-bird-countbetter-late-than.html' title='Mid Winter Bird Count.....better late than never!'/><author><name>Ms. W</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18207792972217989432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/RqEaT1VLJ2I/AAAAAAAAAAM/hiJF3HH1Rh0/s320/DSCN0270.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/R5h2FYIuHSI/AAAAAAAAAGs/ls8HnM0BNHg/s72-c/DSCN0679.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1865787048163199760.post-404392873773720755</id><published>2008-01-03T22:09:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2008-01-03T23:28:30.106+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Bulgarian Christmas and a METER of snow</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/R31EAEHSPAI/AAAAAAAAAFk/S8b29KvuzeQ/s1600-h/DSCN0658.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5151348316676701186" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/R31EAEHSPAI/AAAAAAAAAFk/S8b29KvuzeQ/s320/DSCN0658.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I appologize for the delay &lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/R31D-0HSO9I/AAAAAAAAAFM/v9YOqs4aqqI/s1600-h/DSCN0675.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;in writing about the holidays, but I will do my best to make it worth the wait. I spent Christmas with my host family in Southwest Bulgaria, along with another Peace Corps Volunteer (Magi, second from left)who lived with them (previous to me). My host family really went out of their way to make us feel welcome, and kept referring to us as "the kids." Here we are on Christmas Eve: Eli is between Magi and I, Bobi is on the far left and in the background is Stoil senior with the ever important wine pitcher.                                              &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/R31IaUHSPBI/AAAAAAAAAFs/9ajc8NHUkgc/s1600-h/DSCN0657.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5151353165694778386" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/R31IaUHSPBI/AAAAAAAAAFs/9ajc8NHUkgc/s320/DSCN0657.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;And next, we have the men of the family: Stoil senior, Stoilcho the teenager and Vasco. Bulgarians tend to skip generations with family names, so there is a distinct possibility that if Soilcho ever has a son, he will be called Vasco as well. Stoil senior still has his wine pitcher; as you can see, he takes his glass filling duty very seriously.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of the most touching moments for me was Christmas morning in church. It is tradition in the Bulgarian Orthodox church to write the names of your family on a small piece of paper, &lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/R31D_0HSO_I/AAAAAAAAAFc/KtxTUrYbdMg/s1600-h/DSCN0649.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5151348312381733874" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/R31D_0HSO_I/AAAAAAAAAFc/KtxTUrYbdMg/s320/DSCN0649.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/R31D_0HSO_I/AAAAAAAAAFc/KtxTUrYbdMg/s1600-h/DSCN0649.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;and then the priest prays for everyone by name later during the service. Our host grandma (Baba Bobi) included us on the list too, right after the grandkids. Being as this was my first holiday season spent away from my biological family, it felt good to be part of an adopted one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In Orthodox tradition, Christmas Eve is considered a fast day, which means that no animal products or any kind are eaten. So, Christmas Eve dinner is completely vegan, much to the delight of some of my vegetarian friends. Also Christmas Eve dinner in always eaten on &lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/R31IakHSPCI/AAAAAAAAAF0/RsNPxAOnjo4/s1600-h/DSCN0639.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5151353169989745698" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/R31IakHSPCI/AAAAAAAAAF0/RsNPxAOnjo4/s320/DSCN0639.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;the floor, which must have some sort of symbolic or theological meaning, but I don't know enough to conjecture about it here. As you can see it wasn't really a fast. We had mashed beans, peppers and cabbage leaves stuffed with rice, sweet and savory banitsa (the national pastry) and ceremonial bread with little slips of paper baked into it with "luck" written on them. It was almost like a Bulgarian fortune cookie (not the flavor, the luck).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also got to visit with the goats, who some of my loyal readers will remember that I befriended. It turns out that my host family has a sheep now too. The goats are named Maya and Galla. The sheep, rather ominously, is not named. Magi, Stoil senior and I took them out for a lovely stroll through the edge of the forest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;After Christmas, I came back to Svishtov for New Year's . Bulgarians do not stop with a simple Happy New Year. They continue on to wish you health, wealth, luck, happiness and a long life. But that is not the big story. On New Year's Day in the evening it started snowing, and really has not let up much since! Today it accumulated to over a meter. The roads out of town are closed, and the sidewalks are just piled high with snow. Many regions of Bulgaria are in offical states of emergency. My power is on and everything, so I am quite comfortable, but I have heard of some power outtages in the villages. We're expecting to be shut in for several days, so I have been buying a little extra food.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/R31NdkHSPEI/AAAAAAAAAGE/g200kZnj3Bk/s1600-h/DSCN0677.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5151358719087492162" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/R31NdkHSPEI/AAAAAAAAAGE/g200kZnj3Bk/s320/DSCN0677.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here is a row of parked cars in front of my block.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/R31D_EHSO-I/AAAAAAAAAFU/r-sEYv-ek98/s1600-h/DSCN0672.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5151348299496831970" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/R31D_EHSO-I/AAAAAAAAAFU/r-sEYv-ek98/s320/DSCN0672.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here are people walking down the middle of what normally is a very busy street.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/R31Nb0HSPDI/AAAAAAAAAF8/Nxi_nyS2H8o/s1600-h/DSCN0675.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5151358689022721074" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/R31Nb0HSPDI/AAAAAAAAAF8/Nxi_nyS2H8o/s320/DSCN0675.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here is the walking park in the center. It is a nice place to walk, but not an absolutely essential walking corridor. I think it is pretty awesome that someone cleared a path through it for the sole purpose of enjoying the snow.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1865787048163199760-404392873773720755?l=mswstravels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mswstravels.blogspot.com/feeds/404392873773720755/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1865787048163199760&amp;postID=404392873773720755' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1865787048163199760/posts/default/404392873773720755'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1865787048163199760/posts/default/404392873773720755'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mswstravels.blogspot.com/2008/01/bulgarian-christmas-and-meter-of-snow.html' title='Bulgarian Christmas and a METER of snow'/><author><name>Ms. W</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18207792972217989432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/RqEaT1VLJ2I/AAAAAAAAAAM/hiJF3HH1Rh0/s320/DSCN0270.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/R31EAEHSPAI/AAAAAAAAAFk/S8b29KvuzeQ/s72-c/DSCN0658.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1865787048163199760.post-2364015131937981415</id><published>2007-12-21T23:49:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-12-22T00:05:52.085+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Not knowing what I am singing</title><content type='html'>So, I have joined a choir. Not just any choir but "The First Bulgarian Choir," meaning the first choir established in Bulgaria to sing Western and Central European style classical music. We also sang a Christmas concert in "The First Bulgarian Chitalishte." Svishtov, as I've mentioned before is first in a lot of things, and Svishtovlia (the unofficial term for people who live here) like to remind me and each other of these first as often as humanly possible.  Here is the recently and quite classily renovated interior audotorium in said "First Bulgarian Chitalishte."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5146548941804743202" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/R2w2_rdvKiI/AAAAAAAAAE8/IW5kSxM0lUA/s320/IMG_3838.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The program consisted of mostly traditional English language carols translated into Bulgarian. The one exception was one verse of Jingle Bells, where the English words were transliterated into the Bulgarian alphabet. Luckily, I, like most Christmas celebrating Americans, had studied these lyrics extensively in my youth (AKA, I sang it over and over with my little friends). More exiting is that I will continue to be in the choir in the new year. I hope to make some new friends, and maybe improve my Bulgarian pronounciation with all that singing! I will keep my readers posted, of course!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/R2w3ALdvKjI/AAAAAAAAAFE/owJuWZ6cFrA/s1600-h/IMG_3823.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5146548950394677810" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/R2w3ALdvKjI/AAAAAAAAAFE/owJuWZ6cFrA/s320/IMG_3823.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1865787048163199760-2364015131937981415?l=mswstravels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mswstravels.blogspot.com/feeds/2364015131937981415/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1865787048163199760&amp;postID=2364015131937981415' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1865787048163199760/posts/default/2364015131937981415'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1865787048163199760/posts/default/2364015131937981415'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mswstravels.blogspot.com/2007/12/not-knowing-what-i-am-singing.html' title='Not knowing what I am singing'/><author><name>Ms. W</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18207792972217989432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/RqEaT1VLJ2I/AAAAAAAAAAM/hiJF3HH1Rh0/s320/DSCN0270.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/R2w2_rdvKiI/AAAAAAAAAE8/IW5kSxM0lUA/s72-c/IMG_3838.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1865787048163199760.post-5517139468056238827</id><published>2007-12-14T17:31:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-12-15T13:47:19.696+02:00</updated><title type='text'>I know you are jealous</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/R2KirbdvKgI/AAAAAAAAAEs/_tfPY2mXQO0/s1600-h/DSCN0633.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5143852591401085442" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/R2KirbdvKgI/AAAAAAAAAEs/_tfPY2mXQO0/s320/DSCN0633.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;...but I have what is unquestionable the coolest security door ever. It actually used to be on the door of another environmental NGO in town. My friend, Georgi, who works there actually made it!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Also FYI, the Bulgarian translation of "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows" just came out. It is literally "Harry Potter and the Gifts of Death."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5143852595696052754" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/R2KirrdvKhI/AAAAAAAAAE0/J9-zY6vYHKE/s320/DSCN0634.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1865787048163199760-5517139468056238827?l=mswstravels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mswstravels.blogspot.com/feeds/5517139468056238827/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1865787048163199760&amp;postID=5517139468056238827' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1865787048163199760/posts/default/5517139468056238827'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1865787048163199760/posts/default/5517139468056238827'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mswstravels.blogspot.com/2007/12/i-know-are-jealous.html' title='I know you are jealous'/><author><name>Ms. W</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18207792972217989432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/RqEaT1VLJ2I/AAAAAAAAAAM/hiJF3HH1Rh0/s320/DSCN0270.