my head is awash in a deliberate smattering of songs coming from the tiny mp3 player on my lap. lush colors of fall blur together as my train scoots ever closer to sofia. i head to the big city for a lazy afternoon of reassembling myself, alone and anonymous. i am without a schedule and i revel in the spacious freedom of this friday.
quite unlike the previous year, my mind enjoys the luxury of aimless wander. unstructured time is spent self-replenishing, rather than merely surviving, and often directs my thoughts to a hodgepodge of musings.
the musing du jour is a disconnect i feel between bulgaria and what i characterize as "europe." i'm regularly remiss in reminding myself i do, in fact, live in europe. it's just that... well, bulgaria simply lacks that quintessential je ne sais quoi of my (admittedly) superficial "real" european characerizations. defined narrowly in the context of one "euroadventure '05," a two week rapid fire tour of (mostly) western europe (which was lovely anyhow), the strict confines of my version of europe have yet to extend their reaches to the land of the bulgs.
emanating from that trip are crisp images of jagged swiss alps and fondue-filled villages below them; pristine hillsides and impossibly blue lakes; filthy underground metros in rome and fancy water poured from mesmerizing sapphire glass bottles, haunting facades of blackened stone structures in prague; quaint buildings and colorful villages, "gas" water and gelato every 20 meters; european cars ("tent on wheels") crammed one behind the other on every street; sidewalk, in every parking lot and alley.
comparatively speaking, bulgaria is relatively devoid of such ubiquitously european denotations, almost hopelessly so . a friend who dares to explore bulgaria comments,
"in no way does it feel like europe here," when i probe for her opinion.
"is it the sidewalks? you can be honest," i offer. the sidewalks here deserve their time in the spotlight. perhaps only in bulgaria is one able to plunge one's foot into a well-disguised reservoir of filth water whilst advising a clueless friend to mind "sketchy-looking" concrete sidewalk squares, as they often lead to unexpected surprises.
"no," she continues. "it's not the sidewalks, or the food, or even the claustrophobia of sofia. it's just..." she trails off in thought.
it's just not europe, i tell myself as i silently release colorful expletives at having to march along with a wet foot.
********
i sit patiently as i am whisked off to sofia. i return to pondering my efforts to join bulgaria and europe, seeing them now to be a tactic of repressing my unassailable homesickness. while bulgaria as a whole is decidedly un-european, i conclude, sofia, in all of its quirkiness and pretentious disdain, is my primary connection; it is the most quintessentially european place available under my narrow limitations.
if you need me in the next 9 months, i will be in sofia, vacationing with my replenishing self and drowning in my music until i no longer have to endeavor to find home.
by then, i will simply have arrived there.
Friday, October 9, 2009
Monday, October 5, 2009
lost in a daydream
a list of current daydream fodder...
*warm rice huddled around an oozing bean, chicken and melted cheese and sour cream amalgamation all conveniently wrapped together for my eating pleasure and stuffed in a foil shell for the interim of time between the debit card swipe and the first savory bite... oh chipotle, you'd better still be waiting for me after all this time.
*cruising down an eight-laned monstrosity, sunroof cast open, music darting through the air, a clutch underfoot and nowhere to be.
*a weekend in vegas, including me acting as a chopstick puppeteer over a porcelain plate of raw fish and avocado, slowly sipping at my go-to "kahunaville fog drink" affectionately known for its clouds of dry ice skirting across the surface of far too much alcohol, and, not least, indulging in one of cirque du soleil's haunting and otherworldly escapes before staring down at the bellagio fountains as choreographed water dances before my tipsy eyes. i imagine that doesn't actually happen in bellagio, italy, but i'm willing to suspend my disbelief as i blow my readjustment allowance watching fancy mechanical fountains to elvis presley.
*days and weeks and months of reminding myself this really happened.
*max! my little white woof woof who barks at me on skype as if to remind me he's not forgotten me. adorable, personified.
*an abhorrently huge heaven of a bed draped with a feathery duvet and elastic, fitted sheets.
*scouring every european market within miles and miles of my stateside landing spot to secure a source of bulgarian-esque feta cheese and yoghurt for routinely scheduled consumption.
