makiato toplo

It's my half birthday today! 26.5! To celebrate, I am drinking something very similar to a Makedonski makiato toplo. In a polka dotted cup and saucer. Happy!

ah the random joys of life

A few things: While volunteering at Crown Point's summer program today I made friends with a 6 year old little girl name Gracie. Right off the bat she grabbed my hand as we were walking along and looked up at me and said, "Are you magic?," to which I replied, "Of course." I then proceeded to show her how when I wiggle my nose, it makes the wind blow in the trees. She was impressed, I think. A little later on she mentioned that, "All the brown people like you that I know are magical." Hmmm. Maybe she was likening me to her aquaintance with Middle Eastern shamans or something. Iiinnteresting. On another interesting but unrelated note, I beat my little (but 8 inches taller) sister wrestling in the yard 2/3 times the other day. My wrestling career started a mere 4 months ago, and is proving to be quite promising. Any takers?

surviving 'pit-out' in the midwest

Clevelanders are going to crucify me for saying this. I strongly dislike summer in this part of the country. Case in point: Last weekend I stumbled into a book shop in order to get a breathe of breathable, cool air after wandering around the (95 F and humid) city-wide yard sale in Tremont. Upon my arrival, three (not bad-looking) clerks behind the counter (why there were three, I cannot say...seems a bit excessive), greeted me with, "How's it going?" (not in unison, that would be creepy), to which I replied while checking my (sadly, moist) pits, "DANG! It's stinking HOT out there!"

They all sort of stared for a second (maybe because I was openly checking for pit-out). Pause pause... "Uh, well. We (motioning to his comrades behind the counter)think it's a welcome change from the bitter cold, DON'T YOU, YOU VIERDO?" (the clerk didn't scream that last part,or call me a vierdo but he might have well have,he was so disgruntled.)

I had heard this all before, nothing new. "I actually prefer the cold," I said, "although, these extremes in weather are sort of a put off. Do you think maybe, the extreme weather patterns in Cleveland are partially responsible for producing extreme behavioral patterns in people(example: bi-polar disorder, etc?)?"

More blank stares.

Ah well.

I do like the warmer weather, but not it feels like I am taking a bath in my own sweat (130% humidity). Sick.

So, while I am stuck inside, escaping the evil 98 F weather, I've come up with a few things to soothe and entertain my (and hopefully your) soul (and sinuses) til those lovely blizzard clouds roll back around.

Http://www.irisbahr.com

http://www.desertbloomherbs.com/netipot.html

http://www.jbott.com/

let's just say I'm 'vintage'

I won't embarrass myself by mentioning how often friends of mine, dear friends, have compared my likeness to that of a baba (grandma). This has probably been observed of me since I was around 10 years old, honestly. So what if I like to knit, garden and drink hot beverages? What's the problem if my favorite radio station is 91.5 (nonstop music from the 20's, 30's and 40's)? Is it such a big deal that I wear knee high stockings and taffeta dresses? (I don't do that, but I do enjoy cardigans. And I have been known to go to bed on the early side.)



Last month I had the utter privilege of going to see The Swell Season here at the Allen Theater in Cleve. It was a good choice as far as venue, I thought, as the Allen's acoustics are decent, and the atmosphere sort of ethereal. Not only is this musical pair good looking, and international (Glen Hansard is Irish and Marketa Irglova is Czech), but they are also ridiculously talented. Their music is so emotionally charged, I think I swooned the entire time. I especially loved the way they prefaced each new song: "This one is about how, in life, sometimes you are standing in front of a door and don't turn towards the door, but go everywhere else, sometimes even sitting in front of that door, until you realize...you must go through that door. That's what this song is about." (?!) Or, "This song is about how, sometimes in life you meet someone and they are perfect, and you are perfect together, but they were only meant to inhabit a perfectly short time in your existence together, and if it were any other way, it wouldn't be so perfect. That's what this one is about." (Eh, slightly melodramatic, right? Enjoyable none-the-less.) In between sips from a tea cup on stage (God bless the Irish!), Glen introduced my favorite song of the evening with an Irish proverb that goes something like this,

"The old are fools, and so are the young. Ah, but better to be a fool than have something to prove."

I have to say, I completely agree with the sentiment here. Young and old alike are not afraid to tell the truth. It's so refreshing! Most folks in between youth and old age are caught up in trying to prove to everyone around them how successful, witty, rich, established, happy, etc. they are. Kids are too young to understand etiquette and political correctness. Old folks on the other hand, just don't give a damn--realize how fleeting life is and know man's opinion is futile.

