Duck and Cover

(Background on today's entry: I spent 13 years living in Orange County, between the formidable years of 8-21, which, before I arrived from the sunny skies of Seattle, Washington, was Earthquake country. I moved into my house 2 weeks after the infamous Northridge Earthquake, and 1/3rd of elementary school was spent 'preparing' for the big one. Jumping under my desk at the slighest sisemic movement was like watching Simpsons sunday, at 8pm: clockwork. However, I had the unusual experience of never actually being in an earthquake. During not one but THREE earthquakes I was out of the state. The one time there was supposedly a quake, I was in my pool, and naturally assumed with my preadolescant mind that my cannonball was just that awesome. Secondly, I was involved in a tremor during my college years at the UC Santa Cruz, and to be fair,...it was friday night, mid-way through a third game of beer pong. All I remember is my friend and roommate looking confused, and running for a door frame, while myself and my other roommate continued playing BP, not entirely sure if the Natty Ice was kicking in a little more than usual. With this resume of earthquake activitiy, the following story can commence)

(Oh, and I've been on the Earthquake ride at Universal Studios at least 15 times)

Time line: 10:30am- I am up at the crack of 10am, ready to start my day. Snooze button has only been hit twice, with 45 minutes intervals.

10:40- Omlette is cooked to perfection, or enough to satisfy my morning craving for anything eatible.

10:43- ESPN.com, feeds my other craving.

10:45- My world begins to shake, violently.

10:45:02- My mind tells me "hey, dude, this is an earthquake"

10:45:04- The following phrases go through my mind "Stop, drop and roll", "Point, aim, shoot", "Only you can prevent forest fires"....but nothing relative to Earthquake safety.

10:45:09- I realize that my apartment has no table to hide under, and is essentially the cabin of the SS Minnow.

10:45:11- Door frame! I jump out into the hall, do an Atlas pose in the doorway and hope for the best.

10:45:13- DAMNIT, my dvds are falling. Hours and hours spent alphabetizing...Arrested Development is now nestled next to X-Files,...years of theraphy will be needed to erase this.

10:45:15- Phew, the tectonic plates have stopped gettin' their grove on. The world returns to normal.

10:45:17- I realize what I am wearing: Boxer briefs,...and only boxer briefs...in the hallway of my apartment building.

Official report: According to the European-Mediterranean Seismological Center, the earthquake was of the magnitude of 4,7 on the Richter scale with an epicenter 61 km east of Varna, 24 km east of Kavarna and 20 km southeast of Shabla.




[The DVDs are now safely back in their there place. Let's call take a deep breath]

The Week That Was

Few things can stop me in my track: A hundred dollar bill, a Swedish Super model with a film question, two tickets to the Superbowl, OR......A poster for "Bangkok Dangerous" ...in Bulgarian. There is one lonely DVD rental store in town, and its open about once every 4 days. However, they do a pretty good job keeping a new rotation of posters in the windows, and on July 15th, a ray of light in the form of Nic Cage rained down from Heaven. I simply stared at this poster in the window for a solid 30 seconds, went into the store to find a) it was actually open, b) posters inside were even more amazing and c) a 14 year old girl was the sole employee. I politely said, in my best Bulgarian, "I want that poster". She looked at me...there was a brief second of awkwardness,...she replied "this one?" And then as soon as I answered, it was rolled up in front of me. She wouldn't even let me pay for it. She just smiled, and said "enjoy".

Bruce Willis has crossed the Pond,...and all of Europe to arrive in Bulgaria, in the form of a new billboard for Vodka. (Picture coming shortly) But until then, imagine Jon McClaine with his trademark smirk, black leather jacket, and leaning on,...a giant medieval sword. Priceless.

In the rolladex of my friends, I can add one very important piece: special agent. I met someone who works for the Department of Justice Drug Enforcement Administration, and sure enough when he handed me his card, it said "Special Agent".

On when of my frequent trips to the beach, I noticed an american football laying next to an umbrella (this is a rare occurance, like Sasquasch). I got a little excited over the prospect of an american, or just someone who is a fan of the old pigskin/synthetic leather. I am within 10 feet of the ball, when two kids run over, and start playing with the ball,...with there feet,...and proceed to kick it around for a solid 20 minutes. NFL Europa, why did you leave us??

And lastly, I have a new addition to "Ways you can butcher the name 'Tobias'". I spent a good 6 hours getting to know someone last weekend, and at the conclusion of the day, the customary "hey, let me get your number" comment came up, and I punched in my digits in this persons phone, and after a slight pause typed in my name. I took a quick glance to see if the number was correct and saw before me "Thabayas".

