Going Out

The endurance people have here is incredible. You really probably could go out every single day of the week and find something fun to do. At home (as far as I know) people only basically go out on Thursday, Friday, or Saturday night. And normally I think they pick 2 out of the 3. Doing more would be exhagusting and expensive. But that is not the mentality here. Most clubs or bars here are 2 lev or are free to get into. At home the one dance club, 103/Curva, was $10. The drinks are way cheaper too. There is one bar in town that sells tequilla shots for .80 cents, which in USD is about .57 cents. (Luckily Mumma, I do not like tequilla) A beer at most bars is 2 lev which is about $1.42. You can't really beat that. I know my parents will not be happy to read this but I can now drink a beer without cringing. Before this summer I never before had finished a whole can or bottle. I would always hand it off to someone else becuase I didn't like the tast. (I still don't like the taste very much but I find it much more tolerable now a days.) I don't think I really ever had quite the 'college experience' until I got here. I rarely stayed up past 2, I probably only drank last year under 10 times and rarely ever to the point of being drunk, and I never kissed a boy that I didn't know. I don't ever recall being hit on or having a boy buy me a drink. I really like it here. I am finally doing things that I think every other collage kid has been doing and I have been missing out on. My parents need not worry though. I don't black out, I don't throw up, and I only kiss. I also go to all my classes and I feel as though I am doing fairly well.

Dress Up

I love dressing up and looking good, and here it is so easy because everyone likes to dress up. I think this is the only school or time of my life where I have worn a dress and nobody asks why. I hate this question. “You look really pretty today! But why are you so dressed up?” Well, uhh, I don’t know, maybe because I wanted to look pretty. I like it here because I could wear a sundress every single day of the week and no one would think anything of it. This is probably because no matter what I wear, I am always out shone. Some of the outfits here with the hair, makeup, accessories, and shoes, are quite impressive. It took me 10 minutes the morning to get dressed, put on my makeup, and go. (This was probably mostly due to the fact that I woke up late.) Some of the girls here must spend a while on their appearance in the morning because they look outstanding. They wear these heeled boots and strappy sandals that I can only dream about being able to walk in. They have about 15 shoe stores here in town and the selection is endless. (Although they all only carry up to about a US size 7, thanks a lot.)

And then there are some girls here who don’t quite have it. It appears that they have put in effort but it just didn’t come out right. One of the popular things to do here is to crimp your roots so that it gives you some more body. I personally think its looks a little funny but I’ve seen lots of girls with their hair done like this. Some have done it a little bit too much and their hair is so built up that the hair sticks out parallel about two inches making the top of their head look flat. All I can think about when I see these girls is a little terrier puppy. Most of the “puppy” girls have been the younger ones who I assume are in high school. They also have school uniforms that they have glamorized. Some of them wear tights, which I just can’t fathom in this weather.

The older women have sometimes-odd outfits on. I saw a lady with a full zebra print cat suit. It was quite particular. I also find that the older ladies dress quite sexy. They have more cleavage and sex appeal then I do even though they are twice my age. They also always wear heels. I have seen them in the park chasing after children or pushing them in strollers and just clicking around in their pumps. If I can’t walk in them now, I doubt I will be able to at their age. Walking in those must be why so many of them are in such great shape.

I both like and dislike they way people dress here. They dress up enough so that I can too, but they also sometimes dress so well that I can’t compete.

Reading

One of the things I miss most about home is my friends and the people I love. For the first week I didn’t have any friends. I was pretty lonely. I felt deserted and heavily regretted my decision of coming here. I’ve never really had to make friends; I’ve just always had them. Before my freshman year of collage I can’t remember a single time where I felt alone. During my freshman year I had to make the conscious decision to talk to people I didn’t know, to try and branch out and be friendly, for the first time ever I had to try to make friends. Looking back, I didn’t do a very good job. For the first half of the year I was friends with my roommate and her friends, since there we aren’t really friends but we still get along and will talk when we run into each other but we don’t often go out of our way to speak to each other. The second half of the year I joined the sorority Pi Beta Phi. This I can say without question was the worst decision I have ever made. I thoroughly regret every minute I have ever spent with those girls. So from my freshman year I made friend that have since become polite acquaintances and girls that I would go far enough say that I hate. My sophomore year my beloved sister came back to me and so most of my free time was spent with her. Or, I was with the gentlemen in the grade below mine, who I adore. I can’t think of anyone who I have become friends with in the past year that was not introduced to me by one of my friends. I don’t think in the past year I have made an honest friend all on my own.