We should strive to be so carefree and authentic! I'll be a fool if it means telling the truth and having a good time any day! And nothing says 'good time' like polka music and some delicious, home-made bunt cake, eh?

wisdom

My main prayer lately has been for wisdom. I think I've been asking for wisdom without fully knowing what it is...

I read this definition of wisdom in James: "But the wisdom from above is first pure, then peacable, gentle, open to reason, full of mercy and good fruit, impartial and sincere." James 3:17, ESV. To be short, ISN'T THAT STINKING AMAZING? I want that.

when strivings cease

I was reading this article in the Times about career bloggers, and how there have been at least three stress-related deaths in the blog industry in the past month or so. It sounds like a demanding gig and one that I don't envy. Not that trying to convince people to invest in eternity isn't demnding (was that a double negative?)--which is my current 'professional' gig, and a necessary part of my job. Luckily, that is the Holy Spirit's deal...I can do no convincing. Which, honestly, I am quite glad of--it takes the pressure off. But I certainly do work. More on that later.



Anyhow. That brings me to another thought...something that came to mind yesterday morning as I was jogging through the misty greyness. If I can get myself up early (which I usually can) and keep my mind numb enough to not rationalize staying indoors with a cup of tea, I can often be outside and a mile into my run before my brain knows what my body is doing. This is the place I found myself early, on Saturday. The neighborhood I grew up in is not a bad area to take a jog--there are little 'parks' with aging alluminum benches and some nice shady trees. I gather these little spaces were once teeming with children, say, in the 50's and 60's--playing baseball and whatnot. Now you just see the random squirrel or two, scurrying up a tree. To be fair, I saw quite a few squirrels--doing some sort of courtship circle-dancing. Scurry, scurry...squeak! Glance back...scurry... squeak sqeak! (don't notice me=please notice me! Chase me up this tree, please! It is not unlike human courtship practices, only sometimes minus the tree climbing.) Avoiding the massive potholes typical of Cleveland, I ran pass the squirrels and trees, a tree still housing a weathered, plastic Santa Clause, daffodils on treelawns, a few "Mit Romney for President" signs propped up in front windows. The bungalow jungle, the streets of Parma.





There is this little church sort of in the middle of the neighborhood and it plays bells on the hour on the weekends--hymns and such. I loooove hearing that sound off in the distance because it reminds me of Europe and it reminds me of Jesus. On this particular Saturday, the bells were chiming out possibly my favorite hymn, In Christ Alone.



In Christ Alone


In Christ alone my hope is found
He is my light, my strength, my song
This Cornerstone, this solid ground
Firm through the fiercest drought and storm
What heights of love, what depths of peace
When fears are stilled, when strivings cease
My Comforter, my
All in All
Here in the love of Christ I stand




That's just the first bit. What registered with me as I listened, thinking through the words as I ran, was the part about that says"when strivings cease." Living in a strivings-based culture, and as a type of well, let's say, striving-addict, thinking about "strivings ceasing" is a bit unnerving. Makes me a little anxious, to be quite honest. And that reaction is not uncommon considering the nature of addiction, right? I think this hymn is addressing the mysterious idea of grace--something we cannot attain through our own actions. When human hearts finally, in the love and peace of Christ, conclude that there is nothing they can do to earn God's love..."strivings cease". Strivings could be any number of efforts and struggles--some are worthy of the work, and some are completely worthless. Often I am guilty of attempted strivings...to make God love me more through my actions, of earning human approval. It makes me "feel" like I've accomplished something. The crazy thing it that Christ values me no more or less based on what I do for Him. And if I've ever thought that my strivings are enough to earn love--that is altogether false as well.

I think I am beginning to realize just how completely undeserving I am. And how utterly blessed.

gray matter

Demise
to the gory, sarcasm-laced, fanciful wonderings.

I am exposed, in a hazy, gray sort of way.
motives.
insecurities.
In my wishful thinking I pray for the chaff to be burned away. For death to take her own.

to that which destroys and warps--

the sticky webs and graphic lines etched about that lump in my throat.

Shto e toa?

Love?
Longing?

Fear.

Ah, taka e.




Here is what I surmise:

color
emotion
perception...

Backdrop:grace.

Regretfully,
Logic isn't going to be all that helpful.

Is that going to be problem? Or should I keep on with the banter, here?

Despite slight indisposition...I admit banter is not in question.

