Many, many fascinating trips this year, including to the mineral baths in Budapest.

… might be in Chicago … or Wisconsin … or Minnesota … or somewhere along the East Coast of the U.S. … or Denver … or Iowa … or, next fall right back here in Blagoevgrad.

Or maybe in Estonia. Or Finland. Or Slovakia again. Or Zagreb,  Skopje or Thessaloniki. Maybe somewhere else in the Balkans? Who knows. But we’ll be back in the fall and we’ll be “on the move” again, that is a guarantee.

So as we put the finishing touches on our first year in Blagoevgrad (and get ready for our flight first thing tomorrow morning), I just wanted to throw out a blanket thank you to so many of you — for reading, for responding positively to the blog. Thank you for making this a worthwhile little side trip of the mind.

Thanks, too, to our daughter, Jenna, and to our friends and families back home for being so in touch and so supportive and so enthusiastic about this year abroad (and the years ahead, too).

We were lucky so many dear friends helped us when we were frantically packing up our house in the fall (Trish Pearson, of course, was AMAZING!! — and Jerry Zgoda for that selfless trip to the hazardous waste recycling place when I was running out of time to get everything done on our last day in Minnesota last August).

My folks, Paul and Sylvia Wollemann, were awesome in clearing a spot in the big garage for our car (so we could come home and do a big road trip this summer!). Jenna, the light of our life, took the news that her parents were abandoning her with good humor (and came to visit us TWICE in Bulgaria). Our friends, Dan Bruggeman and Mary Rothchild, sorted through our mail and helped us pay bills and keep our financial affairs in order back in Minnesota. THANK YOU!

There were many more people who helped along the way, providing supportive vibes and warm wishes, at the very least. My newspaper, the Minneapolis Star Tribune, was generous in providing a leave of absence that allowed me to “try this on for size.” I’ll miss my former colleagues, but maybe I can entice a few to come visit. I can promise we’ll be good hosts and tour guides!

And, yeah, thanks to the students. This was a year in which I hope I taught you something while you were teaching me about yourselves, your traditions, your lives. It’s been an honor to be able to share in a small part of your growth and future success.

It’s been a trip — a tremendous one. If next year is anything like this year, well, I’ll settle for that.

Jenna during her guest-lecturer visit on April 4.

One of our students, Tamari Gachechiladze, took this picture of us after the JMC Rocks party, an annual affair organized and underwritten by “our” students. Melody was honored (see: flowers) by these crazy kids for a job well-done this year.

… for now, anyway. Melody and I are packing for our trip back to the States. We leave Tuesday (May 15) for Chicago. Then we’ll head to northern Wisconsin before traveling back to Minnesota for a bit. And if you haven’t heard, it’s a round-trip ticket. We return to Bulgaria on Aug. 14, which means you can now start planning your trips to visit us!

When we left Minnesota last summer, this place — Blagoevgrad — was a mystery to us. Yes, Melody came for an interview, but she visited for only a couple of cold and rainy days in late April. I was toiling at the Star Tribune and contemplating my planned leave of absence, “a year off” to sort out what might come next. Our daughter, Jenna, had just moved to Chicago to start her life. We hoped for the best.

Well, Bulgaria has been berry, berry good to us. (What can I say, I’m old — that’s an SNL clip from 1978).

The year has whizzed by. We’ve both finished our grading and we’re waiting for graduation this weekend (Sunday is the big day) to see some of our students pick up their diplomas and take the next big step in their lives.

Melody has taught seven courses, I’ve taught three (as a part-timer). We’ve witnessed some truly remarkable work by students. We’ve soaked in as much of Blagoevgrad and the Balkans as we had time for. We’ve laughed a lot. And as good as this has been professionally — Melody has two more years left on her contract here and I was just given a new role starting in the fall that makes me ALMOST a full-timer — it’s been just as much a lifestyle kick.

I’ve had the chance to bike in a way that I never would have imagined in Minnesota. Heck, I’m getting stronger on the hills and am actually enjoying those long, wheezing, heart-thumping, sweat-pouring rides. Melody is working out, too, and furiously chasing after projects (surprise, surprise) in the hopes she’ll find one she can sink her teeth into. She might have found it — we’ll fill you in if we see you this summer.

