Arriving in Ruse, Bulgaria:
I’ve forgotten what makes Ruse especially famous, but I won’t soon forget being welcomed to Bulgaria by a smiling woman offering each of us a shot of local brandy! Tossed it back like a character in an old-time Hollywood Western, grateful for the lift it gave my aching muscles and tired, teeming brain.
Others sipped theirs in modest, mannerly fashion, though how one might “sip” from a shot glass strains my imagination.
What a fabulous week it’s being! I can’t wait to sit down.
Zipper just broke on my ancient, tattered bargain-basement imitation-leather tote. Tacky was okay, as long as it held all my stuff and I lack the means to shop with Gucci, but there are times when quality makes a difference! I must clutch my poor old tote closely to my side for safety now. At home I’ll consign it to Re-Cycle.
Have no adventures to report in Ruse! This evening at dinner my new Montana friends and I were joined by a couple from Tampa, Florida, both retired pilots with careers in managing aviation safety. First I had to ask them (facetiously) if the rocks at Indian Rocks Beach were still there, from memories of beach-bumming our way across the US in 1960. (Indian Rocks Beach is just north of Tampa Bay.)
They smilingly assured me that Indian Rocks have not budged from their place, and then all five of us launched into serious (and seriously funny) discussions of flight and flying, aircraft of every size and potential, personal adventures and mishaps … Any flying mishaps? … Well, a few! (From our Tampa table-mates.) How about the plane that landed upside down while landing recently? Our expert flying-safety friends explained how it happened – and should not have happened.
They currently maintain seven personal planes in a rented hanger and a helicopter in their backyard which attracts seagulls wishing to land on it. (Such landings leave messes, I suppose.) These Tampa folks seem as hopelessly intoxicated by flying as I remain after all these (85) years. There was some shock and amazement then chuckles as I described attempting to fly off the steep roof of our old (1906) three-story house when I was 10, having survived with very sore ankles, with difficulty (and some creative story-telling) explaining my painful limp to my parents.
Aviation safety being a complex and challenging pursuit, it was fascinating to learn facts about it from experts. Have mostly forgotten the facts, but not these two experts, who so kindly assured me Indian Rocks are where we left them 65 years ago! Nice to meet people who would rather fly than work in an office or watch a football game.
Later
Funny moment this p.m. in the ship’s cocktail lounge. I thanked a wait-person in my finest (accented) Serbian and he drew himself up to his proud 5’9” height, and replied “Sorry, Ma’am,
But I’m Romanian!” National Pride! Romanians have not always welcomed Serbian aggression and control among their Danube neighbors. A very long history there.
To another Bulgarian community, Veliko Tarnovo, famed for all things rose – flowers, scents, lotions, creams, liqueurs – and tourists to eagerly purchase them – I did succumb without hesitation to invitations all around us and found small rosy gifts for friends. L
Lost my sense of smell during the pandemic, but the fragrance of roses remains firmly fixed (somehow palpably) in my mind, a vast hoard of such remembered delights. Memories without thorns!
A quiet morning wandering the streets of Vidin, Bulgaria. Almost no traffic. An unusual sight: cars parked nose to nose (parallel) i.e., front ends facing front ends. Very curious. Can’t imagine the logic of it.
My pidgin Serbian works just fine in Bulgaria. I really want to make the most of this terribly brief time in these eastern European nations by trying – even by means of a meager attempt to communicate with our hosts in their own language – in even a few words. I get frustrated when my local vocabulary runs dry and I’m reduced to resorting to “mere” English!
Later: An unexpected boost to my ego (to compensate for limping, stumbling, dropping stuff and dropping out on long walks!). The Montana couple and a handful of dinner table people we’ve met said I do a marvelous job of “interviewing” strangers! I laughed and said I learned a bit about that while I was in prison. That certainly got some surprised looks!
I told them penitentiaries are a good place to learn about people who may seem quite different from us at first. Listening to the “other,” inviting the stranger to talk about himself can lead to learning how much we actually have in common, and lead to self-understanding. So in prison, or foreign lands, barriers can be lowered and brotherhood felt and even acknowledged. This is why I love to travel and for a time could not resist visiting prisons! There is always more that binds us than makes us different! One day this week a woman saved me by leading me to the Right Bus after I’d already boarded the Wrong Bus – an excursion in Croatia. I’m surviving (and thriving) with the help of countless strangers. Gratias Deo!
Earlier: returning to walk some more in Vidin, I ambled and hobbled along the edge of a park facing the river, to visit an Ottoman-era Post Office and a mosque. The town seems half asleep, almost no traffic. Shop owners in folk costumes hover in their doorways, hoping for customers who mostly do not come. The town feels as if it is malnourished and has little energy. Little cafes advertise food (and fast food – always in English – even if everything else is in Cyrillic).
In another village earlier, whose name was Osijek (Croatia), I was amused to see a sign in English advertising “tortillas, smash-burgers, fish and chips”!
Smash burgers?
This afternoon at 4:00 PM a pair of Bulgarian high school students, 17 and 18 years old, came to our ship and talked about their school life, education requirements for Bulgarian youth and answered questions about their plans and hopes. Very attractive, composed, good speaking skills. Unfortunately, I couldn’t hear a lot of what they said! I did catch their comments about the school’s requirement for learning two foreign languages. One is English, which they spoke extremely well. And the other popular options are Russian, Turkish, German, etc.
These two students were also part of an attractive and athletic folk dance group with children maybe 13 to 17 years of age performing very wonderfully to lively tunes, in brightly colored costumes. They plainly are well-practiced – never missed a step! The older male student (aged 18) sang beautifully in a sweet tenor voice a slightly melancholy folk song that made me feel momentarily quite emotional.
As a few years ago in Istanbul, I’ve observed the presence everywhere in Bulgaria of decently fed non-aggressive stray dogs, which are vaccinated, tagged and tolerated without abuse, neutered as well. One blind old fellow, a shepherd-mutt mix, seemed to welcome my gentle words of greeting. He raised his muzzle, gray-whiskered like an old man’s, and touched my nose with his. I don’t attempt to pet the strays, but usually paused to greet them and let them know a crazy old American lady loves them utterly.
Lots of graffiti along the streets, mostly messy, some obscene, most apparently “political”. Sofya (Bulgaria’s capital city to the southwest of us) often appears – but I can’t read any other Cyrillic. Many posters, some possibly political, have big X’s slashed across faces… others resemble Missing Persons (appeals).
Saw two doves just now, perched high on the Orthodox Cross rising from a church roof. They seem to be courting.
I want to buy some old-fashioned post-cards to bring home to friends but not a single souvenir shop displaying them for sale was open today!
Business seems dead in Vidin.