To Return to Your Father's Home

Sofia is my home, not because it is Sofia, but because my parents and grandparents live there. I know that no matter what happens to me I'll always have a home to return (this has always been a lifesaving thought especially in a fucked up city like New York). My Mom, and my grandparents who love me to death spoil the hell out of me – letting me sleep till late, feeding me like a pig, giving me pocket money when I go out. I had taken some spending money before I left New York but didn't spend a dime, Mom simply won't let me do it, she even got offended when I wanted to pay for myself. I miss being unconditionally loved and taken care of.

I was concerned with how my parents and cat will view the boyfriend, and how the boyfriend will react to them. Both sides were civil and dare say liked each other – otherwise they must be pretty good actors. Boyfriend was also introduced to several of my friends. While in Sofia I decided that we should take advantage of the cheap medical care, and dragged him to a dentist. The dentist took longer than expected, but in the last couple of days (of the 6 day stay) he did see part of Bulgaria.


Boyfriend drank a fair amount of rakia (Bulgarian vodka), ate the traditional Shopska salata (tomatoes, cucumbers, fresh opinion, fresh garlic, baked peeled pepper, lettuce), learned how to say several things in Bulgarian, was dragged around a historical preserved town called Koprivshtiza famous for its revolutionary movement against the Turkish Yoke in the 19 century (with several houses turned into museums – 3 hours away from Sofia), bought himself a T-shirt with “Bulgaria” written on it and a "Bulgaria" sticker for his car, ate my Grandma's baklava, saw the homeless dogs roaming Sofia, admired some of the communist monuments built about the city, was dragged to a Leonardo da Vinci exhibit in the National Art Gallery, rode a post-Communist-leftover open lift to the top of Sofia's nearby mountain - Vitosha while drinking a shot of rakia to keep warm from the freezing mountain weather, admired the snow and clouds covered peak of Vitosha once the lift got us up (the snow was above his knees), survived two visits to the Grandparents where they had him drink Bulgarian smooth red wine, Bulgarian beer and rakia at the same time, saw the trash of the back neighborhoods where people do not acknowledge trash bins and don’t seem to mind living in dirt, was surprised on how cheap is everything for an American, rode on a street tram, was dragged into the golden cupola-ed Alexander Nevski Cathedral in the center of Sofia, my friends showed us to several dives (basements, private apartments) that are only know by a word of mouth – there he observed Bulgarian youth getting drunk, boyfriend was surprised that people smoked everywhere and that my Mom would not stop smoking even while we were having dinner, he saw the rope "system" that my Mom had on the balcony for drying clothes (for some reason she resists the idea of a dryer), he was laughing at me when suddenly I forgot how to say something in Bulgarian (so embarrassing – almost like Madonna and her British accent), he was hugged and kissed by my crying Grandma on the last day before leaving, drank coffee in small glasses, ate Bulgarian cheese (like fetta cheese but much better) and yogurt with honey, he saw communist era apartment buildings (blocks), was amazed by the parking lack of regulations where people simply parked their cars on the sidewalk. There were so many more things I wanted him to see – like the numerous mountains, and the Black See, and the historical towns, and the monasteries, and the remains of the Roman Empire scattered across Bulgaria.

There are so many more things that happened, however I think I should save some for a book or something.