We’ve stumbled into a life that challenges us (mentally, emotionally and intellectually). We are starting to make friends who we enjoy and adore. Bulgaria is filled with places we still haven’t explored — and there are a million places yet to visit that we’re just aching to get to. Georgia, Belarus, Romania (when our friends Adi and Monica come back), Moldova … the list is endless.

So we’re coming back for next year, the year after and maybe longer (if they’ll have us). It’s that kind of place. It pulls you in and before you know it, you’ve fallen in love with it. As my grandmother said on more than one occasion, in her heavy Finnish accent, “That’s the way the life goes.” Indeed.

The river that runs through Blagoevgrad, with snow-capped peaks in the background. It’s a view that never gets old.

I am now, as of 6 p.m. Bulgarian time, a FORMER assistant sports editor at the Minneapolis Star Tribune. I feel a mixture of sadness, relief and excitement.

Our trip to Bulgaria last summer was a great experiment for Melody and me. We weren’t sure what we’d find here at AUBG. We weren’t sure Blagoevgrad would satisfy us. I wasn’t sure I could (or wanted to) teach. We didn’t know how hard the distance and time away from friends and family would be.

But today I made the call to my managing editor, Rene Sanchez, and told him that I wouldn’t be coming back to the newsroom that had energized, entertained and exasperated me over the past 20 years. My leave of absence, which was set to expire in August, will end. Melody and I will go on.

It’s a weird feeling. I’ve worked in a newsroom for most of the past 28 years (save those four months in 1991 when The National Sports Daily went belly-up). I’ve loved most of it. The best part — the best part of any job, really — was the people. They care. And when you work with people who care, it makes all the other stuff worthwhile.

I fought with many of them, but only because we all gave a damn. We’d fight over deadlines. We’d fight over what photo to choose, what lead to write, what reporter to dispatch. And at the end of the day, we’d all head to a bar and revel over a job well done. Or on some days, a job DONE. Those daily challenges, all those blank pages, all those words, all those pictures, all those decisions, all those personal battles … they all create an incredible bond among peers. Yeah, those things also can breed contempt, but I think (in my own humble opinion) that the bonds of respect are much stronger than the occasional irritating or annoying co-worker. I’ll miss that stuff.

But as the headline said, this is the end of the beginning of this new chapter. Melody and I have made it through this first year in Bulgaria. We’re not looking for medals. It hasn’t been heroic. We haven’t “overcome” anything. Hell, it’s been a blast. The students have been warm, welcoming and energetic. The school has been inviting. We’ve made some really nice friends, we’ve gotten to know the region just a little bit better and I am even learning (a little) Bulgarian.

We decided, though, that we needed more time. First, so that we can return to the school and these students. Also, though, to extend our own “education.” See more. Do more. Live more.

We want to see how other people live. We want to taste what they taste, suffer what they suffer, and love what they love. We want to dance to their music.

And so tonight we’ll dance a little and drink a little. We’ll be a little sad and a little giddy. And soon we’ll come back to Minnesota to say hello — and then goodbye.

A few random thoughts:

– Jenna surprised Melody for her birthday and it was amazing. I wish I could share the video I shot of it, but I’m afraid Melody doesn’t want that out on the interwebs. Let’s just say that there were a few profanities uttered, many tears were shed and, in the end, it was a most happy occasion.

The short story is this: I told Melody I was going out for beers with a friend from school. Instead, I borrowed a car, drove up to Sofia, picked up Jenna (who had surreptitiously flown half-way around the world to surprise her mom on her birthday). Suffice to say, I was gone for a LONG time. Long enough, as it turns out, to put Melody in a panic. She figured I was dead, drunk, or dead-drunk.

When I finally arrived home — with a woman and her suitcase — it freaked her out (temporarily). Until she figured out that the “woman” I was bringing home was her daughter. Good stuff.

– Jenna’s visit was a blur (though we did see Dennis Rodman in Sofia — long story), but one of the highlights for me was when she visited my class and spoke to my students in “Writing for Media.” It’s a class with mostly freshman who are prospective Journalism/Mass Communication students.

Obviously, I was thrilled to be taking the “day off” from teaching, but Jenna (now in her first hear at Edelman PR in Chicago) was a pro. She talked about the challenges of her job, the joys of seeing a story she pitched in print and the skills necessary to do the job well.