At least;

I feel.



Sborovash ti?

birds

I have been meaning to write about birds. For one reason or another, over the past two months God has been bringing to mind these delicate and carefree creatures. Part of this was due to being down in Florida and experiencing brilliant new ecosystems (at least to me) which include some absolutely darling little feathery friends. I was running on the beach one morning, and literally stopped in my tracks with a GASP! as five little sandpipers skipped by me, being chased by a wave. (I later found out, that, it seems they play this little game of tag with the waves everyday--in fact, multiple times a day.) Pelicans are also quite intriguing...the way they confidently stride by on the breeze, solemn and focused. And then there is the egret...snowy white and graceful, patiently stalking her prey.

an adorable sandpiper.

It's silly, really, putting these human characteristics on animals as if they have personalities or something. My friend Amy (an animal scientist) told me that PETA and other animal rights groups rarely have a firm understanding of animal needs and behaviors and often-times put human emotions and needs on non-humans thereby exacerbating and exaggerating situations like factory farming. I'm not sure if I believe that or not, since it seems to me that even my fish Sir Percival (a Crowned Beta named after the knight of the Round Table) has a distinct personality all his own. (He is really moody and a picky eater, too. And I thought I was getting a low-maintenance pet.)

Sir Percival in an amiable mood.

Anyhow, back to birds...

Christ's words in Luke 12 are so comforting; "Consider the ravens: They do not sow or reap, they have no storeroom or barn; yet God feeds them. And how much more valuable you are than birds! Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life?" God wants us to learn from simplistic creatures--to see the ridiculousness of our anxieties. It's not like birds have to make choices or car payments or worry about saving for retirement. If I could live in a tree and eat berries, believe me I would. It's even possible that I've tried. And yet, Christ compares humans to birds...in that we are all His handiwork; His children in whom He takes great joy, and He wants to take care of stuffs for us...as we experience our crises of faith and get shaken to action.

Then I was reading a chapter on God's sovereignty by Tozer, and he mentions birds as well....how the phrase, "Free as a bird," is bunk--a total farce. Birds are not free--they are controlled by instinct, void of emotion--they are driven by their simple need for food, shelter, and water. "The naturalist knows that the supposedly free bird actually lives its entire life in a cage made of fears, hungers, and instincts; it is limited by weather, conditions, varying air pressures, the local food supply, predatory beasts... The freest bird is, along with every other created thing, held in constant check by a net of necessity. Only God is free."

I turned this over in my mind a bit the past few days... and I think that all of this "bird talk" makes sense. Clearly, I am not a bird, and if you are reading this then I assume you aren't either. We have needs--but God wants to take care of those. We are only free in the Lord--free of worry, free from all those worldly constraints. Even though we are more valuable than birds to God, we are still deeply depraved. Despite that depravity He chose us to be His the image-bearers, and if He is free, well then we get to experience freedom through faith in Him. God is in control. We are cared for, but not careless. Diligent with duties but not overwhelmed.

Such a fine balance this life is.

smoke rings and pink candy hearts

Something about Valentine's Day really makes me wish I were a smoker. Maybe it's the black and white Parisian imagery that floats through my mind...couples sitting in cafes, coyly sipping espresso, blowing heart-shaped smoke rings through cherry-red lips, sharing breathy exchanges, "Oh mon petit chou...où ai-je égaré mon gnome de jardin ?"

Sigh. Perhaps that's a little fantastic. The closest I got to that little fantasy was talking to a couple of Serbians at Arabica between support appointments today. I did recieve a hand-written poem from an authentic hippy (who in fact is what I like to refer to as my "Special Valentine")...and have secured at least 7 commitments...that is, of individuals to "be my Valentine." (No, no I am not being greedy--if you were dedicated at all to reading this blog you would recall my previous post concerning the common misconception of Valentinian customry. See Feb. 2006 post. ) Sarcasm aside, I am dedicated to thoroughly enjoying Valentine's Day regardless of the changable state of my love life.

I learned this little tidbit concerning the actual meaning behind my favorite saint day: "The Lupercalia festival was in honor of the She-Wolf who suckled the infant orphans, Romulus and Remus, the founders of Rome. Lupercalia translates into "Wolf Festival." The festival began with the sacrifice by the Luperci (or the flamen dialis) of two male goats and a dog. Next two patrician young Luperci were led to the altar, to be anointed on their foreheads with the sacrificial blood, which was wiped off the bloody knife with wool soaked in milk, after which they were expected to smile and laugh." (thank you, Wikipedia)

Supposedly, the Catholic church instated the celebration of Valentine's Day in order to supercede this violent pagan tradition. Sort of makes forcing down all those chalky candy hearts seem really tame, eh?

