letter40

Dear Family and Friends,

I should have known when the Peace Corps Medical Office put a map in my hands that there would be trouble. Let�s just put it this way, if I were a pirate, the buried treasure would STAY buried. I took the map timidly in my hands and looked at the medical secretary quizzically. �Now,� she told me, obviously confident in my abilities. �We are here and the dentist�s office is here. All you have to do is go down this little street here, then get on this big street, then make a right at the big street, then go left here and then walk until you get here.� (HUH?!!?) She continued cheerily, �You shouldn�t have any problems; the dentist isn�t too far away. The sign by the bell should say, �Stomatolog� and that will be the place!� My head gave a mechanical nod as my mind drew a blank and I waved goodbye, smiled confidently, and headed out into the busy streets of Sofia.

I looked at my map once again. �Okay . . . I have to go down this little street here . . .� I mumbled to myself, studying the map. �This LITTLE street HERE . . .� My eyebrows scrunched together in bewilderment as I turned the map around to look at it from a different angle, then I turned it again, then I spun it around a third time, then I shrugged and began to walk. �Did she say I have to turn LEFT or RIGHT at the big street?!� I pondered as I stopped to examine both my left hand and then my right hand carefully. �Let�s see . . . left . . . LEFT . . .� I put the map in front of my face once again and turned it upside down, pressing it against my nose thoughtfully. I studied the address and written instructions, I studied the marked path that I was to follow, I studied the names and positions of the streets, I pretended that I really did know what I was doing and that I don�t ever get lost in my own apartment. And then, I smiled childishly as I skipped along the little street, the warm spring sun playing upon my cheeks.

I suddenly came upon the main street that runs through the center of Sofia and I turned like an expert, giddy clamor escaping from my taunting lips. �Hee, hee, hee!� I thought with a devilish grin. �I am finding my way to the den-tist! Without any prob-lems! Nanny nanny boo boo!� But, I should know NOT to count my chickens before they�re hatched! I made the correct turn on the road I needed to get on after the main street, but that was when trouble struck . . . FULL FORCE.

I walked along the road running my tongue over my teeth, debating over the amount of cavities the dentist would find. My map was long forgotten and I acted like I knew exactly where I was going, my confidence in becoming a pirate was increasing with each step. �I�ll show them!� I thought, thinking of all of those who have told me that I could never cut it as Captain Hook. Before I knew it, I suddenly stopped dead in my tracks, stumbling over my own two feet until my face nearly hit the pavement. I looked up at a large block building, examining the gargantuan blue and white sign that screamed, �Stomatolog� in large letters. �Stomatolog . . .� I thought. �StoMATolog . . . where do I know that from?!!?� And then, it HIT me like an express train, MY MAP! They told me to look for something that said, �Stomatolog�! Then this MUST be the place!� Wow, was I GOOD!!! Without another thought, I frolicked into the building, looking for the office of good �ole Dr. Karmokov. I walked up all of the stairs, I walked down all of the stairs, I walked up all of the stairs, and I walked down again, questioning why I wasn�t finding the office I needed to find. I walked out of the building, I walked in the building, I walked out again and rang the top left doorbell that my map told me to ring. A small Arabian gentleman in a white dentist�s coat answered my ring.

�Dr. Karmokov?� I asked, making my way into his quiet office. �Are you the dentist? I need a dentist!� A wave of confusion washed over his face as he also studied my map, my dental form, and my face with obvious bewilderment. �What is the problem?� He asked in Bulgarian. �I think I have cavities and I need you to fill them!� I replied in Bulgish. I thought they said this dentist spoke some English?! How in the WORLD do you say, �cavity� in Bulgarian?! The dentist seemed confused by my appearance, yet eager to have some business, so he was quick to have me seated in his dental chair with a bib around my neck. �This MUST be the right place!� I thought with uncertainty. �It has dental equipment, doesn�t it?!!?� The dentist (Karmokov?) stuck his gleaming instruments into my mouth in one swift motion poking and prodding at my teeth with anticipation. �Have problem,� he tried in English. �Have problem here . . . Be 25 leva?� �The Peace Corps will pay my dental bill,� I replied in Bulgarian. He gazed at my with total confusion and lack of understanding a word I was saying. �I am with the PEACE CORPS . . .� I tried again. �I call my wife,� he told me. �She know English!� So, the next thing I knew, he was calling his wife and thrusting his phone in my face. �Hello?� I said to the women at the other end. �Can you tell him that I work for the Peace Corps and that they are supposed to pay for my dental bill?� She didn�t understand either, perhaps confusing her poor little husband even more. But, he prepared his dental drill with the joy of having my business dancing in his eyes, when I said reproachfully, �Wait a minute . . . maybe we should call my work and you can talk to them?!� After all, shouldn�t a Peace Corps approved dentist whom I had an appointment with know at least what the Peace Corps IS?!!? So, the little Arabian dentist agreed, sadly set his drill aside, and we called the Peace Corps Medical Office. �Hello?!� I said to the secretary at the front desk in the PC office. �This is Chantel, please transfer me to the medical office and let me speak to anyone who speaks Bulgarian . . . quick!�

And, then, it was Boyko to the rescue! The infamous ear-infection, shot-giving doctor that I put my life in the hands of all of those months ago! He spoke to the dentist, I waited on bated breath, and then the little Arabian man, with a forlorn sigh, told me the one thing that would end my future as a pirate forever . . . I was at the WRONG DENTIST!!! How could it happen? How do I get myself in such fixes? Why is my life such a comedy? The poor little dentist insisted that I could stay and that he could fix my teeth, but I had to leave on my quest for the mysterious Dr. Karmokov once again. The dentist, then introduced as Dr. Bagdadi, gave me a piece of chocolate (what a good dentist!), a whimsical smile, and sent me on my way again with that blasted map and my dental form.

And, then, I walked up that street . . . I walked down that street . . . I walked UP that street . . . I walked DOWN that street . . . where, oh WHERE, is my little Dr. Karmokov?! I was drained, delirious, despondent . . . to the point of wondering if I WAS meant to see the dentist today after all. Just when I thought I was just going to give up and just let my teeth rot out of my head, I found the address that matched the address on my map. I did a double-take, I squinted from the address on my map to the address on the door, I viewed the tiny little, �Stomatolog� sign by one of the doorbells. Could it be?!!? I rang the bell and, sure enough, an easy going, English speaking, fun loving Dr. Karmokov, who had heard my story and found it quite amusing, met me at the door. But, who wouldn�t find my story amusing?!!? And, in a matter of minutes, I was seated in yet another dental chair, another bib was around my neck, and my mouth was stretched into oblivion. �Here I see a cavity,� Dr. Karmokov chanted with dental glee. �Oh, and here�s another! And ANOTHER . . .� I grimaced as he counted the cavities, suddenly discovering that Bulgaria is rotting out all of my poor teeth . . . oh, WOE is me! Just keep in mind, in 16 more months when you are all throwing big shin digs and celebrations to welcome me home, just make sure you prepare only soft foods like Jell-O and pudding for the grand event . . . after all, I�ll be the guest of honor making her grand entrance with a huge, grade A, all-American TOOTHLESS GRIN. :-)

Yo, ho, ho, and a bottle of Rum,
Chantel, The Toothless Wonder

P.S. Boyko said that this one was a first! When I have to see the dentist again next week, they are planning on sending a secretary with me . . . just so I don�t get lost! YIKES!!! :-O