After a few drinks in one of my favorite bars in Sofia, the bartender asks me once more whether I want another one. I look at him, contemplate shortly, then respond, “sure, why not, one more. But just one more.”
He looks at me, laughs, and says I might be half Bulgarian. Apparently ordering one drink too many makes me a local. Cultural immersion through ethanol absorption. Not a bad system for my tastes.