Speaking of those tasty little conversation hearts, here is a list of unique uses besides ingestion.

• Create a fun, pastel mosaic.
• Draw on a chalkboard. Or on the sidewalk.
• Put them in a glass of water and listen to the fizz.
• Shoot them out of a slingshot at small animals.
• Spell out a secret message to your secret crush.
• Tick-tack-toe.
• Use them as currency.
• Kitty litter.
• Soap.
• Soup.
• Tiddly-winks.
• Bribery.

I think that's all. Happy V-Day!

like so much time lost...

A pictoral web of sorts.

In lui of explanation, I offer kudos to anyone who can figure out ...what I have been up to in the past six months of life according to the following. A picture is worth a thousand words, yea?

IALAC

I am going to try to be more consistant with blogging...:)

I just returned from hiking in what is called the "Back 40," which is 40 miles of forest and marsh on the Colebrook, CT NC property. It was exceedingly lovely. I find that nothing refreshes my soul more than getting to meander through the woods by my lonesome--especially after being with people non stop all week long.

New England is pretty much what one would assume it to be, at least based on say, Little Women, or Walden, ie. quaint. Plus the topography is interesting...coniferous and deciduous forest, glacial rocks everywhere, hilly...blue skies every day (since I have arrived), not to mention the plentiful and diverse animal population. In one week I saw wild turkey, a host of salamaders, newts, red efts, tree frogs, hawks, and a water snake eating a frog (my field group loooved it).

Teaching is great. I suppose I do enjoy children--their minds are like little sponges, soaking in new learning at an increidible rate. It's allowing me to be a kid again too in a lot of ways--and re-igniting my sense of wonder and awe at the complexity of natural processes and connections...and of the God who ties these all together for beauty and for good.

Nuevo England...my new home

I am going to by-pass the whole "I haven't blogged in several months" deal due to being trapped against my will in a time capsule and in the dregs of a quarter life crisis....and move right along to more important things like ORT, UGRR, switch-ins, Eastern Hemlock and Long Trail beer (more on that later). I am learning a new language--and it's not of Slavik origin this time. In fact, it's the language of Nature's Classroom where I am now a teacher..located in the land of the Puritans, quaint town centers, beautiful fall colors and America's beginnings as a nation--New England. For those of you who are unfamiliar with the whole NC (Nature's Classroom) program allow me to enlighten you....Or just visit the website.

http://www.naturesclassroom.org/index.htm

Things are going much better than I could have imagined. I arrived only a week ago by train (Amtrak is fun, but sort of sketchy...that is, the people riding Amtrak are sort of sketchy. Not sure what that says about me). I get to spend like 90% of my time outdoors with kids, teaching them about the woods and nature and such things. Having attended Nature's Classroom as a kid, I already was pretty familiar with the program, as it had a HUGE impact on me. A lot of concepts that I recall learning as a kid from NC focused on conserving energy, the importance of community, and learning how to identify different species of trees...among other fun stuffs.

This job right now is a God-send. Although I only plan on working for one season here (as of now) it has been a refreshment for my soul already.

"And this our life

Exempt from public haunt

Finds tongue in trees

Books in running brooks

Sermons in stones

And good in everything."

--Shakespeare, "As You Like It" Act 2:1:15

"In a way...if you have an idea of what you can be ok with and then sense the joy of...sacrificing... that's the magic and steadfastness of commitment. It's better than you and you're a part of it."

-a very wise friend of mine (http://jaredwhatsinthere.blogspot.com/)

Isn't this a beautiful definition of commitment? I think so. Commitment is something that I don't quite understand...but it's true that it works. It just works and I don't know why! Maybe it has something to do with sacrifice--that is sort of a theme throughout Scripture, and something the Lord did quite well. I think it has everything to do with being faithful in small things, and with whatev it is that you have. The entire concept is completely perplexing to me, I will not lie. We humans are incredibly resourceful, in my opinion. Any single person can possess insurmountable greatness and ability...if they are aware of it, if it is brought to their attention. "Without vision, the people parish," is another pretty stinkin accurate quote. Commitment is nothing without vision. Me thinks that there is way more to it than that though. The steps that lead up to commitment and then to vision...I feel like they have to be clear. Direct. (Maybe that is just me though.) However! They are often not clear. Abstract. Is this making any sense at all?

