[caption id="attachment_1046" align="alignleft" width="225" caption="CAE in Old Town Sozopol "]<img class="size-medium wp-image-1046" title="CAE Sozopol " src="http://www.karolinkabulgaria.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/07/dsc09669.jpg?w=225" alt="CAE in Old Town Sozopol " width="225" height="300" />[/caption]

July is off to a bang.  I got up this morning at 4:15 am to send my MoM and Aunt off to the airport. I made them sandwiches for the journey.  At 5 am, we took two taxis between the three of us and all of the luggage and by 5:15 they were checked in for their flight.  Also a quick shout out and thanks to Air France for still allowing a girl to check two bags without any extra fees! It made it a lot easier to send souvenirs home with my MoM.

And after my MoM and Aunt disappear on the escalator in Terminal Two of the Sofia Airport, I went home to see if I could catch any more sleep before starting my day.  I walked out of the airport to the OK taxi stand.  For the first time ever there was only one taxi in line (wow--I guess that's what happens at 5:30 in the morning).  I got in and gave the taxi driver my address.  He said: great no problem.

Then he asked me if he could smoke.  I said yes because while I don't smoke I hate telling people no they can't smoke.  I think that goes to the fact that A) I feel like I need to be polite to everyone, B) I am really bad at saying no to people and C) as a foreigner, I am often not sure if it's actually acceptable to say no.  A part of me wonders why he couldn't smoke while he was sitting in the taxi queue rather than deciding the moment he starts driving out of the parking lot that he needs to smoke now but I guess that's another thing altogether.<!--more-->

We talk briefly about where my tiny one block street is.  He then makes a lot of comments most of which I can't understand--he seems to be half mumbling and slurring some of his words together.  What I can make out goes something like this: mahwa, maa, la la, center, mahh. And on and on.  I do what I normally do when this happens to me I smile, try my best to look like I'm listening to him and see if I can think of any way to respond to him when he stops talking and it's my turn to respond.  He must catch on that I don't really have a clue what he's talking about because then he offers me a cigarette and we haven't even turned to go into the city from the airport yet.

The funny thing is that even after he's asked if he can smoke, he's not.  But he's more than happy to offer cigarettes to me.  Again, I don't smoke so it never seems like an attractive thing to me to do but I have to say it's even less attractive at 5:30 am.  The thought of it is the kind of thing that turns your stomach--I haven't had a coffee yet, eaten any breakfast or even had a shower.  Smoking is not the thing I want right now.  I'd rather be in bed.  Asleep.

Still more talking ensues.  The taxi driver talks about how much more beautiful the United States is compared to Bulgaria.  I find myself defending Sofia and pointing out, in Bulgarian, how much their is to like about the city (more and more I am beginning to think this is my job for the year).

That's when it hits me: Sofia is beautiful in the early morning pre-dawn light.  The streets don't look as dirty, you can't really make out the cracked sidewalks, there's hardly any traffic, the crumbling plaster-stucco buildings appear tall and regal, Alexander Nevski looks great and the parliament building isn't so bad itself.  It's pretty amazing that this is my city.

I am jerked back into the moment when I realize that we're stopped a the light for Rakovski and not turning as we should be.  I have to give more directions.  The taxi cab driver seems annoyed with me.  (Great.) When we drive past the next turn, I am annoyed.  I tell him just to pull over at the corner.  The next street is one way in the wrong direction.  I pay and walk the few blocks to my apartment.

At this point, I am relieved to be home.  My apartment seems empty after having my MoM and Aunt in town for more than two weeks but I don't spend too much time thinking about that.  Instead, I crawled into bed and caught a few more hours of sleep.

Now I've got to do some grading for my university course, pick up some groceries, clean my apartment and finish my final report for the Fulbright.  Because as it turns out, today is the last day of my Fulbright grant and this is the first day of my last month in Bulgaria.  There's something bittersweet about today.

<em>Oh one last thing: I'll be continuing to write on this blog during the month July and I promise, I'll try my best not to wallow in nostalgia (or cliche) as my final days in Eastern Europe approach. </em>