(no subject)
Being cooped up alone in a foreign country where articulate conversation is pretty much not an option gives on a lot of time for thinking and introspection. At the forefront of those thoughts have been love and travel- perhaps not a big surprise. I think at the core they are very similar subjects. I think there are two kinds of people you love, or countries you love. There are those that you have always looked at with admiration, lust, envy and when you are finally there, or finally with that person you can't believe your luck. They are more beautiful than you could have possibly imagined. But then, with time, you begin to see the flaws. You begin to notice the trash in the alleyways and you begin to notice how he isn't always there for you. But sometimes, if you love them enough, and you leave before you have a chance to stumble upon any true ugliness, they will remain forever as a symbol of perfection. This was my Italy and my Aaron. The country and the person that I know, despite my rational mind, I will always idolize and will always serve as some sort of benchmark in the future. Bulgaria is that strange kid from art class. That person you never really knew, nor particularly cared to, but when you stumble upon them you find out that they might really have something to them under the surface. The ugliness is easy to see, the peculiarity, the uncomfortability, but day by day you begin to see more of their beauty and each flowered courtyard comes as a lovely surprise. Maybe Vladimir, now the pseudonym for whoever my next love may be, will be of the Bulgaria sort... I hope so.