Maybe I am way off, but it seems like the abstractness is usually what one has to trudge through in order to achieve the vision. And I guess this is called faith. And faithfulness. Henry, a random dude I met at the zoo the other day was talking about this. Henry is 60 years old (he didn't look it), wants to be a medical assistant, and is completely commited to that goal. He knows where he has been and where he is going--even though this goal requires a lot of sacrifice and faith, but it is worth it because he doesn't have a job, and he wants to help people, and his landlord is a crazy lady and he wants to get out of the ghetto. Henry is just a tiny example...there are millions, and on much larger scales.

Marriage is obviously a commitment. So is buying a car. So is loving your brother. Perhaps people don't see these as commitments often, and make them flippiently. I don't have a conclusion--commitment still baffles me. So maybe all of you reading this are totally aware of these things already--you are probably more mature than I. All that I know is that life requires commitment, so it's best to be in the know.

friendship and insanity.

Where oh where can I post a post concerning the love I have in my heart for my friends who love me although I am legally insane? I guess I will post that here. I am not long-winded.

straaange things are happenin to me

Isn't that a song? I don't know. I do know that strange emotions overcome me late at night...I feel overly ambitious! Bring it on, world. The whole phenomenon is an oddity because I have gotten used to being pegged "baba" (Macedonian for grandma) or granny (American English for, ego's kin relationship with his/her mother or father's mother) for my early hitting-the-sack habits. Well, life has thrown me for a loop in more ways than one lately and I guess my sleeping habits have been affected...noooot that you care. The point being, my late-night ambition has gotten me thinking that God has a bit more in store for me than safe suburbia (or whatever). I am sure He does for you too...



Here is a condensed list of what I want to be when I grow up:



I desperately desire to be a potter. (Liz and Melissa are well aware.)

I aspire to be...a jewler, a painter, an organic gardener.

A missionary, a servant, a lover.

A harmonica player, a cat owner, a tea guru. Not to mention a woman of fervent prayer, a traveler, a nomad, a better listener. An advocate for change. Inclusive. Risk taker. A temple of the Holy Spirit. The Church.

One who dies to self, willingly. Is it possible?



What do you want to be when you grow up? Chances are He desires that too.

On another topic, I was slightly disturbed by the recent collapse of the immigration revision in the Senate the other night. I don't think right or left are to blame, or our government in general. Immigration and refugee reform have a long way to go in this country...but have come a long way as well, I suppose.

check out this link to people who are doing something about it:

www.newsanctuarymovement.org

boccie, bona notte.

Memorandum

Happy belated Memorial Day. As a bonafide American (I admit it), I do honor...everyone. In commemoration, I ate a star-pop. And took a ramble in the forest. It was pleasant, if underwhelming.

So, on the topic of well, choices and choosing and whatnot, my friend Melissa provided this amazing quote. I've been chatting with plenty of people on said topic, and have found there to be extreme variants in opinion. Does God speak directly to us concerning particular issues? Does He simply entrust us with making decisions? I have spoken to both camps. I am straining to hear and learning to trust.




"If God's goal is to grow us as adults, then on occasion, guidance may not come. In effect God is saying, "I trust you; decide for yourself." E Stanley Jones explains, " Obviously God must guide us in a way that will develop spontaneity in us. The development of character, rather than direction in this, that, and the other matter, must be the primary purpose of the Father. He will guide us, but He won't override us. That fact should make us use with caution the method of sitting down with a pencil and blank sheet of paper to write down the instructions dictated by God for the day. Suppose a parent would dictate to the child minutely everything he is to do during the day. The child would be stunted under that regime. The parent must guide in such a manner, and to the degree, that autonomous character, capable of making right decisions for itself, is produced. God does the same....On occasions when no particular divine message is discerned, after listening to the other sources of guidance (Scripture, counsel of others), we step out in faith and act with wisdom."


I think the steppin out part is key.




This one was interesting as well...

"Religious silence is silence that is undertaken as an act of worship. Whether I hear God or not makes no difference."
- Thomas Merton

INspired

a short poem of sorts.


laundry.......SIGH.


pavement. isn't. alive.
(it should be)



this entry brought to you by a conversation with myfriendfelicity.

Uh, right.

