From Another Angle

Sofia Pride

2010-06-27T05:36:00.001-07:00

This Saturday, Betsy and I participated in the third Sofia Pride parade, a celebration of LGBTs in Bulgaria. Two years ago, during the first parade, marchers were met with violence by neo-Nazis and skinheads, which have a visible presence in Sofia. Last year, under EU supervision, things went much more smoothly. This year was much the same. About 500 people showed up, including various diplomats and EU folk, in a show of support. The flag-waving, whistle-blowing crew followed a balloon-decked float through the main part of Sofia, dancing and walking to songs like "I Will Survive" and other 1970s hits. You can read a full report on the parade at this link:

http://www.sofiaecho.com/2010/06/25/922582_a-matter-of-pride

This is the float leading the parade, complete with entertainment.

This sign says something like, "Be careful who you hate; it might be someone you love." Sorry for the terrible translation.

A significant police presence lined the route and followed the parade. This shot was taken as the bulk of them were leaving after the parade.

The parade concluded at one of the parks, and was followed by a concert. You might recognize the Soviet monument in the back from our Christmas market photos. We wondered how Stalin would feel about gay rights.

The Pirins...finally!

2010-06-12T08:13:00.000-07:00

Bulgaria has four distinct mountain ranges: the Rilas, home of Rila Monastery, Maliovitsa Peak, and the Seven Lakes, which we've blogged about in the past; the Rhodopes, an old mountain range dotted with villages and the occasional mosque, great for ambles, where we spent part of Spring Break; the Stara Planina, a long chain of mountains draped across central Bulgaria; and the Pirins, the youngest and therefore most rugged of the mountains in Bulgaria. This weekend, I finally got to see this storied range, as Georgi and I hiked past alpine lakes into deep snow (yes, still in June). We were eventually forced to turn back because the snow was so soft and I had already fallen in over my waist. That, combined with my outing on Vitosha with Jeff a few weeks ago, convinced me that hiking higher into soft snow was not a good idea. So we backtracked to an alpine lake that caught my eye on the way up. There was basically no way to go wrong on this trip. We enjoyed a peaceful evening by the lake, framed by a cirque of snowy mountains, and bordered by crocuses popping up everywhere. The Pirins were everything I expected. I only regret that I am only now discovering them.

The hike started by following a stream, heading slowly into the mountains ahead.

Georgi crosses a pasture greened by recent snowmelt.

The first lake we passed, about which I remarked to Georgi, "This would make a GREAT camp spot!"

After zig-zagging up some steep snow banks, we passed a second lake.

And then the snow just got too deep and soft, so, lo and behold, we set up shop by the first lake. This shot was taken the next morning.

This was right behind our tents. Not a bad way to spend the afternoon.

Georgi heading down into the valley.

Peonies!

2010-06-07T06:10:00.000-07:00

This past weekend, thunderstorms forced us to cancel our overnight hike. However, I got a call from Sam on Saturday asking if I wanted to see wild peonies in bloom. Tis' the season, and since the anticipated thunderstorms never really materialized, I was feeling antsy for a hike. About an hour from Sofia, near the town of Klenovik, there's a mountain famous for its peony fields. Because it doesn't lie in the rainshadow of Vitosha, the climate there is slightly different, and so is the vegetation. Our guide was Tim, a Brit who has lived here for ten years and knows the area well. On the way, he offered a handsome prize to the first person to see a peony. It didn't take long...

But first, in the car on the way there, we spotted a stork's nest on the side of the road. One of their favorite places to roost is above powerline poles. This particular nest had about five babies in it, a few of which are peeking up in this picture.

And right next to it, a field of poppies.

Finally, we got to the mountain and commenced our search.

It didn't take us long to find the first one...

And then a few more...

And more...

And bushels more...

And then a whole field!

Sam's dog Annie very much enjoyed the peony hunting.

As did the bees.

And the moths.

Overall, the day was a great success. And Tim, of course, won his own contest. Luckily he didn't specify a prize when he made his challenge. We decided his prize would be seeing more peonies.

Happy (surprise) Birthday Brett!

2010-06-03T11:34:00.000-07:00

Another Hiking Club Trip

2010-06-01T07:55:00.001-07:00

This weekend several students braved a forecast of thunderstorms to hike once more on Vitosha. We took yet another new route, and I was telling Georgi on the hike that with this trip, I think I've now covered all the main trails on the northern side of the mountain. It was a beautiful walk across a large alpine peat bog, with a hanging cloud almost always behind us. It finally stormed later that night, but the hike was beautiful (as it always seems to be). We ended up going down by Boyana waterfall, a nice bookend to my two years with Vitosha.

Athens: Temple of Zeus

2010-06-01T07:51:00.000-07:00

April Showers bring Athens Flowers

2010-05-28T23:16:00.000-07:00

Up High in Athens

2010-05-26T11:16:00.000-07:00

Lindsey comes to Bulgaria

2010-05-25T10:49:00.000-07:00

We were so happy to welcome Lindsey to Bulgaria this week, for a short stay in Sofia, a day trip to Koprivshtitsa, and a couple of nights in Athens. Many photos will be coming, but here is a short introduction to Lindsey's visit.

The Karyatids hold up the top level of the Erechthion temple at the top of Athens.

Not to be outdone, Betsy and Lindsey hold up the Acropolis.

Brett enjoys "the most delicious pistachio gelato in Athens" (according to the gelato man) and Lindsey enjoys plain old strawberry.

Brett and Betsy, with temple. (photo by Lindsey, what an excellent photographer)

Wherever Lindsey goes, adorable horses seem to appear. Even in her apartment in Durham...

Lindsey and Betsy pretend to enjoy a cart ride in the Bulgarian countryside.

(Important thinking going on. Do not disrupt.)

More pictures to come...

Traditional Music Downtown

2010-05-16T04:43:00.001-07:00

Frogs at Boyana Lake

2010-05-15T06:34:00.000-07:00

Vitosha

2010-05-09T06:08:00.000-07:00

My mother and Joe have arrived in Sofia for their long-awaited visit. They're here warming up for a bike ride from Prague to Vienna, so we spent a day on the mountain, getting in shape. It was a long six-hour hike, but we enjoyed several treats along the way, including some lingering blossoms still flowering up high, and a frog orgy (that's right -- a frog orgy) down low. As we approached Boyana Lake, we heard thousands of frogs croaking and squawking. Tadpoles lined the bottom of the lake near the shore, and frogs were piggy-backing everywhere. Betsy will post video (G-rated) soon, but you'll see a close-up of a waiting frog below.

Happy Mother's Day Mom!

2010-05-06T11:14:00.000-07:00

Happy Mother's Day Week Mom!

These are what I would pick for you if I was there. And I would arrange them in ten tiny vases all over the house. But since I'm not, I picked them out from the internet and I am sending them this way. Just three months until I can deliver better presents in person...

Happy Mothers Day to all the moms out there. And to all the kids, don't forget, it's this Sunday!

La Fiesta de Nachos - Cinco de Mayo en Bulgaria

2010-05-06T02:45:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, as I'm sure you all know, was Cinco de Mayo. We used to let this great holiday slip by us without much notice, but after last night, we have set a new precedent. Our neighbors, Kate and Mike, decided to host a Cinco de Mayo party, the main feature of which was a nacho competition. That's right - a no holds barred, no excuses accepted, no congealed cheese allowed, nacho competition. Contestants brought their efforts at 5:30, placed them at one of the numbered spaces on the picnic tables, and dreamed of glory (and a "Campeon de Nachos" hat). Soon, the judges arrived, with bright plastic ponchos and their judging rubrics.

Though Brett and I did not win champion hats, we did win two people's choice awards - for most interesting flavor combo (mango/grape/avocado/cumin) and for best homemade tortilla chips. So we're proud. We went unconventional...

Our first entry: avocado-strawberry-mint salsa with cinnamon lime chips

Our second entry: cumin chips with mango guacamole and grape halves (seeds expertly removed by Brett)

The prize hats, displayed on the Nacho Buffet

The Judging Rubric - get teachers together and...

The judges arrive, en masse

The entries

The Judging (which lasted about an hour!). We all started eating with them when they were still on category #1 of the rubric ("appearance") 10 minutes in.

For nacho recipes, head over to my food blog.

Snow? Snow! @%$#!

2010-05-04T02:17:00.000-07:00

Jeff and I spent a good part of Sunday on Mt. Vitosha, and a good part of Sunday evening in the emergency room. But more on that in a second. We've had 70 and sunny for about a solid week now, so we decided to head to the snow-covered flanks of Vitosha. Given the weather and the popularity of hiking here, we were glad we took a less-traveled route to the top. Just the drive to the trailhead saw us wade through several traffic jams on the mountain as the hordes of Sofians headed to various areas for hikes. Once we got above tree line, however, the crowd thinned out. We picked our steps carefully as the snow was melting, and a false landing could plunge us to our thighs, or, as Jeff discovered, into a stream. As he said right afterward, "And I thought my feet were as wet as they could get." After a three-hour ascent, we spent some time enjoying the quietude at the top, and then began picking our way down in even softer snow. About an hour from the car, I heard Jeff scream in pain behind me, and turned to see his leg sunk into a deep hole. Jeff is rather stoic, so to see the look on his face (and to hear the words streaming from his mouth) meant that something was not right. I was relieved to see Jeff pull his leg out with no dangling pieces, but concerned when I saw that blood had already seeped through his pants. It turns out that a jagged stone was hiding right next to a deep hole, and Jeff basically ran his shin along it as he fell. There was a gaping wound that we promptly dressed with a bandana. I personally did not want to look at it for any length of time, given my predilection for passing out at the sight of major wounds, and the fact that one glance was enough to establish that this would require a hospital. Jeff decided he would try and walk. Which he could do, slowly. I urged him on, stopping only once to let blood flow to my head again. It's good that Jeff isn't as faint-of-heart as I am. This was easily the worst flesh wound I've ever had the pleasure of seeing. Very deep, very red, and even a little white. But Jeff was strong, and we made it to the car with no further obstacles. The surgeon's face when he saw the wound was enough to convince Jeff that this was indeed serious. Two hours and nine stitches later, we finally left the hospital.

A not-so-hazardous creek crossing

Though this guy would have jumped over it more gracefully than I did

The peak is up and to the left.

Jeff surveying the world, with a healthy shin.

One of the holes I found on the way down. Luckily, no rocks blocking the way to the ground.

