A Summer Wasting

As you might have noticed, I like titling my blog posts after

a. Belle and Sebastian songs

b. Pomak villages in the Rhodope mountains

c. Bitter "meta-blog" titles that indicate that I am, indeed, too cool for blogging

d. Pavement/Silver Jews lyrics (the more obscure the better, beeotches!)

So now that I'm spending my days happily editing my little SPA proposal and waiting for students to show up at school for English lessons and waiting for packages to arrive from Japan and feeling the gently wafting breeze and watching the cherries ripen, etc. I guess it's time for me to deal with my antipathy towards blogging once and for all.



Man there's a lot of bad writing on the internet. What would you say is the ratio of bad writing to good writing on the internet? Like, 99.99999999999% bad? And I don't feel great about contibuting to this surfeit of bad writing, trust me.

This is why my blog posts can seem somewhat, um, harshly perfunctory. The main purpose of this blog is to prove to my former coworkers at Browdy and Neimark (hi Maureen!) that I am indeed in Bulgaria and I didn't make up the Peace Corps thing as a way to honorably quit before "going postal".

Avramovo

Spent Friday night on a na gosti in Avramovo with my friend Halil.

Here's a picture of the town and mosque.



The main crop up in the mountains is potatoes, and the farmers make makeshift scarecrows - things that reflect light and make noise - to scare of the wild boars that feed on the potatoes. In the subtropical forests of Okinawa, you could find old stone walls built up to keep wild pigs away from their sweet potato patches.



All of the hay for feed is threshed by hand.



Finally, Avramovo has the honor of having the train station with the highest elevation in the entire Balkan Peninsula.