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/R2KirbdvKgI/AAAAAAAAAEs/_tfPY2mXQO0/s72-c/DSCN0633.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1865787048163199760.post-3601735036046437901</id><published>2007-12-12T16:36:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-12-12T17:22:04.763+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Visiting the neighbors</title><content type='html'>Last weekend, I baked the Swedish cardomom recipe that my family always makes at Chistmastime. I figured it would get me into the holiday spirit and I also baked enough to give some away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Monday evening, I knocked on the door of my elderly neighbors with a massive loaf in tow. They, of course, made a HUGE fuss and ushered me in to have dinner with them. Dinner was toast, with a variety of toppings to choose from. Special for me, was an addition of "ketchmak" or a sort of polenta-esque, but sweet Bulgarian cornmeal concoction served with walnuts on top. We had a long conversation, and I understood a fair ammount of it. They were very patient and helpful in helping me understand new words.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just as we have all seen Americans shout slowly at non-English speakers in English, some Bulgarians do the same to me. This elderly couple didn't though. They seemed to assume that I am intellegent and capable of hearing normal speech, even if I don't have the language skills to prove it yet. I think they also are a bit lonely and isolated. The woman has trouble going down the 6 flights of stairs from the apartment, and so does not go out very often. Consequently, they both seemed really happy to have someone new to talk to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our conversation (or what I could understand of it) was pretty interesting. From what I could understand, they were both university educated here in Svishtov, where they met (love at first site, according to Mrs.). I got a thourough introduction to the history of Svishtov, which has proven to be an almost inexhaustible topic with most locals. In addition to being the first city to be freed from the Ottoman Empire and posessing the first Bulgarian chitalishte (community center) , apparently Svishtov was the location of the first piano in Bulgaria as well as the first western style ladies' hat (if I understood correctly), couretesy of trading partners upstream on the Danube. I also got to hear about the couple's travels to Kiev and Lenningrad (today St. Petersburg) with the erstwhile state run "BalkanTourist" travel agency. I even spooned sugar out of one of their souvenirs!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been thinking about them a lot over the past few days. Their whole world was turned upside down by the fall of Communism. They used to be middle class, vacation taking, souvenir buying people with jobs. Now they are living on what ammounts to a pittance of a pension and having toast for dinner in an old apartment with a broken elevator. So much of the development work going on in Bulgaria today has to do with building the skills and confidence of youth, which is extremely important work. I only hope that someone remembers the elderly, who are far too used to a system that rewards silence and compliance to speak up for themselves.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1865787048163199760-3601735036046437901?l=mswstravels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mswstravels.blogspot.com/feeds/3601735036046437901/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1865787048163199760&amp;postID=3601735036046437901' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1865787048163199760/posts/default/3601735036046437901'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1865787048163199760/posts/default/3601735036046437901'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mswstravels.blogspot.com/2007/12/visiting-neighbors.html' title='Visiting the neighbors'/><author><name>Ms. W</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18207792972217989432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/RqEaT1VLJ2I/AAAAAAAAAAM/hiJF3HH1Rh0/s320/DSCN0270.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1865787048163199760.post-8420173334057071374</id><published>2007-12-02T14:40:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-12-02T15:32:32.876+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Feeding the Birds (a bit)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/R1KoTNm0UDI/AAAAAAAAAEc/e1NE3PNQY3I/s1600-R/DSCN0614.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5139355172806610994" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/R1KoTNm0UDI/AAAAAAAAAEc/xegKRSlpKtI/s320/DSCN0614.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; So, last week I took part in my first (drum roll please) educational activity with local school kids. We (two other BSPB-ers and myself) went to a biology classroom, where we made bird feeders with several classes worth of students. I was mostly an observer and sort of bopped around the classroom speaking cavewoman-esque Bulgarian to them. Right now my strategy building relationships with Bulgarians (including kids) is to attempt to make really lame jokes in Bulgarian, and then smile and appologize if they don't go over well. I employed this along with shaking my head yes* and smiling a lot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So the lesson went like this. One of our superstar teenage volunteers presented how to make the feeders and why they are especially helpful during winter months. Students made the feeders out of plastic bottles they has brought, and put bird-seed in them. Sunflowers are a pretty major agricultural crop here, so sunflower seeds are a common snack (and sunflower oil, rather than olive oil the cooking/ salad oil of choice). The problem is the students brought snack sized bags of seeds....and mostly 1-2 litre bottles. So everyone had an inch or two of seeds in the bottoms of their bottles. Then we went to the forest nearby, where we hung the bird feeders. Kids were up in trees, running around and generally running amok, but we had a great time. The forest at the edge of town looks a little funny with all these nearly empty bottles hanging in it, but the kids got outside and are at least thinking about birds. I am lobbying for a spring clean-up to retrieve the bottles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5139362590215131202" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/R1KvC9m0UEI/AAAAAAAAAEk/3oPMNFw1cP8/s320/DSCN0622.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;It was nice to meet some kiddos here in town. I have an interview this Tuesday with a 7th grade reporter from the school newspaper. I was actually recently interviewed for local television as well. I haven't seen the segment, but apparently everyone else in town has. It is a weird experience being interviewed in a language that you have only been speaking for 4 months! If I can get a copy of it, I will post it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;*A footnote f&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;or western readers. Nodding and shaking of one's head have opposite meanings of what we do in the west. I heard once that the gestures originated among Bulgarians during the days of the Ottoman Empire, seen as a dark period in Bulgarian history. The idea is that Bulgarians would nod their heads "no" in a secret gesture of defiance when talking to Ottoman officials, who read the gesture as "yes." I have not been able to verify this, but it would be a logical explanation.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1865787048163199760-8420173334057071374?l=mswstravels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mswstravels.blogspot.com/feeds/8420173334057071374/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1865787048163199760&amp;postID=8420173334057071374' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1865787048163199760/posts/default/8420173334057071374'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1865787048163199760/posts/default/8420173334057071374'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mswstravels.blogspot.com/2007/12/feeding-birds-bit.html' title='Feeding the Birds (a bit)'/><author><name>Ms. W</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18207792972217989432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/RqEaT1VLJ2I/AAAAAAAAAAM/hiJF3HH1Rh0/s320/DSCN0270.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/R1KoTNm0UDI/AAAAAAAAAEc/xegKRSlpKtI/s72-c/DSCN0614.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1865787048163199760.post-6134298372666720898</id><published>2007-11-22T11:18:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-11-22T12:03:24.066+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Watching Birds Instead of Eating Them</title><content type='html'>I have been doing quite a bit of bird watching lately, which I am really enjoying. We are in the midst of a monitoring project for wild wintering geese. The flocks or literally thousands of geese are really very impressive. Our monitoring project focuses on counting the geese as they fly over (we count by 10's, or sometimes just plain estimate), noting locations and times that the flock settles to feed and searching for the endangered red breasted goose in the midst of mostly white-fronted geese. There are a number of larger greylag geese in the flock as well. &lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Here is a shot of my counterpart, Emil, looking for red-breasted geese amongst the flock last Satuday. &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5135593497248866706" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/R0VLE4JTIZI/AAAAAAAAAEE/UHCfRl87eYI/s320/DSCN0580.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The goose monitoring is an important project, as it will help determine the management plan for this particular protected area. Counting birds, it turns out, is not quite as simple as one-two-three. The geese come in such thick numbers that the one by one approach is impossible. I usually count by 10's or so, but sometimes even that is difficult. Also, if we set up our equipment in one particular area, oftentimes the geese may decide to land in a different field from the expected one. "Ah, the geese have surprised us again!" says my counterpart.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Call me touchy feely, or a nature freak if you like, but I not-so-secretly enjoy when the geese are unpredictable. I draw great comfort from the fact that there are still wild creatures in this world who do not always behave as we expect or desire them to. I understand the importance of getting numbers for our study, but would be very sad if nature always "cooperated" with us. This morning, for example, we went to the field to attempt to look for red-breasted geese. As you can see from this photo of two of our young volunteers, the weather prohibitted looking at anything further away than about 20 meters. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5135597461503680930" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/R0VOroJTIaI/AAAAAAAAAEM/bpI2ct_5jvs/s320/DSCN0584.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Despite not being able to see, hearing the geese break the frosty silence as they flew low through the fog in ever increasing numbers was a truly magical experience. We stood there listening to the honking and even the swoosh of air through their wings. And every once in a while, we would catch a glimpse, if only for a few seconds. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5135599286864781746" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/R0VQV4JTIbI/AAAAAAAAAEU/40rvq6HLmbQ/s320/DSCN0592.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1865787048163199760-6134298372666720898?l=mswstravels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mswstravels.blogspot.com/feeds/6134298372666720898/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1865787048163199760&amp;postID=6134298372666720898' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1865787048163199760/posts/default/6134298372666720898'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1865787048163199760/posts/default/6134298372666720898'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mswstravels.blogspot.com/2007/11/watching-birds-instead-of-eating-them.html' title='Watching Birds Instead of Eating Them'/><author><name>Ms. W</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18207792972217989432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/RqEaT1VLJ2I/AAAAAAAAAAM/hiJF3HH1Rh0/s320/DSCN0270.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/R0VLE4JTIZI/AAAAAAAAAEE/UHCfRl87eYI/s72-c/DSCN0580.