On the way down, we met a man named Stoyan who was following a strange but not unusual Bulgarian custom of hiking in his speedo. Stoyan was a lively, talkative fellow who didn't seem to care that we didn't understand him. He told us all about the beauty around us, though we (for some reason) were focused mostly on him.

Sunday with... us!

2010-04-26T08:22:00.000-07:00

Backstage

Yesterday we went on a Bulgarian t.v. show called "Every Sunday with..." The theme for the four hour long show was the weekend, and we were the final guests, supposedly providing an American perspective on weekend life.

We had instructions to meet a woman from the show "in the underground passage near hall 2 of the palace of culture (NDK) next to a fountain with big metallic balls." We left an hour early, assuming it would be quite a quest to find such a place, but it was easy.

At 3:30 we were whisked underground NDK into make-up and hair booths (well, they didn't change Brett's hair much) and interviewed on camera for a little backstage piece. Then we walked up a hallway and into the back wing of a live studio. A large team of purple clad dancers filed out of the stage entrance just before we filed in. I had the sense we might be a bit less exciting for the audience than they were, but what can you do?

Twenty minutes of questions later, we were done. We gave our perspective on any number of things - some of which we knew about, and some of which we didn't. But it was fun. And weird. And certainly not something we do everyday...

Sopot

2010-04-25T10:25:00.000-07:00

Word seems to be getting around about the fantastic hikes that the ACS Hiking Club has taken so far. This weekend I accompanied 23 students to Stara Planina, the mountain range that runs through central Bulgaria. We took a lift to the ridge and walked around for awhile, enjoying lunch on rock outcroppings overlooking the central plains of Bulgaria. Sopot, the town where we started, is famous for its mountain biking, and we found ourselves sharing the chair lift with many a mountain biker preparing for next weekend's European competition on this very mountain. Several of them whizzed by beneath us as we were carried up. Adding to the excitement was a group of about a dozen para-sails floating down the mountain.

At the beginning of the year, I mandated that we have a faculty-student ration of 1-7 on these trips. But as I have gotten to know the students, I've slowly realized that this isn't really necessary. They're so well behaved, and so supportive of one another, that it's really a privilege just to accompany them. When they proposed a hike on the last weekend of the quarter, I knew that most teachers would be finishing grades and I may well be the only faculty member on the trip. No problem. On the train ride back, we even got into a 15-person game of 20 questions, or at least the Bulgarian version of it. Their group dynamic is astounding, and I've been grateful this year to see so much of this incredible country with some of its most enthusiastic guides.

A Bit More Plovdiv

2010-04-16T08:55:00.001-07:00

It's us! In the Rhodopes!

2010-04-14T07:50:00.000-07:00

Plovdiv

2010-04-13T07:41:00.000-07:00

Though Sofia is Bulgaria's capitol, most people in the country consider Plovdiv, the city with the second highest population, more representative of Bulgaria's culture. It's cleaner, the roads are smoother, and the town has preserved much of its architectural flair from the Bulgarian Revival. On our way back from the Rhodopes on Sunday, Betsy and I stopped off in Plovdiv for a quick tour of the old town. You can see why Bulgarians are so proud.

Spring in the Rhodopis

2010-04-12T07:29:00.000-07:00

A rainstorm approaches our meadow

Did you know pussy willows turn pink and orange?

This Way to Beauty

One of Bulgaria's Sunflowers, 8 months later

Maybe I should get a smoke blue hat too, it's quite becoming.

Through the Seasons in Four Hours

2010-04-11T08:13:00.000-07:00

Right before Will went back to Italy, we took one more hike on Mt. Vitosha, in what turned out to be a walk from spring, into winter, and back into spring. We did a loop hike that seemed to encounter the best of Vitosha: rolling streams, snow and ice, views of Sofia, wild flowers, a monastery, and a lake. It's my new favorite hike on Vitosha. It was also a fitting end to Will's visit, during which we were lucky enough to go on four or five fantastic hikes, continuing our string that started at Webb. I'm not sure what it is about our hiking mojo, but wherever we've been so far seems to present its best side for us.

Will doing his best to blend into the rock field.

Sofia in a sun spot below.

And then there was winter. Fog, dripping snow, and a soft trail.

Ice shards collected under the trees where they fell in the slightly above freezing temperatures.

Boyana lake, fed by the waterfall that Will and I visited last January.

And finally, back to spring.

Shiroka Laka

2010-04-08T00:34:00.000-07:00

Shiroka Laka is now one of my favorite Bulgarian towns. Will, Georgi, and I spent a day there on our recent swing through the Rhodopes; we were enchanted by its old-world atmosphere and enthralled by the stunning hiking available in the surrounding hills. The tiny village is composed of about 100 homes, virtually all of which are constructed in the Bulgarian Revival style of wood beams and jutting windows, often with stone foundations. Unlike the colorful houses of Koprivshtitsa, though, these are mostly white or cream color with dark wood accents, rendering them more aesthetically consistent with the mountainous environment. It's a thoroughly charming walk back in time, further enhanced by the fact that these houses are painstakingly preserved as such; there is even new building going on in the same style. Wood smoke and arch bridges complete the experience. On Monday, after a hike to a nearby ridge that brought us to an alpine pasture, we returned to town for dinner at a local restaurant. Sitting outside in the crisp mountain air, we enjoyed patatnik (a Rhodopean potato specialty), kachamak (a Rhodopean corn meal specialty), and other local dishes (bean stew, shopska salad). As the sun went down, we remarked about how there was nowhere else in the world that we could have had the combined outdoor-culinary experience that we had that day.

This was one of several stone arch bridges we saw in the Rhodopes.

The sun sets on a home built in typical Bulgarian Revival style.

Will and me outside the Ethnographic Museum.

The town church

Will enjoying our last few moments in Shiroka Laka, as we waited for our breakfast outside a restaurant

Barcelona's Chocolate Museum

2010-04-07T10:31:00.000-07:00

Dark Chocolate Fringe on a Vast White Chocolate Egg

Antique Chocolate Advertising

A Print of an Old National Geographic Cover, featuring a Chocolate Artist

A Chocolate Version of the Gaudi Dragon Statue in Parc Guell

A Chocolate Bullfight

I'm not sure I can really recommend Barcelona's Chocolate Museum. My favorite thing about it was that they hand out bars of chocolate as tickets. But it was kind of fun seeing famous Spanish scenes depicted in chocolate, and finding out unusual facts about the history of cacao.

A few unexpected facts:

1. Cocoa beans were once used as currency. Trying to fake beans could result in enslavement.

2. Early Europeans thought the native drink made from cocoa beans disgusting and bitter.

3. Bonbons first appeared in the French court, and their name simply translates "good, good."

4. "Viento Chocolatero" means the chocolate wind, and is the Mexican description of the most favorable breezes for navigation.

Wonderful Bridges (literally!)

2010-04-07T07:21:00.001-07:00

On our way to the Rhodopes, Georgi, Will and I took a 20 km detour over somewhat bumpy roads to natural stone arches, the names of which translate literally to "Wonderful Bridges." After doing a little circuit around the stone monuments, we set off on a hike of the area. The highlight was these little purple flowers that seemed to be peeking up right on the edge of the snow line. They must love the cold. Once the snow recedes, you can see fields of them all over the Rhodopes.

Barcelona Snapshots, Round #2

2010-04-06T10:53:00.000-07:00

The Rhodopes at Sunset

2010-04-06T07:46:00.000-07:00

Will, Georgi and I headed off into the Rhodopes on Sunday morning. After a stop at the "Wonderful Bridges" (I'll post about that later), we arrived in late afternoon, just enough time to grab some dinner and head into the hills to find a camp spot. The Rhodopes are the Appalachians of Bulgaria -- the softer, friendlier mountains. While they don't contain the sheer jagged peaks of the Pirins, or the alpine lakes of the Rilas, the Rhodopes are home to dozens of villages and gently rolling hills, along with innumerable hiking paths networking them all. While other mountains often make the postcards, ask most Bulgarians where they'd rather go, and they'll express a preference for the Rhodopes, with all the villages that remind them of their youth, the old-style architecture, and the traditional food. We drove through a town famous for its yogurt, camped outside a town known for its woodwork, and drove by countless roadside stands selling homemade honey, jam, and wicker baskets. The Rhodopes are both an outdoor and cultural experience, and we made the most of it.

Sunset light lived up to its billing, goldening the hills as we hiked to find a camp spot.

I took the picture above as Georgi and Will set up tents (below).

After they finished, the sunset looked more like this.

And the distant ridges like this. Remind anyone of the Blue Ridge?

And then we hiked out the next morning, by perfectly manicured fields and well-used wood sheds.

Who'd have thunk it

2010-04-05T06:14:00.000-07:00

Everyone's looking for a new angle on the street performer gig. This one seems to be quite popular.

Barcelona Snapshots, Round #1

2010-04-04T09:17:00.000-07:00

A Crepe Stand in La Boqueria

A Rogue Yellow Pigeon

Sand Art

Home of the Cinnamon Dream Smoothie, among other Delights

A Street Performer on La Rambla

Happy Easter from Barcelona!

2010-04-04T00:49:00.000-07:00

There are two main signs that is is Easter in Barcelona. One, the crowds of people are as densely packed as my luggage and the hotels all bear signs saying "completely full" in three languages. Two, every bakery and candy store window is stuffed with bright feathered cakes and strange objects made out of chocolate.

Barcelona has taken the chocolate egg to a whole new level. Chocolate soccer balls, a chocolate tractor, a white chocolate "Hello Kitty" castle. I've seen it all. But I haven't been tempted to buy any of them yet. Maybe if I see a pair of chocolate rollerblades...

Seven Lakes (Winter)

2010-04-03T09:35:00.000-07:00

During my first month in Sofia, I was lucky enough to be taken on a trip to the Seven Lakes with a family from ACS. Now, a year and a half later, it was rewarding to go back, this time as the guide. My friend Will is visiting from Italy, and we took advantage of a beautiful day to drive into the Rila mountains and hike back into winter. It was difficult to leave the aroma of the blossoming trees on campus this morning, but once in the snow, muscle memory from hikes past took over. Will and I have a penchant for great snow hikes, starting when we drove up to Mt. Baldy in California at 5:00 am to be the first to walk through a fresh snow. Last year, we took a challenging trip with crampons to the frozen Boyana waterfall, and now up to the Seven Lakes. Though the lakes are under snow, and don't really stand out in the landscape, it was a thrilling hike, and the conditions on top made us feel downright Arctic. A perfect start to a week of hiking...

