Last night I may or may not have fallen in love with a Bulgarian pop icon, Ila may or may not have been in a dance contest with Bulgarian strippers and Emilia may or may not be "in luv wit a stripper."
What happens in Bulgaria stays... documented in my blog.
Boys 2 D Max (I recommend YouTubing them if you have no idea what I'm talking about) played in Sofia last night. Of course we went. Of course we were front row for the hot boys and of course Emilia informed them that we were Americans.
If anyone at Club Exit didn't know our names and place of birth last night, the may just be retarded.
So during the show, Plamen, aka the most gorgeous green eyed MC I have ever seen asked for 3 dancers to participate in the show. Since at that point Ila was closer to the stage, we pushed her into it.
Man, I have never seen moves like those before! And Ila's weren't bad either.
She was being tossed around like a sock puppet. Then the genre of music changed and she had to belly dance. Did I mention Leo, her partner, was half Cuban? Yeah, shake those hips Shakira. It ended with some absurd moves with Ila standing over some other girl and doing this bizarre shimmy.
All in all, I would pay good money to see that again. Here's a fun fact about Bulgaria... I made a video of the dance! Ransom someday.
So Mario, the most cute, buff and tall dancer was catching Emilia's eye. After the show, we wanted to meet the boys and apparently they come around and talk to people. But alas, not last night. We stayed and danced to a random conglomeration of dance, house and techno (not that I even know the difference) and Umbrella - Rihanna came on. We were the only cute girls left in the club and every boy was staring at us. Fantastic.
The night ended somewhere around 4am and we took a cab home. We saw Plamen once more before leaving but sadly, I think that is where our love story ends.
Today we're heading to the beach on the Black Sea. We are picking up Marcolito at the airport and hitting the highway. 6 hours until we are on the beach. Emilia and I plan on having a crazy weekend.
Did I mention Boys 2 D Max put on a show at the Black Sea? Look out chicos, here we come.
Plamen, the Cuban and Mario... and Paulina
Wait! I forgot the best part about last night! We had a heinous woman with bleach blonde extensions who may have been 40+. She was dancing next to us. Her name was Paulina. She was a terror. Ila says she looked like a genie on crack. It was her birthday and she was an attention whore. She was everywhere, dancing on tables, the bar, her friends. Terror.
Shopping as Locals
We went shopping yesterday too. And we all bought fabulous dresses. And I bought the sweetest pair of silver gladiator sandals for 16 lev... about 10 bucks. We looked fabulous. And apparently Ila and I look Bulgarian because all the people speak to us and all we can do is smile and yelp, "Emilia! That lady said something to me!"
The Eastern Europe
Bulgaria is a place you can sink your teeth into. Literally.
We flew into Sofia last night and met Emilia and her mother at the airport. She brought us back to their house for a feast prepared by her father, Elgeni.
Wait, wait wait. In my haste to tell you the fabulous details of Bulgaria, I forgot one fun fact about Munich. We got stuck there for 6 hours!
Our flight leaving CDG was late because of some auxiliary power problem. We already were cutting it close with a 40 minute layover so we were pretty much expecting to miss our connection. And we did.
Lufthansa gave both of us 10 E vouchers to eat lunch for free. So after that, Ila and I settled into our naps. Jetlag sucks!
But, we both agreed that if we had to be stranded at an airport for seemingly endless amounts of time, Munchen would be our choice city. The terminal was modern and quiet! And, the chairs were stuck together to make benches without armrests, which meant we could literally lay down on them.
Both of us wanted to nap so instead of taking shifts as initially planned, we laid on our bags and made sure nothing would be taken.
I had a little more faith in humanity and so inserted my commercial regulation camoflage earplugs to block out any residual noise.
Halfway through the nap our out of the way gate/bedroom was host to a flight, but since I had the cantaloupe sized plugs in no noise was penetrating my auditory nerves.
