Bulgaria

Sofia, Bulgaria

Hmmm… who knew that Eastern Europe was going to be such a challenge mentally? Later, I will come to find out that Northern and Western European occupants, never have or will never visit Eastern Europe.

The main way of transport in all of Europe is the railway system. In E.E. it is a way of life for the gypsies, tramps, and thieves. Let me explain how sleeping with one eye open, or not at all, can help you benefit while traveling on the rail system in most of E.E.

At a checkout counter while making my reservation, the attendant told me to get a sleeper train, and to not sit in the general seating area while traveling, so as to avoid the gypsies. “They will take everything… they will go through your bags and take your passport… they are looking for money.”

“Let them try,” I said, “I will fight!” Nuh-uh, not on my watch… I will knock a bitch OUT!

Well, that mentality was just me being a young, cocky, arrogant, hard-buck of a muscle-stud babes.

The reality of it is…. Where you sit on the train generally has six seats in a compartment (three seats facing the other three seats), with a glass sliding door that closes to the hallway. There are smaller vents on the floor area below the sliding door. Sophi, a young Bulgarian traveler (who studies in Vienna), told me of various techniques that thieves use to nab your belongings. Through the vents, the bandits will release a gas, to make you pass out. When you are nice and unconscious… they come in and steal everything… I imagine them taking my underwear… oooo that makes me angry.

Sophi then alerts me to the, “do not under any circumstance…open the door” to one of these gold diggers… because the moment that you do…. they will spray a substance on your face, and it’s off to neverland you go. Now I know where to come, when I need some good sleep and Tylenol PM no longer works. Maybe put some play money in my pockets to see how much they take. But then again…. that’ll probably piss them off and land me a few bruises. Sophi mentions that chains can be put onto the door to avoid any unwanted entry. Really? Really.

A clever way that these gypsies get their stab on you on land is by using their children. They will walk up to you and hand you their child… while you don’t want the baby to fall… you grab the child in confusion, all-the-while, moms busy shopping through your pockets. Lesson learned here… let the baby fall. Funny, in America… I’ve never had so much stress while traveling. Eastern Europe makes you grow and extra pair of eyes, 10 sets of ears, and a sick sense that EVERYONE is out to get you. It makes you very aware of your surroundings. Thank you E.E. for giving me Spidy sense.

Let’s move back now to the city of Sofia… the train ride through the Bulgarian mountains was just stunning… beautiful, lots of greenery, the train hugged a river for a great deal of the ride… that’s about when it began…

I was taking pictures of mountain sides, when I started seeing some small homes and trash thrown about. Hmmm?… we need to call that show “Hoarders” I thought. It didn’t stop there, every house I was seeing was the same. I don’t understand, you have a nicely built house, a back yard, and directly behind the fence of the back yard, were trash bags… lots of trash bags… some sealed, but mostly broken, as if shredded apart by animals… the trash lay scattered everywhere. Perhaps, because these homes are closer to the train, this could indicate that they are in the lower income bracket… which means they cannot afford trash pickup… hence, the people dispose of it any way they see fit. All assumptions of course.

All on the contrary… the whole city (what I saw in 8 hours – because I wasn’t about to stay one min longer) was like this… one giant trash heap. I didn’t take any pictures… because I don’t want to remember any of this.

Moving on from the self-made land fills… I had a dumb moment when I was in Bulgaria… I went looking everywhere for a bathroom… there were none to be found the 4 times I circled the inside of the worn down train station. I walked out of the station and into this newer shopping center for what was to be “Operation Bathroom.” After circling the entire thing twice, Op Bath was a failed mission… I gave up. I decided to go into an eatery for a quick bite and some wifi access (which -big surprise- the clerk didn’t know the password to log on).

Confused as to how Bulgarians don’t use the bathroom… I had had it… my body was ready to release without my consent. I ask the girl at the counter where the bathroom/toilet was. Unlucky for me, she didn’t speak English, right on par with the 10 other people I had tried to communicate with… WTF… I turned into a mime and acted like I was washing my hands and then put my hands up… like the “Where?” gesture… she laughed and shook her head like I was an idiot. Yes, I’m an idiot… but I have enough sense to not choose you, to be on my team during charades. I pulled out my final card, being that I was about to just relieve myself right there: I held my hand to my groin and pretended to be peeing from left to right… again, she laughed at me and then pointed to a structure that I had passed several times before labeled “WC.” What the heck is that? I tell you… with these silly games that are being played with me… I was thinking of doing the big dirty on the side of the small WC building… Why don’t you use pictures Mutha *uckas… they’re universal!! I tore in there, after already firing some blanks while looking for the *ucking bathroom, the beads of sweat on my forehead getting larger with each misfire. I felt like I was playing a new twisted version of  rush and roulette… my number was up. While on the toilet with no ventilation, I was there thinking what the hell did I eat that had me feeling this way? Oh, that’s right, my routine of 4 giros a day: one at lunch, 2 for dinner, and one after the bars at 5:30am. Mmmm… ewwww.

I did my monkey business… washed my hands and face, when suddenly, I turn to leave, and I see a woman behind a booth, near the exit. She was looking down, probably tying her shoe or picking up half of a sandwich she had dropped. That is when I noticed a sign that wanted .60 in Bulgarian currency (which of course I didn’t have). You have to pay to use the bathroom?!? Really? I ran out of the door and around to the back of the building… my heart was pounding… I had just dropped the big dirty and ran. It’s yours now… you deal with it.

I had to strategize my next move, as things like these could not have been expected… I wasn’t at all  prepared to be a bathroom criminal. I thought… I will run into the train station and blend in with the crowd by walking slowly in the direction of movement.

I ran quickly across the street, looked both ways, and for a split second I took a glance back; half expecting to see some armed guards chasing me. The train station was just ahead… I busted into a café that was attached to the station, and slowed down instantly by pretending to read a menu… disguising the fact that I was actually seeing if I was being followed. Thank the Gods… I got away. Have you ever shat and ran? I can now say I have. Disgusting, yet mildly exciting.