Will nearing the ridge, and the wind that always accompanies it

Reveling in the winter wonderland with not a soul in sight

On the way back down, we turned to bid farewell to the Alpine-esque Seven Lakes, and were heartened to see that a small part of us would remain. At least for a few minutes, until the wind covered our path.

If you'd like to see the Seven Lakes in the summer, and not frozen, look for the label "Seven Lakes" on the sidebar and click it. Then scroll down to past entries.

Plana Planina

2010-03-28T01:21:00.000-07:00

This weekend, the Hiking Club took a trip to Plana Planina, about an hour by bus from Sofia. For the first time, we were on a route that no club members had taken before, so we got to practice using map and compass when, time after time, two roads diverged in a wood. Since they were all pretty much less traveled, we really couldn't go wrong. The great part about hiking in Bulgaria is the ease with which you can get to great hiking locations and the relative absence of people there. During our 8-hour hike, we saw three people. This hike felt a little like a British amble, as we traipsed over open expanses of countryside, only descending into trees at the very end. This wasn't a well-marked trail with shelters and campsites; it was more like a simple walk through Bulgaria.

En route, we passed several old trees that were marked on our map as points of interest. This one provided a nice resting spot for all 12 of the kids on the hike.

We had 70-degree weather and bright sun for much of the day. The wild flowers took full advantage to poke through their winter dress.

This abandoned house is literally built of sticks.

Toward the end of the hike, we made a side trip to a monastery, peacefully set on the hillside. It was immaculately cared for, and the friendly monks inside replenished our dwindling water supply.

We weren't allowed to take pictures inside, but you get an idea for the tranquility of the place from the doorway.

A Vitosha Monday

2010-03-22T07:13:00.000-07:00

Since we had to work yesterday to administer the ACS entrance exam, the school gave us Monday off, so we took advantage of the 60-degree weather to head up to Vitosha and enjoy the relative solitude. On our way down, we stopped at an old mill turned microbrewery and shared a handful of appetizers as lunch. Two salads, cucumber-dill yoghurt dip, cheese-stuffed peppers, shredded carrots with lemon, chicken livers (my own personal order), pitka bread, and cheese drizzled with honey, basil, and olive oil. And of course some rakia to wash it down. Yum.

Spring in Sofia

2010-03-22T05:19:00.000-07:00

Spring has finally hit this weekend, perfectly timed for Sarah and Micah's visit. We spent Saturday giving them the downtown tour, and were pleasantly surprised to see grown men playing hopscotch, a group of college students engaged in a lifesize game of Risk with plastic army toys, and of course, the first martenitza hanging from trees.

Martenitza are red and white bracelets that are commonly given on March 1, or "Baba Marta," in Bulgaria. It's a popular holiday that welcomes "Grandmother March" and holds the promise of imminent spring. People wear the bracelets until they either see a stork or the first buds blossoming on a tree. At that point, you can take off the bracelet and tie it to the tree branch.

A Fairy Tale

2010-03-18T23:27:00.000-07:00

The following fairy tale was written by two of my students, Katherine Krem and Hrisi Dimitrova. Not only does it exceed the requirements of the assignment (inlcuding descriptive language, figurative language, and all the literary elements of a fairy tale that we studied), but also it has a couple of...shall we say...compelling protagonists.

Potashius the Magnificent

Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, there lived a powerful wizard. His name was Potashius. But all the people called him “Potashius the Magnificent” because of the many wonderful and magical things he could do. Potashius lived high on a hill in a huge castle made all of stone. The castle had been built by giants ten thousand years before Potashius was born. The giants had built the castle in only two days for Potashius’ grandfather, who was also a powerful wizard. In fact, everyone in Potashius’family was a wizard – as far back as the beginning of time. Still, it was a surprise when Potashius grew into the wisest, most clever and most powerful wizard that the family – or the castle – had ever seen.

Potashius lived one thousand years ago, in a time called the Dark Ages. The time was called the Dark Ages because most people could not read or write and only a few could even count to ten. Education had been forgotten. Only a very few wise people still cared about learning. Potashius the Magnificent was one who did. He was friends with other wise people, too. Although Potashius was 1 000 years old, he always looked young and handsome. This was of course very strange. It was also strange that everything Potahsius did turned out for the best. Once, he wanted to build a water slide, and created the Niagara Falls. He invented skiing, and created mountains so that people could slide down them. He made the sun smiling. He made sunsets red, so romantic people could enjoy waking in the early evenings. He even made the cheeks of little children red, just for fun. Everything he did was magnificent. That is how he got his name.

Potashius was fascinated by time. Time seemed to move forward only – never backward- and only one day at a time. It never jumped ahead a week or a month or a year when the sun rose the next morning.

“How can this be?” he wondered. “I can read a book in any direction I want, and I can skip to any page I want. I can go forward and backward in my books. Surely, time must be the same.” Still wondering about this mystery, he set out to build a Time Machine that would allow him to travel to the past or to the future. Potashius worked day and night on his idea. Years of hard work and some very dangerous experiments followed. Once he left his cat in a nest of dinosaur eggs by mistake and had to rush back and rescue it. Another time, he found himself in the Ice Age without a jacket or gloves. He finally managed to fulfill his dream. He could step into his Time Machine and visit any time he wanted into it. It was magnificent.

One day, Potashius decided to travel 1 000 years into the future. So, he dialed in the date he wanted and with a whoosh and a whistle, he found himself in the twentieth century, a time not so long ago – about the time today’s little children were being born to their happy mothers and overjoyed fathers.

When he opened the door of his Time Machine, Potashius the Magnificent was amazed by what he saw. He had never seen a car or a train or an airplane, an electric light or glass windows or tall buildings or elevators or radios, televisions or telephones.

“What wonderful wizards they must have here,” Potashius thought.

He marveled at everything. He also marveled at the litter that he saw. Huge fields filled with rusting automobiles. Rivers so dirty they caught on fire and could not be put out. Air so dirty that it made the sky brown and hid the mountains and made people cough to breath it. Litter was everywhere.

“What is this?” thought Potashius the Magnificent. “These people have so many wonderful things, yet they do not take care of the earth, the water or the air. They are very clever with little unimportant inventions like zippers or Velcro, but do not care for Mother Nature herself.”

He marveled that a people so clever could be so foolish.

As he wandered and wondered, Potashius saw a girl as pretty as a spring flower, sitting on a little green wooden bench in the park and looking very sad.

“Hello,” he said. “Why do you look so sad?”

“Hello,” answered the pretty girl. “I am sad because this beautiful park is filled with litter, the sky is brown not blue and the river is still on fire. I don’t know what to do about it.” They introduced themselves. Potashius found out that the pretty girl was named Betsy and she lived in a place called Oh-High-Oh. He explained who he was and how he had time traveled over one thousand years to come to Oh-High-Oh. She was as amazed by Potashius’ story as he was about her wonderful – and very dirty - world.

“I can help clean things up,” said Potashius. “I can make machines to clean the water and scrub the air, and clean the land. But, first, we need to make people aware of the beauty of nature, so they do not put garbage in the air and rivers and ground. It will be easy to explain this, and people will be happy to do good.”

But Potashius did not know about the Smoke Makers. These were the people who filled the air and rivers and ground with rubbish. The Smoke Makers were more interested in making money than keeping Mother Nature clean and beautiful. They would not be happy. But Potashius did not know this. Yet.

So, he and Betsy worked hard to clean up the world. Potashius used his Time Machine to travel to the future and find ways to make inventions that did not fill the air and water and ground with litter. Betsy wrote articles that people read.

“We can clean up our world!” the people said, and they began to complain to the Smoke Makers about their job. The people passed new laws that made the Smoke Makers do things in a good way. This made the Smoke Makers very angry.

High in their cold, tall buildings of steel and glass, sitting at large tables in air conditioned rooms where they could not feel the sun on their faces or the breeze in their hair, the Smoke Makers met together and growled, “Who is doing this to us? Who is waking up the people and reminding them of the beauties of Nature? Whoever he is, he is hurting us, and costing us big money. Find him!”

The Smoke Makers send out their dogs who sniffed the ground, and their weasels who sniffed the air, and their nosey friends who poked around and asked questions. Soon, they learned about Potashius and his Time Machine. They learned about Pretty Betsy and how she was talking to the people.

“Let’s hurt this man who likes a beautiful world and wants us to be good,” the Smoke Makers said.

They sent out their dogs and weasels and mean little Smoke Maker friends who searched until they found Potashius, and his wonderful Time Machine, and told their Smoke Maker Bosses in the High Buildings.

“Teach him a lesson. Break his Time Machine,” said the greedy Smoke Maker Bosses. And they did. They sent out their unkind and vicious friends to the place where Potashius and his Time Machine were. When Potashius was asleep, they snuck into his laboratory and broke his wonderful Time Machine into a million pieces.

Poor Potashius! Now there was no way for him to return home.

“What will I do now? How will I ever see my home again and my wonderful books.” He was very sad.

“Let’s fix it!” Betsy said cheerfully.

“Will you help me?” he asked.

“Of course,” said Betsy. “It sounds like fun”.

And so, together, they set out to repair the Time Machine. Potashius knew what he needed, but did not know the modern names for them. It took Betsy time to understand what he wanted and to find them. He was surprised that stores did not sell bats’ wings and wart hog hairs, blue mushroom roots and smoke filters. These were easy to find back at his castle. After much hard work and long searches, Betsy was able to find most of the items Potashius needed to fix his Time Machine. Using his clever mind, he was able to make the few things that could not be found. Instead of blue mushroom roots he used pink bubble gum. Instead of wart hog hairs, he used vanilla beans. Slowly, slowly, patiently, with much imagination, a few tears and lots of laughter, Potashius and Betsy managed to fix the wonderful Time Machine.

When the Time Machine was finally repaired, Potashius the Magnificent was so happy. Now, at last, he could go back one thousand years to his castle and to the long quiet nights with his books. Alone. All alone. In his study. Reading. Reading.

“All alone?” he thought. “What about Betsy? I don’t think I want to be all alone any more. I would rather be here, in these strange modern times, where wizards’ magic is everywhere and I can be close to Betsy. And Betsy needs help teaching the Smoke Makers to be good.”

So, to his surprise, Potashius discovered that he did not want to go home. He would rather stay with Betsy. He liked her. She liked him. Very much.

