"So we rely on the past. Special moments that last. Were they as tender as we dare to remember? Such a fine time as this. What could equal the bliss?"— Sade Adu &
Stuart Matthewman, 1985
So, the first thing we did after settling into our hotel, was spend the entire day on the beach swimming and chillin' in the sun and sand, which included an awesome ride on a motorized water raft. And of course, at the end of the day we found a yummy restaurant where I scarfed down more of the world's best fish.
After my sea, sun, sand, soul and hip-hop fun, August rolled into September, and on that first day, classes began at the American English Academy, one of the three American schools in Sofia, where I had a successful first year teaching art and dance classes to high school and elementary level students.
My success must have been duly noted. Because, not only was I welcomed back a second year, I was also offered to teach three academic upper level courses — journalism, vocabulary, and world history and culture — after the school's principle caught a few episodes of my world famous Blog-O-Daria series and got wind of my love for world traveling and writing.
Still riding the wave of last year’s success, the chilling thought of teaching academic courses simply spelled failure in big bold letters. But after getting some much needed advice and encouragement from Sarah and a few fellow school teachers, namely Joe, my brother Brub and his wife Dawn, I somehow rose to the challenge and accepted the offer.
And challenging it was.
I knew I had to be sharp. I knew I had to be ready to answer whatever questions they’d throw my way. So, about a week or two before classes started, I read through the material and brushed up a bit. But still, there was nothing I could do to ease the nervous feeling I had when I walked into the classroom on the first day of my second year teaching.
While delivering my opening speech and reviewing the class syllabus, my stomach fluttered and my mouth got dryer than box of Saltine crackers. I checked the clock more often than a gas station attendant. And with a few minutes left, I'd almost made it through the entire hour and half class period, when a curious student raised her hand to expressed some concerns.
“Mr. Owen, you’re a wonderful art teacher and nice person in general, so please don’t take this the wrong way — but what can an art teacher possibly teach us about world history and culture?”
Then, like a deer caught in headlights, I started to panic. My first thoughts were to act out the role of that know-it-all-teacher we all remember. But then I thought of the time when my brother Brub told me that "students can see through a phony teacher as easy as seeing through glass." He said, "honesty is always the best policy" in these situations. So, without a pause, I admitted that I’d never taught a single history course in my life and that I was just as concern as they were about being an efficient history teacher.
At that very moment, every student — myself included, seemed to have breathed an assuring sigh of relief. And from that day on, they have since expressed their deep appreciation and gratitude having me as their teacher.
The high school principle and administrative department also expressed their gratitude and presented me with yet another offer. You see, after there was a sudden vacant spot in the upper level literature department, I was asked to fill in for the year. Though feeling a bit cocky after my new found academic teaching success and the fact that the offer was indeed tempting, since I have a love for literature, I didn’t dare push my luck. No. Instead, I politely declined and suggested, "perhaps next year — when I'm a little more experienced."
There are many firsts in our lives. Simple moments like riding a bicycle for the first time, the first day of school, or that first kiss —whether good or bad — can hold a special place in our hearts. Yeah, there's always a chance that seconds, thirds, and maybe even fourths can better slightly, but usually they never live up to the first. For example, no matter what I see or do in Bulgaria, an east European country I've resided in for almost three years now, nothing will ever come close to the thrill of my first visit.
I remember it like yesterday. I didn't know what to expect after leaving the airport. I was nervous and excited all at once. And even though Sarah, my girl from the north country, provided me with more information about Bulgaria than Wikipedia, experiencing it in the flesh was quite an indescribable feeling. One that I could never revisit.
Speaking of revisits, in recent times I was able to kick back to some other famous firsts during the month of September, which included another trip to Greece, a live performance of the world's greatest British soul band, the second wave of a popular 80's dance craze, and my second year teaching at the American English Academy of Sofia. See how they measured up to numero uno . . .
"
The rose we remember.
The thorns we forget.
We'd love and leave.
We never spend a minute on regret."
— Sade Adu &
Stuart Matthewman, 1985
It was a late August morning, a couple of weeks after my Swedish Sojourn and a few days before the frigid Fall weather crept its way through the Balkan peninsula, when Sarah and I spontaneously packed our bags, revved up Xena, her trusty Nissan Micra, and headed for the Aegean Sea to soak up some sun and sand. The location was Mount Athos, better known as the third finger of Chalkidiki, a three fingered peninsula and popular beach resort located in Greece. It was also our second trip this past Summer to Bulgaria's world famous neighbor. If you recall a couple episodes back, the first time was spent in Sithonia, Chalkidiki's second finger.
