winter still sucks no matter where you are in the world.

i am going to use one post only to describe winter in bulgaria because, really, that is all that is deserves. i

have lived in cold weather climates all of my life. i grew up in minnesota, went to college in montreal, and then somehow ended up in peace corps bulgaria. when i received my invitation letter to join the peace corps in bulgaria my dad passingly suggested that there was something wrong with my decision making skills. i kindly reminded him that bulgaria was not my choice, shaking my fist at the peace corps gods, but the peace corps. initially i wasn't thrilled with the idea of going to bulgaria. but i reconciled my thoughts with the notion that at least i knew what winter was about and how to survive it. i mean it could be worse, i thought, i could have been sent to bulgaria from texas. so, i thought i was prepared. i was already well stocked with warm clothing, had my winter gameface packed away and ready to use, and knew how fill my belly with hot chocolate and 'smores. i thought i was ready to conquer this unknown eastern european winter. i thought.

it started off slow. october, november, and december came and went with fairly mild weather. i would frequently ask the villagers when the snow was going to arrive, partially because i was curious but mostly because it was one thing that i knew i was saying correctly in bulgarian. they always laughed and said chaki, chaki, wait, wait. then january and february came and i began to dream of peace corps madagascar, senegal, bolivia, st. vincent's, anywhere but the winter camp i called home.

when winter arrived so did a new routine: dressing in multiple layers became compulsory, potatoes were delivered to my door, in many forms, on a daily basis, and people started to ask if i knew how to light a fire instead of greeting me when we passed each other in the street. the sun started to set at four thirty and my bed time regressed to that of my childhood. i started to eat a lunch/dinner meal around three o'clock because three is the new six when bedtime is eight-thirty. i started to go to bed so early because living in a different culture and speaking a foreign language (especially bulgarian) is extremely tiring but mostly because it became too uncomfortable and unenjoyable to do anything outside of several wool blankets. under my thirty-two pound covers my body was warm but my face felt like the little match girl's. the temperature in my apartment halted any desire to cook, so potatoes and soup from bullion cube made up most of my meals. my alarm would go off at 6:20 in the morning when the sky looked as if it could be midnight and i would hit the snooze button until 6:50, the very last minute i could put coffee on my stone cold burner and have it heat to a reasonable temperature by 7:25. the only light that lit the road to school was the moon. when i made it to school i would breath a sigh of relief that i made it through one more winter morning.

it is not that winters in bulgaria are colder than minnesota's or montreal's, but the source of heat is what makes the thought of surviving another bulgarian winter bring me to tears quite easily. originally the wood burning stove sounded romantic. but six months later i can honestly say that it is not. i have learned that the last thing one is motivated to do when cold is to chop wood. but the only thing one can to do to get warm it to get outside and chop wood. a vicious cycle that lasts four months too long. my hands which could have once been the stars of a dishwashing commercial have aged twenty years, are burned over preexisting burns, and are always covered in soot with a topping of invasive slivers. i do however have to admit that although my commercial dreams have come to end, i have gained a sense of lumberjack accomplishment, one i share with paul bunyan and the babas of my village.

i use the stove, печка in bulgarian, to heat both my apartment and my hot water. the stove is connected to three radiators that send the heat from the stove into different rooms, taking several hours to heat up any space, especially when the inside of your house is below zero. the wood burning stove makes a lot of sense in bulgaria. an abundance of wood and family members living in the same house makes it convenient for someone to always be at home to light the stove, add wood, and stoke the fire. it is not so easy, as a single lady, to keep a fire going when obligations on the outside call. so i did what i had to do and abandoned all fire safety precautions i had learned over the years from smokey the bear and bill the fireman in the name of blood circulation. in between classes i would run home, pray to the vulcuns that the fire was still going, pump the stove full of wood and then head out again. it was the only way to have a cold but not severely cold, apartment to come home to at the end of the day. some days i would come home defeated, seeing my breath before me, inside my apartment, fire out. i never thought fire could make me so happy. i now have the ability to empathize with cavemen, jack london, and survivor participants. i might put that on my resume. in conclusion, winter sucks no matter where you are in the world. it always has and it always will.