Soon, the Smoke Makers were doing better, and the air and water and earth in Oh-High-Oh were clean and beautiful again. In other places, people learned from Potashius and Betsy and they, too, cleaned up where they lived. Potashius and Betsy were very happy. One day, they realized that they actually loved one another. Soon, they married. Then, in the wink of a wizard’s eye, they had four daughters and three sons and lived happily ever after.

Now, to visit the Dark Ages, Pothashius simply took his family to Bulgaria where people still live in the Dark Ages, just the way he did before he time-travelled to the twentieth century. And the Time Machine? You will have to ask Potashius when you see him.

Fairy Tales!

2010-03-15T11:44:00.000-07:00

Every year, the 8th grade class at ACS does a community service project where they write their own fairy tales and then present them to elementary school students in the area, teaching them English as they read the story. The writing process takes two weeks, and then the students present the stories over three successive Mondays to the delight of the 4th graders. And, I might say, to the delight of the 8th graders. Below are my students doing "service," which, they are learning, isn't always that tedious. I hope to post an example of one of the fairy tales shortly...

Apartment Block Buildings

2010-03-15T09:32:00.000-07:00

I took these photos today as I walked out in search of spring. A year and a half ago, these architectural remnants of a previous era were probably the hardest thing for me to adjust to in Bulgaria. The crumbling aesthetics of these buildings seemed to prey on my sense of peace. Not anymore. When I do notice them now, it's to admire strings of laundry or new paint jobs. Other than that, when I walk, I see small details or think my own thoughts. I don't walk to drink in the beauty of the buildings, but neither do they make me feel small and hunted.

I didn't find spring today, but I did see two trios worth mentioning. One, a group of three young mothers, each holding the handle of a plastic covered pram, standing still to chat as, in unison, they rhythmically pushed their babies back and forth in the middle of the park. The other, a group of three dogs: a huge well-manicured collie, a middle sized mutt, and one of those rinky dink dogs you expect to see in a purse. The collie was chasing the mutt, who was chasing Rinky Dinky, who flew straight to the feet of his amiable old owner. No dogs were harmed.

Happy Pi Day (yesterday) !

2010-03-15T08:06:00.000-07:00

Yesterday our on-campus series of faculty potluck nights continued. Brett and I hosted "Breakfast for Dinner" last week, so this week they spoofed us with "Lunch for Dinner." There was chicken salad, egg salad, PB and J, Elvis Specials, Pesto Grilled Cheese, Apple and Cheddar Open Face, and more. And for dessert, my pies. Yes, pies. I made the crust for a cheesecake and it spilled over into pan #2 so I made a chocolate pudding pie too. Only once they were on the table did I discover it was Pi day (3/14)!

For a GREAT recipe for chocolate pudding pie (sorry, the cheese cake one is a secret), head over to From Another Angle's foodie cousin, It Started in Bulgaria.

Lozen

2010-03-06T23:43:00.000-08:00

The intrepid ACS Hiking Club once again set out to explore the icy reaches of Bulgaria this weekend. This time we were in Lozen, a short bus ride from Sofia. When I woke up at 7:30 am to blustering winds and -7 degrees, I thought we might have a small group. But 16 hikers showed up, and all were rewarded with an emerging sun and surprising blue skies within a couple hours. Lozen is not the highest mountain in Bulgaria, but a fresh coat of overnight snow made up for it. Georgi, the Hiking Club president who meticulously plans each of our trips and makes sure that everything goes smoothly, was constantly asking if the beauty outweighed the cold. Yes, we would say repeatedly.

After about an hour of hiking, we reached the ridge, where it became clear that wind was going to be a steady companion.

Georgi and me at the peak. Sofia is far off in the distance.

On the way down, we passed by Lozen Monastery and its resident dog.

One of the more entertaining signs I've seen so far. It says, "Children don't brake!"

Happy Bulgarian Liberation Day

2010-03-03T04:47:00.000-08:00

"March 3, Bulgaria's national day, symbolises the restoration of the third Bulgarian kingdom after almost 500 years of Ottoman rule. The treaty of San Stefano, signed on March 3 1878, was the milestone of this process and the day remains one of the most celebrated in Bulgaria's history. The San Stefano treaty ended the Russo-Turkish, which started in 1877.

Russian troops crossed the Danube River and invaded Bulgarian ethnic territory in the southern city of Svishtov.

In late July 1877, the Russian offensive was held up and the Turks launched an energetic counter-offensive.

At that critical moment, the assistance of the Bulgarian population was crucial. This was the moment that later gave grounds for Bulgarians to rightfully claim that their freedom was not a gift from the Russians.

The Bulgarians provided supplies to the Russian troops, helping them traverse the mountain regions, digging defences and collecting intelligence data. Armed units were sent to the enemy's rear. The Bulgarian volunteer unit, called "Opalchentsi", fought side by side with the Russian army against the Ottoman troops.

The battle for Shipka Pass in the Balkan Range was to crucially impact the course of military operations. It remains a battle revered by all Bulgarians.

In August, a battalion of Russian troops and Bulgarian volunteers miraculously managed to defend the pass from the powerful army of Suleiman Pasha, which was attacking from the south. Despite their numerical superiority, the Turks suffered a catastrophic defeat, while the defenders of Shipka worked miracles of bravery. At periods of complete despair and lack of ammunition, the defenders of the pass threw stones, tree trunks and the bodies of killed soldiers against the enemy.

A Russian detachment arrived just in time, providing crucial psychological support to the defenders. They counterattacked and sent the enemy running.

The Shipka battles became known to the world. Foreign reporters informed millions of readers about the course of the war. After Shipka, successful operations followed in Pleven, Sofia, Plovdiv and Shipka-Sheinovo and at the end, the Turkish command asked for peace.

On March 3 1878 in San Stefano, a village near Istanbul now called Yesilkoy, Turkey signed a preliminary peace treaty. Under this treaty the Bulgarian ethnic territories in Macedonia, Moesia and Thrace were liberated, and the Bulgarian state was restored after almost five centuries of Ottoman rule."

-From The Sofia Echo

Nevski Art Market

2010-02-17T09:26:00.000-08:00

From upper left clockwise: Eagles Bridge, Melnik, the National Theater, Nevski Cathedral

From left: Rila monastery, Nevski (Nevski cathedral behind the paintings)

On Sunday we decided to invest in a bit of Bulgarian art. First we dropped by the Ethnographic museum for some new pottery to take back with us to California next week and hide in storage, and then we sloshed through the slush to the Nevski Cathedral art market.

The art market is pretty unique. It's basically an art alley, paintings stacked on expansive easels in the snow from one end to the other, all running about $25. It was a trip through our last two years of Bulgarian travel as we admired paintings of the many lovely places we've seen - Melnik, Koprivshtitsa, Rila, Plovdiv, the Black Sea Coast and Sofia. In the end, we settled on one of Plovdiv and one of Koprivshtitsa and they will be lovely reminders of this time someday when we get them mounted on our walls in....

We'll find out where soon, since we go to our job fair in just three short days!

SPRING WILL COME!

2010-02-16T12:15:00.000-08:00

It's just 15 days until Baba Marta, the old grandmother of spring, will arrive in Bulgaria. The stands selling tiny red and white EVERYTHING to give to everyone you know on March 1st have sprouted throughout the downtown, along with ladies who could actually be Baba Marta herself in disguise, selling tiny bundles of the first snowdrops of the season.

Spring will come!

Happy Valentine's Day from Bulgaria

2010-02-14T10:11:00.000-08:00

Life in Cyrillic

2010-02-14T06:01:00.000-08:00

It took a while to get used to the fact that billboards, posters, book covers, restaurant signs and street signs are in Cyrillic. Now it's kind of fun, seeing how the names we know translate into such a very different system. We have Cyrillic sightings outside Bulgaria now and then - a poster on the Friends t.v. show set, or a bit of spray painted graffiti that means nothing to most passersby in a country we are visiting. I remember when we first started learning, back in Claremont, when Brett was sick with a high fever and wanted me to make him flash cards to study. We've come a long way since then.

A Weekend in Sandanski

2010-02-09T05:58:00.000-08:00

Rila Monastery under Snow

One of the many murals, and me

On the drive

The indoor pool at Spa Medite (photo carefully angled to avoid swimmers)

When I told my seniors I spent the weekend in Sandanski, many faces lit up and they shouted "Intriga!" To my amusement, one immediately handed me a business card for an exclusive night club in that town, for the next time I return. Silly me, spending all my time at a spa when I could have been dancing the nights away at Intriga. Ah well, maybe next time.

Brett and I took off on a bitterly cold day in Sofia after getting a jump start from a team of friendly ACS maintenance and security guys. We drove around the crowded ring road, across the cobblestone way that leads to the main thoroughfare to Greece, through an intensely foggy mountain pass, and out into the sunshine of Southern Bulgaria, snowy mountains cresting the Horizon. We pulled off the main way for a quick trip to Rila monastery, excited to see it in its winter garments.

The drive up the mountain was gorgeous in that full sunshine just after a snowstorm kind of way. Every branch and curve of the river was wearing melting tufts and peaks of snow, and giant icicles hung from rocky patches on the sides of the road. Snowy pine forests ranged across the shadowed hill to our right as the sun beamed onto the cliffs on our left. We swerved often to avoid patches of rocks on the road but since we were virtually the only travelers headed toward Rila, it didn't much matter.

We joined five other visitors, one gigantic dog and one wandering monk in the courtyard to enjoy the splendid colors of the monastery framed in white mountains. Then we took off for Sandanski.

We arrived into the outskirts after an hour and were pleased to see large signs pointing us ever upward to Spa Medite, which turned out to be in "Sandanski Heights." We added our car to the three or so others in the spa lot, and went in, taking note of a grassish looking tennis court and NO SNOW.

Checked in, and having checked out the fluffy bathrobes in our closet and made massage appointments for later, we headed out for some tennis, stunned to be playing outside after waking up in weather so cold as to kill our trusty 1994 Volkswagen Golf.

For the next twenty four hours we enjoyed the comforts of Spa Medite - a giant jacuzzi in a private deck, a heated pool in the middle of a solarium, a gym, massage, pedicure, and a lovely restaurant that produced Brett's "2nd favorite ever meal" and the best creme brule we've ever tried.

Throughout it all, I found myself wondering, why do we seem to be the only ones here? At dinner, we joined one other couple in a restaurant that could seat at least 40. The bar was empty save for the barman. My name seemed to be the only one on the spa schedule for Saturday, and the jacuzzi was available the moment I asked for it. What was going on?