She also connected with students, I think, when talking about how to pursue and land an internship while in college and how to network — all the time. It’s strange to see your kid “all grown up,” but it’s a prideful moment when you get to watch them, poised, grown up, professional. Yeah, she’s less than a year removed from college, but I can confidently say she’s MILES ahead of where I was when I was just out of school.

– We’re running out the clock on the semester here in Blagoevgrad. The students are sensing it, too, I think. I’ve got to write a final exam (for one class) and grade a bunch of writing assignments (for both classes) before we’re done here. Yeah, I’ve got to plan some class time, too. But it’s been a blur.

Because of this (and the spotty weather here), I haven’t had enough time to bike. But rest assured, my good friends, my beer drinking muscles are in solid shape.

– Speaking of biking (and the other thing), we’re planning our trip home. We expect we’ll be in Chicago sometime around May 15, in Brantwood, Wis., a few days later and in Minnesota sometime in the May 20s. I am anxious to get my bike out of storage (photo below) and get riding soon. I need to put on a lot of miles before the RAGBRAI on July 22.

Our plan right now is to spend about a month in Minnesota and then hit the road for an epic driving trip around the States, from Minnesota, out east, down the coast, before heading out to Denver (perhaps) before ending up in Western Iowa for my second go-around in the RAGBRAI, the annual bike ride across Iowa (about 450 miles — 750 kilometers for my European friends). It’s a week of hard riding but also eating and drinking and socializing.

I did the trip last year with some good pals from the Strib (you know who you are). This year, I’m going along with two of my cousins who have been working out for weeks already, thanks to the amazing warm winter y’all have enjoyed back there.

So I’ve got a lot of catching up to do. But I’m hoping I’ll be able to get in some rides with my biking buddies when I get back. And when we do our drive around the country, the plan is to have a bike rack on the back of the Saab. I’ll ride out of wherever we are and Melody will catch up to me a few hours later … wherever.

So hopefully I’ll get to see you all there. In the meantime, stay well and get ready to line up those beers at Groveland Tap for when we return.

Not mine, but this picture depicts pretty much what we saw today.

It’s been a good couple of weeks for biking. A little cool in the mornings, but today broke warm and sunny and my buddy Bill and I enjoyed a dog-free ride up a major hill to the small Pomak village of Tserovo. (More on the Pomaks here.) Not sure exactly the climb, maybe close to 1,000 meters, but it took an hour to ride up the winding (but thankfully paved) road. The day was warm with a slight breeze — and because I’ve been dressing for cold mornings, I overdressed.

We reached the top and I was dripping with sweat, so naturally we stopped for a little espresso and enjoyed the warm sun and the interesting sights in the village. Sadly, I forgot to bring a camera so no photos (or video) from me today.

It looked something like the picture above, though, including the snow-capped mountains in the background. Long view, rolling hills, a little green starting to peek through and farmers tilling fields (some with tractors, some with mules, horses and hand plows). The ride down was breath-taking in its speed. We reached 60 kph (closing in on 40 mph). The road was twisty and sand-covered and during part of the ride I started to imagine my breaks failing and me hurtling off the road and down into a rocky ravine. But that’s what makes it fun. As long as the imaging is all that happens.

***

I went on a ride earlier this week and got reacquainted with our ongoing dog problem. I was chased by four, who sent me off my path and speeding toward a dead end. I had to turn around and ride back toward them (after a short break during which I’d hoped they’d go back and lie under a shade tree). Unfortunately, I failed to trick them and so I barely avoided the gnarliest of the bunch. But I’m not complaining, really, since it sounds like Sofia has a bigger problem than we do. But I’ll be careful if I see a pack of 25 dogs approaching. I’ll climb a tree if I have the time!

***

For those who missed it, I was able to get a story published in the Star Tribune (my old paper) a week ago in the travel section. It was a yarn about our driving trip to Belgrade and Budapest in the fall. We also visited Slovakia (but I ran out of room in the story and so didn’t get to mention the great reunion with my relatives there). If you want a reminder of how that trip went, you can check out this video after a night of, well, revelry in Sekule, Slovakia.

Only about six more weeks and we’ll be back State-side. Hope we get a chance to visit with everyone we’ve missed over these many months abroad. Looking forward to catching up!

The road to Rila.