Thats all for now. Hope all is well and good in the homeland

Rocked

To summarize: The best and most effective way to meet 70's era rock stars is to join Peace Corps Bulgaria.




Super nice guy, that John Lawton. The Youth Center I work at created a mosaic for him (only 7,000 individual pieces) and I happened to be having breakfast in the same restaurant. My co-worker casually asks me "Would you like to meet John Lawton?" I wieghed my options, realized I had finished eating, looked at my confused friends all mouthing to each other "who is John Lawton" and went for it....all for you blog readers.




(and in case you were wondering, take a look at this 'Spinal Tap'-esque clip)

Drafting Dreams

Remember when watching the NBA Draft still left a feeling of "one day, that could be me"? Those days before the spirit crushing of 'cuts' in high school sports, or a time before 'playing time' became an issue. A simpler time when playing was just playing; not trying to impressive or prove your manhood on every single posession. With the NBA Draft taking place this morning (or night for those lucky few in the Pacific Time Zone,...not GMT+2) I had a profound sensation of years past, and the wonder and awe that came with seeming giants walk on to a stage, hold a randomly colored jersey and an ill fitting hat. The mystery and allure it created was enough to get any kid away from SNES and in the drive way shooting jump shots until his arms went numb. Of course, the sheer reality of poor genetics, ashtma, or just plain lousy athletic ability squashed many of these dreams right around the time when you started to notice girls. But this morning, seeing flashbacks to previous drafts, even highlights of Charles Barkley walking to the podium in a burdandy suit, or big Shaq Diesel looking like the happiest kid, and even the rain man, Shawn Kemp...it was like being 8 again, thinking that one day that could be me.

And then Stuart Scott had to say this: "Number 5 pick, Rick Rubio is the first player to be selected who was born after 1990"

Well, thanks Stu. I don't feel old at all.

And in a completely unrealted topic, I've told all the kids I coach in basketball to only refer to me as "Coach Bombay" and we repeatedly chant "2018 is our time to shine"

"Daye Tok r Jobbbss"

Random notes from a week of Intrigue and Suspense

-Bulgarian with excellent English skills asks "Are you from Utah?". I said no, and asked why he made this assumption. He told me "Everyone from Utah is coming to Bulgaria to take our jobs".....and then stunned silence.

-Was told I look like a hippie and offered a 100 lev to cut my hair. However, the man offering the money was rocking a glorious Billy-Ray mullet, with more than its fair share of "party".

-Saw 'Terminator: Salvation". Final count of scenes with Christian Bale yelling: 11

-Danced with a babba, showed bulgarians how to do the salt shaker move (thats all I got) and then was freaked by another babba.

-Met a Canadian paratrooper on shore leave from Afghanistan....ay

-In Bulgaria, before you drink it is customary to toast with the words "Nas Gravi", which translates to "to your health". In a particulary occurance, Bulgarians like to show off their foriegn language skills and say "cheers" around me. Now, on the basketball court, whenever I sneeze, the kids say "cheers".


And its summer offically. Take it easy everyone; the calendar says so

"You guys want to basket?"

Roughly 1/3rd of my life is consumed by by the semi-religion known as basketball. Luckily, I have discovered a group of like minded individuals who live and breathe b-ball (or as it is commonly referred to as "let's play basket"). I've been playing 6 days a week (Sunday is 'Grey's Anatomy' day) and there is a constant 6-10 people playing with me. Some days I will play with kids born after Y2K, other times it will be high schoolers and even a few guys older than myself. No matter the age range, its good times. A few highlights:

- Some one asked me "Who is better: Kobe or Lebron?" and I started to break down their respective games, when a boy walked by and said with complete confidence "Jermaine O'Neal".

- Middle of a game, tied up, 2 points away from the end, and someone casually walks off the court, lights up a cigarette, takes a couple puffs, and rejoins the game.

- Playing with the 2 foot terror squad aka 3rd graders, I dribbled around one then went for a lay up. One kid, Mitko, demanded the ball, proceeded to jump up and down, dribble as fast as he could and throw the ball somewhere in the vicinity of the hoop. And then proclaimed "As sum Tobeee!" ('I am Toby). Which led to everyone else on the court trying to dribble wildly, and anoint themselves "As sum Tobe 2!", "As sum Tobe 3!", etc. I was told I could have 'Tobe 0".

- A new verb has sprung up: 'I kobied that!"

- No matter how many years pass, fake retirements, bad movies or new stars emerge, one constant shall remain in Eastern European basketball courts: Michael Jordan is still king.



