three days late and a billion dollars short

Dear Reader, the first anniversary of my arrival in Bulgaria came and went on Tuesday. I wasn't around to commemorate it, and since I commemorated the year in a New Year's blog, I won't repeat myself. But it's been a year within these borders, and that friends is a long time.

So, on Wednesday I had to go to Sofia AGAIN to have an old filling refilled. I was able to take the second bus from Straldja at 6.30 a.m. instead of the 3.45 a.m. one...Travelling in daylight was fun! There are all sorts of cool monuments to Bulgarian national heros and communism along the way. Anyway, let me relate the day's events under smaller sub-headings:

Just Easing You In
I arrived in Sofia slightly behind schedule, so rather than risk it taking public transport to a far-off and strange place and getting lost, I decided to take a cab. I found one at the train station, and we began on our way towards the hotel.

Over the course of conversation, the fact that I was going to see a dentist came up. It also came up that I live in Straldja, and the cab driver looked at me confusedly.

"You came all the way to Sofia to see a dentist?" he asked me.
"Well, this is the dentist my organization uses," I told him.
"Open your mouth," he told me.
"Excuse me?" I asked.
"Let me see your teeth," he said.

I gave him a big, toothy smile.

"AH!" he said. "You're teeth are fine. What do you need a dentist for?"
Not knowing the words for 'cavity' and 'filling,' I just said, "One of them hurts."

He just sort of clicked his tounge and kept driving.

When we arrived at the hotel, we found all of the roads in blocked and police men swarming the place. Apparently some of the NATO folk were going to be guests at the hotel and they were setting up security a day early.

Inside the hotel was a security point complete with a metal detector and an X-ray machine. The guard asked for verification I needed to be at the hotel, and I simply said, "Um, I have a meeting with the dentist..." Amazingly, he waved me through.

Mr. Crazy Swedish Dentist
I have already introduced you to Mrs. Norwegian Hygenist...This time, I met her boss. The man himself. The Swedish Dentist.

I had heard stories of this guy. I had heard that he had a diamond on one of his front teeth. I had heard he was wild. I had heard other things not appropriate to retell here.

I found all of these things are true. He has the same too-fast, slightly-stuttery English that Mrs. Norwegian Hygenist does, and crazy light-brown hair.

He had me sit down in the chair, and started to prep me for the procedure.

"I-I-I-I-I vill num-b the er-r-r-r-ria around da toot," he said. "I-i-i-i-it vill b-b-b-be too painful if I-I-I-I dun't."

He proceded to tell me that if I felt pain, I was to make some sort of sound with my throat. He demonstrated one, which I can only liken to how I imagine a dying elk would sound. He, being Swedish, would probably know this sound pretty well.

Then it was time to start. He gave me my shot, and we waited for a few moments for it to take effect. Once my lip felt swollen, he began his grinding and pressing and digging and scratching. Because it makes me woozy to think about it, I won't describe it in detail...But you know.

How to Speak Bulgarian with a Numb Mouth
The best advice I can offer in this regard is JUST DON'T. Once the filling was fixed, I left the office and made my way to the taxi queue to head up to the office.

When I got into the first cab in line, I proceeded to give the cab driver instructions. In giving them, I managed to spray half a gallon of spit all over the poor guy (who, by the way, was one of the most attractive young men I've seen in a long, long time.) To make matters worse, he seemed to want to hold a conversation, and I, who could still not feel my mouth, found it almost impossible to form Bulgarian words without giving a weather report. After what seemed an eternity, he dropped me off at the office and I made my way through the gate.

Now, I live far away from Sofia. In theory, I should be one of those complete strangers to the folks at the Sofia office. However, when the guard on duty saw me walk through the gate digging in my wallet for my ID card, he waved me through.

"I remember you!" he said to me. "How are you?"

Suprised he had remembered me, I told him I was fine. Immediately he noticed something was up and asked me, "What's wrong with your mouth?"

I told him I had just been to the dentist, and he chuckled.

In the office I stuck to English, which was hard enough to form. After a few short minutes I headed back to the bus station to catch the bus home.

Attractive Man, Unattractive Bling
So on the bus home they were training this new guy to work as the "steward." He had been on my bus in the morning, but I had been too sleepy to notice him.

He was a cute dude. And I don't mean "cute for Bulgaria." He was a good medium height, a solid medium build. Chocolate brown eyes. Almost-blond hair. Attired in a nice J. Crew-style sweater and not-too-tight jeans. And wearing the ugliest gold watch I have ever seen.

I have never seen a peice of jewlery that looked more like it had come out of a plastic egg from a vending machine in a supermarket parking lot than this thing. It was huge and shiny and really discouraging. As much as I just wanted to appreciate looking at this very Western-style guy sitting opposite me, my eye kept being drawn to that monstrosity on his wrist. It was tragic, it really was.

After 5 1/2 hours, I made it home. All tolled it had been 11 hours on a bus, and I was exhausted. With any luck, I will not have to make that trip again in a while.....