Having moved to the Italian-dominated city of Worcester, Massachusetts, then to Arab-laden Metro Detroit, it wasn't until I turned ten that I finally met another Bulgarian in the U.S. Needless to say, I was thrilled when the little Vietnamese-looking girl I played basketball with at summer camp told me she was born in Shuman. I felt an immediate kinship with her (despite her brownish skin and squinty eyes, which signaled she was a mere half-breed) and a year later managed to convince her mother to enroll her in my middle school. The single mom lived in my middle class suburb, but worked for a newspaper in Detroit and had her bookish daughter attending a DPS school near her work. It wasn't hard to sell the switch from the worst district in the country to the ever-so charming ~*Royal Oak Neighborhood Schools*~.
Background: My mother is a liar as well. She spent the first fifteen years of my life claiming she was a decade younger than she actually was. When I learned to add and subtract, I realized her age meant she would have given birth to my brother sometime in her prepubescent years. Presented with that discovery, my mother wove her web wider and said my brother was in fact her brother and that she had legally adopted him to get him into this country. Or something like that.