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FIRST PERSONBeing KatarinaKatharine Clark ’03 You’re leaving New York?” queried a confused cousin. During the next month prior to my departure for the Peace Corps, similar comments raced around my head. I broke the news press conference-style at a family gathering, after which family and friends formed two distinct camps. The first burst with the same optimism I had, while the second held an opposing opinion based on a rather grim post–9-11 worldview. The latter group’s arguments were ultimately its undoing, because 9-11, which occurred during my junior year at Columbia, convinced me that one thing America needed was a humbler, diplomatic, more culturally-sensitive face. Incurably curious and captivated by civilizations, ancient or otherwise, I was lured to Columbia by its Core Curriculum and location in the world’s microcosm, New York City. Two-hour trips, via screenings for my film major, transported me to nations with whose languages and customs I was unfamiliar. Columbia’s strong population of polyglots, particularly professor Annette Insdorf, inspired me to experience the lives and languages of other lands. I was attracted to the Peace Corps by the reason for its founding on September 22, 1961. Spearheaded by Sargent Shriver and supported by President John F. Kennedy, the agency’s primary goals are to promote tolerance and understanding of the United States in the 71 countries where the Peace Corps currently serves; these aims were designed to combat America’s arrogance and ethnocentrism as chronicled by William J. Lederer and Eugene Burdick in their 1958 fiction-based-on-fact exposé, The Ugly American. Inspired by the idea of my, albeit small, role in this effort, I applied to be a Peace Corps volunteer. A motley band of Peace Corps trainees, bonded by a common strain of idealism and pre-orientation icebreakers in Chicago, arrived in Sofia, Bulgaria’s capital, on April 19, 2004. I braced myself for a culture shock that still has not hit. Bulgaria, our home for 27 months, is an Eastern European jewel; the former Soviet satellite is one of the most developed countries hosting Peace Corps volunteers and is slated for European Union accession in 2007. Despite Bulgaria’s apparent modernity, there are things I miss. Bulgaria’s roads are not for the faint of stomach. While Americans tend to appreciate customer service, here it is rare to tip, which I believe perpetuates the cranky waitress/taxi driver stereotype. Capitalism is catching on, but slowly. I am able to live without being attacked by department store perfume vigilantes, but I would not mind someone waiting on me in a store. While shopping in Sofia, I discovered the last purple sweater in the store was adorning the window’s mannequin. When the salesgirl declined to offer it to me, I asked and was refused.
The political climate is a striking visual as well as ideological contrast. The baba (grandmother) generation tends to be nostalgic for the Communist days, when pensions were higher and everyone had a job. Younger people appear to be embracing democracy and the influx of Western films, music and fashion. While grandmother wears a twice-darned rubber shoe, granddaughter totters down the same cobblestone road in sky-high stilettos. My assigned town of Bansko is situated among three mountain ranges: the Pirin, Rila and Rhodopi. A ski town of 10,000, Bansko is an amalgamation of sophisticated businessmen and traditional farmers. The population swells when the country’s elite occupy their winter chalets. Bansko boasts nearly every modern convenience, and if you time your showers right, those periodic water halts are minor inconveniences. The townspeople tend to make everything themselves: cheese, jams and sausage. The majority of their fruits and vegetables are of the garden variety. Milk comes straight from their cows, eggs from their hens. I live alone in an apartment and am the only American in town. In fact, I am “the American.” Or I was until I lived here several months and became “Katarina.” Now the locals have embraced me as one of their own, aided, I suppose, by my Slavic appearance. (My maternal grandmother was of Russian descent.) In turn, I adopted the name Katarina and celebrate my name day, for Saint Ekaterina. I have learned to sing native folk songs while wearing traditional costume, and to belt out a Banski ballad. I have made a conscientious effort to learn not only the language but also the infamous dialect. My friends and English students have helped me create an unofficial Banski/Bulgarian dictionary that never fails to entertain and often is asked about at parties. The striking clash between the pastoral and the present manifests itself in amusing ways. One day, after leaving a cafe on Bansko’s main thoroughfare, I spotted a pair of cows ambling up the newly paved road. Drivers regarded them as little more than everyday obstacles, like errant garbage cans. We certainly “live in the now” in Bulgaria. With the multitude of birthdays, name days, anniversaries, national holidays and even new purchases, we are almost always celebrating something. Such merrymaking, however, does not distract from residents’ English-language studies or my secondary projects. In addition to teaching English at a primary school (and serving as everyone’s unofficial tutor), I am replacing the school’s old blackboards with white ones, creating an English library with books donated by Darien Book Aid, volunteering at a center for disabled children and coordinating public relations for a Fulbright researcher studying the deinstitutionalization of Bulgarian orphanages and whether European Union requirements are being met. This summer I was a translator for National Park Pirin, a UNESCO site. My most time-consuming project has been writing a proposal for the renovation of our school’s 60-year-old gym. Of greatest concern, apart from the inevitable dust, is a floor littered with gaps akin to potholes. I am soliciting sponsors stateside. Finding funding is a challenge, as budgets are tight and the newly rich in town (who have sold their land to make way for new hotels) are not eager to part with their bounty. But teaching English and campaigning for school improvements is only half my mission. As an ambassador of “goodwill and friendship,” my students and I chat about American culture; we play musical chairs, “duck, duck, goose,” 20 questions, and … we celebrate. As much a child as my students, I relish my role as holiday events planner and have introduced them to Valentines, leprechauns and pots of gold (foil-wrapped chocolate coins), and Easter egg hunts. If nothing else, I will be remembered for introducing them to Reese’s peanut butter eggs (sent by my parents) — a rarity in-country. On Halloween, we carved pumpkins, told scary stories in the dark and bravely dipped our hands into bowls of eyeballs (peeled grapes), brains (cooked spaghetti) and vampire hearts (slimy potatoes). I was delighted when at a colleague’s gathering, one teacher exclaimed with excitement, “We are eating vampire hearts!” referring to the banitsa pastry laden with shredded potatoes. Our Christmas festivities, which I helped organize before heading home for the holidays, included a pageant featuring English-language carols and a fashion show. Without imposing athleticism on them, I encourage my female students to play sports. No longer shocked by my marathon training (“You run for how long?”), the girls broke into athletic activity with as much enthusiasm and vigor as the boys during our inaugural Sports Day. Events included wheelbarrow races and hopping contests as well as the more traditional dashes and distance races. Now, they want to learn how to play soccer. Bansko’s first girl’s soccer team began practicing in May. After consuming record amounts of yogurt (this country is famed for its Lactobacillus Bulgaricus strain) and imbibing tiny amounts of rakia, the 90 proof national spirit, I hope to have convinced the Communist holdovers I am not a spy. In July 2006, when my Peace Corps stint expires, I will leave behind a warm-hearted country, with a strong sense of nationalism bolstered by uniquely Bulgarian traditions at an exciting moment in its storied history. But, the big city beckons. After all, the rhythm and pace of my life is distinctly New York. Katharine Clark ’04 will return to New York this summer after two years in the Peace Corps in Bulgaria. She hopes to obtain a master’s in international relations and pursue a foreign affairs career in the United States. She may be reached at kcc724@yahoo.com.
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