Who's gonna tell you when it's too late?
Sarah said that registering Xena, a hellish process for an ex-pat car owner to achieve in Europe, went rather smoothly. But solely due to the already existing blue colored license plates originally registered to the British embassy employee who sold her the car. A good friend of mine named Mark, an Irishman living in Sofia, recently suggested that we try and get rid of the car's blue colored license plates. He insisted that it would bring unwanted trouble or robbery in the future. Mainly because in Europe, blue colored plates on a car simply says, hello everyone, were foreigners! And if it were just Sarah driving Xena, I would have agreed with my boy Mark. But since I'll be a frequent passenger and occasional driver, I had to kindly remind him that no matter what color the plates are, it won't be too difficult for European car thieves to guess that we're foreigners by the color of the celebrity-looking dude driving the car. He quickly agreed with a nod and smirk.
And just like my 6th birthday bash, the highlight of my 39th birthday would also be a cake. You see, at the height of the party — Sarah and Nevena disappeared into the guest room for a good amount of time. I made nothing of it, just figured they were off having some girl time. Besides, the party was smoking hot, so I was occupied with other things, such as my boy Don's awesome comic book collection that he so generously brought over to share with me. Anyway, about 5 more minutes passed, then out popped Sarah and Nevena from the guest room holding two Bulgarian styled chocolate and vanilla cakes with 39 candles divided amongst each cake. To my surprise, and apparently the girls involved, all 39 candles were the trick kind that don't blow out. Yeah. So I stood there and breathlessly tried to blow out all 39 of them with no success of course.
Who's gonna tell you
things aren't so great?
You can't go on thinking
nothing's wrong.
Who's gonna drive
you home tonight?
— Ric Ocasek, 1984
For almost every classic television series, there was an equally classic automobile featured in it. Batman had the Batmobile, Knight Rider had KITT, Starsky & Hutch had that red Gran Torino, Speed Racer had the Moch 5, Sanford & Son had that old beat up truck, and of course The Dukes Of Hazzard had my all time favorite General Lee, just to name a few. Well, from now on, your favorite soon-to-be classic Blog-O-Daria series will no longer be an exception to the rule.
You see, if you recall Episode 13, Blog-O-Daria's second season opener, you just might remember me yapping about Sarah looking to buy a good used car. Well, she finally found one and she's extremely happy with her purchase. I'm happy with it, too. I think it's a fantastic little hunk of metal. And I really don't think she could have found a better deal in town. It's a sporty little silver 2008 Nissan Micra that looks like the love child of a MIni Cooper and Volkswagen Beetle. The most important feature about her is that she came equipped with an automatic transmission, a US commodity that was tough to find in Sofia, considering most European drivers prefer to get down and dirty with a manual stick.
At the start of August, my all time favorite month of the year, Eva, a fellow Michigan State alumnus of Sarah's and Jodi, a long time friend of Sarah's from the Peace Corps, traded a few weeks off staying with us. It had been a while since Sarah had seen the girls, so they all enjoyed a some pleasant days, reminiscing past memories. On the new car's first day of arrival, Eva helped Sarah christen her Xena Bubolechka, which means Xena Bug in English. Or a better interpretation would be — powerful female bug. But unfortunately, power is something that little Xena wasn't born with. I mean, don't get me wrong, she's quick wheeled in the city and excellent for running errands. She turns the sharpest corners with ease and can easily fit into the tightest parking spots imaginable. She also maintains excellent gas mileage. But if Sarah and I could add just one more feature, I'd be a fast pick up speed when traveling on highways or getting up mountains when the car is packed. But hey, you can't have it all. Anyway, Sarah is hoping that Xena's powerful name will encourage a boost of hidden strength somewhere deep inside the crevices of that little 4 cylinder engine of hers.
Sarah said that registering Xena, a hellish process for an ex-pat car owner to achieve in Europe, went rather smoothly. But solely due to the already existing blue colored license plates originally registered to the British embassy employee who sold her the car. A good friend of mine named Mark, an Irishman living in Sofia, recently suggested that we try and get rid of the car's blue colored license plates. He insisted that it would bring unwanted trouble or robbery in the future. Mainly because in Europe, blue colored plates on a car simply says, hello everyone, were foreigners! And if it were just Sarah driving Xena, I would have agreed with my boy Mark. But since I'll be a frequent passenger and occasional driver, I had to kindly remind him that no matter what color the plates are, it won't be too difficult for European car thieves to guess that we're foreigners by the color of the celebrity-looking dude driving the car. He quickly agreed with a nod and smirk.