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1865787048163199760.post-4226144639827048437</id><published>2007-11-11T19:23:00.001+02:00</published><updated>2007-11-11T20:13:53.176+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Developments in my Culinary Experience and a New Friend</title><content type='html'>&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5131636609228362402" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/Rzc8TrlyUqI/AAAAAAAAADs/wSB9U66YhjI/s320/DSCN0563.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I had a small adventure today in the world of vegetable shopping. I bought what I ascertain to be a kolrabi (I have never bought one before, but have seen them), known here as "alabash." I was looking for carrots, which the next vegetable lady over had, but they were kind of sad and old looking. So, I decided to ask what this purple thing was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next thing I know, not only am I receiving a small vocabulary tutorial, but I am being coached on how to prepare the thing. Bulgarians do a &lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/Rzc8T7lyUrI/AAAAAAAAAD0/h9VfU0qDr1s/s1600-h/DSCN0566.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5131636613523329714" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/Rzc8T7lyUrI/AAAAAAAAAD0/h9VfU0qDr1s/s320/DSCN0566.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;number of cold vegetable salads, often involving shredding or mashing or chopping. I am a huge fan of said salads, and was greatly appreciative of this new addition to my bulgarka repetoire. The end result is my shredded kohlrabi salad, with a little parsley, vinegar, or the ever present salt and sunflower oil. It is pretty tasty!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Work is going along decently considering that I am floundering at best in the local language and still have much to learn about the organization. I am figuring things out slowly, and trying to envision how I will fit in this little branch of the organization for the next two years. I am also trying to establish an organizational routine, with to do lists and a calendar on my computer. This way I can not only keep myself organized, I can also keep track of things for the distantly, but ominously, looming quarterly reports for Peace Corps.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/Rzc8UblyUsI/AAAAAAAAAD8/vXwN7w3MQpk/s1600-h/DSCN0561.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The non-profit (or NGO as is termed here, I think the US is the only place that uses the term "non-profit") world here is going through some pretty big changes with EU acession. I think that NGO's are expecting that they will more easily find funding, which may be true as the EU definitely funds a ton of projects. What my organization needs to realize though is that they are going to quickly become very small fish in a very big pond. In other words, jut because money is available for bird conservation, doesn't mean that it will go to BSPB. An idea for my stay here taht occurred this week is to work on transferring fundraising and PR skills.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/Rzc8UblyUsI/AAAAAAAAAD8/vXwN7w3MQpk/s1600-h/DSCN0561.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5131636622113264322" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/Rzc8UblyUsI/AAAAAAAAAD8/vXwN7w3MQpk/s320/DSCN0561.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My other non-work related news is The other news is that I am starting to befriend my wine lady. This is she, on the left, posing rather goofily for the camera. She is super friendly, so I stop by to visit her when it is dead at the store on the weekends.  Another key is that she is willing to talk really slowly and repeat things a lot for me, which is pretty much a requirement for any possibility of friendship with a non-English speaking Bulgarian at this point. We were born in the same year, btu she is married with a little boy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We have great fun running giggling across the street to the automated coffee machine, looking at wines and just sitting around, all the while, she attempts to help me understand more Bulgarian. Furthermore, we have at least two common vices (wine and coffee), always a great start to an aquantance!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/Rzc8UblyUsI/AAAAAAAAAD8/vXwN7w3MQpk/s1600-h/DSCN0561.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1865787048163199760-4226144639827048437?l=mswstravels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mswstravels.blogspot.com/feeds/4226144639827048437/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1865787048163199760&amp;postID=4226144639827048437' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1865787048163199760/posts/default/4226144639827048437'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1865787048163199760/posts/default/4226144639827048437'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mswstravels.blogspot.com/2007/11/developments-in-my-culinary-experience.html' title='Developments in my Culinary Experience and a New Friend'/><author><name>Ms. W</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18207792972217989432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/RqEaT1VLJ2I/AAAAAAAAAAM/hiJF3HH1Rh0/s320/DSCN0270.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/Rzc8TrlyUqI/AAAAAAAAADs/wSB9U66YhjI/s72-c/DSCN0563.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1865787048163199760.post-9128358834337220612</id><published>2007-11-05T17:28:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-11-05T18:30:51.255+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Fall in Svishtov and the WAR ON CARROTS</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So, I have been taking a few photos of my everyday routine lately. This is the outside of my soviet era blok. I live in what real-estate agents might term the "penthouse," of course neglecting to add that the elevator is broken. I don't mind a bit though, keeps me in shape without even trying!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5129380060412623234" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/Ry83_QLduYI/AAAAAAAAACk/bBvrhr9pLrk/s320/DSCN0546.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here is our walking park in the center. Isn't it pretty with all the fall colors?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/Ry84AALduZI/AAAAAAAAACs/KnLjWy0k770/s1600-h/DSCN0549.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5129380073297525138" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/Ry84AALduZI/AAAAAAAAACs/KnLjWy0k770/s320/DSCN0549.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I pass this flower stand every day. Flowers are something that this country does very well. Note the ODD numbers of blossoms in each bouquet. Even numbers are for funerals, and if given to the living are considered very insulting indeed (possibly the equivalent of saying "I wish you were dead"). The American boquet of a dozen roses would NOT work here!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/Ry84AQLduaI/AAAAAAAAAC0/yIZzYLs_xko/s1600-h/DSCN0550.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5129380077592492450" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/Ry84AQLduaI/AAAAAAAAAC0/yIZzYLs_xko/s320/DSCN0550.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Everyday, I eat lunch with my colleague in what is termed in literal tranlation a "fast kitchen." It sort of reminds me of a high school or college type cafeteria in America, but with more choices and ketchup isn't considered a vegetable. Also, the food is much nicer than what I remember from my high school days. Here is a typical lunch of bean and tomato soup and a roll. It costs 90 stotinki (about 75 cents)!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/Ry84BALdubI/AAAAAAAAAC8/AatOO_qLnx4/s1600-h/DSCN0553.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5129380090477394354" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/Ry84BALdubI/AAAAAAAAAC8/AatOO_qLnx4/s320/DSCN0553.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;My living room, with my knitting project on the couch. My computer also serves as my music source at the moment. Finally, note the end table with the family photos and bowls made by my grandfather. It is sort of my mini-shrine to things I love most about the US!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/Ry84BQLducI/AAAAAAAAADE/0Vlnt93YMBY/s1600-h/DSCN0554.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5129380094772361666" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/Ry84BQLducI/AAAAAAAAADE/0Vlnt93YMBY/s320/DSCN0554.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I know that some of my readers may be cursious about the title of this blog entry. Upon my departure, my host family gave me about 2 kilos of peppers and maybe 3 of carrots. The peppers were easy enough to cut up and saute, although they are sort of a cullinary guessing game as the peppers are in no way sorted by spiciness. The carrots are another story. They are very tasty, but they are small, and require peeling! The surface area to volume ratio of these things were not in my favor, but after a few weeks of staring at them from across the kitchen I went to work on them last night. This was my trash can afterwards.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5129386129201412578" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/Ry89ggLdueI/AAAAAAAAADU/ekEm0MPirV8/s320/DSCN0557.JPG" border="0" /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And this is my countertop...but notice the finished product of a shredded carrot salad, with additional carrots in a ziplock for later use on the right. By the way, Bulgarian style shredded carrot salad is spectacular in in simplicity. All that is needed is shredded carrots, chopped parsley, salt, pepper, a little wine-vinegar and some salad oil. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5129391824328047106" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/Ry9CsALdugI/AAAAAAAAADk/DqrnQsMpr2c/s320/DSCN0556.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1865787048163199760-9128358834337220612?l=mswstravels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mswstravels.blogspot.com/feeds/9128358834337220612/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1865787048163199760&amp;postID=9128358834337220612' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1865787048163199760/posts/default/9128358834337220612'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1865787048163199760/posts/default/9128358834337220612'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mswstravels.blogspot.com/2007/11/fall-in-svishtov-and-war-on-carrots.html' title='Fall in Svishtov and the WAR ON CARROTS'/><author><name>Ms. W</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18207792972217989432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/RqEaT1VLJ2I/AAAAAAAAAAM/hiJF3HH1Rh0/s320/DSCN0270.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/Ry83_QLduYI/AAAAAAAAACk/bBvrhr9pLrk/s72-c/DSCN0546.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1865787048163199760.post-3836488960866536708</id><published>2007-10-29T18:19:00.001+02:00</published><updated>2007-10-29T18:49:10.554+02:00</updated><title type='text'>More old-ish photos...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;So, these are all old-ish photos, as my batteries in my digital camera are currently dead. I promise, I will buy new ones soon and post tons of photos of Svishtov! Captions are below each one.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5126797200224794898" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/RyYK5ALduRI/AAAAAAAAABo/9q-ktf6F3NA/s320/DSCN0434.JPG" border="0" /&gt;One of my bird boys catching a lizard during my site visit in September. &lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/RyYK5QLduSI/AAAAAAAAABw/zFcgRf1Tdko/s1600-h/DSCN0400.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/RyYK5gLduTI/AAAAAAAAAB4/DC6zIYJYmqQ/s1600-h/DSCN0451.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5126797208814729522" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/RyYK5gLduTI/AAAAAAAAAB4/DC6zIYJYmqQ/s320/DSCN0451.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;This photo and the two following show one of the top reasons why you need to come to Bulgaria, the Seven Rila Lakes. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/RyYK6ALduUI/AAAAAAAAACA/rDqo--en0E4/s1600-h/DSCN0458.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5126797217404664130" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/RyYK6ALduUI/AAAAAAAAACA/rDqo--en0E4/s320/DSCN0458.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Thomas contemplating the majesty of nature. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/RyYK6QLduVI/AAAAAAAAACI/ETcMTB6yFCg/s1600-h/DSCN0450.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5126797221699631442" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/RyYK6QLduVI/AAAAAAAAACI/ETcMTB6yFCg/s320/DSCN0450.