Sara, Sara
Wherever we travel
we're never apart
Sara, oh Sara
Beautiful lady,
so dear to my heart
— Bob Dylan, 1976
A few weeks back, I received a couple of e-mails from friends enquiring information about Sarah. Nothing really dramatic or important. Just the usual common questions. I answered them the best I could. Later that day, I'd realized that Sarah's been kind of a mysterious and shadowy figure in my Blog-O-Daria series. Most of you probably haven't even met her and I've never really said much about her background. Not sure why. Maybe it was because I got busy detailing all the minor characters in my stories that I forgot about her. Or is it because I'm always too busy talking about myself the entire time? Don't answer that!
Whatever the case, from the tone of my series, one would get the impression that I'm the Doctor and Sarah's the companion. But in reality, it's just the opposite. So being that Sarah is an integral piece to the Blog-O-Daria series, I think it would be beneficial to all you blog readers out there to know some important facts about her — such as her birthplace, background, education, hobbies and our first meeting. Oh, and most importantly, her music tastes. So for those of you who'd like to learn a little bit more about my girl from the north country — this blog's for you.
Sarah was born in Sibly, Iowa on February 10, 1976. Being the youngest and only daughter of a ministering father and math teaching mother, she grew up pretty close to her only older brother, whom I still haven't met to this day. But she still hasn't met 3 of my 8 siblings, so I won't complain. She spent a little over a year in Sibly, and the rest of her elementary and pre-teen years were spent on a farm in South Dakota. Eventually her family would move to Kentucky, where she attended high school where her mother was the school's favorite math teacher. After graduation, she attended undergrad at Mount Holyoke College in Massachusetts, the first and oldest women's college in the United States. There she majored in German Studies and studied a year abroad in Berlin. Shortly after earning her degree, she taught English abroad back in Germany again for a year until she decided to live out a life long dream of backpacking bravely throughout most of Europe, Asia, and Africa alone. After her year-long successful backpacking venture, she took a much deserved breather and moved back to the States to be near her family and friends in Minnesota. Shortly after that, she answered her calling in life and joined the Peace Corps where she was assigned to Bulgaria. After a much fruitful stay in the Peace Corps, where she was hosted by a loving Roma (Gypsy) family which abled her to learn a generous amount of the country's culture and language, it made for an easy transition to stay in Bulgaria where she taught English, again. But this time at a local high school in Shumen.
After two years of teaching, Bulgaria's odd and unusual rule, that teachers must discipline their own students, left Sarah exhausted and frustrated. But her hard work and dedication would not go unnoticed, a year later she received the prestigious Fulbright Program Award Certificate and a double scholarship from The University of Michigan - Anne Arbor where she earned two Master's. One in Russian & Eastern European Studies and the other in Public Policy. During this tenure, she studied abroad once more, but this time in Switzerland.
Out of all the many places that Sarah has lived, she calls both Minnesota and South Dakota her homes. And her Great Lakes' accent would prove it. Accents also brings to mind the many languages that she's acquired over years that can come in handy when traveling around Europe. I guess you can say, having her as a travel buddy has been like having my own personal C-3PO at my side.
After receiving her Master's it was time for work. So like most foreign study majors after graduation, she headed straight for Washington DC, where she worked for the United States Foreign Services. This is also where the best part of the story begins. When she met a really cool and handsome dude named Owen. (Clears throat) Uh, that's me.
He felt the heat of the night hit him like a freight train
Moving with a simple twist of fate.
— Bob Dylan, 1974
Sarah and I met on March 22, 2008 on a Saturday night at the Rock N Roll Hotel on H Street, NE. My boy Rishi, the best rock guitarist in DC, invited me to come see him play. I remember not wanting to go out that night. It was late and I'd opened up a fresh pack of my favorite Gummi Bear candies and popped in Frankenstein Meets The Wolf Man, so you know it was almost impossible to pull myself away from the sofa. But somehow I managed. And looking back now, life is really strange when you think about it. Because had I not pulled myself away, I'd probably still be sitting my butt there watching a DVD and devouring Gummi Bears. Anyway, after the show, me and my boy Steve Smith ended up playing pool against some of a then unknown Sarah's former Peace Corps friends.