After Ila napped for a little over 5 hours (She claims she was just resting her eyes but I distinctly heard her snore) we went to use the free Lufthansa dinner cards.
We ended up getting salads, water, toblerone and... a pretzel. How deutsch.
Our dinner company included a nice Canadian couple, their 2 year old terror Tristan and a crazy Polish/Italian man.
So we finally boarded our very small plane to Sofia. The nearly 48 hours of travel was almost over.
During the flight, my stomach was feeling ill. As I already get motion sickness, I was suffering pretty badly. The pressure in the cabin was excruciating. I thought I was going to explode just as the captain announced in broken english that we were making our final descent into Bulgaria.
So we land, take a bus to the gate, go through customs and FINALLY meet Emilia.
Sidenote: on the plane there was a boy who traveled with a horse toy. As luck would have it in our customs line there were 3 Italian men. The horse toy kept making noises and Ila translated what they were saying: I want to eat that horse.
After our drive back to Emilia's parents apartment, we were given a feast. There were amazing salads, cheeses, cucumber spread, salami and then a roast chicken. We had to drink vodka, wine or rakia (a sort of minty aperitif drink)
Emilia's father told us were were welcome in their home any time, with or without Emilia. All four seasons. Priceless.
We flew into Sofia last night and met Emilia and her mother at the airport. She brought us back to their house for a feast prepared by her father, Elgeni.
Wait, wait wait. In my haste to tell you the fabulous details of Bulgaria, I forgot one fun fact about Munich. We got stuck there for 6 hours!
Our flight leaving CDG was late because of some auxiliary power problem. We already were cutting it close with a 40 minute layover so we were pretty much expecting to miss our connection. And we did.
Lufthansa gave both of us 10 E vouchers to eat lunch for free. So after that, Ila and I settled into our naps. Jetlag sucks!
But, we both agreed that if we had to be stranded at an airport for seemingly endless amounts of time, Munchen would be our choice city. The terminal was modern and quiet! And, the chairs were stuck together to make benches without armrests, which meant we could literally lay down on them.
Both of us wanted to nap so instead of taking shifts as initially planned, we laid on our bags and made sure nothing would be taken.
I had a little more faith in humanity and so inserted my commercial regulation camoflage earplugs to block out any residual noise.
Halfway through the nap our out of the way gate/bedroom was host to a flight, but since I had the cantaloupe sized plugs in no noise was penetrating my auditory nerves.
After Ila napped for a little over 5 hours (She claims she was just resting her eyes but I distinctly heard her snore) we went to use the free Lufthansa dinner cards.
We ended up getting salads, water, toblerone and... a pretzel. How deutsch.
Our dinner company included a nice Canadian couple, their 2 year old terror Tristan and a crazy Polish/Italian man.
So we finally boarded our very small plane to Sofia. The nearly 48 hours of travel was almost over.
During the flight, my stomach was feeling ill. As I already get motion sickness, I was suffering pretty badly. The pressure in the cabin was excruciating. I thought I was going to explode just as the captain announced in broken english that we were making our final descent into Bulgaria.
So we land, take a bus to the gate, go through customs and FINALLY meet Emilia.
Sidenote: on the plane there was a boy who traveled with a horse toy. As luck would have it in our customs line there were 3 Italian men. The horse toy kept making noises and Ila translated what they were saying: I want to eat that horse.
After our drive back to Emilia's parents apartment, we were given a feast. There were amazing salads, cheeses, cucumber spread, salami and then a roast chicken. We had to drink vodka, wine or rakia (a sort of minty aperitif drink)
Emilia's father told us were were welcome in their home any time, with or without Emilia. All four seasons. Priceless.
The Luggage Shuffle
Today's blog episode will focus on the theme of overpacking. And thus begins, the luggage shuffle.
Obviously, from my previous entries I overpacked. THe 5th grader has eaten a lot of McDonald's or something and has now morphed into a middle schooler.