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Rajun and I being goofy. Can't you almost feel the love emmanating from this one?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5126799296168835426" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/RyYMzALduWI/AAAAAAAAACQ/8Shj68LphRQ/s320/DSCN0514.JPG" border="0" /&gt;Nazi artifacts for sale at the trinket bazar in central Sofia. N.B. vintage Leica's with the Nazi seals on them and the luftwaffe helmets under the table. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5126800223881771378" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/RyYNpALduXI/AAAAAAAAACY/ANV81_miQx0/s320/DSCN0413.JPG" border="0" /&gt;Me with Max, one of my technical trainers during PST and my illustrious predecessor in Svishtov, about five minutes after I found out I was going to be his replacement. Don't we look like we could be related?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1865787048163199760-3836488960866536708?l=mswstravels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mswstravels.blogspot.com/feeds/3836488960866536708/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1865787048163199760&amp;postID=3836488960866536708' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1865787048163199760/posts/default/3836488960866536708'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1865787048163199760/posts/default/3836488960866536708'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mswstravels.blogspot.com/2007/10/more-old-ish-photos.html' title='More old-ish photos...'/><author><name>Ms. W</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18207792972217989432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/RqEaT1VLJ2I/AAAAAAAAAAM/hiJF3HH1Rh0/s320/DSCN0270.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/RyYK5ALduRI/AAAAAAAAABo/9q-ktf6F3NA/s72-c/DSCN0434.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1865787048163199760.post-863227405782141887</id><published>2007-10-26T10:33:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2007-10-29T10:07:04.626+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Why I love my site- a 1st week perspective</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;1. The walk from my apartment to work.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I walk through the center of town every day, past parks, students, vegetable and flower stands and great window shopping. Plus, I get exercise without even trying and arrive to work in a great mood.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;2. My view from my apartment. Good morning Romania!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5125548215145183490" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/RyGa8gLduQI/AAAAAAAAABc/QQ9i6zp4Jdg/s320/DSCN0429.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;3. I found a place where I can drink a Guiness.&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Mind you, it is not on tap, nor even in the prefereable can packaging and costs 4 leva per American sized bottle. To add context for my American readers, Bulgarian beer comes in a half litre bottle and costs about 1.5 leva. For just one, only once in a blue moon, it is worth every last stotinki. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;4. Science Nerds RULE&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I almost feel guilty for how cool my PC assignment is. We should have hardships, difficult work circumstances and an assignment that might not be fun, but will make the world a better place, right? So far, my work has consisted of getting up to speed on local conservation issues, asking science questions, the occasional bird watching break and reading scientific literature, without having to annotate it! Yes, I realize that I am a superdork for proclaiming this, but this RULES.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;More to come...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1865787048163199760-863227405782141887?l=mswstravels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mswstravels.blogspot.com/feeds/863227405782141887/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1865787048163199760&amp;postID=863227405782141887' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1865787048163199760/posts/default/863227405782141887'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1865787048163199760/posts/default/863227405782141887'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mswstravels.blogspot.com/2007/10/why-i-love-my-site-1st-week-perspective.html' title='Why I love my site- a 1st week perspective'/><author><name>Ms. W</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18207792972217989432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/RqEaT1VLJ2I/AAAAAAAAAAM/hiJF3HH1Rh0/s320/DSCN0270.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/RyGa8gLduQI/AAAAAAAAABc/QQ9i6zp4Jdg/s72-c/DSCN0429.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1865787048163199760.post-6954408724426060088</id><published>2007-10-22T11:12:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2007-10-22T11:32:27.527+03:00</updated><title type='text'>By popular demand...PHOTOS!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/Rxxd_PGjeDI/AAAAAAAAAA4/N4oq-QvOxmQ/s1600-h/DSCN0490.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5124073817007945778" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/Rxxd_PGjeDI/AAAAAAAAAA4/N4oq-QvOxmQ/s320/DSCN0490.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Rajun&lt;/span&gt; and I dancing &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;horo&lt;/span&gt; at a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;sabor&lt;/span&gt; (town holiday) near our training site. Unknown Bulgarian woman between us.  I chose this photo because in all the other photos from that day, I look totally befuddled by the dancing, in contrast to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Rajun&lt;/span&gt; who looks ready to join a traditional dance troupe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/Rxxd_fGjeEI/AAAAAAAAABA/S-9fHoE6iLI/s1600-h/DSCN0461.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5124073821302913090" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/Rxxd_fGjeEI/AAAAAAAAABA/S-9fHoE6iLI/s320/DSCN0461.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;An awesomely huge meadow with mysterious fog coming down from the Seven &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Rila&lt;/span&gt; Lakes.  Notice the people about to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;disappear&lt;/span&gt;!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/Rxxd_vGjeFI/AAAAAAAAABI/q7M2Mrg3h9c/s1600-h/DSCN0389.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5124073825597880402" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/Rxxd_vGjeFI/AAAAAAAAABI/q7M2Mrg3h9c/s320/DSCN0389.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Some members of my host family and I at &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Rila&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Monastary&lt;/span&gt;.  Eli (mother), &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Vasco&lt;/span&gt; (father) and Maria ( their 11 year old daughter, aka, Mime)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/RxxeAPGjeGI/AAAAAAAAABQ/afXxQUy5DfE/s1600-h/DSCN0445.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5124073834187815010" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/RxxeAPGjeGI/AAAAAAAAABQ/afXxQUy5DfE/s320/DSCN0445.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My kitchen in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Svishtov&lt;/span&gt;! I've already cooked &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;spaghetti&lt;/span&gt; and meatballs and potato leek soup in it so far.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/RxxcpPGjeCI/AAAAAAAAAAw/iZ5-SQMP8mA/s1600-h/DSCN0530.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5124072339539195938" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/RxxcpPGjeCI/AAAAAAAAAAw/iZ5-SQMP8mA/s320/DSCN0530.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Our students who designed signs for the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;ecopath&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;with&lt;/span&gt; their signs getting ready to hike on a drizzly Saturday. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/Rxxb3_GjeBI/AAAAAAAAAAo/Gx6efZ_1sAU/s1600-h/DSCN0518.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5124071493430638610" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/Rxxb3_GjeBI/AAAAAAAAAAo/Gx6efZ_1sAU/s320/DSCN0518.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;My training &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;site mates&lt;/span&gt; and I on our visit to Sofia during the second to last week of PST. From left to right: Me, Thomas, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;Rajun&lt;/span&gt; and Chase with the umbrella.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1865787048163199760-6954408724426060088?l=mswstravels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mswstravels.blogspot.com/feeds/6954408724426060088/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1865787048163199760&amp;postID=6954408724426060088' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1865787048163199760/posts/default/6954408724426060088'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1865787048163199760/posts/default/6954408724426060088'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mswstravels.blogspot.com/2007/10/by-popular-demandphotos.html' title='By popular demand...PHOTOS!'/><author><name>Ms. W</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18207792972217989432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/RqEaT1VLJ2I/AAAAAAAAAAM/hiJF3HH1Rh0/s320/DSCN0270.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/Rxxd_PGjeDI/AAAAAAAAAA4/N4oq-QvOxmQ/s72-c/DSCN0490.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1865787048163199760.post-8789670693477559263</id><published>2007-10-19T13:54:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2007-10-19T15:27:33.235+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Home Sveet Svishtov</title><content type='html'>Today was my first day of work in my new organization. As a first day, it really isn't much of a day for accomplishments, but I spent time familiarizing myself with the organization, thinking about project ideas, and researching bird conservation online. All in all, it will be work that will pay off later, I think. Information gathering never really feels like an accomplishment, but in environmental work, uninformed action can be disastrous!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I will have the pleasure of cooking my very own dinner this evening. While I have greatly enjoyed the cooking of my host family, I have been itching for some of my own cooking. I, taking after my mother, am an immodest fan of my own culinary skills. I was further encouraged in my zeal for my own cooking by the unearthing of some long-ago packed kitchen gadgets from my winter luggage (most importantly, my microplane). I have already scoped out a purveyor of kitchen gadgets (one of my favorite types of retailers), and will be buying my stove-top espresso maker post-haste!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Otherwise, this weekend I will be exploring my new city and beginning to settle in. I think that I may attend an event put on by Japanese volunteers tomorrow, rumor has it there will be Japanese food!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I must be hungry with all this talk about food. I'd better get going in order to remedy that!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1865787048163199760-8789670693477559263?l=mswstravels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mswstravels.blogspot.com/feeds/8789670693477559263/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1865787048163199760&amp;postID=8789670693477559263' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1865787048163199760/posts/default/8789670693477559263'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1865787048163199760/posts/default/8789670693477559263'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mswstravels.blogspot.com/2007/10/home-sveet-svishtov.html' title='Home Sveet Svishtov'/><author><name>Ms. W</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18207792972217989432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/RqEaT1VLJ2I/AAAAAAAAAAM/hiJF3HH1Rh0/s320/DSCN0270.