We finally made it through Sofia traffic and arrived at the Sheraton where the party was taking place. On the way to the coat check I almost fell down the stairs and died, but managed to recover by swinging my arms back so rapidly that I threw my gloves back up the stairs.
Upstairs the party was very crowded, but I managed to find some food, get my water (straight up, of course) and found the table with the rest of the people I knew.
I’m not really a drinker, but I find it interesting to watch how the night progresses for those that do drink. Straight-laced, “I don’t dance” men end up with ties on their heads, swaying to the music. Some people get very friendly (I haven’t been hugged that much since August). Then there are the older women put me to shame on the dance floor. I can dance, but only if it is choreographed for me. Not that my lack of impromptu dancing skills keeps me off the floor.
Anyway, once my ears were bleeding from the extremely loud music (I’m sort of an old woman in that regard), we headed out. We grabbed a taxi being driven by a man who apparently can’t understand Bulgarian when you have an American accent. We said the address at least three times before he figured out what we meant. Then, we wanted to stop at McDonalds for some French fries. And so began the best part of my night.
My roommate K, asked him to stop at McDonalds (and she asked in Bulgarian). He didn’t get it at all. So we all started saying, “McDonalds, McDonalds.” My other roommate S added, “Golden arches”(needless to say, that didn’t clear it up for him). Finally we were close enough to point to McDonalds and he says, “Oh! MacDonalds!” McDonalds vs. MacDonalds? Really?
Anyway, he starts laughing and the taxi ride becomes hilarious. As we pull up to the window, he informs the worker that we speak English, but we order our fried potatoes in Bulgarian, while he keeps laughing. When our food gets handed to us, he even checks to make sure we got our sauce.
He also tried to talk to us about where he is from or where we are from. It was confusing. Something about Italy and Germany and who knows where else. It ultimately ended with him comparing his skin tone to my pastiness and laughing (but I’m used to that since that happens everywhere). We then continue on, him laughing at our MacDonalds and us trying to give directions to the school, since he didn’t really know where we were going.
We finally made it. We laughed, said “thank you” and ciao and went to our house to eat our McDonalds.
Now that my ears have stopped ringing, I’m going to sleep.