At Pierre Parent's apartment, Ila and I had a think about the next days travel to Bulgaria. We have virtually no time between our flight to Muchince then on to Sofia. So we decided to really pack light and move all of our toiletries into one bag, check it, and carry on the rest of our stuff.
Considering how I plan on spending the next week in nought but my swimming suit, that shouldn't be a problem.
So we leave poor Mr. Parent with the guts of our stuff and head to Charles De Gaulle. We manage to make the morning commuter train, which is stuffed with positively pleasant Parisians. Yeah right.
After the train Ila and I feel nauseous but we make it to the airport. Only 1 more train, check in lines and several more moving sidewalks until we are here, sitting at the gate, about to eat baguette and cafe au lait.
So already I want to ship stuff home and I've only been here 1 day! Though I seriously cannot imagine what I could take out that would make a difference and I could live without. Luckily, the padres are coming over and I can send them home with the obligatory amount of stuff.
If we don't unload soon, the luggage shuffle will soon become the luggage trudge.
Obviously, from my previous entries I overpacked. THe 5th grader has eaten a lot of McDonald's or something and has now morphed into a middle schooler.
At Pierre Parent's apartment, Ila and I had a think about the next days travel to Bulgaria. We have virtually no time between our flight to Muchince then on to Sofia. So we decided to really pack light and move all of our toiletries into one bag, check it, and carry on the rest of our stuff.
Considering how I plan on spending the next week in nought but my swimming suit, that shouldn't be a problem.
So we leave poor Mr. Parent with the guts of our stuff and head to Charles De Gaulle. We manage to make the morning commuter train, which is stuffed with positively pleasant Parisians. Yeah right.
After the train Ila and I feel nauseous but we make it to the airport. Only 1 more train, check in lines and several more moving sidewalks until we are here, sitting at the gate, about to eat baguette and cafe au lait.
So already I want to ship stuff home and I've only been here 1 day! Though I seriously cannot imagine what I could take out that would make a difference and I could live without. Luckily, the padres are coming over and I can send them home with the obligatory amount of stuff.
If we don't unload soon, the luggage shuffle will soon become the luggage trudge.
The Englof Luck
The Englof Luck
Here we go! I ran around like a crazy person today and managed to get nearly everything done that I needed to. I said cheerio to my family and jumped onto the bus to O’hare.
My pack weighs roughly as much as a 5th grader. Fantastic. Well, every day it should get lighter as I use my massive amount of hair products. That is, until the first day we go shopping.
But I really think my crowning achievement in packing was limiting my amount of footwear. Just 3 pairs of shoes. Man, am I going to be happy when I am re-united with my lovelies. (other shoes)
I’m sitting here on the plane eating the world’s ugliest beef jerky. Imagine if you cut the heel off a cowboy boot, ran it over several hundred times with a pickup truck and then rubbed it in dirt. And I’m eating it. I’m sure the poor girl sitting next to me is giving me those looks of horror because she is concerned about my health. Oh no. I just spit in my attempt to gnaw the leathery mess. I am a disaster and she knows it.
So getting on the flight was an adventure, obviously.
Ila shows up at 3:08 for our 4:20 flight. I am anxiously awaiting her and have already checked in my 5th grader. She swaggers up and we begin to wait in line. It should go relatively quickly, there are 4 lanes open and only about 5 families ahead of us.
But here comes the Englof luck. One of the families has a grandma, 2 parents and 4, yes, 4 ninos. 2 sets of twins. Luckily the youngest set is chained into ther stroller. There’s no way those two Pearl’s could escape. The other devils cause some mischief when they chain their dad’s suitcase intricately through several loops onto another cart so that when he tries to hurriedly move it to the security screening, they reach a roadblock.
Finally, said family negotiates the line. 4 minor catastrophes later and they push on to security.