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1865787048163199760.post-7336448647505682830</id><published>2007-10-12T16:07:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2007-10-12T16:14:33.506+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Small Community Project</title><content type='html'>So, we implemented the first half of our small scale &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;community&lt;/span&gt; project today. We got a pack of 6&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; graders together and had then paint signs for a local &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;eco&lt;/span&gt;-trail. They mostly have some sort of conservation message on them, such as don't step on the flowers. Tomorrow, we will nail them up for the edification and enjoyment of passing hikers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The hike tomorrow is going to be interesting to say the least. We will be carrying these signs for quite a while, in addition to hammers, nails, food and possibly other things that our 6&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; graders don't feel like carrying. Again, photos of both events will be posted as soon as my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;technological&lt;/span&gt; situation improves at my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;permanent&lt;/span&gt; site!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1865787048163199760-7336448647505682830?l=mswstravels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mswstravels.blogspot.com/feeds/7336448647505682830/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1865787048163199760&amp;postID=7336448647505682830' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1865787048163199760/posts/default/7336448647505682830'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1865787048163199760/posts/default/7336448647505682830'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mswstravels.blogspot.com/2007/10/small-community-project.html' title='Small Community Project'/><author><name>Ms. W</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18207792972217989432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/RqEaT1VLJ2I/AAAAAAAAAAM/hiJF3HH1Rh0/s320/DSCN0270.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1865787048163199760.post-3660192431205974097</id><published>2007-10-10T16:27:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2007-10-10T16:48:59.412+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Anticipating Svishtov!</title><content type='html'>So, in just over one week, I will be in Svishtov. Not that I am counting or anything, or more accurately, I don't have the bus schedule yet so I don't know the exact hour of my arrival yet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Peace Corps, as hierarchical and beaureucratic as it may seem to some, actually knows a thing or two about training. As I said in my final interview with our administrative officer today, I feel adaquately prepared for everything except the things for which one can't prepare. Also the timing of the end of PST couldn't be more perfect. It is short enough so that we don't completely burn out by the end (operative word: "completely," it's supposed to be hard). It is also long enough that most of us are chomping at the bit to get to our sites by the end.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a thousand and one ideas for projects at this point (ok, maybe less than that), but I think that the best thing is for me to simply be an extra set of hands at first when I arrive. After I earn some "street cred" (would flyway cred be more appropriate here?), then I will be in a better position to supply project ideas.*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;*PC staff, if you are reading this, aren't you proud of my internalization of the Peace Corps' approach to development work? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1865787048163199760-3660192431205974097?l=mswstravels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mswstravels.blogspot.com/feeds/3660192431205974097/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1865787048163199760&amp;postID=3660192431205974097' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1865787048163199760/posts/default/3660192431205974097'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1865787048163199760/posts/default/3660192431205974097'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mswstravels.blogspot.com/2007/10/anticipating-svishtov.html' title='Anticipating Svishtov!'/><author><name>Ms. W</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18207792972217989432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/RqEaT1VLJ2I/AAAAAAAAAAM/hiJF3HH1Rh0/s320/DSCN0270.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1865787048163199760.post-9049701323611248974</id><published>2007-10-08T19:29:00.001+03:00</published><updated>2007-10-08T19:48:52.359+03:00</updated><title type='text'>In praise of Bulgarian DIY</title><content type='html'>So, in America we are really into homemade things. We buy magazines whose articles describe how to fashion jar lids into chic and environmentally correct sleeper sofas. We snap up homemade lingonberry preserve at craft fairs, and are willing to pay prices that might indicate that there is gold in the center of each. And we have a whole industry of ready made foods that we can pop into our ovens for that homemade taste.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyone notice anything here? There are some notable American exceptions; my mother's cooking, my grandmother's sewing and my grandfather's amazing woodwork comes to mind. For the most part though, Americans love the idea of homemade, but don't actually make much at home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So in Bulgaria, they actually make pretty much everything at home. My family is in the process of harvesting grapes to make the homemade brandy or "rakia." They also made wine this weekend. When they needed a large outdoor table this summer for a party, they built one, just the right size, right in place. They darn socks, make preserves, bake bread,  and make cheese from the goats that they milked. They also build their own houses (mostly out of bricks and concrete), pour their own driveways, and put up their own fences.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also it seems that Bulgarians are much more spontaneous that Americans. It means that sometimes you end up having a wonderful adventure that no one really planned, or sometimes an immaculately tiled wall must be broken through to fix the plumbing that was thought of after the completion of the wall.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is definitely different. And I like it! (Although, don't worry, I still think America has its finer qualities too!)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1865787048163199760-9049701323611248974?l=mswstravels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mswstravels.blogspot.com/feeds/9049701323611248974/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1865787048163199760&amp;postID=9049701323611248974' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1865787048163199760/posts/default/9049701323611248974'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1865787048163199760/posts/default/9049701323611248974'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mswstravels.blogspot.com/2007/10/in-praise-of-bulgarian-diy.html' title='In praise of Bulgarian DIY'/><author><name>Ms. W</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18207792972217989432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/RqEaT1VLJ2I/AAAAAAAAAAM/hiJF3HH1Rh0/s320/DSCN0270.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1865787048163199760.post-3284983099527145207</id><published>2007-09-29T17:00:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2007-09-29T17:59:24.022+03:00</updated><title type='text'>I can hardly keep up with myself!</title><content type='html'>So, dear readers, I've been a bit busy as of late. Last weekend I went on an overnight hike to the Seven Rila Lakes in the Rila mountains. I went with a Peace Corps group, which was fun even though I never thought that a hike with 50 people could be fun. The lakes are high in the Rila Mountains, and lovely enough to be a spiritual experience. Even after so much walking, I felt refreshed and happy at the end. I have a ton of photos, and will post them when my technological situation permits.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Monday my training group met with one of the vice-mayors of the municipality for dinner and talk of our community project. She is extremely supportive of our project (installing educational signs on a local eco-trail with help from local youth), and even managed to score free supplies for us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In Tuesday we met with teachers and students to talk about the project and environmental ethics. Our educational focus with them is how to protect nature while enjoying its beauty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Wednesday we traveled to our hub-site to have (...drum roll please...) more meetings! Actually most of the meetings are important (Peace Corps staff, if you are reading, the exceptions should be made clear on my evaluation forms), and some are actually interesting and informative. Even so, at this point in my training, I am beginning to tire of them. I suppose that is the nature of this beast we call training; it is supposed to be hard, and I'd likely gripe about it being too easy if it wasn't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As much as I feel ready to be finished with training, I must admit that it is working. I am now able to have a conversation in Bulgarian, even if it is a bit elementary and my conversation partner helps correct my pronunciation! Another landmark: I am starting to understand silly advertising slogans on billboards. I know they are pretty much the least advanced form of the written language in any culture, but it is much more than I understood even a short time ago (baby steps here folks!).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Thursday (after more meetings in the morning), I traveled with my friend Will to visit a currently serving volunteer named Shane in Stara Zagora. It was nice to meet other volunteers (its a bigger city and so we met another PCV who is done and about to be on his way back to America-COS-ing in PC-speak) and hear their perspectives. It made me even more pumped to get to know people in my permanent site and  start my work!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Friday we visited a bird rehabilitation center and environmental NGO where Shane works, and asked him about environmental work in Bulgaria. The organization that he works for, called Green Balkans, does some great work.  The bird rehabilitation facility is remarkable. Many important, rare or endangered species live there. They have even had successes with captive breeding and releases, which is not easy to do. Apparently though, my future organization (the Bulgarian Society for the Protection of Birds) and Green Balkans have a somewhat tense relationship. I'm not sure of the history of the spat, nor would I dare to speculate in a such a public forum. So far I respect both organizations and their work. There are some examples of the two organizations cooperating; let's hope they increase in the future. In my book, there is no such thing as doing too much conservation work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, after several hours on three different buses, I am back in my training site. After that week, venturing to coffee with a friend or doing a little homework will be the extent of my day tomorrow!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1865787048163199760-3284983099527145207?l=mswstravels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mswstravels.blogspot.com/feeds/3284983099527145207/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1865787048163199760&amp;postID=3284983099527145207' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1865787048163199760/posts/default/3284983099527145207'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1865787048163199760/posts/default/3284983099527145207'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mswstravels.blogspot.com/2007/09/i-can-hardly-keep-up-with-myself.html' title='I can hardly keep up with myself!'/><author><name>Ms. W</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18207792972217989432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/RqEaT1VLJ2I/AAAAAAAAAAM/hiJF3HH1Rh0/s320/DSCN0270.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1865787048163199760.post-4066233477241193183</id><published>2007-09-24T18:11:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2007-09-25T15:26:35.533+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Dog Guilt</title><content type='html'>I have made friends with a stray dog in town. I first met him one evening a few weeks ago when I was walking home. I was strolling along in the not-too-fast-not-too-slow manner that is the custom here when I the shadow of a wagging tail behind mine. I turned around to investigate and outstretched my hand to introduce myself to a dignified and unassuming but definitely dirty dog. He was a mutt-ish wiry black with white whiskers. As I was walking along he licked a snack wrapper and drank from a puddle, but followed me to my neighborhood.