| Dear Family and Friends, My trip back to Panagyurishte from Sofia (our capital, in case you�ve forgotten) began like any other trip back to Pana-G from Sofia. I waited for what seemed like hours with a whole slew of chattering Bulgarians as the bus driver bonded with syrupy black coffee and hack-inducing cigarettes at the caf� around the corner. It was a cool Saturday evening and the crisp autumn air made me shiver in spite of myself as I waited; as usual, I was lost in my own little world, destined to never be found again. I stood up with the masses, I sat on the cool concrete, I stood up and peered around the corner for any signs of the driver, I sat again and ignored the disgusted glances of the various Bulgarians whom were obviously shocked by my audacity to sit on the cool concrete and my lack of worry that doing so would cause me to become infertile. As I sat, an attack of fat, noisy yawns repeatedly invaded my mouth, alarming me of just how tired I really was. It must have been from running all over Sofia that day, putting together the perfect Halloween costume that will knock the socks off my students. Finally, the driver showed up and the fight began. Since waiting in line is a preposterous idea, we lunged for the open bus door in one mass fight to be the first person aboard; we pushed, we shoved, we pulled hair, and we squeezed and struggled with all of our might to get on that bus, relief only coming once we slammed one 12-inch spiked heel on the thin loafers of the dyado (grandpa) in front of us. And then it was a matter of climbing over slow-as-molasses babas, recycled plastic bags, and those timid women wearing the 12-inch spiked heels to get a nice, quiet seat at the back of the bus. Now, if you have ever experienced a long car, bus, train, or horseback ride with me, you know that I am usually snoozing within seconds. Something about road trips sends me into dreamland and it really does help the trip go by much faster. But . . . I usually wake up when my destination is reached. Another yawn attack hit me full force as the bus began its journey to Pana-G, but this time I found my head falling onto my backpack like a head of cabbage. Before I could say, �Leka Nosht� (Goodnight), my head was lolling manically, I was snoring like a sick grizzly bear, and drool was descending from my gaping mouth like Niagara Falls. I curled up into a fetal position to block out the escalating cold and my dreams took over full force . . . sending me to a litany of times, destinations, and events as I sunk into them like a warm bath. I was as content as content can be. The bus raced through Bulgaria, stopping at every little tom, dick, and hairy village along the way as some people got off the bus and others loaded it. But, still, I slept on. Bulgarians all around me chatted and cavorted in gay merriment. But, still, I slept on. We sped past braying goats and clucking chickens as the cold night air whipped menacingly through the bus. But, still, I slept on. We chugged along at break-neck speed, struggled up gargantuan hills in our rusted piece of metal until the driver had to get out to wind up the bus, and flew over stray animals, stray children, and stray babas like speed bumps. But, even then, I slept. I snoozed, I snored, I drooled, I dreamt; I was in such a deep sleep it seemed as if I�d never wake. Finally, an hour and 45 minutes later, I was roused from dreamland by a stopped bus. I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes, yawned, and looked around me. It usually takes exactly two hours to reach Pana-G, so I figured I still had 15 minutes to go. I didn�t recognize the town outside of the bus in the dark night, but I figured it was merely one of those villages. I noticed that the bus was deserted except for one man up front and the driver, but I blew it off as, �Well, many people live in all of those little villages we stop at!� And, with that, I picked up my magazine and began reading, anxious to get home. The driver puttered around outside of the bus for a moment and, when he got back on and started the bus back up, I was convinced that we hadn�t reached my town yet after all. A few minutes later, the bus pulled into a dirt yard that was brimming with car parts, various gadgets, woodpiles, overflowing trash, and doodads galore, all surrounding a tiny ramshackle house. The driver stopped the bus and got off, so by this point I was a little bit suspicious! I bit my nails nervously, fought a yawn, and timidly made my way to the front of the bus. It seemed as if nobody knew I was there! I glanced nervously at the ramshackle house, spotting somebody�s baba through one of the little windows as I began to chew nervously on my bottom lip. Just then, the driver appeared once again and asked, �What�s happening?!� in obvious bewilderment. �Were you asleep?!� he questioned dumbfounded. �Um . . .� I stuttered foolishly. �I WAS asleep . . . I was very tired . . . where are we?! Where is Panagyurishte?!� The bus driver looked as if he wanted to eat me for dinner as he replied, �We are at my home in (name of village). Where do you live? Where did you want to go? Panagyurishte is 8 kilometers from here!� Hmmm . . . quite the dilemma, if I do say so myself. �Can we go there?� I asked timidly and, to that, he barked gruffly, �I am home and I am going to bed! I am off from work until Monday. Don�t you have someone that you can call?� Hmmm . . . it�s 9:00 at night and I live alone . . . of course there�s nobody that I can call! �What am I supposed to do?� I whined. �It�s nighttime and it�s dark out, can�t you just take me JUST THIS ONCE?!!?� By this point, I was practically groveling at the poor man�s feet. So, he decided the least he could do was call a taxi for me . . . gee, thanks buddy! But, we waited and WAITED for the taxi and it seemed as if it would never come, him growing more impatient and agitated at the front of the bus and me cowering nervously in the back. Finally, he grumbled a little, put the bus in drive, and away we went . . . I guess he got tired of waiting. And he was sure to grunt at me a few times, �Do you have any money with you?� Ahhh, the things I have gotten into since I�ve been in Bulgaria! I am most definitely a mess sometimes! When we pulled up to my apartment 8 kilometers later, I shoved 3 leva at the disgruntled driver, thanked him profusely, and darted off that bus like a bat out of hell. I felt foolish, but what can I say?! All I know is that, the next time I take the bus, I�m bringing my alarm clock and a pillow! ;-) ZZZZZZZZZZZ, Sleeping Beauty |
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