Ila checks in and we hustle to the next line. What a mess. I don’t know how Europe is being run right now seeing as how the entire continent is waiting in front of us in line. We creep closer and closer to the end of our misery when lo and behold, in comes France. AirFrance to be more precise. I don’t know what crappy straw we pulled to end up in the far right lane but we close our mouths and wait patiently as the gorgeous femmes and homes step in our place.
Justice, however, prevails.
One of the most French looking 82 pounder, we’ll call her Marie (no relation to Saavedra) waits with hair sprayed into a virtual helmet. It is sort of a French twist but with no ends exposed. They are all lacquered down to her pretty little head. She gets stopped. She doesn’t pass the metal detector for some reason. The large black man, we’ll call him Jerome stops her and gives her some Chicago-style charm.
Jerome: “You didn’t pass my detector.”
Marie: “Zese crazy tings. Ze are so sensiteev.”
J: “Do you have any metal on you?”
M: “Just ze bobby pins ‘olding my ‘air.”
J: “We’re going to need to wand you.”
Meanwhile, she may have upwards of 6,000 pins in the helmet. The rest of AirFancy is laughing snootily. Very French.
We make it to the flight with 20 minutes to spare.
Plenty of time. According to Ila.
Not nearly enough. According to me.
So I settle in to 36H and Ila sits at 33H. Next to me is a quiet girl from the EU, who seemingly abhors beef jerky from the continued looks I am getting.
So what was our in-flight entertainment?
Use your best Irish accent. “Wild Hogs.” Ila and I share a laugh. I thought it was because the way the flight attendant said it was hilarious. Ila apparently thought the movie was a documentary on Wild Hogs.
Fantastic. Oh well, at least now there’s only 6 hours and 32 more minutes until we land. If the Englof luck doesn’t run out.
Here we go! I ran around like a crazy person today and managed to get nearly everything done that I needed to. I said cheerio to my family and jumped onto the bus to O’hare.
My pack weighs roughly as much as a 5th grader. Fantastic. Well, every day it should get lighter as I use my massive amount of hair products. That is, until the first day we go shopping.
But I really think my crowning achievement in packing was limiting my amount of footwear. Just 3 pairs of shoes. Man, am I going to be happy when I am re-united with my lovelies. (other shoes)
I’m sitting here on the plane eating the world’s ugliest beef jerky. Imagine if you cut the heel off a cowboy boot, ran it over several hundred times with a pickup truck and then rubbed it in dirt. And I’m eating it. I’m sure the poor girl sitting next to me is giving me those looks of horror because she is concerned about my health. Oh no. I just spit in my attempt to gnaw the leathery mess. I am a disaster and she knows it.
So getting on the flight was an adventure, obviously.
Ila shows up at 3:08 for our 4:20 flight. I am anxiously awaiting her and have already checked in my 5th grader. She swaggers up and we begin to wait in line. It should go relatively quickly, there are 4 lanes open and only about 5 families ahead of us.
But here comes the Englof luck. One of the families has a grandma, 2 parents and 4, yes, 4 ninos. 2 sets of twins. Luckily the youngest set is chained into ther stroller. There’s no way those two Pearl’s could escape. The other devils cause some mischief when they chain their dad’s suitcase intricately through several loops onto another cart so that when he tries to hurriedly move it to the security screening, they reach a roadblock.
Finally, said family negotiates the line. 4 minor catastrophes later and they push on to security.
Ila checks in and we hustle to the next line. What a mess. I don’t know how Europe is being run right now seeing as how the entire continent is waiting in front of us in line. We creep closer and closer to the end of our misery when lo and behold, in comes France. AirFrance to be more precise. I don’t know what crappy straw we pulled to end up in the far right lane but we close our mouths and wait patiently as the gorgeous femmes and homes step in our place.
Justice, however, prevails.
One of the most French looking 82 pounder, we’ll call her Marie (no relation to Saavedra) waits with hair sprayed into a virtual helmet. It is sort of a French twist but with no ends exposed. They are all lacquered down to her pretty little head. She gets stopped. She doesn’t pass the metal detector for some reason. The large black man, we’ll call him Jerome stops her and gives her some Chicago-style charm.
