It means different things to different people, and you should never judge someone on what they consider their favorites. Mine are: my mother’s lasagna (which nobody – including myself – will ever be able to reproduce) and…wait for it…Subway. Yes, Subway. Especially in the last nine months I lived in the states. I was staying with a friend in Mesa, a block from a Subway restaurant. I think three or four times a week I would order take-out, bring it home, and eat while being enviously stared at by Chewie (my roommate’s pitbull). Even now, on the rare occasions I am able to indulge, it reminds me of those times. And indulging is rare. I haven’t had the chance to patronize a Subway since Budapest. Even then, they didn’t offer my favorite sandwich: the spicy Italian. But tonight, after about six hours on the beach, I finally had my fill of the only attainable comfort food in Eastern Europe – or anywhere other than South-Central Pennsylvania for that matter. Ahhh…Subway. It’s the little things.
I was up early for the free breakfast offered by the staff at Yo Ho Hostel. My intentions after eating were to find a barber to trim this shaggy mane a bit, but I randomly ran into Yoanna walking down the center pedestrian walkway here in Varna. I was headed to a beach, any beach, and she was headed to St. St. Konstantine and Helena (for some reason the translation has both titles at the beginning), so I joined up with her. The bus was cheap – only 1 Lev – and relatively short. The beach was better than those I visited in Sozopol, especially because the waves were higher. We spent a good 5-6 hours on the beach, taking in the sun for what could be each of our last days’ in the sun. She is heading back to Plovdiv this evening, and I am most likely heading to Ruse tomorrow, a town bordering Romania. I was told it was the easiest way to get to Bucharest, but I don’t think there are any hostels, so I shouldn’t stay too long.
And now you are updated. I think the next time I should write it will be from Romania!