So I’ve arrived. In
BULGARIA. What. (Cue ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’)
Upon exiting the baggage
claim at the Sofia airport, I was showered with hugs and kisses in between
cries of “Elizabeth!” and frenzied, incomprehensible Bulgarian. Overjoyed and
unable to respond in a language that my Aunt Verji would understand, I smiled
and embraced her back. My mother and aunt proceeded to jabber in what, to me,
is gibberish, as we rolled our suitcases out to the taxi.
My delight at the initial
greeting was quickly swallowed by awe, however, as I realized where I was and
how long my duration was in this foreign country. I remained silent and
attentive for the entire ride to my aunt’s apartment as my mother and my aunt
continued catching up in the back. Sofia was not what I remembered. It was modern. This baffled me, for some
reason.
We rolled into the apartment
complexes where my aunt resides and were promptly dropped off, after which we
entered the dimly lit first floor and took a very claustrophobic lift up to the seventh.
Dinner was served, and
consisted of sausages, fried cucumber things with yogurt, and zucchini and
potato soup with some kind of German bread topping. My awe had, by now,
transformed into shock, and throughout the entire meal I smiled and nodded
(“Very good!”) as I choked back tears. As soon as my aunt left the room and my
mother turned her back to me, they cascaded down my face, and then resumed
their watery descent when I was getting ready for bed.
“Elizabeth.”
“What?” I wiped my face.
I was seated on a rock of a bed (welcome to Europe) with my back to my mother,
gazing, blurrily, out at the city through the bedroom window.
“Elizabeth, what’s
wrong?” my mother asked.
“I just…need a moment.”
Oh gee wiz, golly and
gosh diggity (?), was that ever true. My awakening this morning was accompanied
by newfound cheer and determination, but this has not prevented doubt from
riddling my mind, or me to question repeatedly whether or not this was the
right choice.
I don’t think the uncertainty
is uncalled for. Had I attended UC Santa Cruz I would have not only lived by
the beach, but I would still be in ’MURICA, which means American food, American
customs, and flights home every month to visit my family and friends (AKA, YOU
GUYS. I love you. Wah). Not to mention all of the Cal fam that would have been
within a two hour radius of me.
Now
I’m here.
In freakin’ BULGARIA.
Wait, what? Where is
that? Is that a country? Is it by, like, Germany?
That’s in Russia, right?
HA. My favorite.
Yeah, so I’m still
undergoing a malenky bit of shock. I mean, I’m on the other side of the world.
And not just for a couple weeks.
FOR THREE AND A HALF
MONTHS. And then I fly home for a month.
AND THEN ANOTHER FOUR
MONTHS.
Shit.
What have I gotten myself
into?
To make matters more
difficult, I can’t speak Bulgarian. I know, I’m half Bulgarian, what the heck
is wrong with me, bla bla bla. Long story short, my mother never taught me, and
I never took the initiative to teach myself. Moving on. However, my Aunt Verji
and her mother can’t speak English, and neither can half the people in Sofia
(okay, that’s an exaggeration). This has resulted in repeated failed attempts
by her mother to communicate with me and then her growing frustrated when all I
can respond with is a smile and nod (oh, did I mention nodding is the
equivalent to ‘no’ and shaking your head back and forth means ‘yes’? Yeah, so that’s
a thing in Bulgaria. In India too, apparently. That also means I’ve been saying
‘no’ for two days to everything).
Actually, that’s pretty
much been the case since I arrived here.
“Dober den! A hubbuda bubbuda
dubbuba bla bla bla,” people greet me before my mother flies in and explains “Ne
bulgarski!”
More dismal is the fact
that even she forgets that I don’t speak Bulgarian. Occasionally she’ll start
rambling in the unfamiliar language (hubbuda bubbuda) before I am forced to
abruptly cut her off with, “ENGLISH, MOTHERFUCKER. DO YOU SPEAK IT?”
Just kidding.
I reserve my inner Samuel
Jackson/Jules Winnfield for special occasions.
The physical adjustment
isn’t pleasant either. I’m not only fatigued from over twenty-two hours of
travel and the ten hour time difference, but food here is MUCH richer (and,
might I add, WAY better) and air conditioning is nonexistent.
Yup. That’s right. No air
conditioning. ANYWHERE. IN NINETY DEGREE WEATHER.
Fuuuuuuuuu
But that’s not even the
worst part. The real cause of my demise?
THERE’S NO WIFI.
(Insert screams of
terror, doomsday music, etc.)
Okay, there is. Just not
any that I can access through my laptop, for whatever reason. So I’m limited to
checking Facebook on my aunt’s laptop. No e-mail,
because apparently Google has trust issues (just kidding, thanks for protecting
my account guys), no Skype, Twitter I can live two days without (okay, honestly any social media I can live a couple days without), no Insta, no Snapchat, nada. That means this blog
post won’t be up until I arrive in Blagoevgrad.
That’s okay. Sofia is an
interesting city to explore. Annnnd to kind of stick out in in the process.
My mother and I had to
run to the grocery store today, which meant taking the light-rail. As I ambled
down the street to the transit station, heads seemed to turn, pop out of cars,
and fixate themselves on me.
AMERICAN! They screamed
in my imagination and inwardly flailed their arms. Maybe I’m just paranoid.
Actually, that’s a fact.
So, that’s me right now. I’m
currently lying on my rock bed, typing this out, as the sun starts to sink in
the sky. Dinnertime is nearing, while all of you at home are likely salivating
on your pillow or preparing breakfast. From the slightly cracked window I can hear
children laughing and bantering back in forth in Bulgarian. An adult man interjects
occasionally with a hearty chuckle. The atmosphere here is pleasant and relaxed.
Too bad I’m not. Or my mother. My mother especially. Shhhhh.
Tomorrow I’m taking a two
to three hour bus ride to the village of Batoshevo, and then I return the
following day to Sofia, which I will spend school shopping.
Then I’m off to
Blagoevgrad and ORIENTATION. Woohoo! As soon as I get settled in at school, I
think I’ll be okay.
For now I’m going to
continue freaking out.
Liz
OUT
...I'm workin' on a better outro, guys. I swear.