Jerome: “You didn’t pass my detector.”
Marie: “Zese crazy tings. Ze are so sensiteev.”
J: “Do you have any metal on you?”
M: “Just ze bobby pins ‘olding my ‘air.”
J: “We’re going to need to wand you.”
Meanwhile, she may have upwards of 6,000 pins in the helmet. The rest of AirFancy is laughing snootily. Very French.
We make it to the flight with 20 minutes to spare.
Plenty of time. According to Ila.
Not nearly enough. According to me.
So I settle in to 36H and Ila sits at 33H. Next to me is a quiet girl from the EU, who seemingly abhors beef jerky from the continued looks I am getting.
So what was our in-flight entertainment?
Use your best Irish accent. “Wild Hogs.” Ila and I share a laugh. I thought it was because the way the flight attendant said it was hilarious. Ila apparently thought the movie was a documentary on Wild Hogs.
Fantastic. Oh well, at least now there’s only 6 hours and 32 more minutes until we land. If the Englof luck doesn’t run out.
And so it begins... sort of
The Sparkly Dress
Here I sit, in the basement of 1344 Deanna Drive, eager to start out on my fabulous adventure. Now as any seasoned traveler knows, you discover more about yourself and home when traveling than any other time.
My first task of the trip however, will be condensing 4 months worth of clothes, undies and most importantly hair care products into a pack roughly the size of Arcola, Illinois. I mean, it holds up to 80 Liters of stuff, but since when have solid pieces of clothing and shoes ever been as aqueous to be measured in Liters?!
So, after much sitting, cajoling, tugging, squashing and name calling, I managed to pack my backpack and think about what more I had forgotten.
Following this moment I had an immediate thought that I, in fact, WOULD need that outrageously sparkly dress in Bulgaria, and what if I only brought one pair of heels, they wouldn't match the sparkly dress and then I would have to buy some more heels, and do they sell shoes for big feet like mine there or will I be laughed out of the former member of the Eastern Bloc?!
Then I realized there was absolutely no way I could unzip my pack, stuff in the sparkly dress AND another pair of heels and subsequently CLOSE my pack without some serious help from a large and muscly person. (And we all know, once in Europe without said muscly person to help me close the bag, Ila will be sitting on a bed somewhere demanding that I hurry up and close my bag. The demands will escalate to shouts and looks of disdain for packing so much. God, I hate the looks of disdain.)
Upon further thought, the sparkly dress can sit this one out. Who knows? Bulgaria might have some even gaudier, sparklier, more ridiculous dress for sale for 2 Euros minus glares. A girl can only hope.
The errands
So, as the date approaches (ahem, Monday, June 25th, 2007 at approximately 4:18pm, but who's keeping track?) I have been busy getting everything taken care of for the big trip across the pond. No, not the Atlantic pond, the PACIFIC pond.
Yes, I am talking about my big move down undah!
As a true Gemini, I change my mind about how comfortable I am with moving to Sydney at least 7 times a day. Why 7 you ask? Well, because 7 allows me to end on an odd number and every day change my mind about moving. It is such a long way. Working for TCO would be fabulous. I won't be able to ship most of my stuff down there. When will I have the chance to live in Australia again? I won't be able to see my family very often. Surfers. These are the doubts that play over and over again in my head like an irritating Fergie song.
But then I squelch those thoughts and just play them off as anxious about getting the trip underway. So anyway, back to that list of errands. Puke. I have never had so many loose details to try and tie up. I need to pack for traveling, I need to pack for moving, I need to categorize boxes according to the severity in which I will need them most. Immediately, soon, never... seriously, Mom, I thought we threw out that old box of clothes last year! And then after all the possessions have been sorted and placed into their piles, I have to get an international driver's license. It won't come before I leave, so my Mom must bring it. I have to close down bank accounts and transfer money. I have to make sure I have copies and extras of everything. I think my most favorite errand included making the World's Greatest First Aid Kit. I like to think that if a cheetah had been mauled by a lion and was lying on the side of the road, I could put it back together. No more sickness, ahem, overnight train in Thailand. I have packed for everything.
