COMING TO AMERICA (part 3)

Picture by Frank Bryan

                         COMING TO AMERICA (part 3)

Frostburg State University

Writing this section of my blog is extremely difficult. The memories bring more tears  than happiness. 

The deeper we got into the new way of life in America, the more we learned about it; the life plans changed and adjusted, then adjusted and changed over and over. 

Coming to America is quite different from the emigration to Europe. In 1992 and later, when Bulgaria entered the European Union, I did not hear stories from friends about their hard life during immigration. Maybe, they did not want to talk about it. Everything had to be kept a secret. This is one of our national traits. Kind of "whatever happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas," only this is not about gambling and drinking. Over time, I realized that keeping secrets defied logic. Sooner or later, in every organization, including the family, a weak link appears. Then comes the realization so much time was wasted not sharing ....

I ask myself many questions, that's my natures. "Why didn't I ask for help when I was hungry? Why all of this immigration life was a secret for so many years?" The answer comes back to me always the same -- I did not want to connect with the past, to show weakness, hopelessness, failure. How many around you talk about their failures?

In 1993, I was accepted in the MBA program at Frostburg State University. Frostburg is situated in Western Maryland; the climate is chilly, but people are not chilly. 1994 was the coldest year in the history of the city. That must have been our luck. The coldest temperature maximum was -21degrees F (-29 degrees C); the total snowfall was 50.6 inches. Frostburg was for me a symbol of the American life in the small, low income part of America. In the little, old, coal mining town with about 9,000 population, I found the University, where there were no other Bulgarians. Out of over 5,000 students, no Bulgarians.... I was the first to discover it! I also became the bread winner of the family with my part-time job as a research assistant. 

My daughter went to the only high school - Frostburg High School. She was an excellent student, there was no need for any help with homework or any modern form of punishment. She was not going anywhere, no one showed any interest in a foreign girl from unknown country. I was also one of the few foreign students at the MBA program. Being different did not attract any attention, but my different way of thinking and antics were helping. This made me a little hip. And I was not even trying.

We lived in a shabby apartment, barely furnished. We had two mattresses, a little TV we took from the trash and a computer (from the school trash). My daughter was sitting on a broken speaker to study; we had no chairs. I was using the school library for papers, requiring a PC. Luckily, technology had not conquered the world that fast. Paper and pencil were still in use.

The worst part of living in Frostburg was the cold. There were so many snow days, when school was not closed. My daughter will try to walk in the snow alone in the days in which I was at school. Most of the times, I was able to pick her up and the two of us were walking trough the deep snow home.

My classes were mostly in the evening. On the way to school -uphill and downhill, on the way back - the same... I am not sure what scared me more - the darkness in this tiny path, or the big dog in one of the houses closeby.  I always felt one of these nights, when the dog was very hungry, he would break off the  chains and would have me for dinner.

 What happened in Frostburg briefly was: The Redskins arrived in the summer of 1995 choosing the city as their training camp. This was the most exciting event for the last 100 years. Next, my daughter graduated high school at 16; then, the parents were all through with their diplomas, degrees and board exams.

The Best Part - we won the Green Card Lottery! It became clear soon thereafter that  the 16-year old would go to Georgetown University - somehow financially this had to happen, while the adults needed to do what they had to do - find jobs and a place to live.

With the broken Nissan, putting in everything we had, we drove back to Washington, D.C.  There was so much done and so much waiting to be done.  The success outweighed the failures.

Jefferson Memorial in Washington, D.C. Pic. by G. Coleman

COMING TO AMERICA (part 1)

Picture by Frank Bryan

COMING TO AMERICA (part 1)

                                     

I will make this blog colorful, like the Bulgarian national flag. It has 3 colors -- white, green and red. 

 Coming  to America in 1992 for a family of three was not like in "Coming to America" movie. My daughter (12 years old at the time) and I arrived in USA from Bulgaria after my ex-husband. To give you a crash course of where Bulgaria is -- the country is situated in Eastern Europe; it is not part of the former Soviet Union, though SSSR had strong ideological and economic influence on its development in the past. 

All we knew about where we were going to live got into our crazy heads as a result of graduating from the English Language School in Plovdiv. We had good education, good control of the language, (incl. my daughter.) On top of this, we knew all the rock bands:) Ha, ha! "The Iron Curtain" fell in 1989. Finally if one had relatives in Western Germany or Eastern germany, they were able to cross the border and reunite with them. The new life has just begun!!

Emigration time in Bulgaria started as soon as the people realized they can live in other countries, get better education for their children, live the "American Dream", whatever they thoughtt it was. From a totalitarian country, they were flying to a capitalist environment, democracy and everything they believed they missed for so many years. The American Constitution was their pocket book.

My husband at the time was already enrolled in a Master's degree program. My daughter started school as soon as we were able to enroll her in one. We were so poor, we relied on good Americans for everything -- basements to live, covered with cement, food cooked with the worst quality products you can think of, old bagels given to my ex-husband from the university store. This was his second job. I was helping with everything possible in the places we were welcome to live. Even if not asked, I felt I had to do my share. I was also preparing for exams, hoping I would be accepted to a graduate business school. 

The first visit to McDonald's was a real celebration. It was only my daughter, who was able to have a burger. This was the biggest victory of our first year in USA. She was keeping the napkin for a long time.  Probably until we "graduated" to Taco Bell.

It was really smart leaving Bulgaria with several essential items. My daughter and I had thick wool coats. We also had warm boots, hats, a lot of underwear :). We even got haircuts. Mine was actually an Afro. How would I know that there is a separation in hair fashion in USA? I looked cute with Afro style. But, when I arrived I saw no white woman with Afro hair style. I have to tell you, this is their loss! Until my Afro became straight hair, I was already in graduate school. I do not think Afro style was a style I will not choose now (if not "ostracized" by society.) I have been tempted many times to tell a woman at the hair salon "Straight hair does not look good on you. Why don't you choose something that makes you beautiful, not what is modern."

Later, in 1994, when I was in Graduate School, I learned about 'culture shock ' foreigners go through and its stages. I am absolutely sure for us there was no 'honeymoon stage', no 'negotiation stage'. There was a "How To" stage. How to get a roof on top of our heads, how to feed ourselves, how to have our child safe and keep her healthy. Romantic fascination with USA was out of question. Comparisons between life styles and cultures were the last thing on my mind. Survival was all the parents cared about. 

Of course, there was always the option of going back, but this was the last option. There were sooo many options to be explored. Afterall, this is America, the land of opportunities!!!!!!

Bulgaria

Plovdiv