Saturday November 18
Back in San Diego for three days now, I have finally adjusted to the time change and am no longer walking around in a confused haze. The weather here is just as I anticipated, a balmy 32  deg C. I spend my day on the sidelines cheering my nephew and niece on in their final football (soccer over here) games of the season. Luckily I made it home in time to catch at least the last games. Being huge football fans, they question my sanity when I explain I came home to visit the very week Barcelona is playing in Sofia. "You are missing Ronaldinho just for Thanksgiving?" they ask disgustedly.

Sunday
I have promised my godfather I would attend mass this morning with him and then accompany him to lunch, along with some other friends. While preparing to leave, I realise I have brought with me only two pair of shoes, running shoes and flip flops, neither of which are incredibly appropriate for church. Feeling pretty certain God doesn't care too much about my shoes, I opt for the flip flops, knowing all too well, the time to wear sandals again in Sofia is far, far off. May as well let my feet see the sunshine while I'm here. We lunch at a seafood restaurant situated on the San Diego Bay, complete with a view of sailboats and large navy ships along with the sound of the sloshing water. I grew up in this environment, and don't realise until now that the past few months in Bulgaria are the longest I have spent away from an ocean. It feels surreal to be back.

Tuesday
A maddening day at the Bulgarian consulate in Los Angeles. After having all of our documents reviewed in Sofia and now a three-hour drive to the consulate, again the lady is insisting the stamps on some of the Bulgarian tax documents are in the wrong place, and therefore are not originals, and must be fraudulent. Despite the fact that we prove our company employs more than 20 Bulgarians and pays all necessary taxes, still we are suspected of trying to cheat the Bulgarian Government in some way. We bite our tongues and refrain from commenting on the absurd amount of times we have found shady business practices in the country itself. After four hours of arguing and even some swearing, the lady finally accepts our documents and sends them off. Let's hope this time, it results in a work visa for me. My forced early retirement is wearing on me.

In a stroke of genius, I have planned a happy hour at a wine bar with my old co-workers perfectly timed to counteract my day at the consulate. When I am around them, I remember why I love and hate teaching elementary school all at the same time. The paperwork and low pay demoralises us, but the funny "kid stories" and honour of watching children read their first words cannot be replaced. I had visited school last week and my old students could not believe I was back on campus. They chased me as if I were a rock star and asked all about my "big adventure to… What was the name of that place?".

Wednesday November 22
Ahhh...the preparations for the big day tomorrow begin. My younger brother will be hosting his first Thanksgiving in his new house he bought a couple of months ago. Being type A personality, he has his grocery list typed out and has created on his computer a whole plan for the two days of cooking, complete with milestones and timelines for when the potatoes should be boiled, the turkey cleaned and put into the oven, the appetisers plated, etc… His wife and I attempt to buy a centrepiece, but apparently miss the mark of his ultimate vision and he sighs audibly and heads out to find his own. He returns with a cornucopia complete with fresh fruit and gourds, his piece de resistance, as he calls it. He is excited about his dinner and proud of his family and his new house. He's worked hard for all of this, and I am proud to be here to see it, even though I am unable to control my laughing at his sudden change from macho computer guy to table decorator extraordinaire.

Thursday November 23
Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday. Its only purpose is to eat, spend time with family and friends and remember all the blessings in life, all the things we rarely take time out for in day-to-day living. There are no gifts or overt displays of consumerism to incite competition or snarky remarks.

Today, we spend our time, as always, divided between our two families - the morning with the in-laws, the evening with my family. The morning usually proves a bit more formal, intimate, serious. The conversation eventually lands on politics and I am the only non-Republican here. I carefully choose when to disagree, then make a political joke to lighten the situation. Eventually, they take my hint and we move on to another subject. The evening is full of noise, jokes and innuendos. Kids are running around, there are many discussions at the same table, and noise, noise, noise.

"Aunt Kristy, are you staying for Christmas?" my niece implores. "No sweetie, I have my other life in Bulgaria, and this year, I will have a whole different Christmas." I explain. How can I tell her I would rather be in Sofia for Christmas?

I am struck by the dichotomy in my life. Here, in San Diego, I have all my familiar comforts…warm weather, the beach, my work, my loud, loving family. Yet, I miss being in Sofia. All the noise here makes me covet the solitary existence I have there - not understanding much of what people say leaves me alone with my thoughts as I wander the city. We've planned a small, no-frills Christmas with other lonely Americans and await the much-acclaimed New Year's experience. More than anything, I hope my absence at Christmas this year teaches my nephews and niece that there is a whole world out there just waiting for them to live in it.

Before coming to Bulgaria from San Diego, California, in August 2006 with her husband for his company, freelancer Kristy Drake, who has a master's in education,  was an ESL teacher at an inner-city San Diego school.