Drift

It's early July. I woke up disoriented and dysfunctional in a strage place. Screaming seagulls were outside at all hours of the evening and didn't sleep in that morning.

Where was I? The Balkans I'm sure. Bulgaria, perhaps? Burgas...I'm certain now. I staggered out of bed and propped myself up on my hand. My mouth is dry. I can tell that I disturbed some of the 7 other people sleeping at the time. I had to go, though.

Sifting through my suitcase I found my contacts. I put them in. Left. Then right. As always. I put my pants on with my left leg first, as always. Then I did some things I had never done.

I was locked in the hostel. The hippie with the nose right was nowhere to be seen. Slews of Bulgarian men were snoring loudly as I stumbled into the hallway. Returning for a shirt I fumbled for my cigarettes, one left. The cigarette was seized and I headed for the only exit I knew of: the roof. I lit the cigarette with the lighter my Spanish woman bought in La Coruna. Then I set to reminiscing.

Rembembering the last time I saw seagulls...it was in that town with her on the Atlantic Ocean. We had just eaten a lot of delicious seafood with Galician white wine. The sand was cool that May morning and we capitalized on the opportunity that there were no tourists on that northern shore. Walking around listlessly, we finally found the path to a secluded beach.

I was still hungry so I went back to a burger shack. For 3 euros I got a great burger and a tall Estrella Galicia. Walking back, I saw her. She had a towel clumsily draped on her face and her perky figure

In those moments I felt like I had everything: woman, good job, adventure, a challenging yet rewarding lifestyle, activity, and good friends. With the rise and fall of the waves I felt that there were going to be many moments like this. Then I was looking out on a different sea...

Then I finished my cigarette. The headbuzz intensified as I went down the stairs. Defecating was the next priority. Having no toilet paper was a setback. I frantically looked for someone to help and there was an Englishman on his smartphone complaining about the hostel. We chatted as I crumpled up a piece of paper...

Eventually the large bearded man came down and we asked him. I couldn't wait any longer. "I'm going to use this piece of paper and if that doesn't work...I have Levas. . .

They gave it to me just in time.

Tattooed and a mouth-breather, the manager came out after my debacle. Of course the sink didn't work in the dingy bathroom. The sliding door had no lock and I was feeling out of sorts and no better off than before. Against my habits, I drank some water from the tap.

She told me the adress the Bulgarian man gave her to send me that day. It was in Bulgarian and I knew none of it. "It's very easy," she sneered "there's no reason to write it down."

I grabbed my novel and a pen from the couch next to us. She sat on the sofa next to a snoring man and in front of a mound of trash and empty cans on the table. "Here is the address" she mumbled with her thick accent.

Moments later I was in a cab speeding across the city. I saw my friends from the night before and we went to a store. Starving, I bought some Bulgarian yogurt and a candy bar. There wasn't much time and I never exchanged any of my money. I had the equivalent of $4000 in my shoes but could only use $3 becuase it was in Euros and not Leva.

We got off the bus at a stop in the middle of nowhere.

Citgo turned to me and said "now we hitch. Stick out your thumb!" He laughed and ran in front with one of the girls. The other two stayed with me. We waited an hour by the highway with our thumbs out. One woman had a broken arm but still held out the cast, thumb out. The heavyset one sat down on the bus bench first. Then I switched out.

As soon as I sat down someone came and grabbed us. I said nothing and the girls flirted with the driver.

We reached a destination farther south from the town. I finished my yogurt and was looking for more food. Citgo and the other woman were waiting for us to arrive. He smiled "welcome to the real Bulgaria! It is much better than sunny beach." He smiled grandly and patted me on the back.

The girls took their tops off and reposed in the shade of a small umbrella. Citgo and I chatted over the little moments and connected. He explained a gargantuan soviet-style hotel in the background. Then they talked about bird migration patterns in Bulgarian.

I ate some seasoned sausages at a nearby cabana and set down my things. Then, I marched into the Black Sea and drifted for hours. My mind went further into contemplation about what Citgo was saying.

"Hold on with both hands open" said the female pastor in Athens, just 5 years ago. I was crying and chainsmoking Marlbolo cigarettes. My life had just crashed. Mom was diagnosed with a debilitating and permanent disease. Unfortunately, I never dealt with my emotions well and made some mistakes that cost me friends and time in the university...as well as the opportunity at some American medical schools...no one was hurt but me.

I didn't feel hurt though. The sun shone brightly over the black sea and started to burn my skin...I kept out there. Diving under and over the waves and flinging off seaweed as I floated, feeling free. I was holding on with both hands open. Good things came and left. I didn't clasp at the friends I made or women who got close with me. Out of mistakes come lessons. The greater the embarassment, the greater the memory. The stronger the memory, the more permanent the lesson. In my lifetime, I have had many permanent lessons.

While I was in the water I remembered drifting into the Spaniards life. The joy and frustration of a relationship.

The professor told me that I, at the moment, am not able to fall in with a partner. He said "it's not that you can't...but you haven't let yourself have the ability to have someone significant in your life."

My relationship started with a 33 year old student...the age where people know what they have and roughly what they want. It's ripeness: full fertility furnished with a past and present but above all, a future.

For me, the youth has not ever been as appealing. I take "you're so young" not as a compliment or as containing any factual value. For them, youth is a wonderful gift of exuberant energy and riotous living...not a process of growth and experience which culminates in a well-rounded personality.

Some people swim and some just drift.