Bye, Bye, Bulgaria

I always have mixed feelings going to Bulgaria. On the one hand, I love it. I miss the people, food, culture, language, etc. I loved my mission despite the difficulties that I had. I have family there that make me laugh. I have a heritage that I love learning about. However, I'm spoiled now. I like clean showers, toilets that can handle toilet paper, ice, air conditioning, washing machines, etc. And I like families members who don't drive me absolutely batty.

Let's start with a typical day in the life of the older Bulgarians.



Yep, those are goats coming home at night. Although the laws have changed, the ways of the people are slower to change. It is now illegal to have animals in the city limits (other than typical pets). Many people still rely on gardens and orchards and farm animals. My uncle has chickens, pig, sheep and goats to supplement their food supply. Each family takes turns taking the sheep/goats to the pasture to feed for the day. When they come home the animals know their own home. They automatically go to their pen.



Here is my uncle's neighbor. He has several beehives that he keeps and found this hive in his neighbor's tree. So, he's cutting down the branch to take home to add to his hives. He can then store honey and honeycomb and sell it.



This is a typical scene. I wish I could have gotten a picture of the man in a horse drawn cart talking on his cell phone. Technology has hit, but only so far.




















Wanna see the bathroom that has given me nightmares? This is at my uncle's house. This bathroom is not accessible from the rest of the house. You have the shower, then the toilet area, then the pigpen, then the sheep/goat pen. The toilet area shares the wall with the pigs. See the red bucket? That holds water that you use to flush the toilet. But due to the system, the toilet never really flushes completely--there are always "floaties" left.

You can see a green trashcan next to the toilet. The sewer system in Bulgaria cannot accommodate anything other than human waste. So, trashcans are next to all the toilets to dispose of the toilet paper after you are done with it. Needless to say, due to the proximity of the animals and this waste filled can, there are tons of flies and other bugs. The shower is difficult to see, but there is mold on the floor. In order to take a shower, I have to wear shoes. I only took one shower this last time. I couldn't handle it. I would wash my hair and face in the outside sink which didn't have hot water.



Here's the bathroom at Bogdon's house. This is in his home and is so much nicer. I actually looked forward to staying there and showering. Let me explain what you're looking at. The whole bathroom is the shower. I'm standing in the doorway and there are two small steps to go down into the bathroom. Immediately under the bottom step is the showerhead--you can barely see the pipes for it at the top of the picture. You could wash your feet while sitting on the toilet. Or shave at the mirror while rinsing your hair. Actually, I kinda like this (ok, maybe have the toilet in a separate room)--no shower walls to be confined or need to clean.

Let's step out of the bathroom now.



I don't know who this woman is...I saw her walking while I was in Drabishna (which means she's probably related to me somehow). So many of the older people are bent over like this (some even worse). After picking so many green beans at my dad's garden this past weekend, I believe it's due to the hard work they do in their gardens. Seriously. You see them in their homes or out in the fields, bent over for hours on end. My back hurt from an hour of picking green beans...I can't imagine being like that for a full day.















I saw this truck one day while walking back from the store. Doesn't it look like it's straight out of Schlinder's List or maybe Raiders of the Lost Ark? Then you have Francis there blocking traffic--ok, no traffic now, but there could be.
















Notice this garbage truck? Notice the make? Yeah, it's a Mercedes. We get Mack trucks here and Bulgaria uses Mercedes for trash trucks. Crazy! But, check out the sign for this place. They speak English about as well as I speak Bulgarian.




Did I tell you that I fear Bulgarian police? No, I'm serious. When I was on my mission, the missionaries were persecuted by a lot of people, including the police. If a policeman saw us, he would make a point to harrass us. We had 2 officers come to our door once and try to get in to take us to jail. And one "officer" (he wasn't wearing a uniform and he refused to show us a badge when asked) threatened to take my passport or take me to jail. So, yeah, I'm a little nervous around Bulgarian police.

The day we left Ivailovgrad to spend our final week at the Black Sea, my cousin, Tanyou, came to say goodbye before he went to work.


Here he's hauling in my brother. My brother said this position brought flashbacks....hee, hee. While on our way to Kornobat (we stayed with my cousin Ivanka and her husband Ivan--see? common name), Tanyou and his partner passed us in their car. They had arrested someone and were taking that person to jail.



And finally, here's a bit of the Black Sea. We stayed near the coast in the town of Nessebar. My cousin, Ivan, (there's that name again) got us a hotel room for a couple of nights. It was actually a nice hotel room. We spent one day touring the Old City as it's called. My picture on my blog is taken at the Old City.

Here's a video of the Black Sea. It's called the Black Sea because when the clouds hit it, the shadows are very dark or black.