Unfortunately with the birth of Xena Bubolechka, this episode will sadly mark the end of Blacky, our frequently used Volkswagen Roto Rental car that we'd grown to love since living abroad. I'll never forget ol' Blacky. She carried us through lots of adventures in Bulgaria and beyond. And like a domino effect, loosing Blacky will also spell the end of our much relished rental relationship with my boy Ivo and Nadia, the good folks down at Roto Rental. If either of us were late during returns, there was always an air of understanding on both ends. Sarah and I have been trying to find a nice way to let them down gently.
Although Blacky will be sorely missed, Sarah and I were anxious to get Xena Bubolechka on the road and running. And throughout August, Xena got the chance to burn a whole lot of rubber during a handful of weekend road trips to some local spots, such as the Seven Rila Lakes, the Bulgarian Folk Music Festival, and even a little beyond Bulgaria to Greece. In addition to getting Xena on the road, some birthday and anniversary cheer also took place in August. But unfortunately, August didn't just consist of cheer. There was also a tremendous night of fear, that resulted in a visit to one of the most interesting hospitals I'd ever seen. Here's how it all went down . . .
During the first week of August — me, Sarah, and our good friend Nevena drove Xena out of town for a weekend stay at the Seven Rila Lakes, a group of lakes of glacial origin situated in the northwestern Rila Mountains in Bulgaria. Visiting the Seven Lakes was an idea Nevena came up with to celebrate her 25th birthday. We stayed in a huge one room, 15 bed lodge where we met up with 20 of Nevena's friends.
During the day, we explored the Seven Lakes and all of their beautiful surroundings. Each lake was simply gorgeous and had a unique look and name associated with its most characteristic feature. For example, the highest lake was called The Tear due to its clear waters. The next one in height was called The Eye, after its almost perfectly oval form. The Kidney was the lake with the steepest shores. The Twin was the largest one overall. The irregular shaped one was called The Trefoil because it had low shores. The lowest lake was apply named The Lower Lake. And last but not least, the shallowest lake was called The Fish Lake, my favorite of the seven, because it housed a school of tiny smelts that lovingly nibbled on my submerged finger tips.
After our lake love, in the late evening we all got together to celebrate Nevena's 25th birthday that included plenty to drink and music to dance to. I was the featured D.J. A pretty easy feat nowadays considering all one needs is a laptop, some good speakers, and plenty of MP3s. So my trusty MacBook Pro, amazing Bose speakers and a humongous collection of 40,000 songs certainly did the trick. I played everything from old school funk, soul and rock — to new school hip hop, techno and pop.
There were a couple of attendees who supplied their imitation iPods to connect to my Bose whenever someone requested chalga, a hugely popular music style in Bulgaria that incorporates a blend of Bulgarian, Arabic, Turkish, Greek, and Romani (Gypsy) influences. Chalga is also disliked and criticized by many Bulgarians due to its rather loose morals, Eastern Arabic roots and simplistic lyrics that consist mainly of sex, money and drugs. And being the music snob that I am, you know I wasn't digging the chalga too much. But not because of its lyrical content — Chalga's typical repetitive and monotonous groove just doesn't quite gel with my refined musical tastes (clears throat). But since it got the dance floor packed and the ladies shaking what their mothers gave them, I was eager to keep it in circulation for the duration of the birthday party that lasted until 4 in the morning.
Speaking of birthdays, some of you may know and some of you may not, but I recently celebrated my 39th big one last August. I know, I know —I'm getting up there! My 39th b-day also marked the first time I celebrated a birthday away from the States and the first time ever that Sarah and I celebrated my birthday together. You see, on my last two birthdays before this one, in our two years of being together, Sarah has either been away on business or living in a foreign country somewhere, resulting in us celebrating weeks or months after the actual birth date. But this time, we were in the same place at the same time and finally got to celebrate my birthday. Together.