After Steve and I finally lost a round of doubles, I glanced around the bar in search of a win. The female kind of win. And like a simple twist of fate, there she was. A tall slender girl with dirty blonde hair wearing a cool hipster shirt. And to this day, she still persists that I hit on her first. But I am pretty positively sure that she eased her way over toward me. So whichever side of the story you believe, we somehow met.
I introduced myself and she said her name was Sarah. Sarah with an H. And to cut a long story short, we went on a dinner date to Rice the following week. And besides an awkward conversation about donkey punching — that I have no idea to this day how the tasteless topic came up, that she still hasn't let me off the hook for bringing up — we hit it off pretty well. Mainly because we both share a common love for travel. Oh, and a love for Doctor Who, a British television show that we both watched in our childhood and beyond.
With your silhouette when the sunlight dims
Into your eyes where the moonlight swims,
And your match-book songs and your gypsy hyms,
Whom among them would try to impress you?
— Bob Dylan, 1967
Shortly after we met, my sad-eyed lady of the lowlands accepted the directorial position at America For Bulgaria, a Chicago based charitable organization that helps the disadvantage. And the rest is as they say is history. A key moment in the flowering of our relationship came when I visited her for the first time in Sofia. I was trying my hardest to impress her. I did. Sarah recently confessed that it surprised her, too. She didn't think I was serious. She thought that my saying I was a traveler was a line that I threw out to get into her word that rhymes with plants. Why do girls always assume that sex is the first thing on a boy's mind after they meet? Don't answer that!
Now if you recall some of my previous Blog-O-Daria episodes, America For Bulgaria keeps Sarah pretty busy. She travels at least two times a week, sometimes twice a month outside of Bulgaria, usually delivering a speech or attending a conference. This month I finally got the opportunity to catch her speak at a school in Vidin. Originally, I had intended to just wait in the lobby, but after one of Sarah's friends spotted me, she insisted that I sit in on the conference. I was a bit nervous, but glad she invited me in. I think having me in there, made Sarah a little bit nervous, too. And I was loving every minute. Nevertheless, my presence didn't seem to faze her, she did a wonderful job. I was quite impressed, actually. And I'll admit, it was kind of nice seeing her in such a serious business mode for a change.
To keep up with her rigorous work and travel schedule, Sarah tends to lean toward the healthy side of living by maintaing a devout vegetarian diet and working out often. But unlike me, running isn't her game, she's more of a Yoga girl. So every morning before she's off to work, she hits the indoor gym next to our condo. In recent times, we discovered that we share a common love for tennis. A sport that is pretty popular in Sofia, so it wasn't difficult finding a court just a couple of blocks away from our condo. And lately, we've been putting in a lot of practice. Which is a good thing, considering it's been a good while since we touched a racket. So you can bet that the rust was packed on pretty thick. But each time we go out, there's much improvement. More so on her part than mine, though.
Speaking of sports, Sarah has a tremendous love for hiking. And I'm no hiker by any means, but I recently joined Sarah and some good friends on a couple of small hikes to see if I could keep up with big dogs. And you guessed it, the little dog didn't do so well. I was out of breath the whole time. Sarah was curious as to why I was so exhausted from the small hikes, being that I easily run up to 20 miles a week. I reminded her that hiking up a mountain and running up a hill is a totally different kind of workout. If you don't have experience in one, then you're most likely up for a difficult task. But I'll keep trying. I'm determined to get better.
And one of my goals is to become good enough to hike a mountainous region of Bulgaria that Sarah and I recently visited. After 11 long years, Sarah finally laid her eyes on the Rocks and Fortress of Belogradchik. She said it was the most beautiful place she'd seen in all of Bulgaria. I concurred. These were the most bizarrely shaped rocks I'd ever seen since visiting Cappadocia. It reminded us of something straight out Star Wars or Lord Of The Rings. It could be easily be ranked beside the Grand Canyon and other popular landmarks of that kind. I hear it was even a top 10 contender for one the 7 wonders of the world.