[I always forget to bring my camera, so I don't have any pictures. This image seems to do a good job illustrating my job in teaching basketball....or not,...it just makes me laugh] Hope all is well across the pond, in it, and all around it.



p.s. Its Panda-monium!



[Care of "warmingglow"]

Bulgaria and YOU

Culture shock can be a strange experience, not unlike a hangover or turf toe (well, not really,...) but-....wait,...

Ok, culture shock can strike at anytime; anywhere; there is no stopping it!

No,...

So I made this video with the help of Greg and Glenn to illustrate the finer points of Bulgaria vs. America. Enjoy (Or don't enjoy...in which case feel free to spit in 4 days of all-nighters trying to finish this)

Like football and hot-wings

Once in a great while, there is a convergence of everything you love in life. This is a delicate task because far too often the combinations just don't come out right (example: putting peanut butter AND jelly in the same jar...gross). But like the mythical summer blockbuster that makes a ton of money AND critics love, there is a few fleeting moments where a beam of light shines down on us. I refer of course to the following:





Will Ferrell + Bear Gryls = Awesome town

Toe-bee-us: A Look Back

Well folks, the clock continues to tick and the days fly by. If you were about to say "Hey, haven't you been in Bulgaria exactly 10 months" you would be correct. Sure doesn't seem like I've spent the better part of a year abroad, in the land of,...well,...I'm not sure,..."goat's milk"? Either way, I thought it would be interesting to see my evolution over the course of these last 10 months, because hitting double digits is way more important than the year mark (take that every news story ever)


Oh Panichishte...I was like a young fawn...skating on ice,...with ball-bearings,...and axle grease,...and the fawn isn't particularly coordinated to begin with.



So full of hope, optimism, and low alcohol tolerance



Social integration at its finest (My host dad is a hustler; says he has never heard of American drinking games...lies!)



"Let me tell you about my best friend..."



Found my biological son...still won't talk to me


Site Placement Day: agony, ecstasy, fear, kindergarten flashbacks



Wearing a tie instantly makes you important,...or a Peace Corps Volunteer



I started to move up in society, which translated to sitting in the mayor's desk when he was away


Then the winter hit,...



Was mistaken for Kurt Cobain on New Year's


Joined a Christian Rock Band




And that about sums it up: I like dogs, people and cold weather makes me grow a handle bar mustache.

Hope all is well across the pond. And to those you have just arrived in the land of Banitsa, Rikia, and Dimitar Berbatov....the good times have only just begun.

Baskoccer

Basketball: Amazing game played across countless courts across America
Soccer: Amazing game played across countless fields all over the world

Both utilize agility, footwork, hand-eye coordination, teamwork and skill

...yet when you take a group of soccer players and try to teach them basketball, disastorous (sometimes humorous) results take place.

I've been playing basketball after school for about three weeks now, and every day I usually have a following of about 7-9 kids, which usually balloons to 15 by the time the game is over. Most of these kids are devoted followers of the worldwide religion known as "FUTBOL!!!", but they are eager to try there hand at basketball...yet that can't quite seem to grasp a new sport without holding onto the old one.

Example #1) The idea of defense. 8 kids swarm for the ball, throwing everything from elbows to ankles into the fray. Yet, as soon as the ball is free from this scrum of commotion, they all give up, letting the lone warrior standing quard take on 4 or 5 people coming at him full speed.

Example #2) Breaks. I know this is not a fluke, or happenstance due to one of two people. This happpens EVERY game. Someone scores a basket, or steals the ball, and whoever the point guard or "play maker" as it is known over here, will just crouch down when he doesn't have the ball anymore. Literally. No defense, or help your team out; just taking a breather at mid-court.

Example #3) Celebrations. Unlike the single-digit world of soccer, basketball likes its scores to be in the teens, twenties or dare I say triple digit range. So scoring a basket can be somewhat of a nonevent due to the regularity with which it occurs. Not so. Every basket either team scores results in a full team celebration, at which point the other team runs past and scores a basket, and the celebrations begin again, only to usher in another un-guarded attack. I've been slowly working on the high five and other such celebrations which can keep the momentum of the game going.

Example #4) Faking. I've seen my share of divers in the premiership or Seria A, and it has clearly polluted the youth of Bulgaria. One kid dribbled, then accidently dribbled on his foot, only to curl into a ball, yelling for a foul...didn't really understand all that was happening (and 3 seconds later he took the ball the entire length of the court).

Example #5) The one kid who starts dribbling the ball with his feet,...well, I guess you get the idea by now.

But no matter how the game is played or what influences they carry to the court, its been a blast playing. This fall I am supposedly going to be in charge of an actual team at the high school. So, when that day comes, I got hoop dreams,...and I got 'em bad.