And speaking of celebrating birthdays — in the U.S., typically someone will throw a party for the birthday girl or boy — in Bulgaria it's the complete opposite. The long standing tradition here is to throw your own party and invite all your friends and loved ones to party hardy at your own expense. Yikes! So upon learning about this generous Bulgarian tradition, for almost an entire month and a week before my actual birthday, I embarrassingly and cheaply resisted. Then like old Ebenezer Scrooge on Christmas Day, I suddenly thought of how wonderful it would be to have everyone come over to celebrate with me.
I also remembered just how long it had been since I'd had a proper birthday party celebration. The last really, really big one I remember celebrating was on my 6th birthday in 1977. I vividly remember my mom and dad inviting all of my favorite cousins and friends from the neighborhood over. They also got me every Star Wars action figure that was available in '77, along with two adorable parakeets that I accidently let fly away due to opening their caged door thinking they needed air. I know, I know — what can I say? That explains a lot, right? Don't answer that! Anyway, I remember one of the highlights of the party was when my mom baked a huge chocolate vanilla cake with a number 6 candle on top for me to blow out.
All to myself.
Oh, and not to come off as superstitious or anything, but because of this memorable 6th birthday that fell on the 6th day of August — the number 6 has always been my lucky number in life. So if you would kindly humor me for a second and subtract 3 from 9 to get 6, I guess you can say that my luck must have turned up again on my 39th birthday, because it was off the chain! Lots of friends and their friends showed up baring an assortment of wrapped gifts and goodies, that ranged from fine wines and yummy chocolates to an assortment of recent MOJO magazines and a dartboard! I mean, I didn't get any Star Wars action figures or adorable parakeets this time — but I got some MOJOs and a dartboard that I've always wanted!
And just like my 6th birthday bash, the highlight of my 39th birthday would also be a cake. You see, at the height of the party — Sarah and Nevena disappeared into the guest room for a good amount of time. I made nothing of it, just figured they were off having some girl time. Besides, the party was smoking hot, so I was occupied with other things, such as my boy Don's awesome comic book collection that he so generously brought over to share with me. Anyway, about 5 more minutes passed, then out popped Sarah and Nevena from the guest room holding two Bulgarian styled chocolate and vanilla cakes with 39 candles divided amongst each cake. To my surprise, and apparently the girls involved, all 39 candles were the trick kind that don't blow out. Yeah. So I stood there and breathlessly tried to blow out all 39 of them with no success of course.All to myself.
My birthday party invitation's ending time read, until the cops come a knockin'. Well, thankfully the cops didn't come a knockin', so we partied until about 4 the next morning, with only one neighbor shouting into the opened guest room window, "keep it down over there!" And surprisingly, he shouted out in English. I guess he was letting me know that he knew I was the loud American neighbor polluting his country with noisy parties. After the neighbor's complaint, things mellowed out a bit, with the exception of a near fight between two guys, of course, trying to win the affection of Nevena. So when you add up the complaints, a near brawl, and our trashed condo — I'd say I had a pretty successful party.
And since my birthday fell on a Friday this year, I made sure that the party kept on rolling for the entire weekend. In the morning — me, Sarah, Nevana and another Bulgarian friend of ours named Adi, and her boyfriend Ryan, an American professor researching and writing a book on Bulgarian Jazz, hopped inside Xena Bubolekcha, who somehow found the power to drive all 5 of us to an event that would easily make my girl Kate Bush more excited than Theodore Cleaver trapped in a Toys "R" Us for a day. It was a trip to the ultimate Bulgarian Folk Music Festival in the historic town of Koprivshtitsa, where the five of us enjoyed two days of none stop folk music and fun — done Bulgarian style!
It was truly a wonderful experience for me. And one I'll never forget considering that just a little over two years ago I was introduced to this rather unique high pitched vocal style via Kate Bush after listening to The Sensual World album, a 1989 classic that features backing vocals by the legendary Bulgarian vocal ensemble, Trio Bulgarka. In 1993 the trio appeared once again on three more songs from Kate's The Red Shoes album. One of those songs called "Why Should I Love You?", also featured my boy Prince on guitar and vocals.