*the prospect of zero additional thought dedicated to the topics of "cultural integration" and "intentional relationship building" and actual, genuine interest in doing that because my little heart desires to.
*crawling into warm clothes fresh out of a dryer with just the faintest hint of a lavender vanilla aroma.
*and furthermore, embracing snuggly, plush towels that haven't morphed into sand paper from two cycles of: wash, rinse, air dry, repeat.
*heavy and deliberate attention focused on the subject of re-integrating into the world of long hours, entirely too friendly people, $1 bins of amazing and irresistible junk at target, alternating chick-fil-a milkshake and lemonade runs, slow customer service systems, summer dips in a legit outdoor swimming pool, bona fide margaritas and to that end, mexican food, boulder's half fast sub splendor, an afternoon in north boulder park with said splendor, gumming salt water taffy from estes park to death while in the middle of a big lake sluggishly paddle boating around, running laps around washington park and 30-minute meals on the food network.
*how many people can i squeeze in on my "she rekindles long lost friendships tour" of the states with future used car before obligatory employment robs all such liberties from me.
*knoxville, frederich maryland, northern california, portland, seattle, new orleans, new york, d.c., and of course, disney world...this being my ever growing list of tour pit stops.
*paris. my comically atrocious french. enough said.
*hugs for each and every person who kept up with me during this roller coaster ride.
*warm rice huddled around an oozing bean, chicken and melted cheese and sour cream amalgamation all conveniently wrapped together for my eating pleasure and stuffed in a foil shell for the interim of time between the debit card swipe and the first savory bite... oh chipotle, you'd better still be waiting for me after all this time.
*cruising down an eight-laned monstrosity, sunroof cast open, music darting through the air, a clutch underfoot and nowhere to be.
*a weekend in vegas, including me acting as a chopstick puppeteer over a porcelain plate of raw fish and avocado, slowly sipping at my go-to "kahunaville fog drink" affectionately known for its clouds of dry ice skirting across the surface of far too much alcohol, and, not least, indulging in one of cirque du soleil's haunting and otherworldly escapes before staring down at the bellagio fountains as choreographed water dances before my tipsy eyes. i imagine that doesn't actually happen in bellagio, italy, but i'm willing to suspend my disbelief as i blow my readjustment allowance watching fancy mechanical fountains to elvis presley.
*days and weeks and months of reminding myself this really happened.
*max! my little white woof woof who barks at me on skype as if to remind me he's not forgotten me. adorable, personified.
*an abhorrently huge heaven of a bed draped with a feathery duvet and elastic, fitted sheets.
*scouring every european market within miles and miles of my stateside landing spot to secure a source of bulgarian-esque feta cheese and yoghurt for routinely scheduled consumption.
*the prospect of zero additional thought dedicated to the topics of "cultural integration" and "intentional relationship building" and actual, genuine interest in doing that because my little heart desires to.
*crawling into warm clothes fresh out of a dryer with just the faintest hint of a lavender vanilla aroma.
*and furthermore, embracing snuggly, plush towels that haven't morphed into sand paper from two cycles of: wash, rinse, air dry, repeat.
*heavy and deliberate attention focused on the subject of re-integrating into the world of long hours, entirely too friendly people, $1 bins of amazing and irresistible junk at target, alternating chick-fil-a milkshake and lemonade runs, slow customer service systems, summer dips in a legit outdoor swimming pool, bona fide margaritas and to that end, mexican food, boulder's half fast sub splendor, an afternoon in north boulder park with said splendor, gumming salt water taffy from estes park to death while in the middle of a big lake sluggishly paddle boating around, running laps around washington park and 30-minute meals on the food network.
*how many people can i squeeze in on my "she rekindles long lost friendships tour" of the states with future used car before obligatory employment robs all such liberties from me.
*knoxville, frederich maryland, northern california, portland, seattle, new orleans, new york, d.c., and of course, disney world...this being my ever growing list of tour pit stops.
*paris. my comically atrocious french. enough said.
*hugs for each and every person who kept up with me during this roller coaster ride.
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