Tissue Issue

At any given point in the year, I have a runny nose and need a tissue. It’s inevitable that at some point, I will be stuffed up- cold, allergies, pepper, God, Adelaide's lament. I am only really breathing freely 3 weeks out of the year; at all other times I’m a slack jaw mouth-breathing idiot. Therefore, whenever I go to a foreign country, I quickly learn the word for facial tissue: fazzoletti, mouchoirs, kometiktucher, etc.

When I arrived in Sofia, I saw that above tissues was written HOCHU, which was easy to pronounce and read. Then for some reason I went around asking where tissues (Ca-de Hochu) were. Now this is problematic for a few reasons.

1. Where are the tissues isn’t what I really meant. I meant “please do you have tissues that I may have”. What I said was more like Tissues! Not tissues? So, I was already being fairly rude.

2. Like Kleenex, Hochu is a brand name but not as popular nor proverbial as Kleenex. Hochu also makes other things like Q-tips which is also a brand. But you get the point.

3. Hochu makes the same sound as a sneeze- Achu! Because everyone know this, children, the aged etc. Hochu is famous for being the sound of sneeze much more than a brand name. So basically I was saying “where… Achu!” mocking a disgusting sneeze and not covering my mouth. I am going around as this insane American sneezing on people.

4. Why didn’t I just keep tissue on my person? Who the hell walks around a city all week demanding tissues from people? And I wasn’t even doing that. Basically I was giving people the plague from the States.  

My roommate, Veneta, is the one wearing a stripped top. Her friend, whose name I forget, was absolutely essential in helping to get my 3G working on the iPad. Veneta is from Sofia, her folks now live in Athens and she currently goes to school at Champagne-Urbana. Am I the only one here who doesn’t speak Bulgarian?

And just to be clear: when I arrived on Sunday evening the students and instructors at the Center had left that morning for Varna, northeast Bulgaria, right on the coast. The group will return Friday evening. Veneta returned early. That is why I have only mentioned Anton thus far.   

       

4 days in Sofia

This is my first post in Bulgaria, on the Black Sea. I had to wait. I had to make sure that this wasn't just some huge complaint-fest. Rochester airport was tough. Did you know that if your luggage is overweight there is no such thing as paying more. At 80lbs the airline refused to take it all. That was my only bag and for 10 months worth of stuff, I thought that was pretty good. But I had to purchase a second bag and then pay extra bag fee. Just to get on the plane was $120.00, having already paid for a ticket. But thus is not a complaint because although the purchased bag was then left in London and leaving me without clothes for 3 days, I can laugh about the whole thing and just warn you all would-be travelers.

And when traveling internationally, there is no such thing as a layover. Anything under 4 hours is just a small respite. Anything under 2 is a mad full-on sprint to the next flight. So was the case in NYC and London. In New York I could have gotten a 10 minute manicure. In London I could have had a really great looking sushi and sake to ease my nerves. But no. The first night, Sunday, Bulgaria was on holiday and I stayed in a hotel. I was so tired so I watched FoxCrime on television. This is a network which only shows all of America's horrible crime dramas. So every kind of Law&Order, CSI, and Criminal Minds. It is all dubbed in Bulgarian but you don't really need to understand murder, rape and pillaging. These things transcend language.

Monday, I met Anton, the Center's manager and he took me around. My apartment that I share with Veneta, who I will meet shortly, is lovely. I have a balcony in my bedroom and the kitchen is much nicer/ bigger than the one on Morrison. No one speaks English. I was misled! And not that I am that obnoxious American but man, all the words are in Cyrillic. Going to the market I could only buy bread and strawberry jam. I couldn't figure out butter. I was too tired for anything else. But... FANTA LEMON!!!! I am back in a world where there is such a tart citrusy carbonated beverage. It is really pathetic but when I am in Europe, I could drink that everyday. I don't need booze, although I should be drunk all the time just to cope. I love Fanta Lemon and everyday since my first day here, I have had it at the end of a hard day, as if it were scotch or vodka or cold red wine- I love these things as well and will soon turn to them I'm sure.

I got Internet today, which is the real reason I am writing just now. My apartment connection was spotty and so I wanted to get the USB Modem for the laptop and the micro sim for the iPad. I did it all by myself. I went to the City Center and signed a lenient contract with GloBul. I had lunch at a cafe and I bought folders. It was a productive day personally, if not professionally. I didn't read one article or take notes on anything related to emporia, although... I might count days of shopping, in which I have socioeconomic interactions at the stores with ethnicities other than my own as research. I now have to figure out the oven, trolley system, how to get benadryl etc etc etc. Pictures to come very soon.

Tomorrow at 4pm

I'm at this little Indian buffet restaurant. I just bought compression socks from this uniform store and was hungry and deciding on which socks and whether or not to get Crocs as well made me light headed. I was hungry and maybe dehydrated. It's not a bad place. I have been in Rochester since Tuesday and this is the first time I felt overwhelmed trying to find footwear. I can't believe I'm leaving. This seems so ridiculous. After the defense, I haven't once looked at any work for my dissertation. I am mesmerized by cable. My father has hundreds of channels and to leave the house and stop watching it is a real chore. But ultimately I might be the kind of person who would prefer to watch Jersey Shore than write a dissertation. It's bad timing to find out now.

Amber on Ludlow in Cincinnati has nothing to worry about. This place kind of sucks.

ABD-Baby!

Yesterday at 2pm via Skype I defended my proposal in front of my adviser and my two readers.  It was tough. I didn't think it would be all sunshine and accolades but I hate long questions. I never know what part to answer.  They had general reservations about the scope. It seems unreasonably ambitious but I feel good about it.  The proposal is vague but this is only because I have not had 2-weeks to think about it and investigate. Every moment since classes ended in June has been a fight. Since August my living space has been chaotic and interrupted. I have lived in three different places so far and have not yet made it to Rochester.