Because of Kate's involvement with Trio Bulgarka, I got a yearning for more Bulgarian folk. And during one of my many music hunts, I discovered a brilliant traditional Bulgarian folk album from 1975 called Le Mystère Des Voix Bulgares by The Bulgarian State Female Choir. Ironically, it was pretty odd that in just one year after discovering all this great Bulgarian music, I ended up living here. Okay, okay — it's not that odd considering I do have a wide variety of musical tastes that range from many countries all over the world. But I'll tell you one thing, I wouldn't have believed it if someone had come up to me and said, Owen, one day you'll attend a live traditional folk music festival in Bulgaria. Life is sometimes strange when you stop to think about the places you end up.
The following weekend Xena Bubolechka was off and running again. This time she drove us to the ever-so-lovely Greece. And since living in Bulgaria, a country just a borderline away, you can bet that the Hellenic Republic has been a pretty frequent stop. And If you'll recall Episode 4, during my first visit to Greece, then you'll remember that Sarah and I had an absolute blast in Athens and Santorini. Well this trip could never measure up to that — but we still had a wonderful time. For one, we had great company. Nevena, and another good Bulgarian friend of ours named Kamy and her friends Desi and Kaloyan Joined us for the seaside of Kavala, the second largest city in northern Greece and principal seaport of eastern Macedonia. And like Episode 16, when we were in Croatia and Montengro, you can call our August weekend in Greece a continuation of hardcore chillin' on sandy beaches and dinning on the seaside. And speaking of dining, Greece still holds the record for the best fish I ever eaten in my life. So this time around, I ate so much fish that during the night I would check to make sure I hadn't grown any gills.
The last weekend of August, Xena Bubalekcha would prove her stamina one last time. Me, Sarah, Nevena and Kamy were off on another road trip to explore some more caves and a beautiful waterfall in Bulgaria. And I hate to keep making you strain your memory banks, but if you'll recall Episode 15, you'll remember when Sarah and I explored two exquisite caves called Ledenika and Magura. So keeping with our two caves per visit theme, we explored two more.
Saeva Dupka was the first of the two caves we visited. It was located near Krushunski Falls, one of the many gorgeous waterfalls in Bulgaria. Saeva Dupka was the smallest and less attractive of the three caves I'd visited in Bulgaria so far. But on the other had, it was the safest and most organized. For example, upon entry we were issued a very friendly and knowledgible tour guide that safely guided us through the large corridors of Saeva Dupka that made Lendenka and Magura's corridors look like mouse holes. In addition, Saeva's surface wasn't heavily caked with slippery cave goo, making for an easier and safer stroll.
The second cave we visited was called Devetashka Cave. It had an entry way that resembled the picturesque God's Bridge, the natural phenomenon that I mentioned in Episode 15. Only Deventashka was far better! The interior of Devetashka was the creepiest we've seen so far. It also has a reputation for being one the best caves in Bulgaria along side the infamous Devil's Throat, another legendary Bulgarian cave that I hope to visit some day.
Upon arriving at Devetashka's dark and cold entryway, Nevena, who is usually the bravest of the bunch, suddenly became the smartest of the bunch. She decided to stay behind and wait for us at the entrance, leaving the three of us, including me, to bravely trot onward to see if the cave was worthy of its reputation.
But seeing was the big X factor here. The cave was so pitch black that no matter how long we were inside, our eyes never adjusted to the darkness, making it pretty much impossible to see what was ahead of us. I tried using my handy flashlight embedded on the top of my cellular phone, but the light beams shot barely 2 feet before the blackness of the cave gobbled it up for dinner. But we stupidly kept going further. As we crept deeper inside, moving at a snail's pace, the sounds of what appeared to be a million and one bats chirped and sctattered about. I covered my 'fro to prevent unwanted entanglement.
One would think that the pitch black darkness of the cave and seemingly low flying bats would have stopped us in our tracks at this point, but a tiny gate that seemingly blocked the rest of the pathway did the trick instead. The 3 feet high stone gate, that was just easy enough to climb over and continue the exploration, raised a huge red warning flag in our minds. To us, the gate just seemed like a subtle Bulgarian way of saying; enter at your own risk. The three of us paused for a second or two, then like a troop of confident military soldiers, we unanimously snorted a variety of macho expressions like, if we had more time today, I'd be over that gate in minute or if we had a better flash light I'd do it in a second — all the while heading fast toward the light in the opposite direction. When we emerged from the dark cave, Nevena, the smartest of the bunch, was waiting patiently for our arrival with a smirk and joyous sigh of relief.
