Старцево (Startsevo)

I recently made a long overdue visit to a friend who lives in Старцево (Startsevo). Startsevo is a small village located in the Rhodopes just a few miles from the Greek border.

The trip was the epitome of bittersweet. On the one hand, it was a glorious fall weekend. The best of all Bulgarian smells, the smell of smoke from wood-burning stoves, filled the air and left a haze over the distant mountains. Skies of blue hung over fields and forests of green, brown, yellow, orange, and red caught in transition from summer to winter. Traces of the season’s first snow lingered in small patches, barely noticeable against the patchwork of colors covering the surrounding hills. And incredibly hospitable locals made sure we felt entirely at home. Everything about the weekend was glorious. Everything except that part of my mind that kept telling me, even while I soaked it all in and savored it, that the end is near.

Barring an unexpected turn of events, this will be my last fall in Bulgaria. And I couldn’t help but feel a profound sense of loss as I took in deep breaths of the smoke-filled air and marveled at the surrounding countryside.

"Приятелю, не мога."

On my way to meet some friends last night, I saw something strange out of the corner of my eye. Ahead of me, down a side street, was a man. The man was lying in the middle of the street struggling to move. Every few seconds, I’d see his torso pop up and just as quickly it would go back down. I couldn’t tell if he was trying to stand up or crawl, but, either way, he wasn’t going anywhere.

In the time it took for me to reach the man, several cars and other people had passed without bothering to stop and check on him. By the time I got there, it appeared he had given up. He had curled into a ball, and he was lying on his side in a small puddle of near freezing water.

As I reached down and shook his shoulder, the first thing that hit me was an all too familiar smell. He reeked of an unmistakable but not uncommon combination of body odor, cheap cologne, alcohol, and cigarettes. He was hammered. At first, he was resistant to my help. I tried to pull him up, but he was nothing but dead weight. His legs were like jello and all he kept saying was, “Приятелю, не мога. Приятелю (Buddy, I can’t. Buddy.).”

“Не мога” is a favorite Bulgarian expression, and I stopped accepting it a long time ago. And every time he slurred, “Приятелю, не мога. Приятелю,” I simply said, “Можеш. Хайде (You can. Come on.).”

After struggling for a while, I was able to get him on his feet. He was a big man - my height and considerably heavier. But once he was on his feet, he could lean on me as I dragged him down the street in the direction of where he had told me he lived. When we got to what he claimed was his house, he refused to go inside so I left him on the front doorstep.

As I walked away, he repeated several times, “Благодаря ти много, приятелю (Thank you very much, buddy.).” When I walked by on my way home an hour or so later there was no sign of him, so I assume at some point he went inside. It’s a good thing he did. The puddle he was face down in last night was frozen this morning.

On the Right Track

Димитър Бербатов (Dimitar Berbatov) is arguably the best Bulgarian soccer player of all-time, and he’s generally considered the country’s top active player. When not suiting up for the Bulgarian national team, he plays striker for Manchester United. He also has a foundation which gives away money to worthy sports-related projects in Bulgaria.

Upon learning of his foundation, I notified my Bulgarian counterpart. We brainstormed, and she came up with the idea of applying for funding for a carting track. Our school is a transportation school and carting fits perfectly with the type of students who attend the school and the type of work they are likely to be doing in the future. Unfortunately but not surprisingly, our application for funding was unsuccessful.

Not all was lost, however. In the course of preparing the application, contacts were made between our school and the Bulgarian Carting Association. As a result of those contacts, a neglected soccer field on school property was turned into a highly specialized track for racing remote-controlled cars. The grand opening of the track was this past weekend. And hopes are still high that an actual carting track will be opened some time in the near future.

I had nothing whatsoever to do with any of this beyond initially notifying my counterpart of the opportunity to apply for funding through the Dimitar Berbatov Foundation. And that’s pretty cool. There is a lot of confusion and even disagreement about what we as Peace Corps volunteers are here to do. I’ve always believed we are here, primarily, to make new friends, to share our experiences with folks back home, and to help empower Bulgarians to improve Bulgaria in whatever manner they see fit. It’s great to work with people who feel the same way, and I’m proud of my colleague’s accomplishments.

Here are some photos from the grand opening.

Walking Through Goat Shit

A couple of weeks ago, I was in Munich for Oktoberfest. Germany is, of course, the economic and political powerhouse of the European Union. As one of the E.U.’s newest members and arguably the poorest, Bulgaria is the antithesis of Germany. Not surprisingly, there were some things about German society that jumped out at me as compared to Bulgarian society.

German society seems incredibly structured. There are lots of rules, and almost everyone seems to abide by those rules. As a result, Germany is remarkably clean and efficient. Things are new and well maintained. Buses, trains, and other forms of mass transit arrive and depart as scheduled. Indeed, German society is a well-oiled machine that hums along in such a way that you can easily tune out, jump on the conveyor belt, and let the system do most of the thinking for you and not worry one iota. And I understand the appeal in that. There are certain things most people don’t want to have to worry about – hitting a pothole while driving, stepping in dog shit when walking in the park, being stuck on a broken down bus, being late for an appointment because the train was late. When I first got to Munich, the efficiency and structure of German society was beyond refreshing. I saw it as everything Bulgaria can and should be.

In contrast to the Germans, many Bulgarians ignore rules entirely or intentionally attempt to skirt them. When caught, they’ll generally plead ignorance and beg for leniency or argue vehemently with whoever is charged with enforcing the rule. And then they’ll go right back to breaking it again. Maintenance usually means fixing something after it breaks. The thought of preventative maintenance rarely enters the consciousness. Things generally run on schedule but not always, and Bulgarians seem to be conditioned to expect delays. Except for the main highways, roads are more potholes than roads, and sidewalks are uneven and ankle-buckling. Walking in winter is always an adventure because, for a society that loves to salt the hell out of everything, Bulgarians generally don’t salt the streets and sidewalks. As a result, walkways resemble ice skating rinks for a good part of the year. And then there are the animals. Stray dogs nipping at your heels. Stray cats jumping out of dumpsters. Goats, sheep, cows, horses, and donkeys all walking the streets and sidewalks and leaving their droppings behind.

For a first time visitor to Bulgaria, all of this can be overwhelming and a bit intimidating. Once you’re here a while, however, it all seems second nature and no big deal. And as refreshing as it was to see a society humming on all cylinders, if given the choice between a structured, predictable society with impeccably clean and level sidewalks and an unstructured, unpredictable one with uneven sidewalks covered in goat shit, I’d rather walk through goat shit.

Триград (Trigrad)

As the name suggests, Триград (Trigrad), literally "Three Towns," is actually not one town but a merger of three different towns. Sort of like Budapest but not really.

One thing that makes Trigrad interesting is the mix of Orthodox Christians and Muslims as is evident by the church and mosque practically on top of each other.


And the town's setting is tough to beat.


One of the sights (and smells) of fall in Bulgaria: peppers roasting.


Another sign of fall: wood gathering.


The main road into and out of Trigrad leads to the Триградско ждрело (Trigrad Gorge), a seven kilometer chasm that begins about a kilometer outside the village.

Широка лъка (Shiroka Laka)

So far, Широка лъка (Shiroka Laka) has been able to do what few tourist spots can do – open itself up to tourism without losing the authenticity and genuineness that made it appealing to tourists in the first place. It is what Kovachevitsa aspires to become: a tourist town that doesn’t seem overly touristy. Shiroka Laka is cobblestone streets, old bridges, Rhodopean architecture, and relatively unaffected locals, all in a picturesque hillside/riverside setting. It’s a place that’s difficult not to like.