You get the picture :) However, all that is to preface the fact that some of my stories are no longer going to be in accurate chronological order! My trip has become long enough that when I think back to the most impressionable events, they have begun to float nebulously between other memories, no longer like exact pins in the row of time, but rather, golden coins in a rippling pool which are pulled out selectively without regard to what used to surround them. A picture of coins found in an archaeological dig, whereby context is invaluable but too often disregarded and later forgotten, is not yet applicable. The trip hasn't been that long!
So, lest my treasured adventures become stale with time, I will tell you a few more stories:
Title possibilities: "Surprises, a.k.a. Taking pictures with goats is actually quite difficult". Or perhaps, "Everyday brings new adventures, a.k.a. chasing goats after breakfast"... you get the picture!
Papa and I had the unique opportunity to stay with Baba Denka, a friend's grandmother, in the small village of Dimcha, near to Pavlikeni and Veliko Turnovo. It was mildly complicated as the buses to Dimcha don't run too frequently and you need to catch various connections. However, with the help of another friend who made several phone calls to the bus and train stations, we made it to Dimcha with only sweat in the hot summer heat, but no real difficulty. In fact, as we waited in the bus station at Veliko Turnovo, a larger city in north-central Bulgaria, the bus driver to Pavlikeni even knew who Baba Denka was! He made sure we met the right person, as if there could be any confusion; two obvious tourists with rucksacks arriving by bus in a 1 horse town (Ok, there were several horses actually...) with the usual stares of inquisitiveness and curiosity. However, before we could ask where she lived, there came Baba Denka, roaring down the center of the road in her electric wheelchair, to greet the friends of her granddaughter. No wonder everyone knew her! After a brief stop at the central store, we walked on up the road to her farm house. Actually, we attempted to speed walk with our heavy packs just to keep up while she tried to keep her chair speed to a minimum and waited in each opportune shady spot. I should back up to describe one point of interest to many of the people I visited with. Many people there ask if in the U.S. we have villages like they do. They're also curious about farms because while most people in the country farm, they never live on farms. Partly as a holdover from communal land, but also predating communism by centuries, no families live on isolated farms by themselves. Everyone lives in the village, has a vegetable garden and animal pen immediately by their house, and goes off to the larger family plot of land somewhere outside town. The remoteness of the 'American' style farm where one family lives by itself is largely unheard of in all the places I've traveled to. People were really fascinated by this. How could one family live all by themselves? Needless to say, it lead to many a good discussion.
Anyway, this is all a preface to describe Baba Denka's abode. You enter from the road through a closed gate which keeps in all the animals: goats, chickens, rabbits, cats, and dogs. Did I mention that she is 76 and lives on her own?! Then, you pass through another gate into the vegetable garden which is interspersed with various fruit trees. This path leads you to the house; downstairs is the 2 room partial basement area where Baba Denka lives, and upstairs (not connected) is where there are two more rooms no longer in use. There is one running faucet and sink in the basement but the bathroom is out back of the garden and the bath is the little tub leaning against the house next to the well. It was great. I haven't taken a bath outside in a long time :)
My original hope was to crash a gathering of the Dimcha women's choir which my friend had told me about. However, they were all on vacation and the few women I did meet who sang in the choir, were too shy about singing on their own. So, instead, I was told about Dancho, the village's lead accordionist and choir director, who happens to also be the accordionist for the neighboring town of Suxindol as well. Suxindol also happened to be having rehearsals that very night and so upon suggestion of Maria, the local cultural house director who sings in Dimcha's choir, (yes, even most small villages still have a cultural house: no money, but at least old buildings) we paid a neighbor to drive us to Suxindol's cultural house and dropped in on rehearsal. Luckily, there was some advance notice as Baba Denka's cousin sings in this choir, so she met us at the door.
