Change

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Feelings. Not a reliable guide to action, but often a predictable one.

Saying goodbye to friends I'd already said goodbye to, and wondering why I was obliged to bother.

Making last minute arrangements and last minute changes in packing, being full of doubt over whether to take two pairs of jeans or three.

Trying to get some sleep in the hours before leaving, but being unable to and feeling annoyed at that.

More annoyance as my parents double check things I've already tripple checked, and impatience that I had to wait a few hours or a few minutes before going.

Optimism on the train to Gatwick airport, resignation at the silly ceremonies of "security checks", and apprehension that they might find some fault with my luggage.

Amazement upon looking out of the plane window that we were flying over endless snowcapped mountains.

Feeling hot and bored in the cramped plane seat...and the same heat and boredom on touchdown, mingled with a muted realisation that Bulgaria really does exist - it's not just a line on a map and an entry in Wikipedia.

Resignation as I sat through the two hour coach journey from the airport in Sofia to the school in Montana, comparing cultural notes with Tanya, the secretary, translator, teacher-meeter and the one who generally makes things work.

An odd sense of familarity on finding that, although Montana doesn't have a Lidl's, it has a Billa and an appropriately named Kaufland, which have much the same layout, lighting, products and overall feel as all ultracheap supermarkets everywhere.

Amusement at the somewhat, uh, basic facilities that I have. A matress, a microwave, a hot ring that fries my dinner incredibly slowly, and a computer that barely switches on. There's no kettle - there's an electrical element you plug into the mains and put in a cup of tapwater. Apparantly there's a toaster in one of the heaps, somewhere. On the other hand, there's a nice en-suite bathroom with shower.

And finally...choking back tears that won't quite come. What have I done? How did I get myself in this situation? What actually is this situation? What am I supposed to do?

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On one level, I know exactly what I'm supposed to do.

Get this desktop computer working so I can post these words and keep in contact with everyone I'm suddenly missing in Britain. And to let them know I'm missing them, and how sorry I am I didn't take them seriously when they said they'd miss me.

Get familliar with the layout of this town, and pick up some basics of the language.

Fill out an inventory of things the school will need, especially books.

Advise on getting those new computers they want.

Come up with an outline for an English course to teach. Which in one sentence both sums up and obscures a vast amount of work.

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I'm here for a month. That's the basic committment. Enough time to know whether I want to stay longer. One month - I can cope with that.

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