Postcard of Bulgaria. Note the complete absence of snow. Merely summertime tourist photography, or should this have been a hint to Jeanette and Dave?

23 December
Atten-SHON!
Drill Sergeant reared her ugly head and started the proceedings – i.e. bossing Dave (drinking buddy/travel companion) around saying, "Get outta my house, get into town, pick up your car, get home, pack and be back here to pick me up by one!" He wasn't impressed. In fact, I think this is about when he started having doubts about going on a week's holiday with me! But, I responded to his disgruntled, er, grunts, with, "You'll thank me in a couple of hours when we don't miss the plane." And, thanks very much, we don't!

The hangover started to kick in, but a Goodbye Guinness made for a suitable hairofthdog and departure note. In a plane smaller than those of DodgyAir, the flight was surprisingly fine and Dave and I were simultaneously bonding and sparring! As always, my vegetarian meal request went unnoticed (I'm beginning to wonder why airlines give you the option as they never seem to bloody satisfy it), but I wasn't that bothered. However, I was bothered by the selfish cow in front of me who (without informing me) slammed her seat so far back that my knees were in my chest (and I'm short!). I made my complaint aware, in no uncertain terms, but to no avail. Halfway through the flight, said cow turned around and, well, "mooed", "Sorry, my seat's broken, it keeps falling back." Given the state of the plane, I a) actually believed her and b) felt guilty for my very audible verbalities! As the same seat miraculously managed to remain "in its upright position" for the remainder of the flight, I realised neither a) nor b) was warranted!

Anyway, we arrived at Plovdiv safe and sound, got through Immigration and Customs slowly but surely, collected baggage and boarded the transfer bus. Entertained by Dutch, Bulgarian, German and "generic chart music," I slept for brief intervals. As there was a fair amount of snow in Plovdiv, I was surprised the first thing the rep said when he got on the bus was a nonchalant, "Um, there's no snow. That's the bad news." "Wha?" I thought he was joking. After all, snow is a pretty significant factor when you're on a, erm, skiing holiday!

Nevertheless, I justified the situation. The first few days' festive celebrations just weren't exactly going to be conducive to getting up early for a day's skiing EN-EE-WAAAY!

The drive was shorter than anticipated and well, yes, despite ascending the highest peak in Bulgaria, the snow did seem to be diminishing! After checking in and checking out the room, we were fed a MASSIVE buffet dinner, even though it was now about 1am local time. By this stage, Dave and I were already getting on famously. (Oh, yes, we've only known each other for about a year, been close friends for the latter half thereof, and never spent this much time together, in a confined environment, in another country.)

24 December
It's Xmas Eve in the Universe
We managed to make breakfast, again courtesy of Drill Sergeant. I noticed a directly proportionate correlation: the more familiar Dave gets with her, the less appreciative he is! Again I remind, he'll thank me when he's not starving or late!

Given that there's still not enough snow for "'safe" skiing (Hell, I'm bound to damage my shonky knee anyway, so I'll give it a go!), we're informed that we'll be having daily walking tours with our ski instructors until there is.

Still, it's a glorious day and I'm appreciating where I am, plus that I'll not be spending Christmas alone feeling morbid. (I was supposed to be in Australia, but had an emergency trip home in October, so had my "family reunion" then, albeit for all the wrong reasons.) And, there is some snow! We joke about the ski instructors teaching us to "walk," and realise it's not so funny when I slip and slide all over the place. I hadn't brought walking boots, as I expected to be in ski gear all day and/or hire snow boots. We walk/slide halfway up the mountain, enjoy the view and sunshine (when you've been living in Dublin, where a gazillion layers are the norm, it is very exciting to be wearing a t-shirt!), have our first typically-Euro "heady" lager, thereby providing the appropriate Bulgarian courage necessary to do my first (and last!) Catapult Bungie! Oh dear god! I was apprehensive, but watching everyone else, I thought, "If they can do it, so can/must I!" And well, seeing as we couldn't go skiing...

It's okay folks: those lines are attached to towers. Just be glad we can't hear her screaming and yelling.

And, Catapult Bungie is exactly what it sounds like. Only scarier! Screaming before I leave the ground, I'm strapped in a harness (thank god!), hooked up to two bungie cords dangling (for now) from two disturbingly high towers, and attached to the ground with a separate rope. Two guy-guys (geddit?!) chat casually to me, instilling more fear than confidence or reassurance, until I'm (without warning) "released" into the air with ridiculous gusto, and depending on your size, flung to varying degrees of "very fucking high." When I shoot past the disturbingly high towers, thinking I'll be the first woman to circumnavigate the universe, I really start to scream – and fear for my life!

As I'm plummeting back down, I realise just how high I still am, and I am, to be frank, shitting myself. I now realise why they're called extreme sports! Boinging up and down, slowing down only due the tightening cord, I manage a couple of backflips and somersaults, which as a bungie-virgin I'm quite proud of, and as I, the human pendulum lower, I'm granted a moment to enjoy that so-called adrenaline rush. But, as a first-timer, it's just way too frightening to relax enough to enjoy anything, other than the fact that I'm still breathing! As my feet are finally reunited with terra firma, my legs tremble from the shock. "That's okay, that's normal," the expert informs the novice. Hmm. An experience? Yes. And one ne'er to be repeated.

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