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the entrance to my neighborhood, a pack of the neighborhood dogs chased him away. I have since seen him dodging cars and sniffing around for food. He sometimes follows me; I think he can sense that I am a dog person, even though I never feed him. Bulgarians will kick and shout at stray dogs, but my heart is never in it when I attempt to do the same. It is more of a foot nudge. He followed me all the way home today, only to be chased away by Rexi, the dog of the house (he takes his duty of defending us from canine intruders very seriously).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In America we romanticize stray dogs, happily adopt them from no-kill shelters, and maybe even hope that one will ever so meekly follow us home. Here bony, flea-bitten stray dogs are common with nary a dogcatcher in sight. There is no way for me to adopt this dog while I live with my host family, and even to adopt another stray when I get to Svishtov would be wildly irresponsible considering my eventual departure. Still, I feel a little twinge of "dog guilt" when I see my stray.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1865787048163199760-4066233477241193183?l=mswstravels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mswstravels.blogspot.com/feeds/4066233477241193183/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1865787048163199760&amp;postID=4066233477241193183' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1865787048163199760/posts/default/4066233477241193183'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1865787048163199760/posts/default/4066233477241193183'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mswstravels.blogspot.com/2007/09/dog-guilt.html' title='Dog Guilt'/><author><name>Ms. W</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18207792972217989432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/RqEaT1VLJ2I/AAAAAAAAAAM/hiJF3HH1Rh0/s320/DSCN0270.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1865787048163199760.post-4305209826081116422</id><published>2007-09-20T16:13:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2007-09-20T16:28:45.581+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Reason #53 why my host grandfather rules</title><content type='html'>My host grandfather is retired, but definitely keeps active during the day. Today, for example, I came home for lunch and he has just come back from a 2 hour walk in the forest, in the rain, to gather mushrooms. And gather mushrooms he did! They were mega-portabella sized monsters. I truly hope we have some sort of mushroom themed dish this evening for supper.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My host family has been extremely helpful in my language learning. They are always speaking to me, whether I understand or not. Wierdly enough I am starting to understand them (My language trainer's tutalge is helping, I'm sure). Last night we has a dicussion about Bulgarian history, a rather elementary one, but still much more that I would have though possible at this point.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They also just genrally dote on me. My host sister painted my fingernails last night, and today before I purchased my umbrella we passed on the street and she offered me hers. Pretty selfless for an 11 year old. My host grandfather always makes sure that I have something to eat when I come home for lunch. He usually doesn't cook for me, but in a culture where gender roles are much more traditional that what I am used to, it means a lot that he did once!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1865787048163199760-4305209826081116422?l=mswstravels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mswstravels.blogspot.com/feeds/4305209826081116422/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1865787048163199760&amp;postID=4305209826081116422' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1865787048163199760/posts/default/4305209826081116422'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1865787048163199760/posts/default/4305209826081116422'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mswstravels.blogspot.com/2007/09/reason-53-why-my-host-grandfather-rules.html' title='Reason #53 why my host grandfather rules'/><author><name>Ms. W</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18207792972217989432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/RqEaT1VLJ2I/AAAAAAAAAAM/hiJF3HH1Rh0/s320/DSCN0270.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1865787048163199760.post-8795081165528229034</id><published>2007-09-15T17:54:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2007-09-17T13:44:08.586+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Flitting around in Svishtov</title><content type='html'>My permanent site pretty much rules. Svishtov, the town where I will live is a small university city. It has friendly people, an amazing history and my organization (the Bulgarian Society for the Protection of Birds) is great.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I arrived in Svishtov on Wednesday afternoon, and then promptly had a "pochifka" (bulgarian for nap, vacation, time out, weekend, etc, from what I can gather). Then I met up with my counterpart (Emil) and went to a local establishment for dinner and to watch the Bulgaria-Luxenburg football (think European) match. Luckily, BG won. I will have to introduce my new Bulgarian friends to Big Papi and the other patron saints of Red Sox Nation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My apartment, which I stayed in, is pretty classy for a 6th story walk up. It is definitely worth the walk, as I have a lovely view of the Danube River, lots of light, a sweet kitchen and, as a super bonus, a living room with a pretty stylish red faux-fur decorating scheme (not sarcastic, when I am able to post pictures you will see). A previous volunteer (who is actually one of my trainers now) lived there and pimped it out pretty well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thursday, I went to the office to read up on the English website. It looks like I will be helping implement some of the conservation activities, as well as working on environmental education, and possibly some international partnerships with other birding organizations (ex: the Romanian Ornithological Society). Luckily the EU recognizes that birds and wildlife don't particularly adhere to borders. I also met more friends and volunteers for the organization (AKA the Bird Boys), mostly teenage boys with a bent for birds and natural history. I also met my land lady, who sat me down for cake and coffee and promptly inquired about my love life, my tastes in food, my family in America, etc. Oh, and furthermore according to her, I must be 17 and not 27 because I am so pretty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After that, I met my site mate who teaches English. We went for a walk around with a Bulgarian friend (Tiso, not sure of the spelling in either the Cyrillic or Latin alphabet here) to see a giant sundial on the top of a hill; you stand in the middle on a spot determined by what month it is and your shadow reveals the time. Later, we met up with Emil and went to see the Roman ruins near town, as well a memorial to the Russian soldiers who crossed the Danube first at Svishtov during the Russo-Turkish war. Svishtov was the first free city in Bulgaria (the Russians set Bulgaria free from the Ottoman Empire), a fact of which Svishtovians are extremely proud.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally to cap off the night we went to a concert at the sundial. The performers were these international musicians who were traveling down the Danube by boat with a bunch of French tourists (with whom I spoke some pretty broken French at a restaurant when they were confused by the Cyrillic Menu. It was pretty heinous, I kept putting Bulgarian words into French sentences, but at least they knew they were ordering spaghetti). There were musicians from: Albania, Morocco, Romania, Algeria, Spain, Italy, France, Cameroon and more countries that I don't remember. The opening act was a local folk-dance troupe, followed by a collaboration of the international musicians with a local choir. They sang a heavily accented, but enthusiastic version of, "When the Saints Go Marching In," which was an extremely surreal moment for me to hear a pretty quintessentially American tune with nary an American in sight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next day we met at the office early with two bird boys and headed to the field to install nest boxes for the European Rollers, an endangered species here. We pretty much just sent boys up trees on a ladder with the boxes and a bunch of nails and they hammered away. At first, they being guys, they didn't want me to help carry the ladder, but I didn't listen to them and helped anyways. While I didn't hammer at any of the nest-boxes, I became the GPS lady to mark each box site. Ten nest-boxes and a fashionably leisurely lunch break later, I felt like one of the dudes. I am pretty psyched for more field work, I must admit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am now back in my training site. My host family greeted me with hugs and kisses and food and drink and a zillion questions about my new site. I am feeling torn now between wanting to prolong my wonderfully traditional rural experience with my host family who I adore and moving on to do work that I am really exited about about in a gem of a small city (aka "The Pearl of the Danube.")&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1865787048163199760-8795081165528229034?l=mswstravels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mswstravels.blogspot.com/feeds/8795081165528229034/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1865787048163199760&amp;postID=8795081165528229034' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1865787048163199760/posts/default/8795081165528229034'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1865787048163199760/posts/default/8795081165528229034'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mswstravels.blogspot.com/2007/09/flitting-around-in-svishtov.html' title='Flitting around in Svishtov'/><author><name>Ms. W</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18207792972217989432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/RqEaT1VLJ2I/AAAAAAAAAAM/hiJF3HH1Rh0/s320/DSCN0270.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1865787048163199760.post-2019219258307733756</id><published>2007-09-13T11:15:00.001+03:00</published><updated>2007-09-13T11:19:09.165+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Bird Nerd Alert!</title><content type='html'>So, this will be brief. I am currently visiting my permanent site, which is a small city on the Danube River. I can see Romania from my apartment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been placed with an environmental NGO that focuses on bird conservation. I will be getting to do field work, as well as work on outreach and education. I must say that I am beyond pumped to assume my life as a bird nerd. More later, dear readers!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1865787048163199760-2019219258307733756?l=mswstravels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mswstravels.blogspot.com/feeds/2019219258307733756/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1865787048163199760&amp;postID=2019219258307733756' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1865787048163199760/posts/default/2019219258307733756'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1865787048163199760/posts/default/2019219258307733756'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mswstravels.blogspot.com/2007/09/bird-nerd-alert.html' title='Bird Nerd Alert!'/><author><name>Ms. W</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18207792972217989432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/RqEaT1VLJ2I/AAAAAAAAAAM/hiJF3HH1Rh0/s320/DSCN0270.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1865787048163199760.post-2115778717899446204</id><published>2007-09-09T15:34:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2007-09-09T16:15:29.513+03:00</updated><title type='text'>An eventful Saturday</title><content type='html'>Yesterday I woke up thinking that I might eventually meander to the town celebration. My host family had other plans. We ended up going to Rila monastery, the biggest and most famous monastery in Bulgaria. So, my host dad drove me, my host mom and my host sister there. When we arrived, there was a service underway in the monastery church.