And gotten SHOTS! Polio, Yellow fever, Tetanus, Typhoid, Malaria... ick. The only thing that saved that miserable experience were the lovely nurses at the Winnebago County Health Department. You think I am being cheeky. But they were actually really nice! In fact, I plan on sending them a card.
Oh no, that means one more errand. Put it on my list.
Here I sit, in the basement of 1344 Deanna Drive, eager to start out on my fabulous adventure. Now as any seasoned traveler knows, you discover more about yourself and home when traveling than any other time.
My first task of the trip however, will be condensing 4 months worth of clothes, undies and most importantly hair care products into a pack roughly the size of Arcola, Illinois. I mean, it holds up to 80 Liters of stuff, but since when have solid pieces of clothing and shoes ever been as aqueous to be measured in Liters?!
So, after much sitting, cajoling, tugging, squashing and name calling, I managed to pack my backpack and think about what more I had forgotten.
Following this moment I had an immediate thought that I, in fact, WOULD need that outrageously sparkly dress in Bulgaria, and what if I only brought one pair of heels, they wouldn't match the sparkly dress and then I would have to buy some more heels, and do they sell shoes for big feet like mine there or will I be laughed out of the former member of the Eastern Bloc?!
Then I realized there was absolutely no way I could unzip my pack, stuff in the sparkly dress AND another pair of heels and subsequently CLOSE my pack without some serious help from a large and muscly person. (And we all know, once in Europe without said muscly person to help me close the bag, Ila will be sitting on a bed somewhere demanding that I hurry up and close my bag. The demands will escalate to shouts and looks of disdain for packing so much. God, I hate the looks of disdain.)
Upon further thought, the sparkly dress can sit this one out. Who knows? Bulgaria might have some even gaudier, sparklier, more ridiculous dress for sale for 2 Euros minus glares. A girl can only hope.
The errands
So, as the date approaches (ahem, Monday, June 25th, 2007 at approximately 4:18pm, but who's keeping track?) I have been busy getting everything taken care of for the big trip across the pond. No, not the Atlantic pond, the PACIFIC pond.
Yes, I am talking about my big move down undah!
As a true Gemini, I change my mind about how comfortable I am with moving to Sydney at least 7 times a day. Why 7 you ask? Well, because 7 allows me to end on an odd number and every day change my mind about moving. It is such a long way. Working for TCO would be fabulous. I won't be able to ship most of my stuff down there. When will I have the chance to live in Australia again? I won't be able to see my family very often. Surfers. These are the doubts that play over and over again in my head like an irritating Fergie song.
But then I squelch those thoughts and just play them off as anxious about getting the trip underway. So anyway, back to that list of errands. Puke. I have never had so many loose details to try and tie up. I need to pack for traveling, I need to pack for moving, I need to categorize boxes according to the severity in which I will need them most. Immediately, soon, never... seriously, Mom, I thought we threw out that old box of clothes last year! And then after all the possessions have been sorted and placed into their piles, I have to get an international driver's license. It won't come before I leave, so my Mom must bring it. I have to close down bank accounts and transfer money. I have to make sure I have copies and extras of everything. I think my most favorite errand included making the World's Greatest First Aid Kit. I like to think that if a cheetah had been mauled by a lion and was lying on the side of the road, I could put it back together. No more sickness, ahem, overnight train in Thailand. I have packed for everything.
And gotten SHOTS! Polio, Yellow fever, Tetanus, Typhoid, Malaria... ick. The only thing that saved that miserable experience were the lovely nurses at the Winnebago County Health Department. You think I am being cheeky. But they were actually really nice! In fact, I plan on sending them a card.
Oh no, that means one more errand. Put it on my list.
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