Life in Bulgaria

Life in Bulgaria

My life in Bulgaria is quite different from what I’ve known in Montreal.

First of all: my work. While in Montreal, I was working for a f***ing good music festival with a lovely boss (my dear Raquel, special thoughts for you!), here I’m working for a French cultural organization called ‘Alliance française’. While it could seem to be interesting, I’m just basically writing articles for its next magazine which is about…gastronomy. Just to let U know: I barely know how to cook properly. You can imagine the result! Well, it’s going pretty well so far so I can’t really complain but it’s becoming quite boring. I’m kind of fed up because the last magazine was about Europe and the next one is about fashion….I’d have loved to do it! I’ll just be preparing some of the articles of the next issue. My boss is ok…even if he’s in holidays right now which is sooooo damned practical when you want to know whether you’re doing what is waiting from you or whether you’re writing some stupid articles. Well, seemingly, I’m writing good stuff but too “serious” according to my colleagues. “You’re supposed to write for Bulgarians who barely know French…”. Ok! Basically, I have to write something for dummies. Great…

My roommates (which are also my work colleagues BTW) are ok. But as I barely know them, it’s quite hard to share what I used to share with my previous roommates of Montreal. Anyway, except one guy who is a total freak, the 3 girls I’m living and working with are nice. We’ve already gone to several places such as Varna and Sozopol, some place along the Black Sea.

The life here is so cheap, it’s almost weird. A pack of 20 cigarettes is 0.80€ while in France it’s worth 5€! It’s amazing! And the clothes are all cheap as well: a T-shirt Versace is 17€. Of course it’s a false one but, whatever!, I’m becoming crazy when I see that!

Bulgarian boys are not really good-looking (euphemism). They have a sort of problem… They have strong faces in the bad way. They look rude in fact, not the kind of people to whom you’d say “hello I love your hair cut”. They are all dressed in Diesel or Energie but they are wearing this kind of clothes with summer shoes and socks…We name this kind of people rednecks I think…

I think I’m going to enjoy myself…before my return in France and the 40 fucking hours of bus I have to undergo before that.