It was my pedicurist, Sonia, who tipped me off. "The border is closed," she said. "Most of our customers come from Greece." It turns out that protesting farmers have parked trailors and tractors across every border crossing between Bulgaria and Greece, and trucks are back-parked for miles. No Greek tourists can come and enjoy the chocolate croissants, Turkish lights massages and outdoor tennis of Spa Medite until the farmers get what they want. It struck me as amazing that the border had really been closed for a whole month.

Photo from The Sofia Echo

Here's an excerpt from an article about the blockade:

The farmers drove tractors and heavy machinery to the borders with Albania, Turkey and Macedonia to block border traffic there as well.

Earlier this week, the Bulgarian government appealed to the European Union to take "immediate" action to end the blockades.

Greece's socialist government, which is struggling to cope with an unprecedented economic crisis and pressure from the European Union to curb the highest budget deficit in the 27-nation bloc, promised to provide state aid by mid-March and urged farmers to dismantle the roadblocks.

However, the government rejected the farmers' demands of new subsidies worth about 1 billion euros (1.4 billion dollars). Agriculture Minister Katerina Batzeli said in a televised discussion that the country's precarious fiscal situation made subsidies impossible.

The country's farmers estimated their income has declined by 25 per cent in the past 10 years. The farming sector is composed mainly of small-scale farmers who rely on handouts from the government to survive.

Last year, a monthlong protest in which farmers blocked roads also triggered major problems for commercial truck drivers and travellers. (Read more: here)

We enjoyed our weekend at Spa Medite, but felt bad for it too. It is providing a wonderful bit of tourism inside Bulgaria, a country that deserves and badly needs effective tourism, and now it is undoubtedly draining money every day. On the other hand, what are the Greek farmers to do?

Back to Rila

2010-02-07T04:41:00.000-08:00

On our way to Sandanski this weekend, we decided to take a little side trip to Rila Monastery, the most visited site in Bulgaria. We first went there on our orientation trip a year and a half ago. Founded by the hermit Ivan Rilski in 927, it is now a UNESCO World Heritage sight that sits amidst the Rila mountains. Earlier this year, I was able to peer at Rila from the ridge far above, during a hike on Maliovitsa (in the background). Ever since then, I've been wanting to see it coated in snow. The weather kindly obliged, and the only question was weather we'd be able to make it up the rock-strewn access road. Luckily it was on the south side of the mountain, and early morning sun was already melting the snow.

Rila is known for being a sanctuary to Bulgarian heritage during the long Ottoman occupation. Its library houses 16,000 volumes, many of which are hand-written originals. The impressive frescoes were painted in the 1840s and remain remarkably bright today. (Thanks to Thomas Cook for this information.)

Bulgaria's stray dogs have even made it to Rila, where they beg for alms from visitors.

Though it is often overrun with tourists, Rila is still a working monastery.

You can see the monk from the previous picture on the middle level here, perhaps walking toward his room. These halls are off limits to tourists.

The impressive fresco lining the main monastery.

Here Comes the Sun

2010-02-04T11:31:00.000-08:00

Perhaps you too have experienced a sense that winter might just last forever. A rich earthy scent on the air followed by 6 inches of snow. Wet socks from the powder that snuck into your shoes on the way to work. Angry lungs on a run. Cold fingers on your keyboard.

Tonight I decided to bring a little light to mid-winter by looking back over my travel photos on a scavenger hunt for only one item - sunshine. Here are the results...

Sofia, Bulgaria

Oia, Greece

Cinque Terre, Italy

West Coast, Morocco

Lake Bled, Slovenia

Cinque Terre, Italy

Hamburg, Germany

Oia, Greece

Flam, Norway

West Coast, Morocco

Barcelona, Spain

Sofia, Bulgaria

Prague, Czech Republic

Sofia, Bulgaria

And they're off...

2010-02-04T06:29:00.000-08:00

We've finally finished first semester at ACS! Now we're off to Medite spa (http://www.hotelmedite.com/) in the mountain town of Sandanski for a bit of R and R. We'll let you know how we liked this top-rated place when we get back next week.

Image from: Google Images.

My Top 10 Travel Photos

2010-01-31T22:01:00.000-08:00

Can you guess the 10 locations?

Introducing "It Started in Bulgaria"

2010-01-27T01:52:00.000-08:00

Over the last year I've frequently posted on some culinary adventure or other. Living in Bulgaria provided me with the impetus to learn to cook all my favorite foods, as they were not readily available here. I've blogged about burrito creation, cookie cakes, bagels and more. So as not to let such posts take over our travel blog, I've decided to start a separate site for kitchen experiments - a cooking blog.

From Another Angle, meet It Started in Bulgaria.

For those of you who like to cook and bake as well as read about travel adventures, I hope you like it!

When life gives you flour, make bagels!

2010-01-24T00:46:00.000-08:00

We love that there's a bagel place in Sofia, and that it has smoothies. However, the bagels do come in a deep freeze all the way from the U.K, and sometimes flavor suffers.

This week, I was browsing through some well-known blogs written by teenagers to show my "Introduction to Blogging" students, when I happened upon the rather amazing blog, 17 and Baking. As my students oohed and aahed over its splendid photography and witty writing, I oohed and aahed over a bagel recipe within its pages that seemed to require only about 30 minutes of work. Was it possible? Could I really make my own bagels with a bit of evening effort?

That night I kneaded, shaped, boiled and baked. Voila! Turns out bagels are a lot easier than I thought, and suddenly a whole world of possible variations has opened up to me...

This time I sprinkled poppy seeds and rock salt over the basic bagel recipe from 17 and Baking, maybe next time I'll try cinnamon raisin, blueberry, or chocolate chip. Bulgaria just keeps making me discover that my favorite foods don't have to come from the store...

Sand Animation

2010-01-22T23:12:00.000-08:00

One of Brett's students sent him this incredible video, showing the winning performance on Ukraine's "You've Got Talent" show. The piece represents the Ukrainian experience in WWII. You have to watch this, it's one of the most creative things I've ever seen.

We can't get enough!

2010-01-16T08:46:00.000-08:00

Today we went back to Vitosha for the second week in a row, this time with the ACS hiking club. We stayed mostly on the middle flank of the mountain, hiking from Simeonovo to Dragalevtsi. A new layer of snow and leafless trees made for a fresh landscape and expansive views. We were once again reminded how lucky we are to have this mountain in our backyard.

Amanda and Betsy

Me with Georgi, the president of the Hiking Club. He just found out he's headed to Dartmouth next year!

Hiking = Smiling

2010-01-16T08:32:00.001-08:00

Hiking makes happy people.

Angles on Lake Bled Island

2010-01-13T11:38:00.000-08:00

It seemed I could never get enough pictures of the "fairytale" (as every guidebook refers to it) island in the center of Lake Bled. Every angle, every light, every contrast of snow or trees or mountains seemed to mark it with a new kind of beauty.

A Spring Day in January

2010-01-10T08:18:00.000-08:00

On a beautiful January day, Betsy, Jeff, Sam, Alex and I took a trip into winter. Clear warm days in January are rare, so we took advantage to hike up into the melting snow of Vitosha, right in our backyard. Though bursts of raincloud made for some dramatic light at first, they soon dissipated and we enjoyed distant views down to Lake Iskur and the Rila mountains from a windy, sunny plateau. We'll savor this one until spring...

Alex, Jeff, Sam, Betsy, and Annie's behind

Rain bursts threatened early...

...but cleared later.

Betsy and Sam making their final push to the hija (hut)

Classic Venice

2010-01-09T09:09:00.000-08:00

Our apartment in Venice overlooked Piazza San Marco, an appropriate place to start when searching for classic Venice. Unfortunately, the actual population of Venice continues to decline, as it becomes more predominantly a tourist destination rather than a living city (see Betsy's post below: The Weight of Venice). The reason for this steady influx of travelers can be seen in some of the pictures below. I was rather ambivalent about these sites, feeling that they had somehow been co-opted by tourism and no longer really belonged to Venice. Hence the traveler's unenviable search for the "back door." Certainly these sights were impressive, and I'm not such a purist that something has to be "untouched" or "original" to be valuable to me. But I was never hit by a sense of cultural gravity as I was in other places I've visited (like Machu Picchu -- though the epitome of an over-visited cultural site, it still managed to exercise a spell on me). For that reason, traveling to Slovenia after Venice, where people still work the farms (even the one where we were staying) had a more authentic feel and was a refreshing glimpse into a living culture. I hope, however, that I'm not so aloof that I don't recognize some of the more striking elements of Venetian culture.

Saint Mark's Basilica forms one boundary of St. Mark's Square, and is where we went to a midnight service on Christmas Eve.

The Campanile, also in St. Mark's Square, dominates the Venetian skyline.

Though relatively traffic-free in December, the Grand Canal is the main thoroughfare for the city.

This row of homes on the south lagoon was particularly striking. The second one from the left was our favorite.

Venetian architecture is particularly compelling in the delicately curved windows.

How would you like this for a front porch?

Farmhouse Frcej

2010-01-05T07:49:00.000-08:00

Slovenia, and particularly the area around Lake Bled, has an abundance of farmhouses that have opened their doors to tourism. It's an attempt by the country to preserve its heritage while reaping the rewards of its tremendous outdoor wealth. What a farmhouse lacks in room service, it makes up for in feather pillows and home-cooked breakfast. At least one Slovenian we met was concerned about the homogenization of Europe that comes with globalization, and he was quite proud of his country's attempts to resist this.

For the fraction of the price of a five-star hotel, you can stay with a friendly family who offers you their locally brewed brandy when you arrive, and then pampers you with homemade bread, walnuts from their grove, milk and butter from their cows, eggs from their hens, and meat from their...well, take a look at the picture below.

After making our way to breakfast at around 9:00 every morning, we would then crawl back to our room and rest until around 11:00, at which point we explored the area. We typically didn't get hungry again until around 3:00. We stayed on a working farm called Frcej, and were often greeted by the donkey, one of the cows, or one of the roosters/hens mulling about. Valentina Zupan, the overwhelmingly friendly owner of the farm, made sure we had everything we needed. Our particular house looked out to Lake Bled 4km away, and the Julian Alps in the distance (see the entry below this one).

The view from our balcony at sunrise

Where's the beef? Here it is, being smoked for two days in their outdoor chimney. Notice the enormous tongue, second from left in the front.