But before visiting the Fortress and Rocks, we stayed at a little hotel with the loveliest view. This brings to mind some of Sarah's favorite foods. After living with her a little under a year now, I've carefully observed that she loves to eat cheese, peanut butter and salads mostly. But like me, she also loves to dabble in the sweet stuff every now and again. For instance, the moment we entered Belogradchik, she wouldn't stop talking about mekitsi, a traditional Bulgarian dessert or breakfast treat that's a bit similar to a funnel cake that you'd find in an American amusement park. She was thrilled that the hotel served it hot and fresh. So the next morning at breakfast when her mekitsi with honey finally arrived, she insisted that I try some. I declined her offer. For one, I was pretty happy with my chocolate crepe with whipped cream on top. And two, this mekitsi stuff really didn't look all that appetizing to me. It looked like a large over fried greasy biscuit with lumps. She persisted and I finally gave in. She tore a small piece off and poured some honey on top. It was real good! I just sat there with this confused look on my face as I begged and pleaded for more. At this point, I'd forgotten what a chocolate crepe was.
As I devoured up most of Sarah's mekitsi, she told me that the secret was the honey. And not just any old honey — fresh honey from Belogradchik. This honey was so good that it would make you slap somebody's mama! But it's not exactly easy to describe the taste of it. But I can tell you that it has a more yellowy tint and thicker base than the usual golden brown tint and thinner base you'd typically find on a grocer's shelf. Needless to say, I found out why Sarah was so excited about mekitsi and it now stands as my new #1 favorite dessert in Bulgaria. And before we left Belagradchik, Sarah made sure she grabbed a bottle of that honey to go. Smart girl.
And she began to shout
"Go on back to see the gypsy
He can move you from the rear
Drive you from your fear"
— Bob Dylan, 1970
After Belogradchik, Sarah and I ventured out to a couple of caves in nearby towns called Magura and Ledenika. Both were pretty awesome, but we thought the Magura cave in Vratsa was the best. Mainly because the curators let us roam about it on our own. Which of course could only happen in Bulgaria. Sarah had been inside of several caves Stateside during her childhood and said they were nothing like Magura or Ledenika. She claimed these were the best she'd seen. Both caves made her feel a bit nostalgic. Unfortunately, I couldn't share in her nostalgia. When I was a child, the closest thing I had to being near a cave was a rabbit hole in my backyard. So needless to say, all this cave dwelling was new for me. I had no idea caves were so damn cold inside. And we almost left our jackets in the car. Good thing we didn't. We did forget our flashlight, though. Which made it hard to see all the cave goo dripping down on us. Yuck!
And I'm sure you've already guessed that there were lots of bats flying about, too. And it was the first time I'd seen a bat that close up without a glass between us. One even flew right next to Sarah's face and floated there for a while, as if it were saying, get out of here, lady — before I bite you! Sarah didn't even flinch. Her bravery surprised me. As a matter of fact, she lead the way the entire time. Like I said, I'm the companion to the Doctor. And believe it or not, the bats really didn't bother me much. It was the spiders I was more worried about. Fortunately, I saw none. Probably too cold for them and no food to hunt.
As I looked above and below for spiders, I did noticed that the constant drip of the cave goo was the main source that caused the ground below us feel like we were on a slip 'n slide. At times it was difficult to walk on, but it wasn't the gooey ground that really concerned me. The tiny pathways were the real problem. They were so insanely narrow that it would be impossible for an over-weight person to pass through. Even my skinny butt could barely make it by at times. But somehow we made it through every corridor and survived the cave. Sadly, we somehow missed the the ancient cave paintings. I felt awful about this mishap because this was Sarah's sole reason for visiting the Magura Cave in the first place. And for the life of us we had no idea how we passed them by as we seemed to have covered every corner in the cave. Sarah was very disappointed, but later found solace in the thought of bringing back visiting family members and friends to continue the search. So get your butts out here and visit! I promise not to make you look too bad in my Blog-O-Daria series.
After our cave fun, we stayed the night in a little town just outside of Belogradchik called Vratsa. It was probably the most economically depressed region of Bulgaria I'd ever seen. And I hear that it made #1 on the list of the most economically depressed regions in all of Eastern Europe. This surprised me. I guess I'd become a little bit spoiled living in Sofia. As I cautiously drove Blacky, my little black Roto Rental volkswagen, through the little town, dodging pot holes the size of moon craters, and complaining all the while — Sarah had to constantly remind me that the posh area of Sofia that we live in wasn't the real Bulgaria at all. And that the real Bulgaria is the many similar impoverished towns like Vratsa just east of it. All I can say is, when I return to the DC, you'll never hear me complain about potholes, again. There's nothing like a little perspective in life to humble a person.