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We went in for the service, which involves lots of chanting, incense, and blessing of the congregation by the priest. There are also parts of the service that are performed behind a screen in the front of the church, called the iconostasis, I believe. In any case, this is where the altar is located. The congregation stands, and crosses itself at appropriate junctures in the service (which seems to be rather frequent). Orthodox Christians cross themselves opposite the way that Catholics and Anglicans do, (forehead, stomach, right, left rather than left than right) and they also almost always cross themselves three times in a row. We also lit candles, a bit part of Orthodox liturgy. At the end of the service the congregation was allowed to come to the front of the church to venerate the icons, which involves kissing them, placing coins on them, crossing ones self, leaving small offerings of clothing (my host dad left socks I think) or simply touching them. It is up to the individual pilgrim. We also saw the bones of a saint. I am really glad that I got to go to the monastery with a Bulgarian family. I got to experience it from more of an insiders perspective rather than as a tourist.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Afterwards, I got to look around in the monastery courtyard, buy post cards and check out some of the artwork. The artwork is mostly in the form of frescoes on the walls. My favorite was a huge series of panels where angels and demons were duking it out. I was able to photograph some of it and will certainly post it when I am able to figure out the logistics of doing so. Then my host family bought bread from a bakery nearby, which is apparently pretty famous in Bulgaria. It is all handmade (and delicious).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After our return, I went downtown to meet with friends and mosey over to the village sabora (an annual celebration). Sabora was held outside with music and the ever present grilled meat stand. The main event of sabora is the preparation of a MONSTROUS amount of a soup called courban. Basically they slaughter a goat or lamb (or several from what I saw) and boil the meat in huge cauldrons over an open fire. Peppers, onions, tomatoes and spices are also added. When the soup is ready, the village priest says a prayer over it and sprinkles holy water over each cauldron (in this case about 25 cauldrons) and the people. Homemade bread is also blessed with holy water. After that, the attendees circle around the cauldrons with buckets, the corban is ladled into them and everyone takes it home with them. All the grandmothers (aka babas) distribute their blessed bread too. The idea (I think) is to bless the health of the community.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Basically, I experienced a lot of Orthodox Christian customs yesterday. It is so different from anything I have ever seen in terms of religion (even in terms of Christianity). I still have a lot to learn about this part of the culture, and to think, I haven't even seen any of the Muslim traditions yet!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1865787048163199760-2115778717899446204?l=mswstravels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mswstravels.blogspot.com/feeds/2115778717899446204/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1865787048163199760&amp;postID=2115778717899446204' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1865787048163199760/posts/default/2115778717899446204'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1865787048163199760/posts/default/2115778717899446204'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mswstravels.blogspot.com/2007/09/eventful-saturday.html' title='An eventful Saturday'/><author><name>Ms. W</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18207792972217989432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/RqEaT1VLJ2I/AAAAAAAAAAM/hiJF3HH1Rh0/s320/DSCN0270.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1865787048163199760.post-7713748344801758146</id><published>2007-09-06T14:08:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2007-09-06T14:34:59.582+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Update on PC stuff</title><content type='html'>Whilst I have been spinning yarns of everyday life in rural Bulgaria, the process of my training and SITE SELECTION have been in the works.  So, in addition to language training, we also have technical training, which is on the job type stuff. We've been learning about the culture of NGO's, the local government and people in general. It seems that a big source of misunderstanding in Bulgaria is the transition from the traditionally very hierarchical government and compliant populace to the new transparent and egalitarian EU member government with an actively participating populace. We have also been brushing up on community based project management and implementation with trainings, and the design of a project at our training site. We are still designing our project; I will post more on it when we have it nailed down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last week, I had an interview with the Community and Organizational Development (COD) staff, as the environmental education program is small here and housed in the COD department. Even though it initially seemed weird, it makes sense that the environment program be housed in COD, as many economic opportunities in Bulgaria are linked to sustainable ecotourism. Also, the COD staff are ROCKSTARS, and I feel fortunate to have them as bosses. In my interview, they indicated that I will likely be working in either a national park or a bird conservation NGO. I am quite happy with either prospect as they will involve being getting to learn about local natural history, field work, environmental education in its myriad forms (guided hikes, classroom presentations, fielding questions, etc.), work on building partnerships, publicity and more. Basically, I will never be bored!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I find out my placement on Monday, get to meet my counterpart (Peace Corps lingo for the Bulgarian person I will be working with) shortly thereafter, and then on Wednesday will be traveling to my permanent site for a few day visit. YOWSERS, am I pumped!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1865787048163199760-7713748344801758146?l=mswstravels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mswstravels.blogspot.com/feeds/7713748344801758146/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1865787048163199760&amp;postID=7713748344801758146' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1865787048163199760/posts/default/7713748344801758146'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1865787048163199760/posts/default/7713748344801758146'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mswstravels.blogspot.com/2007/09/update-on-pc-stuff.html' title='Update on PC stuff'/><author><name>Ms. W</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18207792972217989432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/RqEaT1VLJ2I/AAAAAAAAAAM/hiJF3HH1Rh0/s320/DSCN0270.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1865787048163199760.post-9213327682540611239</id><published>2007-09-02T16:38:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2007-09-02T17:07:24.593+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Canning Bonanza</title><content type='html'>I thought I'd devote a bit of blog space to canning, which is currently a major activity in rural Bulgaria. Many fresh vegetables are just not available period here in the winter time (unlike the U.S. where you can always get tomatoes, even if they are overpriced, mealy and flavorless in January). In fact, I've heard that in some remote villages they simply run out of things as basic as potatoes in late winter. Of course there are commercially canned items available for purchase (which I will likely become all to familiar with when I move out to my permanent site in October), but my host family seems to be very proud of THEIR homemade items (with good reason).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My host family has a very productive garden and some fruit trees as well. They keep any glass jar that they buy at the store, for use in canning. They have a large canning "cauldron" in the back yard that they light a fire under to boil the jars. The canning cauldron is located next to the rakia still which deserves its own entry. Canned items so far include: tomatoes with parsley, "compote" which is large chunks of fruit with simple syrup and "lutenitsa" a BG version of ketchup that included peppers and carrots as well as tomato (I'm a huge fan). All the adults helped out, turning their outdoor kitchen into a small scale factory.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In general household chores here are much more time consuming. It also seems to be a point of pride among Bulgarian (particularly rural BG) homemakers. For example, the wash cannot simply be hung; in our region of Bulgaria, the wash is hung sorted by size AND color. Or furthermore, my host mother baked a cake today. It had two layers (one vanilla, one chocolate) which she then cut and switched into bulls eye patterns to create and alternating checker pattern when the cake was cut. She poured simple syrup over the cake to soak in, topped it with homemade butter cream frosting, sprinkles and thinly sliced peach wedges. I assumed the cake might be for a party, but no, it was dessert for lunch, cut into literally minutes after it was finished!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1865787048163199760-9213327682540611239?l=mswstravels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mswstravels.blogspot.com/feeds/9213327682540611239/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1865787048163199760&amp;postID=9213327682540611239' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1865787048163199760/posts/default/9213327682540611239'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1865787048163199760/posts/default/9213327682540611239'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mswstravels.blogspot.com/2007/09/canning-bonanza.html' title='Canning Bonanza'/><author><name>Ms. W</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18207792972217989432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/RqEaT1VLJ2I/AAAAAAAAAAM/hiJF3HH1Rh0/s320/DSCN0270.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1865787048163199760.post-2341304414473143967</id><published>2007-08-29T17:25:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2007-08-29T17:50:46.321+03:00</updated><title type='text'>A day in the life...</title><content type='html'>So, some people may be wondering just what it is that I do during training. Most of my training day is taken up with language class (3 hours) with our Bulgarian language trainer. She is fantastic, and I have come a long way in a short time under her able tutelage. Not to give the impression that I am suddenly rattling off philosophical treatises in Bulgarian, but I can order food, ask what work someone does, ask for directions, introduce myself, express appreciation and ask some basic questions! I am far from fluent, but am slowly but surely learning new things everyday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My training group especially likes games in class. For example, today we played a board game that required a different language related task on each square that our piece landed on. We are also big fans of throwing a ball around while conjugating verbs. I think the games are good because they force us to think quickly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We also usually have something to do in the afternoon, related to another assignment. For example, we met with the police inspector of our town (who also happens to be my host dad), are planning a community meeting, are working on "cultural passports" that help us to learn about Bulgarian culture and often have other papers or group projects to work on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Afterwards, I head home for the evening. I spend time with my host family at night, which helps A TON with the language. I also spend some time either emailing, blogging or reading by myself. Having a completely new lifestyle in a new culture takes some adjustment and I find that giving myself some time to relax helps in this process immensely.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1865787048163199760-2341304414473143967?l=mswstravels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mswstravels.blogspot.com/feeds/2341304414473143967/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1865787048163199760&amp;postID=2341304414473143967' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1865787048163199760/posts/default/2341304414473143967'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1865787048163199760/posts/default/2341304414473143967'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mswstravels.blogspot.com/2007/08/day-in-life.html' title='A day in the life...'