Everything We Needed

2010-01-05T07:34:00.000-08:00

Before we arrived in Bled, we were slightly concerned that everything in the tiny town would be closed for the season. In the end, it didn't matter. Though pretty much everything was open, we didn't spend much time in the town itself. Instead, we focused on the natural world around us. Our first morning we awoke to a brilliant sunrise from our farmhouse balcony, watching it light up the snowy mountains in the distance. Whether we were relaxing on the farm, strolling around Lake Bled with its magnificent island, or walking through a silent wood over freshly fallen snow, the whole trip resonated with a sense of calm and peacefulness that was befitting the holiday season.

From our balcony

Lake Bled, with the castle in the background

In the Julian Alps

The Weight of Venice

2010-01-03T11:29:00.000-08:00

This vacation presented a heavy contrast: the historical splendor of Venice, the lively lovely mountain culture of Slovenia. I found our transition to the mountains a tremendous relief, and just as I was mulling over why that might be, I came across the following passage from one of Rainer Maria Rilke's letters. Though it's about Rome, and written over one hundred years ago, this idea of the "tiny present" living on the relic of a vast past expresses some of the weight I felt in visiting Venice, a city now fighting its own floodwaters mainly for the sake of tourism.

"In addition, Rome (if one has not yet become acquainted with it) makes one feel stifled with sadness for the first few days: through the gloomy and lifeless museum-atmosphere that it exhales, through the abundance of its pasts, which are brought forth and laboriously held up (pasts on which a tiny present subsists), through the terrible overvaluing, sustained by scholars and philologists and imitated by the ordinary tourist in Italy, of all these disfigured and decaying Things, which, after all, are essentially nothing more than the accidental remains from another time and from a life that is not and should not be ours."

Yet I don't want to say Venice is a dead city, or that I didn't find it magical when the sun hit the reds and oranges of the lanes and the gondolas bobbed over their mirror images in the water. But it was strange living for five days in a city most tourists visit only for one or two, taking photos in a line of cameras, realizing that a gondola ride is now a hundred dollar affair instead of a means of transportation. The tales of history I read in Jan Morris's Venice stayed with me as we explored, reminding me of a Venice that once ruled an empire instead of an industry.

Rilke eventually found his beauty in Rome, but he had to shake away history first.

"...but there is much beauty here, because everywhere there is much beauty. Waters infinitely full of life move along the ancient aqueducts into the great city and dance in the many city squares over white basins of stone and spread out in large, spacious pools and murmur by day and lift up their murmuring to the night, which is vast here and starry and soft with winds."

In Venice, the night is full of high water and sirens, but soft light and kind citizens hold up the weight of history as best they can.

Of Freezing Nights and Pine Nut Gelato

2010-01-03T01:32:00.000-08:00

Venice puts on no show for Christmas. Postcards and shop windows stuffed with colored masks advertise the real show that’s coming – carnivale. But Christmas in Venice is understated: a few more colors of Lindt truffles in the candy store windows, piles of pannetone at the bakery, a string of lights glinting through the fog from a balcony hundreds of years old.

We arrived in Venice by stealing a ride on a waterbus at 10 pm. We had been in transit for two days, after a series of weather-related disasters that prevented us from taking our planned one-hour flight. Wearily we wrapped our coats around us and watched bridges disappear over our heads on the way to the Rialto, hoping no one would come along checking for tickets. We had leapt on while it was leaving, and didn’t know and hardly cared anymore how to purchase the ride we were taking. It was the coldest night Venice had seen in 20 years, and my breakfast, lunch, and dinner of crackers didn’t seem to be insulating me against it. Still, I couldn’t ignore the magic of the lights on either side of the Grand Canal, and the candy striped gondola posts announcing restaurants, casinos and palaces.

Venice is a city alive in its past. At every turn, visitors are confronted with the handiwork of generations: towering domed churches, bridges criss-crossing canals, palaces with water lapping on their front steps. The tower bells clang each hour as visitors clamber on wooden planks stretched over the ever-rising aqua alta in the square to get a look at the Doge’s former private chapel – the basilica of St. Mark. Though modernity does its best to weave in here and there with a display of Gucci purses or an “ I heart Venezia” t-shirt, it is nothing but a light coat of new paint on an ancient city. Gondoliers in striped shirts stand near the academy bridge, proffering the grandeur of another era.

It’s amazing how much Italian food you can buy in Venice. I’m used to Italian food; I even love Italian food. I’ve eaten it in California, Oxford, Middlebury, Budapest and Sofia. But it’s kind of overwhelming to go from having one treasured Italian restaurant in one’s own city to finding three on every block. In Venice, I could hardly turn my head without seeing stacks of rosemary focaccia, flatbread pizza loaded with salami, round pizzas under glass waiting to be sliced into oblivion, piles of gondola-shaped pizza boats, rainbow-colored bow-tie pasta, giant pasta shells, bread shaped like faces advertising yet more pizza and pasta. And then there is the gelato. Though most places were closed for the season, Brett and I managed to stumble into one little den of ice cream iniquity about ten minutes before it closed for the holidays. As the final customers of a very kind lady, we had a six-course gelato meal. It began with layers of pistachio, pine nut and straciatella and was soon followed by individual sample spoonfuls of everything else the lady thought we should try – ciocolatto, amaretti with candied almonds on top, mascarpone cream - all made fresh on the premises. I thought seriously of buying her out of amaretti and freezing it in our little apartment, and I think Brett felt the same about creamy rich pine nut, but logic won over our taste buds.

When it rains in Venice, navigating its narrow alleys and ancient courtyards becomes something like a video game. As each new pedestrian approaches, you must make a series of rapid decisions: should you push your umbrella up or pull it down, lean it to the right or the left, dart to one side and risk collision with another alley of pedestrian traffic or dodge an awning. You must always watch out for two enemies in particular: walkers who have invested in the dreaded giant umbrella, and villainous couples hip-to-hip sharing an umbrella and the entire walkway. Meanwhile, you have to watch your feet, leaping over puddles as you maneuver your bright shield in the flow. Bridges in the distance appear to be nothing but rivers of umbrellas, their currents pulling in both directions.

When it’s sunny in Venice, the city glows. Rich reds, blues, oranges and creams reflect perfectly in the canals, and the sun sparks off the lagoon. As the previous day’s snow melts or the shopkeepers sweep the overnight flood out their front doors, the streets buzz with smiling traffic. Camera-toting Asian, European, and American tourists stand side by side on bridges, sometimes posing accidentally in each other’s pictures.

We left Venice on another waterbus, this time having dutifully paid our outrageous 13 Euros for the 10 minute ride. The bells over St. Mark’s were chiming for Christmas morning, reminding us of the late night service of haunting Latin music and candle-filled chandeliers we had risked the high water to attend the night before. Gondoliers were polishing the golden interior of their boats for the coming day’s holiday traffic, and the bags of our fellow passengers were stuffed with Italian Christmas bread and packages. As we turned away from Italy and toward Slovenia, I began to think that maybe I just didn’t recognize the many strands of a Venetian Christmas at first glance. Perhaps I had just been looking for it in the wrong places, and it was there all along, in the “Bon Natale” of shopkeepers, the rim of snow on the Plaza San Stefano and the spoonfuls of gelato handed across a gleaming glass counter.

Slovenia, meet Betsy

2010-01-02T05:06:00.000-08:00

In this post, I'd like to introduce you to Slovenia's recreation possibilities by showing exactly how one person (albeit an incredibly attractive one) managed to enjoy herself in the outdoors. I've already been contacted by their Tourism Board about borrowing some of these photos.Vogue has also indicated an interest in Betsy's fashion modeling potential, apparent in the third photo.

Here, Betsy poses in her elegant daywear in front of the Bled Castle gate. Drawbridge operators don't stand a chance when they see her coming.

The winter line is on full display here as Betsy tackles the mossy hillsides around Bled.

Betsy appeals to the "women and cars" cliche with this classic shot.

Showing that she's not just glitz and glamour, Betsy can row a mean boat too.

Looks and coordination combine to make her one of Europe's hottest ski bunnies.

Steep stairs are no match for this fit hiker.

Betsy's strking beauty, rivaled only by the Vintgar Gorge, here highlights the raging rapids. Both their flow and her appeal are timeless.

We left the snow in Slovenia

2010-01-01T07:24:00.000-08:00

The Alps behind Bled

My Best Snowman Impression

It's 60 degrees in Sofia and we just walked the puppy we're babysitting - Jack - in flip flops. Snow and frost are but a distant memory from Slovenia, but I don't mind. In fact, if spring wants to come now...

Aqua Alta

2010-01-01T05:24:00.000-08:00

Venice is sinking. It was in the news right before we got there, for terrible flooding in early December, and also the day we left. The morning we set off for Slovenia, we watched the closest canal come creeping up the alley toward our gate, wondering what would happen. When we arrived in Slovenia that night, Venice was being featured on television. In between, we witnessed "aqua alta" three times. It was usually just in the morning, and receded by 10:00 am, roughly 12 hours after the sirens went off the night before. When the warning sounds, stores all around the city make sure their merchandise is hoisted, and city workers spring into action, laying walkways around the flooded areas. It' a remarkably efficient system; I was in awe of how light-hearted shop owners were as they mopped out their stores EVERY morning, conversing with their neighbors as if it were normal. More and more lately, it is. Just part of the peril of living in a city built on water.

The flooding spares no one, not even designer boutiques.

You can see the various drawers that this woman had pulled out the night before. Most stores had a hidden drain near the front door (under the entrance tiles) and many also used a small dam in front of their door to prevent the water from coming in.

This is in San Marco, outside of Florian's, the oldest cafe in the city.

Before

After. Every time the sirens go off, these dummies come down for the night.

Piazza San Marco. Residents know to have a pair of rubber boots handy.

But walkways are constructed for tourists.

Lake Bohinj: A Slovenian Mirror

2010-01-01T00:30:00.000-08:00

Sleeping over in Slovenia

2009-12-31T11:19:00.000-08:00

Views from our Farmhouse Balcony

Lying under the low wooden eaves of our third floor apartment, I can hear children’s footsteps running two floors down and see one shining light in the Julian Alps out the window. Somewhere below in the yard sleep four chickens, one donkey, and whatever kinds of animals help produce the breakfast we’ll be eating in the morning. We are spending our Christmas break on a farm in Slovenia, high in the hills above Lake Bled. We’ll sleep tonight to the radical sound of silence, and wake up to homemade cinnamon plum jam and bread, pastry made from local walnuts, muesli plumped by warm milk and farm eggs and sausage smoked in the ping pong house/smoking shack.