Well, I'm living in a foreign country
but I'm bound to cross the line
Beauty walks a razor's edge
someday I'll make it mine
— Bob Dylan, 1975
No matter how economically depressing a town can be, there's always something positive or memorable that it has to offer. And for us, Vratsa had the best pizza we'd ever eaten in all of Bulgaria. And it was interesting how we stumbled upon it. You see, when we got to the hotel Sarah and I were pretty hungry. And since it was our first night in town we decided to dress up and go out for dinner. We had no clue where to go and there seemed to be no restaurants in site as we drove through the town. So Sarah asked the hotel reception for a restaurant recommendation. I noticed that the very sweet and polite hotel lady's face instantly became confused and clueless. She thought about it for a second, then tried her best to give Sarah directions to one that came to mind.
We drove and drove. We couldn't find the one she recommended or any restaurants in plain sight. Sarah suggested we park Blacky and try on foot. Still no success. And the walking up and down blocks just made us more frustrated and hungrier by the minute. I got desperate and told Sarah to ask someone for help. We approached a very nice couple who not only helped us, but escorted us to a pizza restaurant that changed my way of thinking that all Bulgarian pizza sucks. This pizza was real good. I know what your thinking, but no, it wasn't better then Ledo. Nothing is. Let's just say, it was a close second.
At my request and treat, Presley and Sventi, the very friendly and kind couple who guided us there, joined us. Sarah and I stuffed ourselves as we chatted for a couple of hours, learning more about Vratsa. The couple spoke hardly any english, so unfortunately Sarah "C-3PO" Perrine had to interpret the entire time. The couple met at a local bank where Sventi worked as a teller and Presley as the bank's security guard. That explained his size. He was a pretty big dude. Which made it even odder that he and Sventi only sipped on juice the entire time. I begged them a few times to take a slice of the delicious pizza, but Presley refused me each time while explaining something to Sarah. Toward the end of the night, Sventi finally grabbed for one. I was happy about that. Later, I found out from Sarah why they didn't eat hardly anything. They really didn't want to come off as mere strangers using us for dinner. Adding that, many folks from the Vratsa town would take the opportunity to do just that. I respected their good notions. But man they missed out on the some yummy pizza!
After dinner, the most unusual thing happened. Presley, told Sarah that he'd like to show me something cool. Something he was proud of. He wouldn't tell her what it was, just that it was a surprise and located inside of his car. He was smiling from ear to ear as we walked out of the pizza place. This made me both excited and curious to find out what it was. As we approached Presley's car, I noticed that Sventi had become quite annoyed. And her annoyance seemed to be directed toward Presley as she stood beside Sarah with a look of frustration planted upon her face. Presley then directed my attention toward the back seat of his automobile where he unveiled a .45 calibre pistol from a brown towel.
Man, I'd never been so surprised in my life!
I guess out of all the things I thought it could possibly be — like a Nintendo game, new tool box, cute little puppy dog — a gun was the last thing on my mind. And it was a good thing I wasn't gun shy. All kinds of things went through my mind as I stood there watching Presley hold the gun like a proud father holding his first born. I remembered a Bulgarian friend of mine telling me that upon meeting an American, most Bulgarians will try to impressed them with something they are proud of. I guess it was happening now. So I just smiled with approval then looked over at Sarah to see how she was taking the surprise, and she wasn't doing a very good job holding back her look of disgust. We then bided the couple farewell, with an invitation to visit us in Sofia. When we got back to our car, Sarah later added that she'd love to have the them over, but in hopes that Presley leaves the gun at home. Funny girl.
Hey, Sarah might not be the .45 calibre gun totting girl I'd always hoped and dream for, but her braveness continues to make up for it. For instance, the next morning we left Vratsa and headed for God's Bridge, a natural phenomenon that seems to be unknown to many inside and outside of Bulgaria. On route to the bridge we got lost, so we pulled over to get directions from a well fit man with a opened up buttoned down shirt revealing his very hairy chest. In frustration of not being able to give Sarah the best directions, he took it upon himself to open up the back door of the car, jumped inside, sat down, and shut the door.