This is where Bulgaria has made this difficult. I can’t rely on anyone else to do the friend making for me. It’s up to me to be social and outgoing and, gasp, speak to somebody else first. I didn’t know any of the other girls that came from my school over here with me but since being here I would say that we have become friends. Many of the other Americans I would say that I have become friends with. We go shopping, to dinner, and out to parties together. And although I enjoy their company greatly, there is still something missing. They can’t read me like my friends at home can. I miss having people know what I want without me having to voice it. I can think of a couple times so far that people have tried, “Are you okay? You’re awfully quite” and “What are you up to? You look mischievous”. I appreciate their efforts but their guesses are often pretty far off. I am quite right now because I have nothing to say. I don’t know why I look mischievous, but all I am doing is just standing here. There are a few people at home who are acutely aware of what I am thinking/planning/doing. They often can figure it out with out my conscious consent and their awareness has often given away things that I didn’t necessarily want them to know. My top “emotion readers” may or may not be aware of their gift. My Mum knows when I am lying, no matter what. She is probably the best. It is almost eerie how much she knows. She can call on the phone asking me to do something and somehow know that I haven’t done what she asked me to the last time she called. She always knows when her phone call has woken me up no matter how cheery I make my voice. Mum has got me pegged. One of my ex-boyfriends, Michael, also could do this. In person I must have seemed like a Rylee specific news broadcast, just facts and truths written across my face instead of the television screen. My sister Kimble and my best friend Morgan are by far the most convent readers. We don’t need words to have a conversation. Facial expressions, body language, and just straight up knowledge of what we are like help us exchange information that just normal friends can’t do. We are in the same flow and it’s awesome. They know the difference between the look of “I am bored and want to go” and “I am bored but I love the fact that I have nothing better to do right now then let my mind wander”. They know when I am being fake, and believe me, if I wanted to lie to you, I probably could and you would have no idea.

I miss MY people. The ones I know and the ones that know me. I am not foolish enough a girl to think that this was going to be easy and that I would just waltz in here and be little miss popular. I know it’s going to take some time, and a big gust of courage on my part. Friends like I have at home are not going to be waiting outside the dorm holding a piece of paper with my name on it. They are probably out there waiting as eagerly and nervously as I am. I hope I meet them soon, because we have some memories to start making.

Frogger

Mario Kart, Donkey Kong, and Zelda are all great games but I the game of choice here is Frogger. But this kind of Frogger you don’t play on a computer or game console, no, you play Frogger live, where you are Frogger himself. This is how I feel almost every time I have to cross the street. I am not sure what the law is here, but I am pretty sure it’s not pedestrians have the right of way. Cars come careening around corners and it is your responsibility to make sure you are out of the way. Most of the cars I’ve seen so far have been driving uncomfortably fast for the size of the road they are driving on. Taxis are the worst. They appear to speed up when they see someone crossing. The main road everyone has to cross to get to school is almost always busy, and so in order to cross it most times you have to walk to the middle, wait, and then continue. This scares me, but I have seen many young children and elderly couples cross this way cool as a bird. The idea that you are in a video game doesn’t just apply to crossing the road, while riding in taxis and buses I have had a similar feeling. I recently was riding in a taxi and while speed was necessary to get up the hill we narrowly missed hitting an elderly lady with a cane crossing the street. The margin between her and the body of the car might have been a foot. The bus driver I had on my way back from Sofia seemed to have a similar case of being speed crazy and an eye impairment that made him miss judge distances. I think there were about 6 times where the driver laid on his horn, and none of them were because someone cut him off or was driving super slow. Nope, they were all because the driver had decided to pass tractor-trailer trucks, other cyr buses, or do a double pass when there wasn’t enough room. The horn was for the car we were passing to slow down so that our bus could get back over, often because the oncoming traffic was less than 50 yards away and a head on collision was a few seconds away. Europe is known for loving soccer, but from what I’ve seen it’s Frogger and possibly Simpsons Road Rage.

Let Me Give You My Order

Customer service is completely different over here, mostly because is doesn’t exist. The other day while shopping with my friend Kristin (who is a shoe shopper) we found this cute little shoe store called Shoe Aquarium in downtown Sofia. They had tons of cute sandals and boots (unfortunately none in my size, boo) and Kristin went about finding her favorite style and color. To get a different size then the one they had on display you had to go up and ask the lady behind the desk to go in back and find it for you. This lady must have hated Americans, her job, or everything in the world, because she was not pleased when Kristin asked for a different size or color. She was even more displeased when Kristin pointed out the one of the zippers on a shoe was broken and asked for a different one. The lady glared at her, scoffed, whipped around and marched off. It was so different from any other shoe store I have ever been in.

