Wednesday, October 19, 2005

3rd and final installment

Well Petya is back at work today and read the two installments of the blog. She is going to translate it into Bulgarian as well as print the English, and include it in her wedding album. I think this is a huge compliment.

So I am inspired to finish!

Food food food, it took us forever to eat, but the hours rolled by and we continued dancing and enjoying the music. The music: A 6 piece band with clarinet, drums, and various other instruments, and an incredibly soulful singer. I cannot describe Bulgarian music, except to say it has a hint of heartache. It is sweet in harmony with the vocalist signing at a slightly varied tone, up and down for each lyric, it seems. If you have ever seen "The English Patient", the Hungarian singing has that same flavor of soulful fluctuation. I quite like it, and it did give me goosebumps on occasion.

I had a great conversation with Vera, sitting beside me. Vera and Petya went to Egypt together on an exchange programme and she was telling me of the cattiness of Egyptian women. Vera, seemed different than other Bulgarian women I have met. She seemed to me to be very reserved, and possibly a tad superior. I didnt know what to make of her, but she was kind to me, and we being (possibly) the only 2 single women there, chatted and bonded all afternoon.

Unfortunaltely by 8, my headache had turned into a throb. The tissues stuffed in my ears were just not cutting it. I was also out of film, and my CF cards were almost full, so there was no real need for me to be there. As well, the important events had come and gone, most adults were leaving, and the "youngsters" were starting to gear up for a heavy booze fest and hard dancing.

The band packed up, the hall began clearing out, and I thought it might be a good time to sneak off for a nap. It was a good chance to escape from the annoying bum firing off fire crackers INDOORS. Apparently he got out of hand later and was given a swift kick in the butt! As an aside, the next morning we were all sitting in the Tavern having coffee, and one of the people at my table said "Who was that ass with the moustache firing all those fire-crackers? He was so drunk!" A guy at the next table said "That was my father. He doesnt drink!!!". Just at that moment the father walked in (keep in mind it is 10 am) walked up to the waitress and said "RAKIA!". Hair of the dog anyone??

I had every intention of returning to the party. I gave myself an hour to nap, and I did wake at 9:15 pm. I knew the party was just heating up, after all there were three massive bottles of booze on each table, and two were hard liquor, I think. At 9:15, I just couldnt move, so I gave myself another 15 minutes. I opened my eyes again, and it was midnight! I felt guilty, and I also felt I was missing out on fun, but the bottom line was, I had ingested enough second-hand smoke that night to last me three generations of offsprings, and I couldnt go back there. Everything smelled like smoke, even my earwax I am sure! How do they do it?? More importantly; WHY???? Ten years ago I would have gotten dressed and gone back, but now, my health takes priority and I was worn down.

SO I went back to sleep, and had a 12 hour nap that night. I dont remember if I dreamt of the wedding, or anything related, but I do remember waking feeling incredibly refreshed, and smiling. I was happy for my new friends. I remember telling her at some point in the day "I have just met you, and I feel like you are family". I never felt such closeness for my colleagues in Korea, as hard as I tried. There is something "Harazat" (meaning familiar, AND familial) about the Bulgairans. I feel totally at home here, as I did at the wedding. It was hard being the only non-Bulgarian-single-female-in her 30s, not smoking or drinking, (its lonely at the top) and I did only know the bride and groom, but I never felt uncomfortable.

Long and short of it is this. The more I see of the world, the more I feel I could fit in anywhere. Some places more easily than others, but at the end of the day each person is only different from another by 3% of their DNA, regardless of race or gender. So why is it so hard? We are so mixed up anyway, especially in this part of the world; the Greeks, Armenians, Turks and Bulgarians, just from what I have seen first hand. Not to get too phylisiphical, but there you have it!