He told Sarah that it would be easier to get us there this way. Most people would have freaked out in a situation like this. I for one. My hands were shaking on the steering wheel the entire time. Not Sarah. She seemed pretty cool and calm as he gave her directions to God's Bridge. Of course, the stranger ended up being harmless. When we got to the correct road, we thanked him. I stopped the car and he jumped out the back. By the look on his face, I could tell he was happy to have helped us find the way. Maybe this was another way of impressing us Americans? Not sure. Whatever the case, after this incident and the couple's kindness, we arrived at the realization that being out in the country side of Bulgarian was nothing like living in Sofia. The people were a lot friendlier. It was a little similar to being down south in the States — a little southern hospitality.
With a little help from more friendly strangers in a creepy foot-trail that lead to God's Bridge, we finally made it. And if there is a God above, this bridge certainly looked like something he, she or it would have made. It was simply breathtaking. One of them things you just have to be there to see for yourself. Oh, and by now, you're probably saying, gee Owen, you guys are always getting lost somewhere. Well, it's not really our fault. Sarah's actually the best navigator this side of the planet. Unfortunately Bulgaria tends to keep a lot of its treasures hidden or not so easy to find for the common tourist. I was speaking to a Bulgarian friend of mine recently about that and we both agreed that it's really a crying shame, because if they improved little annoyances like this, I think tourism would boom and help the economy here.
Okay, so far you've seen that Sarah and I share some similarities and differences. Like one difference is you can always find her reading a book. Where I'd prefer a good movie instead. But then we'll come together again with another similarity, like our love for dancing. And since meeting me (clears throat) she's become a really good one. So when I heard that an ABBA tribute band called ABBA Arrival of UK was coming to Sofia, I grabbed a couple of tickets for Sarah and our friend Karen to get our groove on.
Unfortunately, on the day of the show, ABBA Arrival never, uh...arrived. Sarah thought it was funny. And since it wasn't the real ABBA, I wasn't too upset. Maybe just a little annoyed that I went through the trouble of getting the tickets to see a fake ABBA show just to have it canceled. I was also ashamed of myself for buying tickets to a tribute band in the first place. I usually dislike them for the simple fact that they usually sound nothing like the real thing.
A couple of days later, Sarah did get her chance to cut that rug after all. Our good friend Nevena scored us some tickets to see a live concert of Thievery Corporation, a trip hop duo from Washington DC formed in the mid 90s. My fellow DC homeboys Rob and Eric tore the roof off the sucker! Sarah and Nevena danced the night away, pausing only when I'd hand them a beer. The show also marked the first time we encountered Bulgarian hipsters. The highlight for me was when Thievery represented our hometown respectively by playing a couple of tunes that featured the percussive sounds of Washington DC's Go-Go music. Imagine that? Go-Go in Bulgaria. It warmed my heart.
Sarah may not be the music fanatic that I am, but she can appreciate some good music when she hears it. And like me, her tastes include a pretty diverse range of music genres. But if I were to guess her all time favorite, it would have be folk. And just recently, she got the chance to see the best in show — a spectacular live performance of her fellow Minnesotan, The Freewheelin' Bob Dylan at the National Palace of Culture. And let me just say that I can take Sarah to any concert from rock to bugglegum pop, and even if it's not her cup of tea, she'll still end up having a good time. I guess you can say she has a fun natured way about her that finds the good in just about anything. But this time I could tell that she was truly enjoying Bob. He had her complete attention from his opening number, "Leopard-Skin Pill-Box Hat," to his uplifting encore of "Blowin' In The Wind," one of most influential protest songs of all time and anthem of the civil right movements.