The same goes for restaurants. I love going out to eat here. The food is cheap and delicious, but the service is just so weird. First off you order your drinks and food at the same time, but you can only order once you’ve flagged down a waitress. They don’t like to just come over; you must call them, and other wise they may never come. When I have been out to eat with a group of friends on average there is about a half an hour between when the first dish is brought out to the last. In the US restaurants try very hard to bring everything out all at once and here they seem to just bring out the food whenever it’s finished. The wait staff here is paid by the hour so they don’t rely on tips, I think this may deter them from trying their hardest for customer service. However, it does mean the they are not particularly egger to turn their tables over and so we can sit there for two hours or so and no one is shooting glares in the back of your head.

They may not have a very good grip on customer service, but they do on restaurant atmosphere. Almost every place has a little outside sitting area with comfy plus deck chairs and overhead canopies. They outshine many places I’ve seen, even in Bar Harbor and France. They are adorable, small, and all have different attitudes and flairs. And because they are all so inexpensive, (about 7 lev or a meal which is roughly $4.55) you don’t feel bad about going out to eat 4-5 times a week. (Although I have about 550 lev to the school cafeteria so I don’t go out very often.)

So restaurants and stores are both good and bad here. Lots of cute stuff the is inexpensive, but bad customer service. Tasty and cute restaurants that you’ll spend at least two hours at whether you want to or not.

Staring at My Sparkling Personality

Lots of people here like to stare. It's awkward. I stick out like a sore thumb. Most Bulgarian people have dark hair and olive skin. They are incredibly skinny and have very angular features. Many of the other kids from my school are from more middle eastern countries and have black hair and squinty eyes. And there I am with my dirty blonde hair and ample body. I don't need to introduce myself or even speak for everyone to know I'm not from here or from anywhere in the area. I haven't had anyone say anything mean to me about being American (although a fellow American had a cigarette butt thrown at him, I wasn't there so I don't know the circumstance of what provoked this). Although most people aren't over excited about it either. Most service people don't really like us because it makes thier jobs more difficult. We can't order things and it's hard to get across what you want. I am sure we also don't know some of the customs and have probably been rude without trying. Some of the guys are very intreged by Americans though. They find us very interesting. I'm not nieve enough to think that it's because of our sparkling personality. One of my friends roommate asked if all American girls were like the girls in the movies; hot, drunk, and easy. (Thanks a lot Hollywood) He said that it wasn't true, but that he hadn't met every American girl. The males here are more polite then the males in France were. There is was sometimes hard to catch a break. I don't want to be hit on buy a guy that is old enough to be father or grandfather. I don't want you to yell things at me in French. And no, I don't want to 'rendevou'. I've only had about two Bulgarian older men say something to me, that was most likely at least somewhat inappropriate for the age gap, while I passed them on the street. A couple of times I may have accidently asked for the stares. Apparently here you don't smile or say 'hi' to people you don't know. You just walk past like no one is there at all. It's awkward and unnatural for me. In Winterport you would greet most people and possibly have a conversation with them whether you knew them or not. Here that is just not the case. There is a saying that I have heard "When people smile at you on the street they are either crazy or American." Hopefully I am just American and not American and crazy.

From Away

I feel like everyone here is not from here. Almost everyone I've met is from a country that I can't pronounce because I've never heard of it before. A lot of countries that end in 'stan'. I feel bad because I have to act like I know where their country is, I do this my nodding while smiling and then muttering something like "oh yeah, thats cool". There are so many different languages going around this campus its insane. We've got English, Bulgarian, Russian, Mandarin, Spanish, German, and a whole slue of other Slovak languages that I can't tell the difference between. Everyone asks me where I'm from and when I say Maine I think they get a little bit disappointed. I think most people would prefer to be friends with someone from New York or California, someplace where if they came to the US they would want to go. I'm not saying that they don't want to be friends with me because I'm not from someplace that is popular, I just think lots of them are trying to find places to visit when they come to the US. During orientation I went to a presentation from the Career Center and they suggested to everyone to take a summer and work in the US. They said it didn't even matter if you just worked as a waitress or at a grocery store, it would look better on your resumé. It shows that you really do have a grasp on English and that is really important to employers from what I understood. I always thought they just came over to make money. My roommates just finished working at Martha's Vineyard. They are from Kazakhstan. Im almost positive that they were roommates last year as well. I like them for the most part. But it's a little bit annoying when for 95% of the time they are talking they are talking in Russian and they know I don't understand any of it. One said the other day that she was out of practice of speaking in English, but, she did just get back from working for 4 months in the states. I think she was trying to make an excuse for speaking Russian so much. It is convenient though that they worked in the states because then I can talk to them at a normal pace and they know what I am saying. On one of the first days I had to share a computer with this guy and I was causally talking to him, about a half a hour had past when he finally asked where I was from. I told him I was from Maine in the US and he goes, "Oh, I guess thats why I can't understand what you're saying." I was embarrassed. So now I constantly have to make sure that I am talking slowly and without using much expression. It's cramping my style.