/><author><name>Ms. W</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18207792972217989432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/RqEaT1VLJ2I/AAAAAAAAAAM/hiJF3HH1Rh0/s320/DSCN0270.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1865787048163199760.post-1480465476108813727</id><published>2007-08-21T18:23:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2007-08-24T00:01:58.124+03:00</updated><title type='text'>The Tiny Dig</title><content type='html'>So, here in my training village they seem to have come by some money for infrastructure improvements. There are road resurfacing projects, a recent renovation of the town square, and bilingual signs at points of interest with EU and BG decals on them. I ascertain that many of these projects are funded with EU monies. The most relevant project to my immediate situation is what I like to call the tiny dig (non- Bostonians, ask a Bostonian).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They are putting in new water pipes in my neighborhood. This is exiting not only because the water will be more reliable and pure in my 'hood, but also because I get to find a new hole in a different place everyday. There is a large digging machine, but I am also seeing shirtless male   neighborhood residents (Old guys, people! Don't get the wrong idea!) digging to the connecting valves to their houses. Furthermore, since my neighborhood is not paved, all that has to be done after the pipe is laid, is filling in the hole. Really quite efficient by large American public works project standards.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The hole digging really adds interest (rather than inconvenience) to my daily commute, which I have come to enjoy. I live maybe a mile away from the language training center, so I get plenty of exercise (especially if I walk home for lunch, which I often do). I am beginning to figure out which people I will see at which places and at which times of day, which is nice.  I am really enjoying the pace of life here and am even beginning to walk more slowly.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1865787048163199760-1480465476108813727?l=mswstravels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mswstravels.blogspot.com/feeds/1480465476108813727/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1865787048163199760&amp;postID=1480465476108813727' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1865787048163199760/posts/default/1480465476108813727'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1865787048163199760/posts/default/1480465476108813727'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mswstravels.blogspot.com/2007/08/tiny-dig.html' title='The Tiny Dig'/><author><name>Ms. W</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18207792972217989432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/RqEaT1VLJ2I/AAAAAAAAAAM/hiJF3HH1Rh0/s320/DSCN0270.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1865787048163199760.post-9059405644273816824</id><published>2007-08-19T18:07:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2007-08-19T18:18:36.034+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Yes, blogosphere, I am alive</title><content type='html'>I am in Bulgaria and have been with my host family for about one week. I am still only speaking baby Bulgarian.  My host family repeats things a lot for me, and I have rediscovered my talent for pantomiming, so everyone is understood eventually.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I have other previously type blog entries on my computer. Unfortunately, I am having some technical difficulties with my flash drive. I have heard that sometimes BG computers fry them, which is what I suspect has happened to mine. I will try to get a new one in order to post my old entries and PICTURES of course. I am taking them, just having trouble posting them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think the new highlight of my life (aside from living in a foreign country, learning a new language and getting to know one of the kindest families on earth) is milking the two family goats. I have only done it twice so far, so I am still slow at it. I am learning though! My host family finds the sight of a city slicker American gal studiously milking (albeit with some aim issues) extremely entertaining, and I am happy to oblige them.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1865787048163199760-9059405644273816824?l=mswstravels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mswstravels.blogspot.com/feeds/9059405644273816824/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1865787048163199760&amp;postID=9059405644273816824' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1865787048163199760/posts/default/9059405644273816824'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1865787048163199760/posts/default/9059405644273816824'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mswstravels.blogspot.com/2007/08/yes-blogosphere-i-am-alive.html' title='Yes, blogosphere, I am alive'/><author><name>Ms. W</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18207792972217989432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/RqEaT1VLJ2I/AAAAAAAAAAM/hiJF3HH1Rh0/s320/DSCN0270.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1865787048163199760.post-8365389982045153607</id><published>2007-08-03T04:43:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2007-08-03T05:15:38.437+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Last Day in MA</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Tomorrow, bright and early, I set out to Philadephia to meet up with my Peace Corps cohort. It seems that we will have a series of meetings regarding everything we ever wanted to know and more about Peace Corps policy and regulations, perhaps some pokes from various vaccination needles and a distribution of passports (I will have both a normal US passport and a special government one; it makes me feel like I am in a spy movie) and airplane tickets. It has seemed recently that I was approaching an event horizon on the outskirts of the black hole of moving abroad from which no shard of my identity would escape; happily, the feeling has become akin to the anticipation of my first big road trip in my recently sold VW golf. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I had a wonderful New England summer supper this evening with my parents and my grandfather: swordfish, corn and grilled tomatoes with rasperries and blueberries with some ice cream for dessert. The corn, tomatoes and raspberries were all grown within 10 miles of my parents' house. I can't think of a supper that more encapsulates early August in coastal Massachusetts. I have been eating fish (and mussels and clams and calamari!) at every opportunity, as I understand that, sadly, the Black Sea is rather polluted. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have been enjoying the ocean this summer summer. I have been going to the beach a lot (just a quick bike ride away), including a quick last dip today. Yesterday, my mother and I went on a kayaking adventure (meaning I paddled, and my mother told me where I should paddle) on the tidal inlet that my parents live on. See below,  picture of my mother (and my toes) in the bow of the kayak. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5094288510818518514" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/RrKMaO6xBfI/AAAAAAAAAAc/Zt6zj1CED-k/s320/DSCN0324.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1865787048163199760-8365389982045153607?l=mswstravels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mswstravels.blogspot.com/feeds/8365389982045153607/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1865787048163199760&amp;postID=8365389982045153607' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1865787048163199760/posts/default/8365389982045153607'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1865787048163199760/posts/default/8365389982045153607'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mswstravels.blogspot.com/2007/08/last-day-in-ma.html' title='Last Day in MA'/><author><name>Ms. W</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18207792972217989432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/RqEaT1VLJ2I/AAAAAAAAAAM/hiJF3HH1Rh0/s320/DSCN0270.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/RrKMaO6xBfI/AAAAAAAAAAc/Zt6zj1CED-k/s72-c/DSCN0324.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1865787048163199760.post-1529941501767383964</id><published>2007-07-25T19:50:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2007-07-25T21:16:21.673+03:00</updated><title type='text'>My Recent History</title><content type='html'>I will keep this brief. Blogging is new to me; I'm not naturally inclined towards journaling or publishing overly personal details of my life on the internet particularly. Do people read this stuff? I suppose I'll find out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Onwards! Towards summarizing my activities of the past year. I graduated from my masters program in environmental education at the University of Wyoming/ the Teton Science School last year. I moved to Steamboat Springs, CO where I worked as a paraprofessional at the Middle School. I ended up taking a job as a math teacher as an emergency hire at Steamboat Springs High School in November of 2006. It was a very educational experience to be a first year teacher in a subject that was not my major (my major was geology)! It was exhausting, but a great learning opportunity!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/RqeRp-6xBeI/AAAAAAAAAAU/rfmMJhEUp2E/s1600-h/DSCN0316.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5091198054215779810" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/RqeRp-6xBeI/AAAAAAAAAAU/rfmMJhEUp2E/s320/DSCN0316.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Luckily, teachers get summmer vacation (a teacher friend listed the top three benefits of a teaching career as: June, July and August). I have been visiting my family in Massachusetts for the past month or so, with some side trips (see photo: a hike in New Hampshire with my father). Currently, I am pretty consumed with packing, running errands, eating as much New England seafood as I can (grilled vegetables, then pasta with mussels last night!), saying goodbyes to family and friends and organizing a formidable ammmount of paperwork.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1865787048163199760-1529941501767383964?l=mswstravels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mswstravels.blogspot.com/feeds/1529941501767383964/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1865787048163199760&amp;postID=1529941501767383964' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1865787048163199760/posts/default/1529941501767383964'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1865787048163199760/posts/default/1529941501767383964'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mswstravels.blogspot.com/2007/07/my-recent-history.html' title='My Recent History'/><author><name>Ms. W</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18207792972217989432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/RqEaT1VLJ2I/AAAAAAAAAAM/hiJF3HH1Rh0/s320/DSCN0270.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/RqeRp-6xBeI/AAAAAAAAAAU/rfmMJhEUp2E/s72-c/DSCN0316.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1865787048163199760.post-1058219771152638697</id><published>2007-07-20T22:51:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2007-07-20T23:24:03.654+03:00</updated><title type='text'>The inagural posting</title><content type='html'>I have started this blog as a way to collect my thoughts and update friends and family as I travel to Bulgaria to serve in the Peace Corps. I am joining the Peace Corps as a way to learn more about other cultures and to sate my save the world complex.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1865787048163199760-1058219771152638697?l=mswstravels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mswstravels.blogspot.com/feeds/1058219771152638697/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1865787048163199760&amp;postID=1058219771152638697' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1865787048163199760/posts/default/1058219771152638697'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1865787048163199760/posts/default/1058219771152638697'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mswstravels.blogspot.com/2007/07/inagural-posting.html' title='The inagural posting'/><author><name>Ms. W</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18207792972217989432</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_feRfxPJQeZo/RqEaT1VLJ2I/AAAAAAAAAAM/hiJF3HH1Rh0/s320/DSCN0270.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