I know what you're thinking. It's no secret that Dylan has a reputation for performing horrible live shows. And when I saw him live back in 1999, he proved that by letting one of his many imitators, the rhymin' Paul Simon, out stage him during their double bill tour. His disappointing and careless performance left me and the crowd to believe he was only there for the paycheck. But this time around, you can take my word — Dylan put on one of the better shows I'd seen since Before The Flood. And although Dylan's voice has changed dramatically, and his backing band played a bit sloppy at times, consistently changing the songs arrangements where they were almost unrecognizable, there was still something raw and stripped down about their performance that made up for these flaws. We could just sense that Dylan was truly having fun up there playing his signature trusty organ. And being so close to the stage didn't hurt. I had to pinch myself a couple of times to make sure I wasn't dreaming. I reminded Sarah that we were only 40 feet away from one the most influencial artist of all time. No Dylan. No Beatles, Hendrix, Bowie or Sly — just to name a few small fish in the pond of popular music.
One downside of the Dylan show resulted in a couple of idiot winds in the audience who thought it was cool to yell out Judas after each song ended. Yeah, I know. Most of us were just as confused by this ungrateful display of affection as you are. The only conclusion I could come up with was maybe they were upset at his conversion from Judaism to Christianity in the late 70s or going electric in 1965. And you know, I really hate to give these jokermen any press. I almost kept this minor setback away from my blog, but I really needed to get this one out. Because if I'd met these jokermen face to face, I'd only want to ask them one simple question; If Dylan is such a Judas, why come see him? I really don't get the point. Besides, the tickets were pretty damn pricey to risk getting ejected from the concert. Thankfully Dylan and the rest of the audience ignored these fools and kept rolling on.
The tune that is yours and mine to play upon this earth
We'll play it out the best we know, whatever it is worth
— Bob Dylan, 1974
While still on a Dylan high, the next day was wedding bells for Sarah and I. Yeah, Sarah picked out her best dress, and I picked out my best shirt. We rented Blacky from Roto Rental again and was off to the chapel of love. Oh yeah, no worries, Mom — Sarah and I weren't the ones getting married — you know if that happens, you'll be there front and center. It was actually the wedding day of Raina, one of Sarah's former students from her Shuman teaching days. The lucky groom was also another student of the same school where they met.
This special occasion also marked my first time attending a traditional Bulgarian wedding and it was indeed one for the record books. A Bulgarian wedding is not extremely different from a typical US wedding. The actual ceremony is far shorter and seems to be less important than the reception, where traditional Bulgarians add just a tad bit more fun activities to the roster. One of my favorites, was the cake chase dance. An unsual game where the best man and maid of honor chase two dancing members of the wedding party around the reception hall while trying to take a cake from their hands without dropping it. Another was a game where the bride and groom sit back to back, holding each others shoes while answering questions from a host in hopes of getting the same answers. There was also cake shoving and feeding between not only the bride and groom, but the parents as well.
Before I tell you about the most unusual incident I had at my first Bulgarian wedding, I need to express that I hope I never come off as being conceited when I say this, but I do get a fair amount of attention from the opposite sex in Bulgaria. Not sure if it's my celebrity status working for me or the fact that I am one of the very few Blacks living in Bulgaria. But I can't walk down the street without receiving a smile or wink. I even got a wolf-whistle once or twice! And usually the attention is coming from girls in their early 20s and late teens. Oh, and every so often, I just might get a baba (grandmother) flash me a smile, too. And Sarah, the cool and understanding chick that she is (clears throat) has been really chill about all the attention I've been receiving. But at this wedding, never have I encountered the most unusual female admirer in Bulgaria. I think this one might have even sparked a little jealous spot in Sarah for the first time.
It was the most adorable little 7 year old girl you could imagine.
She was one of the most stylish flower girls I'd seen. She wore the coolest dark shades with her little white gown. And during the reception, every 15 minutes she would accidently brush by me, usually flashing me a smile or wink. Whenever the little girl would come around our table, Sarah and I couldn't help but smirk at each other. Really, it was too cute for words! Again, one you'd had to witness for yourself.
The little girl's cute display of affection went on throughout the night without any physical contact until the DJ whipped up a needed dose of Bob Marley's 1978 reggae classic, "Is This Love?" From the first beat, Sarah and I were up and on the dance floor. As we got our groove on, I couldn't help but notice my cute little admirer heading fast in our direction. She walked right up to us and stood less than a couple of feet away with a look of hostility and envy in her eyes. Awkward doesn't even describe how we felt at this point. I didn't know what to do. I had to think fast, so I just winked at Sarah and took a big gulp. I got down on bended knee and politely asked the little girl, "may I have this dance?" She sparkled like a firefly in a dark corn field. Then shook her head from left to right, which means yes in Bulgaria, and anxiously grabbed my hand, appearing to shove Sarah out of the way.
