LG's Excellent PC Adventure

A Bulgarian newspaper reported today that there is a high level of concern in Germany, host nation to the soccer World Cup, over the probability of a mass influx of 'sex industry' workers drawn by the huge crowds of, predominantly, young male fans. Fans of soccer, that is. Anyway, this sudden increase in Germany's already prodigious population of hookers, sportin' ladies and working girls will come primarily from 'Eastern European' countries and Number One on the hit list is (drumroll, please)...Bulgaria. WoooHooo! We're No. 1! We're No. 1!

I have spent most of my time here helping to develop mechanisms to assist Bulgarian businesses in recognizing, understanding and implementing European Union requirements, regulations and standards to prepare them for eventual accession into the club. Not once have I had the opportunity to consult with 'sex industry' workers or, sadly, to conduct any research into the requirements, regulations and standards set for these entrepreneurs in Germany or any other EU country. Then again, I'm not a big fan of soccer either.

The opera is back in town! After missing most of the season because the company was touring America, of all places, the Stara Zagora opera is back in business right here in Stara Zagora. Three weeks ago there was a false start to the new season when the lead soprano (a real soprano, not a New Jersey mobster) came down with an ailment, real or imaginary. The whole shebang was postponed until tomorrow night. As of today she's in fine fettle, so there are hopes that the curtain will rise on Puccini's "Madame Butterfly" and the show will go on. We have a large modern opera house in town that was partially destroyed in a fire a dozen years or so ago. It is still under repair and, from time to time, there are brief flusters of activity and the sound of hammers and saws can be heard in the building. Then a long period will go by without any progress at all. In the meantime, the operas are held in the local theater, which is fine with me. It is a small but very pretty building just a five minute walk from my apartment. There isn't a bad seat in the place and the acoustics are just fine. The stage isn't very large and requires some creative set design, but that's just part of the fun.

I was invited to the prom today! One of the seniors from the film club stopped by to ask me if I'd go to their prom on May 24th. I won't need to rent a tux or buy a corsage, however, as I'm being asked to stand by the wall and film the dance. I haven't seen any of the Film Club kids in a couple of months as they seem to all have developed new interests or become too busy with school. I had to explain to her that my 'good' camera was stolen and that I'd have to use the old, smaller cameras. She gave me a "now what should I do" sort of look and told me she'd think it over and let me know. Oh well, at least I won't have to polish my dancing shoes.

Apparently, we're having an intercom and buzzer system installed in my apartment building. Neither of the two lobby doors lock, so this will be a radical change. There is a telephone mounted just inside my apartment door which doesn't do anything at the moment. I guess they'll hook it up and I'll buzz in visitors, guests, delivery people, thieves and miscellaneous others. In a building that can't agree to chip in to pay to get the elevators fixed properly, this is a very interesting development. The lobby was just painted and part of the stairwell has also been cleaned up. By the time I move out the place could become downright respectable. I have been very comfortable in my apartment these past two years and I'll miss it in a masochistic sort of way. The appliances still conspire to do me in and the radiator is on its last legs, but I suppose it will all last until I leave. The view from the two balconies is great and my neighbors are all very nice to "the English guy". Matt was coming up in the elevator recently and was asked by a building resident if he was going 'na ghosti' to the English guy's apartment. That, I guess, would be me. Since our primary mission as PCVs is to foster a better understanding of Americans amongst our host country nationals, I'm pleased to say that I've tarnished the reputation of Englishmen and left our own unscathed.

At work I seem to have accidentally stepped through the looking glass. We've been working on an application for a grant from the EU agency Phare. A requirement of Phare applications is that they must be submitted in English and my role on past applications has been to polish the final draft. Generally, the application is written by Petya and Darina, always at the eleventh hour, with a great deal of heated discussion and enthusiastic waving of this or that set of guidelines or regulations. Then, five or ten minutes before it has to be sent off, I'm asked to re-do the English. This time was different. I was asked to actually write up the application to begin with and then we'd all sit around and edit my efforts together and send it off. This, after all, was the most important application we would file this year and to prove it, we were starting to work on it a month in advance! So I spent a couple of weeks working my way through the application and then sat down with my colleagues to discuss it and make any necessary changes. Imagine my surprise when I learned that I hadn't written a single acceptable word, not one. In my innocence I had mistakenly read the instructions for completing the application and followed them, unaware that my colleagues simply use those instructions as a sort of code for creating their own interpretation of the 'secret' meanings of the various terms. I actually took part in a very bizarre conversation explaining why the terms "target group" didn't actually apply to the group being targeted by the project but to a group that hadn't even been mentioned up to this point. However, when it came time to define the benefits to be received by the target group I was to describe the benefits to my original group of targets. So, it seems, I've been relegated back to polishing their English on the final draft. There's a lesson here somewhere.

March 17

Last night my neighbor came and rang my bell. She and her husband are about my age and, during the week, their granddaughter Hristina lives with them and attends the primary school next door. Hristina is in the fourth grade and is taking an English class, her grandparents don't speak any English and my Bulgarian is limited to saying hello to them in the elevator or hall. At her grandmother's (baba's) prompting, Hristina drew herself up to her full 3'10", pulled a ruled sheet of paper from her pocket, looked me in the eye and then began to read aloud, "On Saturday morning the door in the downstairs will be locked for always. DO YOU UNDERSTAND? I have for you one key. DO YOU UNDERSTAND? Here is your key, it will make the door to unlock. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?" I told her, in Bulgarian, that I did understand and that she spoke English very well, which made her baba very very happy. Then I asked how my infrequent visitors would be let in and was told that they would have to call me and I would have to go down and let them in. So much for the high-tech intercom system that I thought we were getting in lieu of elevator repair. Oh, and the elevators still won't be repaired.

One final more serious note to my sophomoric attempt at humor in the opening paragraph; many, if not most, of the Eastern European sex industry workers who will be in Germany will not be there voluntarily or from any spirit of free enterprise. They will be victims of human trafficking who will be there through force, coercion and/or deception. Bulgaria is, unfortunately, a primary source of young women forced into prostitution in other countries. The PC is very active in raising the awareness levels of the prevalence of these trafficking activities (known as TIP or trafficking in people) among high risk groups of young people across the country. Young women are lured by the promise of employment or educational opportunities to leave the country with 'sponsors' who then take their passports, documents and money and virtually sell them into truly horrific situations. Hopefully, as we shine more and more light on this practice, these cockroaches will be forced back into the sewers and their prospective victims will be safer. Our role as PCVs is to shine those lights.

Lastly, I went to "Madame Butterfly" on Tuesday night and it was terrific, even if it was a bit surreal to watch an Italian opera set in 19th century Japan about an American sea captain and a Japanese courtesan sung by Bulgarians. To aid the audience in understanding the plot, subtitles were flashed on a screen above the set in very blurred Bulgarian script. Well, thank goodness for that or I wouldn't have had a clue what was going on. As it's an Italian opera, the heroine dies in the end (it's the German operas where the fat lady sings) and she did so with panache and a level of histrionics suitable to a prima donna. Next time you're in Stara Zagora, catch the opera.