karadare

I am going to the sea by night train tonight. I am going to a beach that's a fourty five minute walk from the nearest inhabitant. It is the last untouched piece of sea coast left and it will be developed within the next two years. Dolphins, swans, nude beach... should be interesting. Anyway, camping on the beach, eating only what we bring, drinking only what we bring. I'm sick as hell, but maybe the relaxation will do me some good. that and the questionable over-the-counter antibiotics.... what a strange country this is.

But the moral of the story is I won't be back until the night of the 5th and I will have no contact with the outside world (except cell phone if there is some emergency) so if you don't hear from me, you know why.

Chow- wish me happy dolphins, friendly sharks and beautiful sunrises! And ... you know... tolerable sun burns. (Nude beach... hmmm)

Chow

apologies

My apologies- I wrote that last blog entry in a state of extreme and possibly somewhat blind determination. I am going to visit between the 10th or 11th and the 19th or 20th or something. I will go to Baltimore first to visit Peter, then DC, the NYC and upstate NY if Oliver is there, which it seems like he won't be. It was just a crazy idea yesterday, but now it seems like it might actually happen! And of course I intended to ask you all before inviting myself (though I did get an open invitation to bitch about the US in a garden at any time...)

Giving oneself something to look forward is a very good defense mechanism.

plane tickets

I just found out I can't change my plane ticket. My whole plan is fucked, I only have a week left and I am spending most of it on the sea.

When I get home, I am going to take an East coast road trip to reflect on my life and visit my sister and uncle and peter and his brother... and no mom and dad, you can't convince me otherwise.

So... um... I will be home on the 8th. I let you know when. But I am leaving on the tenth for the east coast. I'm pretty upset. I'm not ready to go home.

hostel life

The hostel is full. In fact, all hostels in all of Sofia are full. Which means, of course, that I have been sleeping all over Sofia in a wide variety of people's home's. Last night I slept in a twin sized bed at Ana's house that I shared with Katerina. However, due to the fact that I was at the liberty of their time schedule, i went to sleep at 4:30 and woke up at 9... Two months of sleep deprivation is starting to grate on me. I have fantasies of sleeping on clouds and hard wood floors and anywhere that is big enough to curl up in fetal position and catch some sleep. I have slept at Reiny's place, Boby's place, Ana's, two different people named Peter's, Stefan's... I have slept across three chairs, I have slept in a mildewy basement and woken up with a sore throat the next morning. I have even slept in one arm chair, curled up in fetal position. But tonight I have a bed. In my own room. With no one else snoring or waking me up too early. I can sleep any time of the day behind a locked door. Peter is on vacation in Varna and I have the key to his room. I will sleep like a baby, only without the crying and waking up in the middle of the night... I will sleep like a sleep deprived homeless young adult who, for the first time in two months, has her own room... I can't wait.

Life is good. I am exhausted.

Never want to say goodbye

The weight of leaving this place is starting to set in. Maybe its the cloudy, cold weather or maybe its the annoying French teenagers who took over my dormitory and stole my glasses and threw my shower sandals out the window and clogged the toilet with tampons and broken glass (though you would think such an experience would cloud my positive vision of Bulgaria). I've been talking a lot to two friends of mine named Peter (Peter Roetke and Peter Rusev- this really is the summer of the Peters...) about culture clashes and MN peter and I both agree that Bulgarian culture has changed both of us immensely. Peter Rusev is a Bulgarian actor/director living in Denmark trying to make his films, so he's experiencing the same culture clash that us MNs have (only from the other side)- between the stoic, emotionless, passive aggressive, always positive, black and white culture of Scandinavia versus the open, warm, overflowing-with-emotions culture of Bulgaria. Both MN Peter and I are much more open than we were when we came here- we can see it in ourselves and we can see it in each other. Katerina and Annie make fun of me all the time- when I first came here, on my very first night I sat with the two of them at the hostel bar. They were trying so hard to get me out of my shell and I was hopelessly shy and scared- scared of Bulgaria, scared of adventure, scared of new things, scared of the language barrier. And now that they've known me for two months, they can see that I've changed. I speak freely, I bubble over with warmth and affection- I am so much more outgoing than I was when I got here. But its not only warmth that defines Bulgarian social skills- they aren't afraid to point out what's wrong with the world. I've had so many conversations about the government and communism and repression and the education system here and corruption and... and no one is afraid to point out what's wrong with the world. In Denmark, Peter tries to do the same thing and they always say "Be positive, Peter." Like being constructively critical is somehow a sin- like every human has a switch in their brain- positive, negative, positive, negative. There is no gray, there is no middle ground. I mean, don't get me wrong, there are a lot of things wrong in Bulgaria, a lot of things that are totally backwards. But the people are not one of those things. The people here have hearts of gold. Always kind, helpful, generous. Maybe they have nothing, but they will give you everything. Not like individualistic American culture where everyone has a lot and no one gives anything. All anyone cares about is their career, you can't just sit in a garden with friends talking about life, happiness, love, politics, whatever. There is no time for gardens in the United States. There is no time for anything- everyone always has to be doing something.

I can't stand the thought of going back...

matchlite briquette boys

Dad, did you even know this exists? Its a really great performance.