And although I have many many things to accomplish still, I feel freer. I just have to write and sure it can keep coming back for revisions and someone might suggest another chapter but so what. I only have to continue to write.

Skala's Gone

I left my cat in Newburgh with a friend. I am confident that he will be cared for but I am sad that he can't come with. I seem to always have to leave him somewhere. Nothing is ever stable. For awhile, we were leaving a place every year and a half.  I lived on Morrison for 4 years. It was a record! One summer my cat was at the beach in Ashbury Park, where BRUCE use to play. I was in Lancaster working. It was so much work in the summers. And I imagined him drinking margaritas and  listening to Thunder Road over and over. (This is all I would do if were spending the summer on the Jersey Shore) Now... I don't know. I just hope it turns out well and there aren't too many frustrations, for my friend or my cat. Secretly, I am hoping that Skala will be inconsolable. The cat is the oldest possession I have. I doubt I have even had a book for 11 years. Maybe a sweater or a scarf but that's not the same.

I need to work this weekend and try to prepare as much as I can for the defense on Monday. Let go of any anger and have an answer for anything thrown at me.  

God Bless Newburgh NY Walmart

I had nothing to blog about.  I was really frustrated with my proposal but after everything and only three revisions, I have a defense date of Sept 19. But I am incredibly unhappy. I like the proposal and feel quite good about the overall project. I am still leery about Cincinnati and I might apply for another year in Sofia. I am not there yet but I imagine it to be the most thrilling experience for me in a long time.

And the sad thing is I had wanted to tell you of my drive to New York. I have posted some pictures below. It was about 12 hours. I stopped for gas and bathroom breaks with long stretches and a bit of internet-ing three times. One of those times I had lunch.  Parts of the drive were really spectacular. I left at 6am heading east and so I saw the sun rise. That was nice.

Pennsylvania is a deceptive state. I drove and drove and replayed whole conversations, relationships and years in my head. I met people, became close and fell apart in the drive. Whole email conversations were recited. In my head, I voiced both parties. I looked back at a year’s worth of clothes: the ballet flats that took forever to come, broaches given to me by mother, those I bought for myself, a too expensive coat that isn’t so warm, and a scarf from France, one from the Met, another stolen from Shakespeare in the Park. And when it was all over and I was too reflective to drive, I snapped myself out of it and I thought “Jesus Christ! Am I still in Pennsylvania? What the hell happened? Is this a time warp? How long is this state!  

  

Once when I lived in the Bronx and was helping a friend move from Washington Heights to my place, making two trips and then afterward went to a beer garden in Queens we were exhausted. On the way to Queens we fell asleep on the subway. When I woke up there was this tall black guy sitting across from me. He had an afro and wore little shorts with tall knee-high athletic socks. My memory swears he had a basketball in his hands but that can’t be. And I cried a little when I saw him. I thought, “What the hell! How long were we sleeping. Why am I in the 70s?” I thought for a moment –really brief but still- that I had gone through some crazy portal and was doomed to live a rewind life. This is how I always feel about PA.

So, why write today… I left my iPad 2 at a Walmart here in Newburgh. I have been really stressed about the defense and money and my car and cat. I sat down on a bench in in front of the cashiers, took it out and used it, set it down and walked away. I paid for my purchases and walked out the store drove to my friends place and put away the groceries. And then I remembered that I left it. I called the Walmart as I drove and spoke to a wonderful woman named Glenda. She had it. It was safe. I was lucky. 

I swear this is not an anti-Ohio, Cincinnati and Blegen Blog but… this turned out well because I was home, back east, with real people. I mean there may be such a thing as Midwestern decency but I have never benefitted from such an ideal. A customer turned in an iPad2 that was lying on the bench. The cashier turned it into her manager, Glenda and I have my iPad, the best most helpful gift I have ever received. I am super grateful and I am never going back to Cincinnati. I have hope and a defense date and something to blog about.   

     

Cash Cab

I really love Cash Cab and am desperate to get in that guy's cab. But I will get by with just watching it all night, every night. That's all. Watch Cash Cab! Have fun.
Cash Cab

E-mail Etiquette

 

Are we allowed to just never forgive someone who fails to reply to an email? What exactly is busy, if it is not apathetic or rude? Come on! I have never sent an email to anyone who works on cold fusion or Middle East Peace. I am not sending off heartfelt messages to Steve Jobs about the iPad 2. No whazzup’s to Barack Obama. I don’t know these people. But somehow, I imagine that if I did and I sent them an email, they would hit reply.  I am just frustrated because I have not received my proposal back from my adviser. There will be a reply, I know, but delays make me anxious. 

Plus, I have written/rewritten a bunch since I sent it out a while ago. Good friends have corrected it and returned it; I have made those changes as well. It really is a different baby. And not to equate this proposal with an actual baby a la Larry David in the episode “The Surrogate” but I have produced this work. I want it critiqued and returned.

I think I may set up an auto response message that reads, “No. You are not crazy. Your message has not been lost in space, out in the interweb. I have it. I shall read it and reply promptly.  And thanks for getting in touch with me. I really appreciate the kindness and consideration. You’re the best.” Or perhaps I can make an appeal to go back to post office correspondences. I have gorgeous handwriting and the lack of a spell check would do me a world good. This is all just BS. I know I can’t slow technology or compel people to be kinder. Next week, I probably won’t even care about the state of my spelling abilities. I just want my proposal back.

Seinfeld- Too busy? Pick up a phone!