To ease the 6 hour driving monotony, we spent a day in Melnik — another one of Bulgaria's many buried treasures. With a population of 385, Melnik is officially the smallest town in Bulgaria retaining its city status due to 96 historical and cultural monuments, including a well preserved ancient Roman bridge and fortress, the Kordopulov, a large Bulgarian National Revival house, which is possibly the largest of its kind and period, and the Church of St Nicholas, a partially preserved medieval Eastern Orthodox church dating back to the 12th century, standing on top of an ancient Thracian sanctuary with stunning frescoes of rarely depicted scenes. Sarah, an avid church and cathedral historian like her father, was quite pleased at the display.
Speaking of pleasing sites, although not really considered a cultural monument, Melnik is also famous for its picturesque sandy pyramid-shaped mountains that encapsulate the city. So, after an enchanting evening of exploring and shooting pictures, we dined out at a one of Melnik's many fine restaurants located on the main street of the city and turned in early to get a good night's rest for the ride down to the third finger.
In the early morning hours, after a gorgeous drive through the southern-most tip of Bulgaria to northern-most tip of Greece, we were merely a few kilometers away from the third finger when we spotted a small, seemingly mysterious island located about a mile from mainland.
"Owen?" Sarah said slyly.
"Yes?"
"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"
"I'm way ahead of you."
Then, faster than a cheetah in hot pursuit of a wild gazelle, I u-turned Xena and sped into a nearby parking port with a sign that read hourly barge trips to Ammouliani. You see, the mysterious island, which is technically a part of the third finger, reminded us of Santorini, our first Greek island experience from Episode 4, where we spent some of the best times of our lives.
Due to our spontaneity and Ammouliani's popularity and small size, which has a reported 500 inhabitants, making it one of the most populous islands in Greece, it took us a good chunk of time to find adequate lodging. But after a desperate attempt that almost had us sleeping inside a travel-trailer parked in someone's backyard, we finally located the perfect spot — a cozy little hotel with family-like hospitality over looking the beautiful Aegean sea.
Speaking of the sea, throughout my European travels and beyond, I have yet to come across water more beautiful and enchanting as the Aegean Sea. And the fish is strangely 10 times tastier than any fish I'd ever eaten. I'll never forget the first. After taking a bite, I truly felt sorry for all Greek fish virgins in the world. So, no matter how many trips I take to Greece, the experience will never get old.
So, the first thing we did after settling into our hotel, was spend the entire day on the beach swimming and chillin' in the sun and sand, which included an awesome ride on a motorized water raft. And of course, at the end of the day we found a yummy restaurant where I scarfed down more of the world's best fish.
The next morning, we got up early and headed for our original destination. Though land-linked, Mount Athos, nicknamed the "Garden of the Virgin" by monks and houses 20 monasteries, is strictly accessible by boat. And only males are allowed entry, and, if they're planning on making it a permanent crib, they must be over 18 and members of the Eastern Orthodox Church. So on that note, since girls were not permitted and we'd already had our water fun on Ammouliani — Sarah and I explored the surrounding area near the borderline, where we stumbled upon a pretty cool medieval fortress along the shore, then headed back to Sofia with a smile. (Too see more pictures from our good times on the third leg and Melnik, please click here.)
"Sure as it's gonna play and play.
Like Michael back in the day.
I'm gonna peel you away."
— Sade Adu &
Stuart Matthewman, 2010
The next revisit, which originally occurred in the States, doesn't technically apply as a true Bulgarian revisit. But since I witnessed it live in Sofia, I think it'll be appropriate to discuss. It's the second wave of a pop culture dance phenomenon that exploded onto the 80's hip-hop scene known as breakdancing — which includes the sub-genres; popping, locking, b-boying and moonwalking — an art form developed by African and Latino Americans in New York during the late 70s.
After hearing about the world's most famous dance rebirth, which has since gone global —reaching countries from as far as London to Japan — I had my doubts whether the second breaking wave could hold a candle to the first wave, better known as the inventors (clears throat). But after getting an invitation to Jam On It — an annual Bulgarian Hip-Hop dance competition, featuring breakers within Europe — from my friend Ken of the U.S. Embassy, the proud sponsors of the event, you can say that seeing is believing. Because there's no doubt in my mind now that the second wave could have wiped us out! These new b-boys make 1990's, windmills and Thomas Flairs — which were considered the challenging moves back in the day — look like child's play.
Speaking of players, though generally considered male dominated, with the popularity and influence of films like B-Girl and Step Up, which feature women in prominent dance roles, the art form has since embraced a sizable number of female frontrunners and fanfare. So much so, that one of Jam On It's main attractions just so happened to be a Bulgarian female — who, pretty much owned the breaking portion of the contests — winning a deserving standing ovation each time she hit floor.
