Bulgaria 2018

My night flight from Saint Petersburg, Russia was via Moscow. I arrived in Varna at 8 am, took the bus to Byala and one hour later I was in my apartment.

Everything looked dusty; the air in the rooms was stuffy. The last time I stayed there was 7 months ago. I threw open all windows and balcony doors, turned on water and electricity, and sat down. It is always like this when I come to Bulgaria after a winter in Colorado. There is a multitude of things to do, all at once, and I don’t know where to start. Should I unpack first, or clean the apartment, or run to buy groceries? After a short rest, I began unpacking and dusting off things as I needed to use them. A couple of hours later, the apartment looked livable enough. The dirty floor and windows had to wait. I’d wash them later. I had not eaten anything since the previous evening. So I headed out to eat and to buy some food for the rest of the day.

It was the end of May, too early for the vacation season. During the off-season, Byala is populated by about 3,000 locals and a few dozens of foreigners who received permanent residency in Bulgaria. The weather was already warm, but the Black Sea was stormy and cold. Nevertheless, this quiet time is my favorite. Vacationers will descend on this small town in July when school in Western Europe is over. Russians come in mid-June because the school year in Russia ends earlier. The shops and restaurants will open on Chernomorka, the main thoroughfare in Byala. Kiosks, carousels, jumping castles, street sellers, and horse carriages will appear out of nowhere as if by magic. The high season is short; it lasts two months until early September. Entrepreneurs have to be quick to make money while they can. Then with the beginning of the fall, Byala becomes quiet again. Everything brought to the town disappears overnight as if it never existed. Shops and restaurants close down. The speed and efficiency with which Bulgarians set up their operations and shut them down do not cease to amaze me. One day I walk past a restaurant and it is fully functioning; next day it is completely gone. No more tables and soda machines on the street, the window blinds are down, the door is locked, and the entire place looks like it was out of business for years.

I do not mind crowds during the high season and the gaiety that comes with it. Yet, I like Byala most when the vacationers are not in town, although I have to remind myself that I am one of them too since I do not live in Byala all year around.

Bulgaria is truly a blessed land. It has everything – the sea, rivers and waterfalls, mountains and vast valleys. Its vineyards and sunflower fields stretch to the horizon. Winters are mild; summers are not too hot. The famous Bulgarian roses bloom in spring and early summer. The land produces a wide variety of fruit and vegetables.

Bulgarians like to tell the following joke about their country:

When God distributed land to all nations Bulgarians were late. By the time when they showed up, all land was given away. Bulgarians asked God to check if perhaps there was something left for them. God consulted his books and confirmed that every piece of land was already assigned to some nation. Bulgarians did not leave and continued to beg for land – let it be desert or high mountains – something that they could call their own. God sighed and said “All right, there is one piece of land by the Black Sea that I saved for myself. Let it be yours.”

After a few days in Byala, my apartment was sparkling clean. My body got much needed rest after the five-week journey from home across the Atlantic Ocean and six European countries to St. Petersburg.

I settled into a routine. I got up between 7 and 8 a.m., had a quick sandwich for breakfast and went down to the beach. This part required little effort as the beach was right under my balcony and manners in Byala were simple. Residents of the nearby houses walked to the beach in their swimsuits not bothering to put on anything else over them. I followed their example, just grabbed a towel and in 2 minutes I was swimming in the Black Sea. Lying idly on the beach is not my cup of tea. I walked until I felt that it was time for another swim and dove into the sea again.

By 10 a.m. I was back to my apartment, showered, ate some fruit and sat down at my laptop to work. I am a freelance translator and a phone interpreter. While waiting for the next call to come, I worked on written translations, wrote in my blog or did research and other things online. Beautiful sea views could be a distraction, so I worked facing a blank wall. Otherwise, I’d spend all day gazing at cargo ships and yachts that sailed past or watched the birds. Swallows built nests on my balcony. Glass railings confused them; they became trapped for a while until they could find the way out. Sometimes a bird would get into the room through the wide balcony doors, fly over my head and leave.

Lunch was around 1 p.m. I ate at home or in a café, ran errands and bought groceries. The afternoon was for reading or napping. Attempts to work were usually fruitless. After dinner, I met with friends, or took a leisurely stroll along Chernomorka or the seashore, or went to pick up fruit from abandoned trees, and did more work.

One day, I went to my favorite mulberry tree by a house where nobody lived. Usually, passersby pay no attention to me. This time, when I was stuffing my mouth with succulent berries a middle-aged Bulgarian came out of the house on the opposite side of the street. He was square-shouldered with tightly knitted eyebrows that gave him a menacing look.

‘You come to this tree every day,’ he stated.
‘Yes,’ admitted I.
‘That’s all right,’ he extended his hand to me, ‘I am Kosta. What’s your name?’

I showed Kosta my palms, deep purple from the mulberry juice, to indicate that they were too dirty for a handshake.

‘Never mind,’ he said and squeezed my hand hard. ‘Come again, eat them berries.’

In July, I left Bulgaria for the Netherlands where during four days I managed to visit the cities of Gouda, Leiden, the Hague, Maastricht, Utrecht, Nijmegen, and Arnhem. When I returned to Byala the high season was about to begin.

In summer, Byala always hosts a folk festival that lasts one week. Singers and dancers come from all over Bulgaria to perform on Byala’s main square. There is no need to understand Bulgarian to enjoy these songs. The colorful traditional costumes are a feast for the eyes. The music is so full of zest that it is tempting to join the dancers. That is, of course, if one knows the dance moves.

One of the hypotheses why the Black Sea is called black is that its waters turn black during severe storms. I did not observe that, but the Black Sea does storm often. Enormous gray waves crash on the shore washing away what was left on it and bringing in something else like tree trunks in replacement. The sea can drastically change the shore overnight. One morning, it is covered with a foot-deep layer of dark green seaweed that is soft and springy like a featherbed. Next day, the seaweed is gone and instead of it, the shore is all pebbles and it hurts to step on them. Two more days and there are little traces of seaweed and pebbles; the beach is sandy as if it always was that way.

This season, the Black Sea had mercy on us and for a whole month it was quiet and gentle like a lamb. Its waters were bright blue and so clear that every rock at the bottom was visible. By mid-August, the Black Sea started showing its character again. One storm could rage for a week. I walked along the beach instead of swimming and began planning my return trip. That was not easy. I bought a plane ticket to fly home from Athens on the 5^th of October. Therefore, I needed to get to Greece somehow. Since I never was in Greece before, I also wanted to spend some time there and to see the country but what islands to visit, how long to stay on them, what exactly to do, and how to put together the itinerary so that I would not be stuck in some place and miss my flight? Should I fly to Greece or travel by land and sea?

I decided that 2 weeks in Greece would be right for me, not too short and not too long. This meant that I had to leave Byala around the 20^th of September. The season wrapped up on the first September weekend. Vacationers were mostly gone. The weather remained good and the sea was warm. The locals were harvesting grapes and making wine. It was a beautiful time to be in Byala, but it also was the time for me to start moving toward Colorado.

How I got to Greece and what I did there will be described in my next post.