Storyline: Bulgaria with Alex
Although born in England and brought by his parents to Canada at the age of 14, Alex’s first time crossing the Ocean back to Europe wasn’t to his homeland, but to mine. (Our visit to the UK covered in “50 years later” and “A Glimpse of Scotland” was much later.) This was also his first flight across the Atlantic (he came to Canada by ship). And it was his first ever visit to Continental Europe, even more to the Balkan corner of Southern Europe and further to a former communist country. I am mentioning all this because there is quite a difference between the well-combed and tidy landscape of England and Northern Europe with preserved and maintained old stone houses, castles, manicured gardens and the somewhat disorderly but more natural scenery of the Mediterranean and the Balkans, with crumbling houses in deserted villages, wild parks, grass burning under the sun, not carefully and evenly coiffed under the lawnmower.
In May 2004, not exposed to world travelling at all and having travel experience limited to parts of North America, Alex landed in a completely different world. At the time, Bulgaria was struggling with turning the glove inside out, transforming from a centralised communist economy to freer capitalist one. It was still a few years until it would join the EU. But people were the same: gregarious, curious, warm and witty, flocking to cafes, pubs and restaurants to meet with friends and chat over a cup of coffee or a glass of something stronger.
My friends living in Sofia greeted us at the airport. Vania & Krasi with their two sons and Milan, who loaded our big suitcases for his small trunk and drove us to his apartment, where Misho and Kalin, his two sons and Galia, Misho’s girlfriend waited for us.
Kalin, who loves cooking, had made a traditional Bulgarian dish guvetch – a veggie stew baked in a clay pot. Often lamb, pork, chicken or a combination is added. For the first two days we were staying at Milan’s place. After returning from a visit to my parents, we’d stay in an apartment that Krasi had arranged for us to rent. Milan’s apartment was probably a shock to Alex, even then when it was in much better shape. Originally one bedroom and converted by Milan, who is a handyman, to three sleeping spaces by eliminating the living room, placing the kitchen in the tiny corridor that used to be a bathroom entrance and moving the fridge onto one of the balconies, which was glass-enclosed, and finally creating a bathroom door through what was originally a closet, but now hosting a laundry machine. The bathroom even now is practically non existent. One walks through a closet, brushing the laundry machine and smelly dirty laundry to enter to the much-needed toilet. Next to it is what Milan thought of as a “bathtub”, a narrow but deep concrete basin which, of course, he built himself. The shower, when working, would spray the entire room, but wet rooms a very common in Bulgaria, although many apartments have their toilet separate from the shower room. Bathtubs were not common in the lives of the ordinary people. The place inhabited for years by 3 men hadn’t seen much cleaning. I hadn’t been there since my friend Dora, his wife, passed away, so it was a bit of a shock for me. Can’t even imagine what was Alex thinking. However, what mattered was the gesture, the hospitality, the good will. People didn’t have much but they were always ready to open and share their house, food and drinks.
Alex:
Diana underestimates my discomfort in those first few days. As she observes above, I hadn’t been out of North America for 36 years. Sure, I’d lived for three months in primarily French-speaking Montreal, and visited other cities in La Belle Province, Quebec. I’d also travelled extensively throughout Canada, visiting all of our ten provinces and our newest territory of Nunavut. I’d also visited the USA many times, although primarily in the north-east. Bermuda – check. Cuba – check. But that was about it. Then one morning (local time), this then 50-year old found himself presenting his rarely used passport to a stern-looking and uniformed Bulgarian Immigration officer. Diana graciously answered his questions on my behalf, we picked up our luggage from the carousel (this was years before we began to travel with carry-on luggage only) and stepped through the doors to a place that felt not quite right. It was like a twist in the space-time fabric that changed the familiar just enough to make it disconcerting. Did I mention that my body thought it was the middle of the night? Maybe I was dreaming?
Bulgaria is an ancient country with a rich, but often devastating, history for its people, periodically crushed by foreign occupations that have left signs not only in the ruins of once mighty kingdoms, but in the national psyche (One day I may write on this). Being a crossroad of civilizations, cultures and geography – a crossroad between Asia and Europe – it boasts over 1300 years of state history. It was the first unitary state in Europe, appearing on a political map of the continent in 632 and it is the only state formed in the early middle ages that has preserved its name (The first Bulgarian Empire was founded in 681).
Bulgaria’s area today is relatively small. However, it has a remarkably diverse landscape featuring the snowy peaks of Rila, Pirin, the Balkans and a few lesser- known mountains,
a mild and sunny Black Sea coast, with long sandy beaches, a multitude of fertile river valleys, plains, plateaus, gorges and colourful farm fields. It is predominantly sunny country even in the short winter months.
However, none of these were known to Alex yet. From the airport he was transported to a suburban area with apartment buildings from a communist era, literally falling apart, surrounded by unkempt, dusty fields and weed-bordered streets full of rusting old Soviet cars like Moskvitch, Lada and the (in)famous Trabant. It wasn’t until we hit the road and crossed the Balkans that he’d see the beauty surrounding us.
Alex:
It’s not that I hadn’t seen photos and movies of places in Europe, but certain things struck my sleepy, confused brain such that I still remember these first impressions. Lane markings on the roads – meaningless: look, there’s space for a car there. So it gets filled. Diana mentions the old Soviet-era cars, and there were many of them, but also high-end vehicles, some of which were available in Canada but were so rare and exclusive that I hadn’t seen one at home.