Another main attraction who also got a standing o.v. was a tried and true break dancing hero of mine who goes by the stage name Mr. Wiggles. But chances are, you might be more familiar with the iconic dance crew he was a part of — the legendary Rock Steady Crew of The Bronx. Okay, okay... if you're still in the dark, all you really need to know is that The Rock Steady Crew is to breaking what Chuck Berry is to rock. So yeah, it was mighty pleasing to see Wiggles in Bulgaria of all places.
It was also pleasing to know that someone at the American Embassy was savvy enough to call on Wiggles to judge the majority of the Jam On It contests. You see, not long after Sarah and I arrived at the sold out affair, Ken introduced us to Richard, the cultural attache responsible. We hit it off well, and after the contest, which featured a hosts of various breaking categories and a surprise victory by a crew from Bosnia, he lead me back stage to meet Wiggles in person — who was accompanied by Joe Conzo, a legendary Hip-Hop photographer. Conzo was in town displaying his amazing works from the first golden age of hip-hop culture during the 1980s, a time that no other hip-hop genre will ever surpass — even if they can dance better.
"Touching the very part of me.
It's making my soul sing.
Tearing the very heart of me.
I'm crying out for more."
— Sade Adu &
Stuart Matthewman, 1984
Keeping with the spirit of the 80s and more non-technical Bulgarian revisits, I recently got a fourth helping of a live performance from Sade, the world's greatest British soul band. They were in Sofia in support of their Once In A Lifetime World Tour. It had been over a decade since I'd seen them live on the Lover's Rock Tour — their initial comeback concert.
Formed in 1983 and named after Nigerian lead singer Sade Adu, the Grammy award winning self-contained band is best known for its signature jazzy-soul sound and a handful of classic albums and hit singles, including Stronger Than Pride, Lovers Rock, the flawless debut Diamond Life, which features the ever-so-popular "Smooth Operator" and "Your Love Is King," one of my Top 100 Greatest Songs Ever, and the superb sophomore release Promise, which features "Maureen," a lament to Adu's best friend.
The concert was also the first time me, Sarah and Joe, the original Bulgarian-concert-going-trio, stepped foot inside the brand new Arena Musical Festival in Sofia — a place of which, I'm guessing, could be a possible reason why Adu, who apologized on several occasions during her performance, bypassed the sunflower capital for over 25 years — in hopes of a much needed new arena to replace the aging and inadequate National Palace of Culture.
Speaking of bypassing, like most great musicians who have the haphazardly habit of choosing to play radio hits over the usual better album cuts live, Sade, with all of its original members intact, sadly passed on a bucket full of classic album tracks that I was greatly anticipating to hear. Still, the Sofia performance, like the previous ones I've seen, is amongst their very best.
Throughout the entire sold-out event, which included stellar performances of old and new songs, such as the explosive opener "Soldier of Love," "The Sweetest Taboo" and my more recent favorite "By Your Side," the Bulgarian crowd showed their love, respect and appreciation to the band with thunderous applauds and standing ovations. Me, Sarah and Joe, both of who were not too familiar with the band's mastery, claimed it the best show of the year.
I mean really, I never expected anything less — I'm talking about a band who's grooves are so tight with vocals so smooth and sultry, they could have played "Mary Had A Little Lamb" and still tore the roof off the mother sucker. They're just that good.
"Good times they
come and they go.
Never going to know
what fate is going to
blow you're way."
— Sade Adu &
Stuart Matthewman, 1985
After my sea, sun, sand, soul and hip-hop fun, August rolled into September, and on that first day, classes began at the American English Academy, one of the three American schools in Sofia, where I had a successful first year teaching art and dance classes to high school and elementary level students.
My success must have been duly noted. Because, not only was I welcomed back a second year, I was also offered to teach three academic upper level courses — journalism, vocabulary, and world history and culture — after the school's principle caught a few episodes of my world famous Blog-O-Daria series and got wind of my love for world traveling and writing.
Still riding the wave of last year’s success, the chilling thought of teaching academic courses simply spelled failure in big bold letters. But after getting some much needed advice and encouragement from Sarah and a few fellow school teachers, namely Joe, my brother Brub and his wife Dawn, I somehow rose to the challenge and accepted the offer.
And challenging it was.
The first day of my second year teaching, surprisingly, was far scarier than the first day of my first year. You'd think I'd have it down pat by now, but like deja vu, it was as though I’d reverted back to square one.
Of course, my art and hip-hop dance classes went well. I breezed through those like a pro. And since I took a heavy dose of writing and journalism in college and had some first hand experience working in a news room observing the writers at the Washington Business Journal, teaching journalism and vocabulary proved to be successful, too. But what I was worried about was the world history and culture class.
