By Jeremiah Boswell
After an abundance of travel, I arrived in Sliven, Bulgaria anxious to settle into my bed. However, on the way to the apartment, my American teammate and roommate, Larry, shared with me that another player was staying in my room. The team was trying to find him an apartment, but for now my pillow was his pillow.

Jeremiah Boswell

I reluctantly accepted, (sensing I didn't really have a choice) meaning I would sleep on the couch for my first night back. What Larry didn't tell me was that the squatter was deeply in love with a girl in Sofia. Of course that is of little importance unless you're trying to sleep on the pullout couch right next to my/his room.

That night, the lovers' phone conversation went through all possible emotions...tears, silence (not enough) and laughs. At 3:00 a.m. they decided to start playing the "no, YOU hang up first" game. After several back and forths, they brilliantly decided to hang up at the same time. Of course this naturally proceeded to "1...2...3...Why didn't you hang up?!" Luckily, after the "1...2...2.5..." portion of the game, someone liked someone else a little less and hung up.

After that terrific night of sleep, I went in for my physical.  I quickly explained to the nurse that I didn't understand Bulgarian, but she continued the dialogue turned monologue. After taking some blood I was sans band-aid and my arm was still bleeding, but she handed me a cup and pointed to the bathroom, which was self-explanatory.

In the next level of the evaluation, I thought they would weigh and measure me. They instead asked how much I weighed and how tall I was. I only fudged the truth a little, mostly because I don't know kilos or meters.

Then they handed me a small plastic instrument and told me to blow into it as hard as I possibly could. I thought it was a joke until I saw the seriousness on the doctor's face. I felt like I was trying out for first trumpet in the 6th grade band, but I did it anyway. And apparently my fire breathing strength was only a 3.5 for whatever that's worth.

I was next told to get on a stationary bike. About the time I was told to get off the stationary bike, I may have pedaled a maximum of 10 times. I'm not so sure if that really gets most people's heart rate going, but no questions from me. As requested, I took off my shirt and lay on the table. On this freezing cold metal table I felt like I may soon become Jeremiah-stein.

They wet some old rusty clamps that may have been used in the era of Rasputin or Stalin, but not so much in the midst of our current technological revolution. I was clamped on each ankle, on each wrist and then had six small contraptions hooked to my chest (I was relieved to find nothing chaining me to the table).  Nonetheless, this did get my heart rate up as I anticipated some sort of electrical shockwaves to radiate through my body.

I'm definitely not a doctor and am pretty ignorant to many of these activities, but my best guess was they were checking out my heart. But it wouldn't have taken much to convince me that I was a science project, and somebody was getting school credit for my half hour experiment.

So I proceeded to Sofia for my visa. I decided to go with some friends to the basketball game between Bulgaria and Serbia. It was a very important game for the national team as they attempt to qualify for the European Championships in 2009.

The atmosphere at these games is not like an NBA or college game with people carrying around nachos, a pretzel and a jumbo coke. The Bulgarians in Universiada Hall are diehard fans. They are waving Bulgaria flags, holding up banners, blowing foghorns left and right, screaming, chanting God knows what, and blowing whistles incessantly. Anyone not participating in the noise-fest is either A) smoking a cigarette or B) me-a foreigner trying to get my bearings.

As the two teams warmed up, I quickly noticed that the Bulgaria National team had an American playing. Somehow, a Bulgarian passport had landed in his lap allowing him to play for the team.

My second surprise of the evening should not have been a surprise at all since it came from the classy, sophisticated women of the dance team (sarcasm). During a timeout, an extremely unreserved young lady was lifted up to the basket where she proceeded to put her legs up through the hoop and did a split. Her legs were now holding her up, upside down from the basket. Because of the universally liberal dancer dress code, this appeased many fans. But just to objectify herself a little further, she took her shirt off and swirled it around.

The game was drama-filled as well, and even though Bulgaria lost, they still qualified for the European Championship because it was a matter of point spread. And for the first time in real life, I saw a coach, Pini Gershon, get repeatedly tossed up in the air like a graduation cap as they sang something that must have been the Bulgarian version of "for he's a jolly good fellow!"

Despite some of the craziness, I'm always up for a good adventure. It is great to be back and see familiar faces.

Editor's Note: Jeremiah Boswell is a native of Pickens County and grew up in Big Canoe. After starring in Pickens High basketball and at Columbia University, he now plays professionally around the World and shares his travel experiences with Smoke Signals' readers.