So I've been here a few days now, obviously. A week or so. I've settled into my temporary apartment, set up my workspace somewhat, ambled about and seen so many stray cats, just so many...and finally tonight, cooked for the first time as a nomad. Turned out better than I expected, quite honestly, though that was a low bar as I scraped a burned layer of rice mash off the bottom of the pot. But it beats my first meal in the place which was still kind of charming in a way.
My apartment has a pretty sketchy entrance that should be scouted for a horror movie...but honestly it is a downright adorable little place. If that desk weren't sized for someone much smaller than me, I'd be pretty content here for a while - the bed isn't amazing but I've adapted, the kitchen is small but functional...really one of my only complaints with the construction is the standard "I'm tall" issue that is pervasive everywhere.
This past week also marked my first attempt to find pole dance classes overseas. Story time.
I found a gym in Plovdiv that had advertised pole dance classes. The stairwell kicked off the hardcore gym vibe, and the "rules" poster tried to reinforce it (but a typo or mistranslate sold it even better). It takes me a minute of navigating language barriers with the woman working the desk but I finally get signed up for the pole dance class. I get changed, find the classroom, and start stretching out a bit. As is common, I'm the only man in the room, and I'm getting slightly confused looks from the other students as they get ready for class.
A few minutes later, another woman enters and starts speaking to me. Now, I've learned the simple phrase "sorry, English" as a basic survival thing because unlike China, I don't stand out enough that people assume I can't speak the language here. I hadn't realized just how useful being different was in that regard - it was actually quite rare for anyone in China to just start talking at me full speed in Mandarin, and many lead off with gestures and the simplest words spoken slowly.
Not in Bulgaria, boy. I look local enough, I guess, that Bulgarian at full speed is the common starting point. So I've worked out the easiest, shortest way to tell people I can't do that and tried to drill it into my head. It's actually been pretty effective...when my brain works. You see, one of those delightful little quirks of autism spectrum disorder is "Selective Mutism," a phenomenon where emotional tension of various kinds can actually sort of disable the speech center of the brain (or something, I'm not a doctor). So when someone starts in with Bulgarian too quickly, I can short-circuit and just stare for a minute until I remember, oh yeah, I've trained for this.
I'm so flustered by this woman that it's actually one of the other students who suggests English, after which the woman switches to rapid, slightly broken English, saying her class is only for women. She was nice, apologetic, but clearly had no interest in discussing it.
So I got a refund and went home.
Here's the thing: I've known for months, a year or so maybe (idk what is time), that pole dance is a rare space for men. And I've been prepared for some places to turn me away. I didn't expect it to happen the very first time, nor for it to be quite so explicit, but hey, at least I know where I stand. I don't begrudge her choice to keep her classes just for women, nor did I consider writing a complaint or bad review on Google about it. I'm the outsider, and that's just how it is.
But I did learn from that, and before I showed up at the other studio in town with pole classes, I sought out a way to message them and ask. Turns out I didn't have to worry - the instructor at this other studio is male. That's even more rare than another guy being in a class, but I'm grateful for it. He also has pretty strong English, which makes the classes easier.
I've only taken one so far, but the second will be tomorrow.
As often, I mostly have just a big blob of pictures with little to no real structure. As I start writing less about the traveling itself and more about the experiences I'm having along the way, I'm guessing the photo dumps will subside and things will be more purposeful. For the time being, though, have fun just leafing through and maybe sometimes wondering if a given picture even belongs in this set.