On mornings when the lure of bed was not enough to overcome the hundreds of chimes of the town bells, Brett and I would head out for runs. Running on a Zgornje Gorje morning means three things: a warm scarf for the first few icy inhalations, sunlit or cloud-swirled alps to look at, and cats springing up in unexpected places. While Brett set off for the highest reaches of the local roads, I explored the neighborhood, inhaling wood smoke from all the wood-burning furnaces and mistaking extra well-fed cats for beavers. The clouds drifted overhead in that soft wintry brightness, and the local people I passed by greeted me with “hello” instead of “Dober Dan.” Obviously, anyone running in this village was from the United States and would not be doing farm work of any kind that day. From my ridge, I could see a sparkle from Lake Bled below, whitened Alps stretching protectively across the valley, and frozen fields turned over for winter. And just when I started to get tired, I turned back into my own farmyard, knowing Valentina was scooping some of her jam into a bowl and boiling eggs for tiny china egg cups as I ran up the stairs to a warm waiting shower. How much better could a day start?

The Bled region is full of things to do after breakfast. Though it’s clear we are visiting during the least tourist-friendly time of year - not enough snow yet for serious winter sports, not enough sunshine to leave long underwear at home - we nevertheless find Slovenia a gorgeous winter playground. Lake Bohinj beckons one valley over, with a sparkling green sheet of water to hike around and a ski-resort stocked temporarily with man-made snow. Lake Bled is as much a fairytale as the postcards report, though between taking photos of the towering Alps behind the island church and rowing over for a visit, it’s easy to hop on the internet or stop in to Pizza Rustica for the most delicious “vegi” pizza this side of Italy. Bled manages to blend modernity with the same charms that made it a resort town long before our parent’s parents were born. Everyone seems to speak English, right down to current slang, and everyone seems happy to see us.

As we circle Lake Bled on our first day, we see several small paintings nestled in the inland rock. An older man with long white eyebrows wearing a beret and at least two fuzzy sweaters – maybe four - sits on the wall holding a brush, well-used paint boxes scattered around him. “Four Euros,” he tells us. Four Euros for a hand painted island scene? We’re in. He quickly flips over the painting we choose and starts dabbling in a dark paint. Suddenly we are looking at our own painted silhouettes – the painter on the wall, Brett standing tall with his backpack, my winter cap angled rakishly to one side as I look down at the painting I am now in. When asked, our friend shares his political philosophies, explaining his opinions on Slovenia’s transition out of communism, the pressure of lobbyists all modern leaders are under, the new global culture being created and the loss of national identity. I find myself mainly agreeing with him.

As a matter of fact, I just agree with this mountain bit of Slovenia. I didn’t know what we’d find as we drove up from Venice, but what we did find: wood smoke, cats, pizza, painting, smooth waters and snowy mountains, added up to peace.

Hidden Venice

2009-12-31T09:53:00.000-08:00

Venice at Christmas holds the extra appeal of being less touristy, allowing freer range to the network of narrow alleys that web the city. There are tourist maps, but we quickly realized that these were virtually useless, as streets aren't labeled, and the urban planners who designed Venice didn't exactly use a grid to lay them out. One inevitably gets lost, turns down another alley, finds oneself facing a canal at the end of it, then turns around, finds a bridge (was this the same bridge we crossed before?), crosses the canal, walks down another narrow alley...you get the picture. That, of course, is the fun of Venice. While there are certain tourist stops (San Marco, etc.), the draw of Venice is its capacity to swallow you in its old-world aura. Your job is simply to be guided only by instinct and the smell of focaccia. Below you'll see a variety of shots untouted in the guidebooks, but charming in their own way, all stumbled upon while searching for...well, exactly this.

Though the colors drew us to this cluster, it was the chimneys that ended up charming us.

Venice is sinking, or at least the left side of this door is.

This woman caught my eye from across the piazza.

So I zoomed in. And then she closed her shutters, with what I imagined (I hope I only imagined it) to be a cynical eye toward my prying eye.

This is in Murano, an island across the lagoon from Venice known for its glasswork.

Again, the colors drew me. But the four men add the warmth.

Venice for Christmas

2009-12-31T09:28:00.000-08:00

Unlike many European cities, Venice does not have a notable reputation for Christmas spirit. And though we were disappointed by the mysterious disappearance of the Christmas market that was supposed to be in St. Stefan Square, not to mention the lack of Christmas concerts we were anticipating, we definitely knew it was the wintery season. First, because our initial flight to Venice was canceled due to weather, forcing us to fly into Milan a day later, and then take a train to Venice, also canceled (Did you know that trains can be delayed by snow? Neither did I. The Italian public transit system continues to amaze.). When we finally arrived in Venice late on the night of Dec. 21, we were greeted by record low temperatures, lower than anyone remembered in their lifetime, well below freezing. Oh well, we were missing Duluth anyway.

Nonetheless, Venice slowly managed to reveal its wiles to us, especially when the temperature warmed up a couple days later and we were treated to some sun. Before that, however, we got to see the colder side of Venice. The side with gondoliers bundled up in winter coats rather than their black striped shirts. Snow on the piazzas and lingering on rooftops. Early morning fog, and yes, even Christmas decorations.

Balkan Dance - Action!

2009-12-19T08:50:00.000-08:00

Balkan Dancing Where?!

2009-12-18T07:03:00.000-08:00

After the final classes, the school assembled in the Auditorium for a repeat performance of the Christmas Concert. A polished group of students and teachers gave a fantastic show, highlighted by an encore routine in the...well...see below. Video coming soon, if my technologically adept wife has the time.

The students whirl faster than my camera can catch them.

Presenting flowers to Stoyan, far left, the Balkan Dance instructor. International teachers are in yellow on the right.

And then, as if the steps weren't complicated enough, they decided to move onto the icy sidewalk in subfreezing temperatures.

Sunset

2009-12-18T06:48:00.001-08:00

As the sun sets on the 2009 school year, the campus seems to revel in its new clothes.

I'm Dreaming...

2009-12-18T06:35:00.000-08:00

It's looking good for Irving Berlin in Sofia this year. A steady snowfall through the night brought the promise of the holidays to campus on the last day of school. As the sun fell this afternoon, I just walked around in my wet shoes marveling at the light streaking through the trees all over campus.

The wood shed behind our house

Waiting for warmer days...

George making the most of his New England roots

My Balkan Dance Debut

2009-12-17T12:16:00.000-08:00

The Parent Teacher Balkan Dance Group

Shannon and I in our matching costumes

Some of my students - the students are such wonderful dancers!

The ACS Fountain

2009-12-17T06:18:00.000-08:00

Happy Holidays!

Christmas Abroad

2009-12-17T05:05:00.001-08:00

Last night I relaxed with the other international faculty playing "Christmas Jeopardy" and drinking German mulled wine while people opened the Secret Santa presents purchased for them in far-off places like Hungary and Turkey. We answered game show questions about the intricacies of Charlie Brown Christmas and It's a Wonderful Life and ate snickerdoodles, chocolates, and quesadillas. There may even have been a cheese ball, slightly squashed for that tasty rustic look.

Our friends will soon split off for the holidays - to Venice, Austria, Istanbul, London and the Ukraine. Many will go all the way home to the U.S. But all of us have somehow expanded our definition of Christmas traditions by spending advent abroad.

A sampling of the international traditions I've learned about lately:

La Befana
In Italy, children get their presents on January 5th. Tradition holds that an elderly woman called La Befana, who was once invited to go with the wise men to see the Baby Jesus and refused, now searches the world for the child. She leaves presents wherever she goes in hopes that one will reach the baby she missed.

Santa's Helpers?
In Holland, in what is perhaps a vestige of Colonial days, either 1 or 6-8 black men (depending on whose story you read) accompany Santa when he arrives in Holland from Spain. Rick Steves and David Sedaris both point out the strange nature of this tradition in their holiday writings. Strangest of all, children who don't behave just might get kidnapped by Santa's helpers, and carried off in burlap bags. Read more here.

German Food
It's hard to beat the German Christmas market for new ideas for the Christmas kitchen. Candied nuts, gluwein, fruitcake, frosted gingerbread, doughnuts - it's hard to get through a city square in December without some delightful snack or other. Two perennial favorites are lebkuchen and stollen. Click for the recipes.

Bulgarian Banitsa - with Luck
I would almost say Banitsa is the national dish of Bulgaria, though it's probably got competition from the shopska salad. Banitsa are pastries formed with sheets of dough and every filling imaginable (pumpkin, apple, cheese, turkish delight), though the most traditional hold a combination of cheese and egg. At Christmas, many families put fortunes or tiny coins in the banitsa for the table. One student told me her grandmother puts coins in three that only she can recognize, and then makes sure her grandchildren get them every year. Read more and see an unbelievable bad video of banitsa preparation here.

Venice Boat Parade
In Venice each year a group of boat-owners decorate their craft with Christmas lights and take to the canals. I was pretty excited to see this when we go to Italy in a week, but it turns out the joke is on me. It's Venice Beach, California. Click to see pictures.

Alternate Thanksgiving

2009-12-15T07:15:00.001-08:00

Because we weren't able to celebrate a proper Thanksgiving in Bulgaria (yes, there is such a thing as a proper Thanksgiving in Bulgaria), we decided to have an alternate feast with Sam and Lesley, who also missed the holiday. Together with friends from both sides, we traveled up the mountain on Sunday to their house, where we took part in what Sam excitedly called a "day of gluttony." Betsy's sweet potato crunch, Sam's homemade bread, Lesley's turkey, and all the other side dishes (I contributed the pomegranate seeds to the salad -- I don't like to rob Betsy of the joy of cooking) made for some loosening of belts. But not so much that we didn't do a little Balkan dancing after dinner. Just like the pilgrims did long ago...

ACS Christmas Cookie Exchange

2009-12-14T09:17:00.001-08:00

This year I am advising the ACS "Cooking Collective." Every week a few students cook and the whole club samples and learns on Mondays at lunch. Brilliant.

My first big contribution as adviser was to suggest a Christmas Cookie Exchange - every member of the club would bake different cookies and bring in copies of the recipe, and we would invite faculty as well.

Fun: Check

Festivity: Check

Good Food: Check

Highlights included "English Pie", "Dried Grape Cookies" and "Christmas Cookies with Honey." There was even a lovely Bulgarian version of the powdered sugar walnut cookie known variously as Swedish Teacakes, Russian Teacakes, and Mexican Wedding Cakes.