Speaking of sighs of relief, I think I might have taken the biggest one of my life last August. It all happened when Sarah and I decided to spend an evening at The Mall, the best of the two new shopping malls built this year in Sofia. One of our reasons for going, was to catch the new Tom Cruise film called Knight And Day and dine out in The Mall's food court. Whenever I'm there, I usually bee-line for the KFC. It always reminds me of home. Sarah, a vegetarian who eats fish about twice a year, usually heads for the pasta place. But this time her fish eating timer must have gone off, because she bee-lined fast for the Happy Sushi, a seafood themed spin-off of the ever-popular Bulgarian based Happy restaurant food chain. In a non-intentional way, Happy is kind of a hybrid of Applebees and Hooters, where you can get traditional Bulgarian cuisine served up fast and hand delivered by a beautiful and scantily clad waitress wrapped in a miniskirt so tight and short, it'll make the 1960s look like the 1860s. So needless to say, Sarah enjoyed her Happy Sushi sushi and I enjoyed my KFC and mini miniskirts. And after dinner, we both, surprisingly, enjoyed the latest Cruise flick.
The next morning Sarah woke up with an awful stomach ache. I insisted that she stay home from work and rest, but my workaholic woman just blew me off and headed out the door groaning and moaning. That night before dinner, Sarah complained that her stomach was still hurting. After dinner, things got worst. And far beyond my imagination. While we were watching the end of Crazy Heart, my second favorite movie of 2009 next to Star Trek, she began to develop excruciating abdominal pains. So painful that she erupted in a fast dash for the bathroom where she gave her best impression of a college girl who had far too much to drink.
Sarah's best impression wasn't very good. There was no regurgitation. Instead she screamed to the top of her lungs for air. Right before my eyes, her peach colored skin began to turn white as a sheet. Chills ran down my spine. She said she needed air desperately. I tried my best to keep her calm by holding her hand tightly and bringing our mobile fan into the bathroom to keep her cool. But none of it seemed to help. The loud screams continued as both of us began to panic. We couldn't even remember or think of how to get an ambulance to our condo. I know this sounds stupid, but an ambulance was simply something that we never thought we'd need.
Helpless and confused, I decided the best thing to do here was to simply take Sarah and head for Xena and frantically drive the streets like a mad man in search of a hospital. But a lifeless-like Sarah suggested I call some Bulgarian friends to help instead. The first person she suggested was Nevena. And although Nevena was on a bus to the Black Sea, she did her best to call an ambulance and emergency team to our condo.
Unfortunately, the dispatcher said it would take nearly 30 minutes to arrive. I told Nevena that the way Sarah looked and sounded, 30 minutes just wasn't going to cut it. So Nevena called a cab intead. Cabs usually arrive at our place in less than a minute, but Murphy's Law was working overtime that night, because the cab was taking its sweet time. As I clutched Sarah's hand tightly with my right hand, I held the line with Nevena on hold with my left. This made it easily audible for Nevena to hear Sarah's loud cries. So with a faint quiver in her voice, Nevena suggested I call Kamy right away. Thankfully Kamy answered my call and told me she'd be there in less than 10 minutes.
She was there in 5.
Traumatized like never before, I somehow managed to get a barely dressed Sarah down three flights of stairs and into Kamy's waiting car. Kamy found the nearest and closest hospital that she could find. And let's just say, it wasn't the prettiest hospital in town. It wasn't even close. It looked nothing like the polished up professional hospital that examined and x-rayed me two years ago when I arrived in Sofia for the first time to visit Sarah after I took a dive from Bad Boy straight into a glass frame fracturing my right hand just two days before my flight.
Because the x-ray machine was on the fritz at Washington Medical Center, my doctor suggested I see a doctor just as soon as I arrive in Sofia. I did. And it was a welcoming and interesting experience. For one, I didn't have to wait in any of the long lines. For some odd reason, I was treated like royalty. At the time, Sarah and I wasn't sure if this was a be kind to an American thing going on, or some very early stages of my celebrity status taking effect. Whatever the case, neither was working for us at this hospital visit. At least not right away.