I have a few things to say tonight. I need to stay away from ebay....because yeah. I have never really gambled before, BUT Theresa Betchik happens to be my grandmother and if you know her, you know that little lady loves to try her luck. Bidding is way too much of a game. I learned this the hard way by bidding on a car (yeaaaah hatchback) the other day....LUCKILY the nice man canceled my winning bid at my request. (and he was very cordial about it too, thank the Lord.) Other things....I am unsure what the proper etiquette is when you recognize that someones pet has gained weight. I mean, obviously, you would NEVER mention to a friend that you noticed that he/she had gained weight, right? Clearly. So I suppose that one wouldn't find the need to comment on saaaay, an Australian Sheep-Herder's generous hips. Gotcha. Next time I'll remember that. In other (really exciting) news, the Cavs won tonight.

veird.

This was the veirdest week. I mean, in all reality, it wasn't all that strange or different or notable even. I think that is honestly what make life bizarre lately, right?......I was having a beer at Cornerstone with my friend Salad-Bowl-Jason (we are both contemplating and carefully...or not so carefully...planning our next exodus from the mid-west) and it...reminded me, that yeah. This isn't forever. Thankfully. I mean, that is the general thought pattern of the past 7 or so months, however! I must repeat it incessantly. Not that I don't appreciate my family (especially my pop's cooking, my ma's ability to listen to my relentless babbling, in addition to watching Scrubs at midnight with Annie) or the really hip group of friends that the Lord has blessed me with, or even the modern conveniences of American living.

I do.
Appreciate all of it.
(give me the willage life though, ohhhh just give me the willage life.)

I really am trying to be responsible here. Honestly.

And I am thankful to the Lord for SO many things! The weather in Cleveland is not only tolerable (finally), but "abundantly sunny," as I saw on the weather channel the other day. That should be enough for at least a few AMENS. Not to mention The Smiths marathon on 88.3 yesterday, or the cup of lily-of-the-valley sitting on my desk. It really doesn't take much.

In other ways though, I am SO ready to move on. One can only make so many double-tall-2-pump-nonfat-no-whip-mochas without wanting to barf. Listen lady, I am tryin to help you out...please don't order the venti carmel frap. Please. I know ya'll are hearin me on this.

Anyhow. I sprained my foot this week, inhibiting me from preparing aforementioned fraps and mochas, which was, well...alright. I didn't even sprain it doing something cool like, running from a wild pack of dogs. I was just carrying my laundry up the stairs. Anyhow, it gave me even more time to think...and I tried not to obsess over my planning and whatnot, of the next few days/months/years of my life. Because I realize that there is only so much I can possibly do at this time, and I think I am doing that. I mean, I think I am at least.

I came across this quote by my favorite painter...
"Great things are not done by impulse, but a by series of small things brought together. "
-Vincent Van Gogh

I really hope this is true. I really hope my INFPishness isn't dominating me, as I hope to master it in the end.

There are other things probably. But that's it for now.

Sofia

I forgot to include our little escapade to Sofia, Bulgaria in my previous post about Macedonia. Liz and I flew our of Sofia, so we decided to spend a day there. Sofia is beautiful in spring--the architecture is quite ornate and there are many wide open spaces for walking. The city was really easy to navigate as well--especially since Macedonian and Bulgarian are practically the same language and the streets are well marked. Liz and Melis are excellent travel buds. Some highlights and notables:

*(As usual) nearly tossing our cookies on the six hour Balkan bus ride to Sofia from Skopje.

*After dragging 4 huge bags to our hostel, and up 5 flights of stairs, being told that they had double-booked and having to drag everything down the street to another hostel and up another 5 flights of stairs.

* Our breakfast of white cheese and toast at Orient Hostel with Natasha, our host. Mmm. Scrumpious. (I am still a bit let down that we didn't get to partake in the free shots from the Bukovski Bar that our first hostel promised.)

*The dodgey Brits (especially Bridget--what a cliche) trying to communicate with Natasha..."Margar-ine? Mar-garine?"

*Eating lunch al fresco and being pleasantly suprised by a.) Bulgarian beer b.) Bulgaria's take on Italian food c.) The Italian model behind us trying to order fish..."Is the fish FRESH? FRESH? fresh. Fresh!? Allora...." (pretty much all cross-cultural communication (or mis-communication) is hystrical to me.)

*Dreaming out loud.

*The hidden gem of a kafe in the heart of a Sofia residential area garden courtyard where we partook in cappucinos in tiny cups and truffles...in the violet dusk as cherry blossoms snowed around us to the sound of mating cats. :)

*Getting lost down windy streets.