It's Been A While

Blagoevgrad has changed quite a bit since we were here in 1998. It’s not that it’s unrecognizable – there are still lovely views to the hills and mountains beyond; the pretty little river still runs through the middle of town – but there is a lot more commercial activity everywhere. There are a ridiculous number of cafes on every block in the center of town and an untold number of new stores and shops, many with flashy signs in English. Having first come to Bulgaria in 1993, it’s amazing how the capitalist ideal, once unleashed has taken over.

My first shock on this trip came when I touched down at the shiny new airport in Sofia. The old Sofia airport was nightmarish – the worst I’d ever encountered. The new one is super, and was almost deserted when I flew in Sunday evening. The lovely Jennie was there to get me (along with the driver) and we enjoyed our reunion and the two hour cruise south to Blago.

I was a bit apprehensive about having to teach two classes the following morning, however. I got approximately 30 minutes of sleep on the flight from Denver and I knew the rubber-headed jetlag syndrome that was in store for me. Jen had agreed to cover my classes if I was just to incapacitated to teach, but that seemed a cruel fate for her, as she had a full load of classes herself. I slept a few hours Sunday night, woke up at around 4 a.m. and started brainstorming activities to do in class that morning. I somehow stumbled through my two classes of teenagers, but after my adrenaline subsided, I felt dumb, wobbly, and ready for a nice nap. Ahhhh….

My lag has evaporated by now, I’m sleeping normally and my excuses for goofy behavior have run out. I teach in the mornings, meet Jen for lunch, after which she goes off to teach her classes. I’ve abandoned my afternoon nap and have been rambling about Blago in the afternoons. It has been really hot despite a cool and windy day or two.

So far the food’s been tasty, the beer is good and cold, and the people are friendly. In the olden days, the Bulgarians were not so cheerful and open to strangers. I get my morning espresso from a little hut run by an old gentleman who has taken to practicing his English with me as I blurt rudimentary Bulgarian at him (I used to speak it better, honest!). The other night, at a down-home Bulgarian eatery, the young waitress started speaking Russian with Jen. I t turned out her mother was Russian and she had family in Ukraine. I was hearing a stew-like mélange of Russian, English and Bulgarian, which resulted in some tasty chicken fillet, fried potatoes and cold beer. By the way, my vaunted low-carbohydrate diet is shot. Hopefully, I can keep from blimping out on the rib-sticking local cuisine.