When we pulled up the emergency room entrance, a few male nurses were outside taking what appeared to be a smoke break. Kamy needed to get the car parked, leaving me alone with Sarah to fend for myself. I urgently and politely asked the guys for help. In English of course. They replied only with a wide eyed blank stare as if they didn't understand a word I said. I then looked to the normally fluent Bulgarian speaking Sarah to translate for me, but she was way too dazed and confused to remember a word of Bulgarian herself. Thankfully, Kamy found a parking spot about 20 feet from the emergency entrance and got back in seconds, right before I turned into the Incredible Hulk.
Yeah, at the time, I was very pissed off at the smoking nurses. The fact that we needed help desperately should have been pretty obvious to them. But Looking back now, I am a tad bit understanding of the situation. I mean when you stop to think about it, it's not everyday that these dudes see a frantic black man pulling a half naked white girl from a vehicle urgently crying for help. I suppose it looked a rather strange to them. Okay, okay. Fair enough — I'm sure it looked mighty strange to them.
Anyway, Kamy uttered a few words in Bulgarian to the guys and they quickly grabbed hold of Sarah and placed her in the most unusual looking metal wheel chair I'd ever seen. Once inside, they wheeled her to a nearby room where Kamy followed. I felt like I was in a trance as I stood outside the door next to two gentlemen who looked more worried than me. After a few seconds of waiting, I was able to keep my mind off of what was going on inside the room due to the old communist-like interior of the hospital. The place looked as though time had just stopped. There were giant holes in the walls with wires hanging out that reminded me of a scene from the Re-Animator. But to be fair, it wasn't just the decor of this hospital that gave me the heebee-jeebies. You see, hospitals in general exude a cold and dreary feeling of death to me. I hate being in them. Probably because ever since I was a little boy, I'd always associated them with bad things.
After about 10 minutes of waiting, the sound of footsteps running down the hall broke my trance. It was a doctor and he had a look of urgency on his face. An urgent look that said he was coming to Sarah's aid.
Wishful thinking? Sure.
Because the way I felt that night, a wish come true was high on my list of priorities.
After the doctor rushed inside the room and shut the door, after 10 more minutes a smiley faced Sarah emerged from the room as if nothing had ever happened. Followed by an even smilier faced Kamy. Seeing the both of them like this made me feel like I'd woken up from a nightmare. And in a way I did.
"What happened to you? And how'd they cure you so fast?" I anxiously asked Sarah after a long embrace.
She told me that it was food poisoning with a look of confusion on her face. She also said that it most likely came from the sushi at Happy Sushi. She went on the say that the good doctor, who came rushing down the hall, gave her a shot of morphine that relaxed her stomach muscles and instantaneously took away all the pain.
Wow. Now I know why these celebrity types get addicted to that stuff. It's a miracle drug!
Although Sarah felt like new, the good doctor prescribed plenty of rest and relaxation for the next few days. The following morning she felt a tiny fraction of pain in her lower abdomen. Only this time my workaholic woman took me and the good doctor's advice and stayed her behind in bed for a couple of days.
I'd always heard random stories of food poisoning in Bulgaria. It's a pretty common occurrence here. Most of our friends have gotten it once or twice. Some of the symptoms they described has ranged from vomiting profusely to ridiculously high fevers. To me, these stories made food poisoning sound similar to getting the flu or some other non-emergency room illness. And you can call me ignorant if you like, but never in my wildest dreams did I think food poisoning could send a perfectly healthy girl to the hospital with symptoms of extreme abdominal pains and a severe loss of breath. It was a truly frightening moment for everyone.
So after the horrific Nightmare on Varbitsa Street, you can bet that Sarah and I learned a few things. First, keep local hospital numbers close by and handy. We both decided that the fridge door would be a good spot. Second, watch more closely to what we ingest. I have even cut red meat completely from my diet as of late. And I'm sure, the next time Sarah's fish eating timer goes off, she'll think twice before she bee-lines for a Happy Sushi. And lastly and most importantly, we learned that when in need, a Bulgarian is a dependable friend indeed.