Varna

I have decided that night trains are certainly not the most comfortable way to travel. At least in buses they give you your own light so you can read all night. I spent most of the night wandering from car to car, wishing the bathrooms had toilet paper and didn't reak of urine and standing by the window to escape the sweltering heat. Of course, by 4am I understood why all the passengers had closed the windows as the whole train was consumed by the early morning chill. You can't smoke on trains anymore as of a year ago, but that didn't stop passengers from sneaking to the windows and lighting up when the coast was clear. I saw one man get fined for it, but most people were able to get away with it. I enjoyed watching the sneaky Bulgarians creeping around for their nicotine.
I arrived at Varna at 7am having gotten maybe one hour of sleep. I wandered the streets like a zombie in search of a bathroom (i opted to hold my bladder instead of use the train's) and a coffee.
Varna is one of the most overtly touristy cities I have ever been to. The hostel was totally filled with women, a stark contrast from my male dominated art hostel, and all they wanted to do was sit on the crowded, polluted beach and go to beach night clubs when a small rum and coke costs ten leva (that's absurd for Bulgaria! It should be maybe 3lv). The mafia runs the whole town- you see saabs and beamers all over the place. The men wear huge chains around their neck and hold themselves with powerful stances. They own all the night clubs and have intentionally designed them to be money making machines. As of last year, they put all the bars in the middle of the dance floor. This way, tourists won't dance and they will just continue to buy rip-off drinks all night. I didn't actually go inside one (I had been warned) but I did walk along the strips of beach where the clubs were trying to find a decent bar. Each club plays their music at top volume, all Chalga music (a synthesis of Bulgarian and pop music always sung by beautiful half naked women and men dressed like pimps. One of the worst musical forms I've ever heard and you hear it everywhere!!!). When walking down the road, it sounds like each club is trying to max out the volume of the one next door- all you hear is a dozen competing bass lines and a dozen competing melodies.
I went to one show and the crowd was equally unimpressive. Everyone just stood around or sat on couches, crowding near the back not dancing. There were a few die hard fans singing along to all the songs and dancing a little, but nothing compared to how sofia hardcore kids freak out. No one was jumping on each other or moshing or anything.
Anyway, I spent most of my time in Varna hanging out with Ben and Roland, two Aussi guys whom I had met at the Art Hostel. We played chess all night and they taught me Australian slang. Their presence at the Flag Hostel in Varna is what colored my time in Varna- they saved the city for me.
On Sunday, after eating a big plate of fruit and getting beaten by Ben at chess, I walked to the bus station and headed back to Sofia. The bus was much more comfortable and I was able to read the whole time. I got a bit car sick at first but my stomach settled down. I'm reading a really interesting book about the Lost Boys of Sudan. Well, it is an autobiography of one of lost boys. I highly recommend it- its called What is the What. Peter lent it to me.
I returned home to the Art Hostel at one in the morning to find all of my friends crowded at the bar eager to see me! Simeon and some virtuosic french fiddle player were playing amazing rock/folk jams in the room next door. It didn't take long for me to remember why I believe that the Art Hostel in Sofia is the single best place in the whole world. I can't tell you how lucky I feel to be living here, of all places.
Yesterday I met a man named James Anthony Gilligan who was just in Germany speaking for Iraq Veterans Against the War. He had lived in Sofia for a year so he came here for a few days to visit old friends. He is coming to Minneapolis for the RNC protests!!!!! I can't wait! This is the first person I've met here who I know I will see again. Its a very different feeling than the fleeting friendships.

crazy week

The mountain was amazing. Peter and I accidentally took a short cut up the mountain which, when mountain climbing, usually means 30 degree inclined and really rough terrain. It was really challenging, but I made it to the top in one piece. It was beautiful up there- the city looked so huge and far away. I'd never taken a lift before either, so that was a fun experience for me. We could watch the city disappear as we ascend the mountain above the trees. We never found a brewery- I think it was in the monestary, which we also didn't find. C'est la vie. After the work out, I didn't really want to ingest anything besides water. It was cool, they had natural springs all along the way where you could fill your water bottle with ice cold natural spring water. I've never tasted water that sweet and refreshing.

I met a guy named chad who is writing an article on Serbian rockabilly music for an english speaking journal called pilvax. Its either Serbian or Hungarian, I can't remember. Anyway, the next issue is about Eastern European music, so i am going to attempt to write a piece on BG hardcore music. I talked to the editor of the paper and he seemed interested in what I was doing... It will be some kind of creative non fiction piece about my experience more that a research piece- I think maybe about my ignorance and naivety about the whole thing, or maybe my experience entering the scene. Any ideas you have for me about how I could approach the article are music appreciated!

In other news, an older brittish american guy named Sam took me and Peter out to dinner at the Czech club. I can't say no to a free meal, so we went. Afterwards, we hung out with the gaijda player (Bulgarian bagpipe) who plays in the part outside of Sofia university for ten hours everyday. For twenty years he has played there for ten hours a day, six days a week (sundays are off). He plays BG songs and American jazz and folk tunes. He started singing Motherless Child at me and was shocked that I knew the words. Then he made me teach him a song, so I taught him Stars in my Crown. He invited the three of us over to his home where we drank rakia (I only had one small glass- that stuff is dangerous) and ate watermelon and homemade banitsa. He made me record Stars in my Crown on a small tape recorder so he could learn it. I wrote the words down for him (he kept saying "I only speak nine words in English" but actually his English was very good). He taught me a song, the lyrics of which are "I work all day but the night belongs to me." I have no idea where the song comes from. I should look it up somehow. He also sang Stars in My Crown (just the melody with no words) in the style he would play on the gaijda. It was amazing! Probably one of the weirdest experineces I've had so far (but among the best)
We returned to the hostel at about 2am to find the garden crowded with people playing guitar and having a sing along. That lasted until maybe 4:30 or 5:00- the neighbors must really hate us... Life is hard.

I'm off to the sea on Thursday to see a few shows and to sit on the beach. Maybe I can even get someone to talk to me while I'm at it. Hopefully.

Peace, love and all that. Sorry i've been lazy about the blogging.