It’s been almost a month since I’ve written and I don’t know where to begin. Since late February, we have traveled to Zagreb, Ljubljana, Sofia and Thessaloniki. We are planning a quick trip to Plovdiv tomorrow. We are plowing through a spring semester that seems to be picking up speed as we head for the finish line. And I’m back on my bike for the first time since late December — SPRING!!!!

There is still snow on the mountaintops, which stand in stark contrast to the wet, muddy, freshly plowed fields that almost seem to be basking in the first warm rays of sunshine this year. We’re also seeing a few plants blossoming and a few trees starting to bud. And there are flowers everywhere — including on our balcony. Tulips that Melody bought in Amsterdam this winter, and a few geraniums that she picked up this week to add some color to the still-drab surroundings (come on, green!!).

Melody had an interesting post earlier this week about friends. Take a look, if you missed it.

I haven’t felt the same friend-void as Melody. For one, I’ve got my No. 1 pal to hang out with. So I’m lucky that way. I’ve also been so fascinated with the whole experience of living here, trying teaching on for size and doing this mountain biking thing that I just haven’t really noticed the friend void as much. That and I’m probably — well, more than probably — more of a loner than my darling bride.

I’ll say this, though: She’s become the Pied-Piper of AUBG this year. She has taken kids to film festivals in Macedonia, Greece and last weekend in Sofia. It’s been a treat to watch up close — and to get to know these special kids a different way. They’re great in the classroom and they work hard and care about getting better as writers and reporters (that’s my experience with them). But you really get to know them until you travel with them a bit, get to see them out of the school environment, sharing dinner and conversation and laughs. That’s been super special and it absolutely wouldn’t have happened if Melody wasn’t, as my good friend John Moore called her years ago, a “force of nature.” She makes things happen.

I guess that’s why we’re a good match: I let things happen. She makes things happen.

I’ll jump in here a little more often — now that the sun is back and I’m feeling reborn. Winter. Did not like it. Do not like it. Will never like it. Give me spring, summer and fall … all day long.

The snow won't be up there for long.

I’m going to turn the blog over to my Mom today. She lost her best friend, Deon, on Sunday and because of this I learned another remarkable lesson from these strong Wisconsin women.

In America (and probably the rest of the developed world), we have turned over end-of-life traditions to professionals. In turn, they have created a recession-proof industry that lobbies legislatures to maintain a strangle-hold on all end-of-life decisions, which makes burying a loved one a very expensive proposition. But every once in a while, a Deon comes along and takes control of the process, and to hell with the “industry.”

Here’s what happened (in Mom’s words):

She passed away this afternoon with ALL of her family around her. It was something to behold.

Deon had researched green funerals some years ago. She told her oldest son that he would have to make a pine box. She told her other son that he would have to dig the hole. She told her daughter, daughter-in-law and granddaughters that they would have to bathe her and wrap her in a burial quilt. And that she wanted to be buried on their property.

Her granddaughters took care of her in the hospital since Wednesday, bathing, changing her gown, rubbing her limbs, putting lotion on her, etc. The pine box is ready on a sleigh with a horse to pull the sleigh to the grave. The Heritage Center is preparing the luncheon after the burial [that's mostly Virginia and me]. Tom asked dad to make a cross with AITI [mother in Finn] and the birth and death years on it. It is done. We have bread and cardamom braid in the freezer that Deon helped make a couple of weeks ago that will be served with the meal.

Oh yes, I almost forgot. They were in a quandary about what she meant about a burial quilt. They went to the fabric shop, bought yardage of fleece material, 2 kinds. On one piece are wolves [which she loved and didn't want killed] and white for the other piece. The pieces were put together, fringes cut so the two sides could be tied together. The great-grand children tied the fringes and everyone wrote a message on the white side and the burial quilt was done.

Just wanted you to kind of know…….it has been a most extraordinary journey!!!!! She had shared all those details with me, except the quilt, so I knew what they would be going through. And they did it!!!!!

Ah, the name ... close enough.

If you’re wondering how I’m doing, this.

Anthony Federico should not have been fired.

If you don’t know Anthony Federico then you might have missed the feeding frenzy that came out of the Jeremy Lin Headline Controversy.

Lin was a forgotten NBA player until a few weeks ago. That’s when he landed in New York, led the Knicks to a string of victories and became a media darling (and the subject of countless — and awful — headline puns).