We arrived just as the 15 or so women were beginning to practice their sets: two singing horo, slower songs that the singers simultaneously do a simple dance to. These were a unison melody in the call and response type with the group divided in half. They heard we were guests and decided to do them twice so we could record them! (Unfortunately, the bad news is that sometime after this, the camera broke and so we don't have any video from our time in Bulgaria...this is very sad because we had planned to send the group all the recordings we made but no longer can. ) Then, we went into another room where the women joined about 5 male singers and the accordionist. A co-ed format for the choirs is slightly less common and usually consists of 1 or 2 men. These gentlemen, however, were both strong and very, very good singers! I really wish I had had time to learn something just from them. Anyway, the group was fantastic! I mean, they really were good. In the village choirs, you really get a range of ability and so this was a wonderful treat for us. They sang a range of songs from 'stari gradski pesni', old city songs, to older and more traditional songs from their local area. All in all it was: 2 traditional women's village songs, 3 village songs in parts and the city songs just for fun because they like to sing together.
After rehearsal, we were introduced to a man who could drive Papa, myself, and Dancho back to Dimcha. As another thunderstorm had just rolled in and it was dark and stormy, the one person with a car was in high demand. We squished 3 grandparents in the front and 3 in the backseat of the old Russian car and drove off to Dimcha. Dancho invited us to the pub for a drink and so we stayed late, talked and even were serenaded by a duet of local singers! It was a fantastic evening.
The next day we met Dancho and Maria at the Chetalishte (cultural house) where they had some printed lyrics from last night's songs to give us. We chatted some more and then he invited us to his house for lunch and of course, we couldn't refuse! Unknown to us, in the meantime Baba Denka had already prepared lunch for when we returned. I suffered with two lunches but papa gave up and went to sleep! Of course, that is why my waistline is much bigger now... :) Anyway, Dancho's wife prepared some very nice dishes which we enjoyed very much over the course of several hours. However, what we enjoyed most was that Dancho loved to play his accordion. He had originally worked as a trumpeter in a more famous band but at one wedding, a dancer knocked his trumpet into his front teeth and broke them all. So, since then he has played accordion. And, to top off a most wonderful afternoon, his wife (whose name I've forgotten and I apologize for this), let me try on her own traditional outfit to take pictures in! No, it wasn't my idea at all. It turns out that she is from Silistra and all her children have other local traditional dresses and no one will wear this one. It is VERY BEAUTIFUL and I wish I could have convinced her to keep it but she wants to sell it. So, I agreed to ask around to various people in the U.S. to see if they are interested. She's asking 400E which is well beyond my price range, but for a full costume in pristine condition like she's offering, it is a good price. Unfortunately, when papa's video camera broke, we lost all the pictures of it. I'll see if I can find anything similar online and post it for those interested...
Right, so, the next day we had to leave and we discovered that I hadn't taken any stills of Baba Denka for my friend. (She said she wasn't ready before). So, since we had to hurry and catch a ride into Pavlikeni, where we could catch the bus to Veliko Tarnovo, to catch the train to Stara Zagora, to catch the bus to Radnevo, we packed our bags in a rush. In fact, the car that was going to come, forgot and so Baba Denka had to call them to come back again. It was a bit confusing because I *thought* the night before, that she had said to be ready to leave at 8am. However, around 7:00 she asked why weren't we ready to go and I became really confused. So we hurriedly packed our bags, wolfed down some extra food we had and walked out the door. Then, here comes Baba Denka telling us that she's ready for pictures now and that the goats had been waiting! Waiting goats? What?! Well, previously we decided that Baba Denka's granddaughter liked goats so I should take some pictures of them for her. What I missed was that the goat herder came by at 8am and we had to be ready to take the pictures with the nannies before they went with the local herder to pasture. So, she and I spent the next 10 minutes (yes, the goat herder had to wait), trying to coral the goats into one place beside her so we could take a picture. With one goat perhaps this is easy, but with nannies and playful kids it is practically impossible. I discovered that don't like a non-goat herder herding them! Papa just spent the time laughing at us :) Anyway, in the end we were partially successful and it was past time for the goats to go. We still had a little time to go back and have a more proper breakfast, which we did. Have I mentioned yet that Baba Denka's goats really give the sweetest and mildest milk I've ever had? It is really nice! No strong smell, very smooth, and, of course, fresh every day! No, really. I'm not the biggest fond of goat milk because it smells like, well, goat. However, her milk was really, really nice. Papa and I even spent an evening trying to discover exactly what she fed them that kept the flavor so mild.
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