As we danced, everyone in the reception hall, including the bride and groom, stopped to watch and form a circle around us. I could tell this gave my little admirer a much needed confidence, so before long, she and I were like Astaire and Rogers on the dance floor giving the wedding party a show of a life time! Everyone applauded as the song faded out. The bride thanked me for showing the love struck little girl such a wonderful time. And Sarah thanked me for finding an easy way to relieve an awkward situation.
Of course our little dance together didn't help matters much. It just amplified the situation. She continued to brush by my table, flashing smiles and winks about even more frequently. Nevertheless, since she'd finally gotten her chance to dance with me, it seemed as though she allowed Sarah and I to finally have the dance floor to ourselves. That's when the DJ saved our lives and ended the night perfectly and ironically with the 1976 dancefloor classic, ABBA's "Dancing Queen", the signature song from their Arrival album. And strangely enough — after the dance, Sarah and I both agreed that it instantly made up for our cancelled ABBA Arrival show. There was just something about the moment and time. Something about dancing to the real ABBA over loud speakers on such a joyous occasion that made us realize there's really nothing like the real thing.
The next morning, exhausted and tired from the wedding, Sarah and I attended an annual Roma (Gypsy) Festival in Veliko Tarnovo. It was a 3 day event showcasing Bulgaria's talented youths. Unfortunately, Sarah and I only caught the last day, which featured the music entertainment segment. One of the best and most surprising things I loved about this festival was that it featured both white Bulgarians and Roma Bulgarians working and performing together in harmony. After the festival Sarah was spotted by the press and interviewed for a televised news feature. It was pretty awesome standing on the sidelines watching her receive the star treatment. I must have taken a thousand pictures.
Yes, how many years can some people exist
Before they're allowed to be free?
Yes, how many times can a man turn his head
Pretending he just doesn't see?
— Bob Dylan, 1963
The Roma festival was organized by Deyan, and his equally talented wife, Teudora. Deyan is like the MLK of Bulgaria. He dreams the same Dream of one day seeing unity and equality in his own country. After the festival, I spent some quality time chatting with the power couple, getting to know them and learning more about their cause. During our conversation, Deyan assured me that the other 2 days of the festival featured Roma talent in every aspect of education, besides music, singing and dancing, an unfortunate stereotype plagued upon the Roma community. I understood his sentiments deeply and personally. Not so long ago, Black Americans had the same stereotype vested upon them in The States.
Toward the end of our chat, I sadly discovered that he and his wife's hopes of having their Dream a reality was starting to fade. Sensing this, I switched the conversation over to the issue of how MLK's Dream was achieved in The States. I reminded the couple that one the most important and crucial key moments in the Civil Rights Movement was when whites joined the cause. Deyan agreed. He understood my subtle hint that the same thing needed to happen in Bulgaria and most Europe in order to bring about change and send his dream into reality. As we parted, he told me how much he appreciated Sarah and America For Bulgaria's efforts in aiding the cause.
On the drive back home, Sarah was so exhausted that she could barely keep her eyes open. She started to fall asleep. I was a bit melancholy as I cautiously drove Blacky trying to avoid traffic cops. I was thinking about Deyan and Teudora losing hope. I popped in some Dylan on the CD player. Dylan's uplifting lyrics and the thought of Sarah adding a little inspiration to their cause cheered me up a bit. At times, like Deyan and Teudora, Sarah can also get a bit frustrated with Bulgaria's lack of support in dealing with Roma issues. But somehow she manages to find the strength to keep fighting the good fight. Her strength and dedication is the last and most important thing I think you should know about her. Because it's what I love about her most.
As Sarah napped in the passenger seat, I took a peek at her out the corner of my eye. And there she was. A tall slender girl with dirty blonde hair wearing a cool hipster shirt. I smiled. I thought about how lucky I was to find a win. The female kind of win. I thought about a simple twist of fate. Our awkward first date. I smiled, again. I was happy that I met my girl from the north country. My travel buddy. My Sara.
That's Sarah with an H.
Be seeing you.
O