I tried to sound out to myself the Cyrillic road signs and names on buildings (I’d learned this phonetic alphabet so I could slowly form the words, but hadn’t a clue what most meant). And everyone in the car seemed to be arguing. Was everything ok? It took me some time to understand that what to my ears sounds assertive or aggressive is just normal conversation.
During this first trip we visited the village of my grandparents, stopped briefly in my home town Gorna Oriahovitsa, drove over the hill to Arbanasi village, and had dinner there, stayed a few days in Veliko Tarnovo. Back to Arbanasi for dinner with friends. And back to Sofia to meet and enjoy my friends’ company. We stayed at an apartment near the centre.
There was farmers market next to it. We noticed that it was a lot more expensive to buy produce and cook than to eat in a restaurant. So people prefer to eat out. This was and still is family and friends time, spent around a restaurant table, when someone else would cook and serve while you are catching up with the news of the day. Food was exceptionally good and cheap in the restaurants.
Wine, beer and rakia even cheaper. No wonder the restaurant culture. It was not much different last time we were there, although the prices have now risen with Bulgaria being an EU member and the cost of living chasing the EU standards, but still far cheaper than any other country in Europe.
Vania & Krasi took us for dinner one evening. The evening actually started early, I think around 5pm. This was Alex’s first exposure of a dinner as a social occasion not “eat fast and get the hell out of here so we can have another sitting”
Alex:
I was hungry when we arrived at the traditional restaurant on the ground floor of a repurposed house. Krasi met us at the door and took us back through a couple of rooms to our table, where I met the rest of his family. Everyone was happily chatting, and Diana made sure I wasn’t left out. Menus! Great. Again, Diana helped me to figure out what I wanted to try. I was salivating. There were eight of us at the table and the conversation rolled happily around the table (that is, nobody sounded like they were about to attack the other person; just that they might want to…). I hadn’t yet adjusted to the Bulgarian style of speaking. Did they take our order yet? Don’t think so. I’m beginning to see how a table leg can look tasty. Ahh finally, the order is taken. And not long after, rakia and salad are placed before us. Time to dig in. But nobody else is touching their cutlery. I sit on my hands and listen to the incomprehensible chatter as everybody catches up on the last few years. My smile is now painful as I make love to my salad with my eyes. Wait, what’s that? Krasi has reached for his fork. Now we can eat! He delicately spears a tomato and continues to chat. My tomato is halfway to my mouth before I notice that his fork hasn’t yet moved from the plate, Come on…please. Nobody else has started to eat yet, either. More chat. A bite taken. I mirror the action. About an hour later, the salad is finished, and I’m getting the picture. This get-together is about socializing, enjoying the company and the meal, and taking the time to do it without stress or pressure to get out and move on. I’m much more comfortable with the main course, and slow down significantly, but I’m still finished long before the others. I put that down to my minor, language-deficient role in the conversation, but I’ve thoroughly enjoyed myself, watching the interactions at the table, enjoying the music played by the quartet that visited each table, and feeling the day’s tensions melt in the warm, hospitable atmosphere. We’re finished in just less than four hours, and I’m beginning to appreciate the Bulgarian social style. I hope to recover an old video I took at the meal. It’s on an obsolete digital tape format, so wish me luck!
One day Krasi drove us to the spectacular Rila Monastery. Another day was spent visiting the picturesque town of Melnik. By then Alex was rather comfortable with Bulgaria which has since become his second home.
Alex:
After the disconcerting, sleep-deprived first hours in Sofia, it didn’t take me long to become more comfortable in this lovely country. But there was still much to become accustomed to, much of which has actually changed or improved over the years. Or I’ve just got used to it. (Yep, the city changed a lot during the years-D)
On my first visit, much was very run down. Hexagonal pavers are usually used for sidewalks. It’s a good design as they self-adjust as trees grow and expand. But walking on the sidewalks had become difficult and somewhat dangerous as many of these pavers were missing, and a lot of utility covers had also disappeared. Eyes down as you walked. There was lots of dust on the streets and sidewalks, but they were mostly clean.
Any ‘green’ space around apartments in the suburbs was either baked dirt or weeds, and the facades of apartment buildings had seen better days. Corridors and stairwells were ill-lit, and most apartment unit doors were secured with metal gates.
I’ve mentioned traffic above. But one notable activity I witnessed several times was presaged by a lot of cars honking horns, similar to what we often hear in summers in Canada as wedding parties proceed from church to reception. Then the cars would appear, decorated with pom poms and streamers, and full of teenagers chanting and singing as they celebrated their high school graduation. It put a smile on one’s face. I have video of this too, if I can somehow get it loaded onto the computer
One more observation for this post: I can’t say enough about the great food. My favourite salad (Shopska Salad), full of cucumbers, tomatoes, onion, peppers and cirene (pronounced sirenay, Bulgaria’s ubiquitous brine cheese, which is a cousin to the Greek feta, but oh, so much better imho). I’m not much of a fan of dried meats and salamis, but I love Filet Elena, pork coated with salt and herbs and dried. Thinly sliced, it’s simply delicious. Cooked food is equally delicious, and inexpensive for North Americans and Western Europeans. Beer (mostly light lager) is cheap and refreshing, and Bulgarian wines are delicious, even the cheap plonk. I could go on, but enough for now.
In the years after we have visited many places in this country, hiked mountains, participated in cultural events. We already have posts on Nesebar, Ruse, Belogradchik and Magura Cave. In the next few posts we will visit some of the other Bulgarian places we have been over the years.
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