In 1996 I studied for a year in Plovdiv, Bulgaria, a city of about 400,000 people. Though politically a democracy, true capitalism had not yet set in, and I treasured a world made bright by people rather than advertisements. My trip was made possible by a Fulbright Award for Travel and Study. The U.S. started the Fulbright program after World War II to discourage further war by offering Americans a chance to really live inside another culture, develop an understanding and humanize the "other."
My first day of classes, I found my adviser, Penka Mincheva, and began earnestly explaining my course of study. I had been an honors student my whole life, earning As and scholarships. I thought it best to impress her with my well-thought-out preparation and eager drive.
As I began my rant, Mrs. Mincheva listened patiently but soon began to look alarmed. Eventually she reached out to touch my arm, stopping the flow of words.
"Spokoino," she said. "Spokoino."
In Bulgarian, the word spokoino (prononuced sp-KOI-no) means relax, take it easy. It's more than mere lip service.
Mrs. Mincheva looked me in the eyes and smiled. I was soon to find out that the presence of "drive" as I had so often experienced it in the U.S. was not crucial to accomplishing study, not in a place where it was always assumed that you would do what you needed to do. One's aims were not worth talking about, and certainly not worth worrying about much.
What we talked about were stories—of family, travel, ideas, novels. We talked about concerts and relationships, illnesses, growing up. But we hardly ever talked about success, plans, or strategies to take our lives and make them worth something. Just being there meant a life was worth something.
I guess I'm not a patriot. Maybe I'm more of an internationalist—I see all of us world citizens as unified in our humanity. I see value in the ideals of democracy but wonder how much quality of life has actually been sacrificed during waves of "progress." Can contentment (not to mention democracy) flourish in such a success-obsessed environment? There's something important about being human that's getting lost in the mix.
Laurel Isbister, 31, is a singer and songwriter who just moved to Jackson from California.
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