Then on Friday night, Lin committed nine turnovers and the Knicks lost. As he was finishing his shift at ESPN at about 2:30 a.m., Federico authored the lamest and most offensive headline (“Chink In The Armor”) of the “Lin era.” The word “Chink” traces its roots back more than 100 years, but for the sake of our conversation, let’s just say it’s considered an offensive and derogatory term for anyone of Asian decent.

The headline stayed on the ESPN website for only 15 minutes, but a firestorm ensued. Legitimate claims of racial insensitivity were hurled at ESPN. A day later, Federico was fired and another employee (who used the same term during a live interview) was suspended for 30 days.

I’m not excusing the horrible headline. Federico blew it. He seemed properly contrite when interviewed by the New York Daily News after he was fired. “This had nothing to do with me being cute or punny,” he told the newspaper. “I’m so sorry that I offended people. I’m so sorry if I offended Jeremy.”

ESPN’s quick action probably quelled any residual blowback. The network, no doubt, hopes the controversy fades from public view. Does the punishment fit the crime?

No doubt some believe Federico got what he deserved. If he had no idea he was using a racially charged term while trying to be witty, he missed the mark. By a lot. Good riddance. But this seems more complicated than that to me.

First, this 28-year-old website editor says he had used this headline many times. A “chink in the armor,” after all, also means a slight crack in what was thought to be impervious metal. A fitting, if cliche’-ridden headline for a suddenly hot Knicks team. Unless the player pictured above the headline is Jeremy Lin.

Second, where was Federico’s backup? A news organization the size of ESPN should have a system of checks and balances to make sure that a potentially embarrassing (or even libelous) bit of copy doesn’t see the light of day. ESPN counts its daily visitors in the millions, I’m pretty sure, so I ask you: At 2:30 a.m., is the standard “Hey, Anthony, finish up that headline and turn the lights out when you’re done?” Shouldn’t there be more than one set of 28-year-old hands on a website as big and well-read as this one? And if there was another responsible editor on duty, how come that person hasn’t also been fired?

Finally, I wonder about our ability as a society to see each of us as fallible. I worked in newspaper offices for 28 years and made countless errors, wrote numerous clunker headlines and was saved from embarrassment by talented colleagues over and over again. But I guess if you make a king-sized blunder on a big stage, let’s say at ESPN on a player from a team in the world’s largest media market, you get no second chances.

I think ESPN acted cowardly. They scapegoated an employee instead of taking the time or trouble to defend and rehabilitate him. Yeah, yeah, the organization should apologize. Of course, they should “regret the error.” But there should also be room for redemption.

After all, the Knicks put Jeremy Lin back in the starting lineup the day after his nine-turnover disaster. Everyone was moving on. Anthony Federico, too. And that’s just sad.

I just received an email from a long-ago friend who has had several surgeries in recent years to defeat a cancer that has spread to his neck. He’s going back under the knife next week. It sounds rough — for him, for his family, for his friends. I will think nothing but good thoughts for Joe — and to all my friends and family out there struggling to stay upright on this journey we all share.

There were many days before we set off for Bulgaria when Melody and I would contemplate the fuzziness of “the future.” We had a great house, 20 years of really good friends, a 401K, job security (well as much as anyone can expect in this crazy world), loving family … and we thought: Should we really do this? Every time we’d talk about it, though, we always came back to one simple question: If not now, when?

For the first 25 years of our married lives, we lived as if infinite tomorrows stretched out before us. There would be an unbreakable chain of good days and smooth sailing. We know that’s not reality. We’re not really that naive. But we don’t dwell on our personal “end times,” do we? The bad news lurks, but maybe for us it’ll take a holiday. Then we get the occasional reminder that this is all temporary. We tell ourselves to “seize the day” and all that. Then we’re back to our regularly scheduled programming.

I know this isn’t for everyone. Hell, if everyone did it who would buy us a beer when we get back? We know we’re not unique or wildly out on the fringe. I mean, we are working, after all. We’ve got food, cheap beer and the companionship of all sorts of interesting people.

But when this damned snow and ice finally go away, I’m heading back into the hills around this town on my bike to see if I can shock my system a little bit more (my heart from exertion, my soul from the beauty of the place). I want to keep reminding myself what a thrill ride this all is. And how fleeting.