We had only been in Bulgaria for about a week when it happened. But I'm getting ahead of myself.
We arrived on March 7th and by the 8th I was already in love with Bulgaria. We were told that we were going to visit an orphanage, but when we got there it was actually and activity center for adults with disabilities. We spent the day singing, dancing, and doing arts and crafts. I've never worked with this population before, but I absolutely loved it! I can't speak a word of Bulgarian, mind you. But once again, words weren't all that necessary for communication. There were smiles, hugs, and facial expressions. I have found that you really can say a lot without ever speaking a word. By the end of the day, my team leader, Dusty, just stared at me with this awkward smirk on his face. "What?" I questioned. "You know what you should be doing, Jenn Watson." "What do you mean?" I mused. "You know what I mean," came the response.
I did know what he meant. I was smiling so hard my face hurt. For the first time in months, maybe even years, I was overwhelmed with joy. I loved everything about working at the activity center. I loved the people, I loved their smiles and hugs, I loved their quirkiness, I loved how they enjoyed showing me their hobbies and teaching me their dances, I loved teaching them arts and crafts, I loved that they did it their own way even after I showed them the right way, I loved their child-like way of relating to me and each other. I just loved it!
We went back to same center on a number of occasions and were always greeted warmly. One day I was sitting at a table cutting out pictures of flowers with a number of others. The man to my left, the bald one with no teeth, started saying something to me. I have no idea what – I don't even know if they were real words in any language – but he was trying to communicate none-the-less. When I put my scissors down and made eye contact with him he took the ring off of his finger and put it on mine. "Oh thank you," I said. Then I smiled for a little while, took it off and put it back on his finger. We went through this routine 5 or 6 times before his attention was diverted elsewhere.
"How was your day?" my friend Amanda asked. "It was great! I'm Engaged! I got proposed to . . . 5 times," I said. "Oh, well at least you know you still got it," she chuckled. "Yeah," I said. "It's great to know 40 year old men with disabilities, no hair, and no teeth are attracted to me." I was being facetious of course, but honestly, it was nice. Not in a romantic way. But it's always nice to have someone show an affinity for you. I felt special, and I think he did too. That was important to me.
The rest of this story will have to be rated PG-13, so guard your hearts and minds before continuing . . .
The next time I visited the center this same man – we'll call him Bob – greeted me at the door. I hugged him and said hello. He was the only one there at the time, and they weren't really ready for us, so while we were waiting one of my teammates started playing guitar. Let's just say Bob LOVES to dance, so when he heard the music he walked up to me with his hands out and wanted to dance. "That's o cute," I thought. "Sure I'll dance."
So we began to dance to the music of the guitar. Just like a kindergardener Bob put his hands on my waist and we waddled awkwardly back and forth. It was quite endearing. Unfortunately, that did not last long. With a giddy smile Bob moved his hand too far up. "Yikes!" I winced, and grabbed his hand. I figured it would be much safer to continue dancing if I were controlling his hands. I was right . . . for a while. After a couple minutes Bob moved in closer to me and put his head on my shoulder. "Awe, how sweet," I thought with a contented smile. And that's when he started moving his head lower. "Ahhhh! This guy's got some kind of infatuation," I thought. "Why is it always the wackos that are attracted to me?" So, I pushed Bob further away from me but kept dancing although I was certainly starting to feel a little awkward. Bob then put his hand back on my waist which eventually moved to my rear. At this point I was looking for some help from my team but they didn't seem to notice the twilight zone I was in. I quickly grabbed Bob's hands and tried to keep him at a distance but he was determined. He pulled me in really close and . . . well . . . instead of dancing side to side – "OK, That's enough dancing! Ever. Time to do some art." I had to wash my brain, and from that point on I made sure to keep my distance and only smile at Bob from across the room. It was much safer that way. And I found out later that he went and proposed to another girl right after we finished dancing. How rude!
"Bob" and I dancing
Showing off our hand-made cards
Learning a Bulgarian dance
Making bowls out of magazine pages
