Alaskan Bulgarian

Still No Fall

Last year, September first came in a big, chilly windstorm that lasted a week and basically introduced all of us new volunteers to a Bulgarian Autumn right off the bat. Today was clear, sunny, and hot, still great weather for hanging clothes up on the line and taking walks in short-sleeved shirts. It's appreciated.

Knowing that cold weather may hit on any day and without warning, I went to Sofia early Monday morning in a sweater. Turns out I didn't need it as the weather in Sofia cooperated perfectly for maybe the second time in my dozen weekend trips there. This time I was going to see a dermatologist for a yearly check-up. No worries there, I went back to Peace Corps HQ and Jeff, Kate, Ryan, and I--the Athens crew from Christmas--took a taxi to the center of town, then a windy, uncertain walk that started out for Machu Pichu (a vaguely acceptable place for Mexican food, I'm told) and wound up at Pizza Hut for dinner. It was technically Jeff's last supper in Bulgaria, since he left Bulgaria the day after and we'd all known he'd be leaving for quite a while, but there wasn't so much talking about bread and blood and all that as there was making fun of him for being a quitter. Good-natured fun of course.

By the by, Pizza Hut--and Bulgarian fast food restaurants in general--have to be talked about. The Pizza Hut we ate at was just as beautifual and well-appointed as any other Pizza Hut I've been to in Bulgaria or Greece. Meaning that the place was, by all American pizza restaurant standards, gorgeous. Wood beams streched across the ceiling and the tables and cushions were all something you'd find at a trendy franchise in America. Instead of Pizza Hut, you get the experience of the Marina Del Ray Cheesecake Factory. I'm used to Pizza Huts with sawdust on the floor and Street Fighter and Mortal Kombat making all kinds of noise off in the corner. Maybe I've just been to the wrong Pizza Huts in America.

Mickry D's is also something to talk about in Bulgaria. They're probably the nicest 5-leva-for-a-meal restaurants in the country. I've seen better in America at times (No view in Bulgaria, for example, compares to the view from the legendary McDonalds in Sitka, AK), but they're bathrooms here are always above reproach and the people behind the counter give some of the better customer service in the country. This is most likely due to the fact that they're payed better than your standard American cashier. Bulgarian McDonalds employees, as I understand it, have to be at least a little bilingual. Sometimes they even seem a little put off when I come up to them with a slow Bulgarian. Like anyone saying Mozhe li something or other might as well just be speaking English for all the good it does them. They still put up the old smile, though. So that's something.

After dinner, I dropped my backpack off at a hostel and Jeff, a Belgian guy we'd met at the hostel, and I went off to entertain ourselves with Hellboy. Not a bad movie, actually, despite the unfortunate title it inherited from its comic book source. The army captures a baby demon during World War II and raises it into a superhero. Good special effects, good directing, good acting, it all goes to show once again that entertaining movies can be made out of comic books if you get a good crew on it.

The next morning, Jeff said goodbye and Peace Corps drove him to the airport, and I took a seven hour busride back home. Still here with less than a year left and skip in my step. School's kicking up again in two weeks, and there'll be some new challenges and new faces and all the new experiences that seem to make life worth living. Fun times.