It's been another one of those weeks.
It all started on Thursday. Since getting back from Berlin, I had been watching videos of some of the groups that performed at the 2010 Koprivshtitsa Folklore Festival as part of my research. The idea is that by watching performances of the pertinent types of music, I can get a feel (and make objective qualifications) of the state of folklore today, which is, of course, essential to the comparative analysis I'm doing. So, I spent the beginning of another week sitting in the library at BAN, watching videos, making transcriptions, and taking notes.
But there was only enough material to last a couple of days, so I finally made my way, along with my adviser, over to the archives of the Institute of Art Studies, where I first had to get set up. Which meant having to explain myself and ask for help. Not typically a problem for me anymore, except:
My adviser understands English fairly well, but is uncomfortable speaking it, which is more or less the same relationship I have with Bulgarian, except I think that her understanding of my mother tongue is better than mine of hers. So our conversations tend to be in Bulgarian - simple Bulgarian, unable as I am to understand or articulate anything complex. These conversations tend to make me nervous, as I will admit to being a bit intimidated by trying to keep up semi-academic discussions in a language not my own.
However, we've hit on more or less an ideal solution. We typically communicate by email, as both of us are entirely competent readers of each other's languages, provided academic or overly floral registers have been avoided. She writes me in Bulgarian, I respond in English, and we understand each other satisfactorily. This works just fine, unless there are occasions when face-to-face contact is a necessity.
Like Thursday. As we went to the archives to get set up, I was my typically nervous self, straining to make out enough words per sentence to put together its basic meaning. I gamely struggled through for close to an hour, and when we got there, we met the ladies who would be setting me up with my materials. To my sinking realization, they possessed the same knowledge of English as my adviser, so I was forced to continue straining for comprehension--not having had a chance to release the cumulative weight of the previous hour--as we all sat in the listening room and discussed a bit of this and a bit of that.
I will confess to becoming more and more stressed out by the minute. It's exhausting, and nerve-wracking, trying to prove that you aren't a simpleton to three completely-at-ease speakers within an environment that's entirely comfortable for them, speaking their native language. In a moment of self-awareness, I caught myself huddled up against my chair, making myself as invisible as possible, trying to disappear from the room, and I realized I was more on edge than I had thought.
But something changed when my adviser and one of the assistants left the room and it came down to me speaking one-on-one with the other. As we chatted about life and ourselves--and the pace of the conversation slowed--I relaxed, and to my surprise, found myself understanding more and searching for words less. It made me realize, though it may seem self-evident, that the further inside your comfort zone you are, the better you tend to think. In this case, that meant being able to speak a language with far more ease.
It was a trying experience, but ultimately a valuable one. For most of the year, the lingua franca between myself and the Bulgarian interlocutors with whom I've had extended conversations has usually been English, as in most cases, their English has been better than my Bulgarian. It has certainly been that way as I've spoken to the younger generation of Bulgarians, as knowledge of English is near-universal in schoolchildren in this largest and richest of cities in this country.
But it was rewarding to have the roles finally be reversed, for the others to have to depend upon my knowledge of their tongue. And it was instructive to see how being within or without one's comfort zone can directly affect one's ability to--broadly--recall information and--specifically--to speak a foreign language. It's now more apparent to me than ever that the best thing I can do for myself is simply to speak this language with others as much as I can in order to expand that particular comfort zone.
To that end, I went today to Sofia's weekly conversation swap, which was a great chance to work my Bulgarian out with people who are there for express purpose of helping foreigners like me work their Bulgarian out, clause by halting clause. And it actually went pretty well, warmed up as I had been from two previous days of racking my brains for the right words to say. The part I was most pleasantly surprised by was my ability to listen and to comprehend meaning. Today was the most successful day I've had in that regard, I think, so it's something to build on.
Today happened to be a fairly representative sample of my week, actually - though I didn't do any research, I spent time speaking Bulgarian, getting things together at home, and going out to the Sofia University metro station--like I've been doing every day this week--and busking with my ukulele, mostly just for the sheer fun of it. I've been playing songs like this, this, this, and this. It's really been quite fun, and while I wouldn't go so far as to call it lucrative, I have managed to put away a (very) little traveling cash.
The only thing diminishing the fun of these jocular one-man jam sessions has been the weather. Yes, sadly, after a semi-pleasant week, capped off by a glorious Thursday, winter, in its death throes, has returned to strike one final blow at the collective morale of the residents of this fine city. If the forecasts are to be believed, it's actually going to snow tomorrow--a fine April Fool's prank if there ever was one--before the climate finally relents for good and Spring begins in earnest. But if it has to happen, it couldn't come at a better time, because:
Fresh off of one international Fulbright conference, I'm headed to another tomorrow, this one in Thessaloniki, Greece. Needless to say, I'm pretty excited, as this will be my first time in Greece, a country which necessitates no reminders of its awesomeness. This conference, well placed in the Springtime, before tourist season picks up, will have me spending 5 days--along with my Bulgarian Fulbright companions Fred and Jamie--in a city with more history than any I've ever been in. Ridiculous? A bit. Fortunate? I am.
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