Okay, before I end this episode, I have a little anniversary I'd like to share with you. Today marks one whole year that I decided to take the plunge. Yep, it's been a whole year that I sadly moved most of my worldly belongings into storage and vacated my Takoma Park studio apartment and caught a one way flight to Sofia. I still remember the day like it was yesterday. And speaking of KFC, I can recall just an hour before leaving, my brother Carlos stopping by my empty apartment with a bucket of the best chicken on the planet to document my last true American meal I'd eat before heading off. I tore through that box like it was my Last Supper. I thought it would be quite sometime before I'd taste the Colonel's original recipe, again. Little did I know, Bulgaria would have a KFC occupying almost every other corner of Sofia. After my original recipe made a disappearing act, my boy Joey dropped me off at Dulles. I was armed with just two loaded suitcases filled with a small variety of clothing, that MacBook Pro and two Bose speakers I mentioned earlier and six seasons of The Benny Hill Show.
Today also marks the first anniversary of my writing the Blog-O-Daria's first epidode. It was an idea I pinched from the movie Julie and Julia as a vehicle to stay in touch with my family and friends without joining that ever-so-popular and ever-so-lovable social network that appropriately starts with an F. Besides the aforementioned reason for writing the Blog-O-Daria, I also thought it would be a nice way to keep record of my life and times living abroad. And when I looked back on Episode 1 today, I found that it has been. Reading it again gave me quite a chuckle and sparked up some good memories. I hope you also got some good laughs from my blog over the past year, too. And on that note, I'd like to thank you all for reading it and leaving me some awesome comments. It has been quite nice posting stories of some of my life long dreams and having an audience to share it with.
In the one year that I've been living here, there's been some ups and downs. More ups rather than downs, thankfully. And since I am usually filling you in on the ups, I should probably tell you a bit about some of the downs. One of the biggest downers is having to be so far away from my friends and family and miss out on important life changing events that might be going on in their lives.
A couple of more big downers are not being able to run on the street freely without strategizing how I will escape my next pack of vicious wild dogs. And every time I go out for a run, it seems like the pack gets bigger and bigger. Just the other day, I saw a pack as deep as 20! And to make matters worst, this August, the sad and shocking news of a little girl dying from a wild dog's bite to her trachea, doesn't help ease my fears. But to stay in shape and compensate the days when I just can't face the wild dog packs, Sarah and I have been playing lots of tennis. I also started playing a little pick-up rugby on Saturday mornings. Crazy tough sport. Makes American football look like frisbee! And you know I can't close this episode without mentioning my my ever-so-present celebrity status. After a year of living here now, I can definitely do without it. I would have thought by now that everyone here has seen me. And that there would be no need to stare anymore. But unfortunately the ever growing attention continues.
What I'm about to tell you next is a bit goofy or silly. But lately it's been the little simple things that I miss most. For instance, it never occurred to me that I would one day miss something like the sounds of old dudes talking trash outside of my window in Takoma Park. When I told these sentiments to a Bulgarian friend, she reminded me that, Bulgaria has the same old dudes talking the same trash outside your window, only they are talking trash in Bulgaria and you cannot understand it. I think it was her subtle way of making me realize that after a year of living here, I really need to start thinking about learning some Bulgarian. Some real Bulgarian. Not just tiny phrases here and there.
And sadly on my one year anniversary, Film Box, a DVD rental store that Sarah and I used to enjoy browsing and picking up the latest DVD releases on Friday nights, recently shut its doors due to the ever growing popularity of illegal downloading. Now, whenever I walk past Film Box's empty windows, it not only brings back fond memories of us picking for videos, but also memories of other favorite past times that no longer exist in the ever changing Bulgaria — where one day a store is open and thriving with business, and the next day it vanishes into thin air. This is a constant occurrence that continues to baffle me. But when Film Box closed, it symbolically marked the end of the first chapter of my life in Bulgaria, making way for a new.
And ain't gonna lie to you. It's been really weird for me to think that I've been living here long enough to even start a new chapter. I never even thought I'd last a month. I know, I know — a lot of you thought the same thing.
But I'm still here. My tires aren't worn out. My tank hasn't run out of gas, yet. I'm still driving.
Be seeing you.
O