Now I just have to get through our Balkan dance performance at the Christmas concert and the Wednesday caroling through the halls and my festive teacherly roles will all be successfully completed....

Bet you don't know what "girini" means

2009-12-07T05:02:00.000-08:00

I was reading a book review today at The Australian on a book called Why Italians Love to Talk About Food. The headline drew me because I've been experimenting with Italian cooking ever since we got back from Cinque Terre.

I was especially interested by this passage:

"Yet even the culinary passion is a union based on a wealth of diversity, as the variety of pasta types reveals, all of which, of course, should be matched with particular sauces. Take the following selection, whose names come from the realm of zoology: farfalle (butterflies), conchiglie (shells), lumache (snails), creste di gallo (cock's comb), code di rondine (swallowtails), occhi di bove (ox eyes), occhi di elefanti (elephants eyes), occhi di lupo rigati (ribbed wolf eyes), occhi di passero (sparrow eyes), girini (tadpoles), vermicelli (worms), linguine (little tongues), and orecchiette (little ears)."

Crazy, eh? But cool.

Read the whole review for this book written about Italian food by a Russian ex-pat here. So just to be clear, that makes me an American ex-pat in Bulgaria writing on an Australian paper about a Russian ex-pat in Italy. I love it.

Both Images borrowed from Google Images.

Hiking in Lakatnik

2009-12-06T09:27:00.000-08:00

The ACS Hiking Club took its first trip today, having been delayed by the flu vacation a month ago. We went to Lakatnik, a simple, traditional hike on the limestone cliffs of the Iskur Gorge. Though other areas in the country are more stunning, this was a nice introduction to the year, and a great chance to get out into what our students call "the nature." (Many languages, we've noticed, attach an article to the word "nature," a hard habit to break when translating into English.) We had a stalwart, happy group of fifteen students, who dallied along, glorying in the chance to be outside of Sofia. We took many breaks, especially at the Communist monument atop the cliffs.

At the beginning of the hike, we crossed (read: bounced over) a bridge spanning the Iskur River.

A climbing shack. The Iskur Gorge is the most popular climbing location in Bulgaria.

Jess and Jeff, the two teachers who accompanied me, and Georgi, the president of the Hiking Club, "conquering" a small outcropping.

Ivan and Simeon

The Communist monument on top, and lunch time

Yulia and Lora. The monument is in the background.

Stefan is actually catching a spider here. I have NO idea where it rappelled from.

On the way down

My favorite thing about Hamburg

2009-12-06T05:41:00.000-08:00

The Rathaus

A View from the Park near our hotel

Hamburg is clean, nice and expensive. It has a lot of parks, two lakes, a slough of Starbucks and more shopping shopping shopping. If we had been there just one day later, my favorite thing about it might have been its many Christmas markets. However, since they were still under construction, there was really no contest.

My favorite thing about Hamburg is that they sell dachsund cookie cutters in the kitchen stores. This year's Christmas cookie charge will be led by festive dachsunds. Thank you, Germany!

The Sofia Christmas Market

2009-12-05T11:13:00.000-08:00

Today after parent-teacher conferences Brett and I headed downtown - dipping into Sofia's new Subway shop, passing by the new Starbucks, crossing near the new metro and then walking into Bulgaria's very first Christmas market. Things seem to be changing with every blink of the eye here in Bulgaria.

After visiting Christmas markets in Nuremburg, Munich, Basel, Brussels, Vienna and Prague, we had certain expectations: wooden nativity figurines, roasting chestnuts, mulled wine, glass ornaments, perhaps a live sheep or two. The Sofia Christmas market did not have these things. However, it did have something I've never seen at another market, something pretty amazing.

Gracing the skies above the market we saw a chorus of angels, lit from within their windblown white plastic robes. They flew in strange contrast to the early winter gray of the park and clouds. The angel just above the market entrance appeared to hover directly over the upraised gun on the Socialist-Realist statue behind the market.

I may not have sipped any mulled wine today, but I did meet some beautiful angels.

Sunrise on Campus

2009-12-02T09:11:00.000-08:00

We've had some lovely late fall weather lately, and are seriously hoping it will just fade slowly into spring come January. Ha. Anyway, we're enjoying it and the lovely sunrises coming with it. These photos are by our friend Jaime Johnson, from her balcony on campus.

Holland: Snapshots

2009-12-01T09:10:00.000-08:00

A House on the Canal

2009-11-30T09:01:00.000-08:00

There are two ways to live "on" an Amsterdam canal - you can buy one of the colorful narrow homes reflected in it or buy a houseboat to plop down in its waters.

Seems to me the houseboat option might actually be the simplest of the two. Consider the following slight inconveniences to owning a canal home...

1. Because the fronts and therefore the doors are so narrow, most large items have to be hoisted via pulley from the hooks sticking out from the roofs.

2. Houses, perhaps due to the water shifting underneath them, frequently begin leaning at surprising angles - pitching forwards, right or left over time.

3. There must be some kind of law about repainting every 14 months because never have I ever seen so many perfectly manicured brick fronts. We saw brown brick, red brick, tan brick, creamy brick, black brick... with black shutters, white shutters, red shutters... with round windows, rectangular windows, square windows, arched windows... with step gables, triangular gables, bell gables, neck gables. Remembering your gable's name might be almost as hard as keeping your house pretty enough, but at least there is this guide to help.

The simpler way...

Amsterdam

2009-11-29T07:14:00.000-08:00

Amsterdam, city of museums, bikes, prostitutes and pancakes. But we didn't go to any, or ride any, or see any or eat any.

Instead, we wandered. Up one canal and down another, taking in a rainbow of brick houses to the tune of spinning bike wheels and gently lapping water. We drifted into the red light district, through the eclectic shopping zone known as the nine streets, across museum square, around the train station, and back again. And again.

We dodged bikes, mopeds, cars and raindrops. We ate the best appeltaart in Amsterdam on our friend Iva's recommendation. We shopped at an organic market for a picnic that included sushi, dried bananas, Italian herb olives and blueberries. We saw houses that appeared to be tipping off their hinges - only lacking Pisa's horde of flashing cameras. We poked into a game store with Japanese Go, Magic cards, and mini-bowling. We listened to street artists on accordions and saxaphones and watched bathing birds in the Vondelpaark. We happened upon towering lit church towers and intriguing bakeries.

Guides to Venice always say just get lost. The same goes for Amsterdam, which, by the way, has 15 more canals than Venice. Who knew?

Take a Local Bite

2009-11-24T09:09:00.000-08:00

A Fig and Walnut Tart

Vineyards

Olive Grove

Our FAVORITE gelateria - definitely homemade

Our daily menu in Cinque Terre involved dimpled sheets of crusty focaccia, local pan dulce filled with candied fruits, clementine oranges, pine nutty pesto on homemade pasta, pistachio and cinnamon gelato, cream cake with strawberries, limoncino and white wine.

Our daily views in Cinque Terre included arcs of olive groves and grapevines hugging the cliffs and fisherman in small skiffs out in search of anchovies.

It's safe to say the Cinque Terre rates high on the Fresh & Local Fare scale.

The Off Season

2009-11-24T07:53:00.000-08:00

We were lucky to be in Cinque Terre the last week many of the restaurants and gelaterias were open. On our five-hour hike between the towns, we literally saw no other tourists. A few older women hunting truffles with their dog (dogs are favored over pigs these days because you don't have to wrestle them for possession of the mushroom), older men repairing vineyard posts before the winter, olives awaiting collection in their groves, women singing while they pruned grape vines, and groups of locals clustering around the town bakeries. Maybe not off the beaten track, but at least off the beaten season.

Just for Laughs

2009-11-23T21:36:00.000-08:00

Angles on Cinque Terre

2009-11-23T10:36:00.000-08:00

Vernazza in the foreground, with Corneglia around the bend

Corneglia in the morning

Vernazza at night

Monterroso in the morning from the Via Serra

Vernazza from the Breakwater

Part of the fun of the towns of Cinque Terre is seeing them from different angles, brushed by different kinds of light.

These pastel balancing acts cast separate spells from cliff top vineyards, winding wood paths and harbors' edges, from narrow alleys and through archways.

They are new with the sun behind them and above them, when the sun is bouncing off the water or fading through smoke, new viewed through an orange tree or a cactus, across olive groves or between tree leaves.

The towns of the Cinque Terre - whether left, right, below or above me, sunny or shadowed or lit - never failed to draw my eye from the path ahead.

Riomaggiore from the Harbor Viewpoint

Corneglia from the Upper Sanctuary Path

Manarola from the beachfront path

Corneglia from within the town

Vernazza from the north

Alleys of Cinque Terre

2009-11-18T11:21:00.000-08:00

We spent a good deal of our time in Cinque Terre wandering down narrow alleys. The towns are actually off limits to cars, which means that they've preserved some of that old world feel. Ignore the modern restaurants, focus on the crumbling paint, and you're almost there. We made it our personal goal to explore every single foot of "street" in Vernazza, the town where we stayed, and I think we came pretty close. Below you'll see an assortment of alleys from the five towns.

Brett Faces off with the Cliffs of Cinque Terre

2009-11-18T09:57:00.000-08:00

A Walk Through the Vineyards

2009-11-17T09:50:00.000-08:00

On our first full day in Cinque Terre, Betsy and I set out to hike the 15 or so kilometers connecting the four southern most towns. We were told that the shoreline path between Corniglia and Manarola was closed, so we elected to take the mountain trail instead. Though our calves ended up being a bit sorer, we were rewarded with a two hour walk through terraced hillsides covered in working vineyards. According to Rick Steves, there are equal miles of human-made wall in Cinque Terre as in China's Great Wall. While the Great Wall stretches for miles, the Cinque Terre stacks it on top of itself in equally marvelous fashion, seemingly defying gravity. Or, at the very least, years of erosion. These walls are labor intensive, and the people of Cinque Terre must restore and repair them yearly. Their work is worth it. On our last night in town (in a moment that even Rick Steves would have envied), the locals from whom we rented our apartment invited us into their home and offered us wine grown in their hometown, Manarola.

Our first look at the vineyards was of this hillside, which seems to have fallen into disrepair. Nonetheless, the sturdy terraces are still visible from across the valley.

Corniglia, from which we climbed, is in the background.

The functioning vineyards shone yellow in the autumn sun. Most of the grapes have already been picked.

Skies over Cinque Terre

2009-11-17T09:21:00.000-08:00