I knew I had to be sharp. I knew I had to be ready to answer whatever questions they’d throw my way. So, about a week or two before classes started, I read through the material and brushed up a bit. But still, there was nothing I could do to ease the nervous feeling I had when I walked into the classroom on the first day of my second year teaching.
While delivering my opening speech and reviewing the class syllabus, my stomach fluttered and my mouth got dryer than box of Saltine crackers. I checked the clock more often than a gas station attendant. And with a few minutes left, I'd almost made it through the entire hour and half class period, when a curious student raised her hand to expressed some concerns.
“Mr. Owen, you’re a wonderful art teacher and nice person in general, so please don’t take this the wrong way — but what can an art teacher possibly teach us about world history and culture?”
Ouch.
The dreaded question I had been fearing came from Plyska, an English-Bulgarian student who frequently tops the school's honor list. After her query, the other students agreeably chimed in like angry protestors at a political rally.
Then, like a deer caught in headlights, I started to panic. My first thoughts were to act out the role of that know-it-all-teacher we all remember. But then I thought of the time when my brother Brub told me that "students can see through a phony teacher as easy as seeing through glass." He said, "honesty is always the best policy" in these situations. So, without a pause, I admitted that I’d never taught a single history course in my life and that I was just as concern as they were about being an efficient history teacher.
I also added that, because of history's extreme importance, and my tremendous love for all that is history and world travel, I'd plan to devote a good amount of time researching the topics to make the class fun and interesting each day. I further stated that I couldn’t possibly know all the answers to every question they'd ask me. And during those times, if I didn’t know, I’ll instruct the class, as well as myself, to look up the answer for homework and the next day have a discussion about it.
At that very moment, every student — myself included, seemed to have breathed an assuring sigh of relief. And from that day on, they have since expressed their deep appreciation and gratitude having me as their teacher.
I guess you can say, I've found my niche somewhere along the way.
The high school principle and administrative department also expressed their gratitude and presented me with yet another offer. You see, after there was a sudden vacant spot in the upper level literature department, I was asked to fill in for the year. Though feeling a bit cocky after my new found academic teaching success and the fact that the offer was indeed tempting, since I have a love for literature, I didn’t dare push my luck. No. Instead, I politely declined and suggested, "perhaps next year — when I'm a little more experienced."
Which probably turned out for the best. You see, I was unaware that I'd be taking on some extra teaching after school when I accepted the job tutoring a couple of students in history and science. With all of these new classes and tutoring jobs, you're probably wondering whatever happened to my junior hip-hop dance classes. Well, that story's somewhat bittersweet — so you might want to grab your hanky.
You see, due to the extra time I'd be putting into developing my teaching skills for the academic courses, I had to unfortunately give up junior hip-hop. This was a tough decision that I ultimately knew would leave some students sore and the school's administration department a bit disappointed. But nothing would prepare me for what I'd face at the annual Back To School Barbecue, a sort of meet and greet day for the students, teachers and parents, where the principle made the announcement of my departure and replacement.
Shy of these particular events, mainly due to the awkwardness of trying to strike up conversation with parents that you've just met, I arrived casually late as usual and beelined for the scrumptious food. But before I could get there, a group of girls, ranging from the second to fifth grade, ran toward me in attack formation.
"Mr. Owen! Mr. Owen!!" They shouted.
"Why are you not teaching hip-hop anymore!?!"
Wide-eyed and speechless, I couldn't think of a good answer or, shall I say, good lie to tell. Because by the looks on their chagrinned faces, one would have thought the world had just come to an end. And Brub's honest teacher advice sure as hell wasn't going to sooth the situation.
So, after I couldn't come up with anything to say, the girls began to punch and pull at my arms. This playful preteen frenzy must have appeared quite bizarre to the parents and staff observing. So, needless to say, I was more embarrassed than a person who'd just mistaken a fat lady for pregnant.
The assaulters were Daniella, Dominica, Sara, Geri and Maggie — five of my students from last year's hip-hop dance class. And though it was a seemingly tense moment for the girls — and me as well — the whole situation was pretty puzzling. You see, prior to this incident, I hadn't a clue just how much my teachings had affected the girls or whether they were even enjoying my class at times.
In fact, each day it took quite a bit of energy to get them motivated. And Geri, a native Bulgarian who often misbehaved, never seemed to adjust to the class rules, resulting in me having to eject her several times. Well, I understand that it's really not common for that age group to express their gratitude in words. But, during the Back To School Barbecue they managed to find another way.
After punching me until they couldn't punch anymore, the girls formed a circle and linked their arms around me. Then, without a single word uttered, they gave me a group hug and walked away as if nothing had ever happened. I guess it was their own little way of expressing just how much they'd appreciated my class.
Yeah, my first year teaching was a success, but it looks as though the second will be sweeter.
Be seeing you.
O
