ANCIENT tales of the Middle East conjure up visions of scimitars, darkly mysterious eyes, and lands full of aromatic spices and sparkling jewels.  In the literature of many countries, one can rediscover the introduction of the European and Middle Eastern cultures.  Ashkan Ussefi, our expat of the week, embodies that synthesis of Middle East and 21st century West.  He is a modern 20-year-old dressed in the baggy jeans prescriptive of today's youth culture.  He listens to rap music, hangs out at NDK with his friends, and discusses this week's new release at the cinema.  Like most guys his age, his focus is divided between his future plans and current life controversies.  He is not above playing a practical joke - one look into his eyes reveals that mischievous bent.  But the eyes tell another story as well, they speak of the mystery of his homeland, Iran, which he refers to by its old name, Persia.

Four-and-a-half years ago Ashkan, along with his father and older brother, arrived in Bulgaria. At 16, Ashkan expected to discover a Bulgaria that was `Western European' when he arrived.  He remembers that the images he encountered on the streets of Sofia were dirtier that he had anticipated, and the building facades were distinctly Communist. Ussefi readily adds that change has come to Bulgaria at a rapid pace.  The city in which he lives and moves today is full of expensive cars, improving living conditions, and a growing number of trendy hangouts for a young crowd. There is a larger variety of food now then when he first came.  Shopping for clothes has become easier and there are more styles to choose from. 

Ashkan really likes the international feel in Sofia today.  He has many friends from several different countries which add a definitely positive dimension to his life.  When asked if he has ever felt the sting of prejudice here in Bulgaria, his answer is accompanied by a distinct twinkle in his eye.  He explains that he finds people his age incredibly open and accepting of anyone.  The youth of Bulgaria like foreigners "but the babas", he adds with a smile, "they don't like foreigners much".  Ussefi pauses to consider his comment, then adds, "maybe it isn't foreigners, maybe they just don't like teenagers."  A smile now breaks the line of his face, "It isn't only the babas that don't like teenagers.  The Bulgarian guards in the movie theatres can be pretty tough too." 

The young man that sits across from me speaks English with a pleasant accent.  His grammar is good and his use of slang is beyond dispute.  Incredibly, he spoke only a few words of English upon his arrival in Bulgaria.  An American woman, the wife of an evangelical protestant pastor in the city, taught him English.  This was an important step in his journey as it opened the door for him to study at one of Sofia's all-English language schools.  Most of the Bulgarian young people he meets speak English he says. 

When asked to share advice with foreigners who might be considering a move to Bulgaria, the first answer Ashkan gave was to, "learn to say `yes' and `no' properly."  Of course, he is referring to the Bulgarian reversal of head shakes.  After reflecting upon his first days here, he adds, "If you don't speak Bulgarian, it will be hard at first."  His comments refer to his experiences with the practical necessities of life such as manoeuvring in stores and open air markets.  He goes on to note that Bulgarians are a quiet nation and that they like their quiet on public transportation.  Americans and Brits often stand out simply by the level of noise that they produce in a public place.  The twinkle returns as Ashkan relays his final kernel of advice to foreigners.  He stresses the importance of having your ticket when riding public transportation.  Fines will be levelled, especially at foreigners who fail to produce a ticket. Though he does not say it, this titbit of advice most certainly comes from Ussefi's first-hand experience. 

Ashkan is making plans to go to university following graduation this year from the American English Academy.  He is thinking about a degree in theology.  Plans after university are ambiguous.  He would be happy to return to Bulgaria but the future is a long way away when you are 20. Today, his priorities skip from the college application he carries in his backpack to hitching up his sliding waistband at the behest of the school's secretaries.  I hide a smile as I listen to his earnest, albeit typical, explanation, "It isn't my boxers that are showing.  I am wearing shorts."  This is not the first teen with baggy jeans, nor the first time the secretaries have heard this particular explanation.  The pleading look within the Persian eyes will not work their magic today. Ussefi heaves a sigh, transfers the weight of his book bag and adjusts the offending jeans. 

"They don't understand style" he mutters good naturedly as he pushes open the door that will lead him to his next class and into the future.