I have to let you know that I took this video with my photo camera--it was new to me and I had a doozie of a time figuring out how to do the video. Then, I forget I'm actually TAKING video, so that explains my mad narration skillz. And finally, I'm going on record to say I really don't like the sound of my speaking voice (does anyone?). I don't sound like that in my head.

Scenes from Bulgaria

Let's now take a look at some scenery from Bulgaria. Bulgaria is about the size of Tennessee. If I knew how to draw an arrow, I'd point out the area of Ivailvgrad, my dad's hometown. Since I can't, you can go to this map and make it larger. Towards the bottom right of the map, you'll see a town called "Svilengrad." That's about 5 miles from where dad lives--I walked the road there one day--ok I walked half-way there. Later, my cousin drove us there. In fact, here is a picture of me trying to go over the Greek border fence:


The sign says (not literally, but the idea), "Border lookout. You are forbidden to cross." Over my shoulder is a guard tower and the guards with binoculars and big guns were watching us.

Bulgaria is a lot like the Midwest--green in spring and summer, colorful in the fall, and cold/snowy in winter. One difference, though is Bulgaria has mountains--not like the Rocky Mountains but more like the Appalachian Mountains.

Here is a great picture of a typical neighborhood in Ivailovgrad (on the left). I need to explain that the bigger cities do not have a lot of homes.

















In Sofia, the capital and where I served my mission, there were very few homes, but a lot of apartment buildings (like the one on the right).

Let's look at my dad's village, Drabishna. Each town has a village associated with it. Villages are typically a lot smaller and tend to be used more for gardening or farming purposes. I'm not sure what I was thinking, but I didn't get any pictures of Dad's house where he was born. I think since I'd been there before, I didn't feel the need--dumb me...those pics are in paper form and not digital.
















That's my brother getting water from a spring in our village. They used to have a lot of spigots throughout the village, but they shut down quite a few of them. We had to drive almost to the Greek border (about 3 miles) to get to this one. That water was delicious! So cold! Mmmm.

Here is the old church in Drabishna. My dad used to be an alter boy there. The state religion is Bulgarian Orthodox which is similar to Greek Orthodox which is sorta like Catholics (there are differences, but for those who don't know much about Orthodox, Catholicism is close).















Let's leave Drabishna now. Above is a picture of the hill/mountain in Ivailovgrad. It's difficult to see, but there are German bunkers on this mountain. During the 30's and 40's, the Germans built bunkers on the mountains. The bunkers were used to communicate--reminded me of Lord of the Rings when the fires were lit on the mountains. The same concept--lights were used as the bunkers were several miles away from each other. Anyway, a few years ago, a group of people decided that although the bunkers are history, they are part of a nasty period. So to try to change that image, they decided to put a cross on the bunkers. Thus, this picture is a cross that was built directly on top of the bunker. They didn't do it to all the bunkers, just this one.















Something that is wonderful about Bulgaria. Their major export is rose oil. And rose oil is used in nearly anything that has a fragrance. Even if the fragrance isn't rose, there is rose oil in it. Thus, roses are everywhere. This picture was a rose in my cousin's yard. I thought the two-tone look was very unusual. Up top is a rose tree. Yeah, we have rose bushes, but this bush grew so big that it looks like a tree. We estimated that the branches were about 3 inches thick.

Here are some pics that I took that I just like.




This last picture is a little "museum" Bogdon has at his house. He has collected a lot of stuff that are antique (or at least really old). Many things in there were made from his father or grandfathers. It's a nice little tribute that I really like (and Dad always threatens him that he's going to take some things from there).

Bulgarian family

One major reason to return to Bulgaria is family. My dad is from Bulgaria--born and raised there. He left when he was 13 and finally made it to America by age 18. He was the youngest of 3 brothers, but one brother died about 11 years ago. Here's a picture of Dad and his brother, Christo. I'm named after this uncle.


Although, my dad loves his family....they drive him batty. Well, let me clarify. This brother and his family drives Dad nuts. They argue incessantly. My brother, who does not speak Bulgarian, noticed immediately how annoying this family can be. Unfortunately, I didn't notice that I didn't take any other pictures of this part of the family. I think I was too busy running away from the arguing to notice I didn't take pics.

Here's a picture of my cousin, Bogdon, dad, and brother. Bogdon is my dad's deceased brother's son. By the way, my brother's name is William Boyd named after my dad's other brother, Bogdon. Yep, you guessed it, my brother's name in Bulgarian is Bogdon. Whenever my cousin and brother were near each other, I called them Bogdon Squared.


Here's a picture of Bogdon which clues you in to what type of personality he has.


This last picture is a picture of my dad, brother, cousin's husband, Nasco, my Chinka (aunt), my cousin, Mata (she is the sister of Bogdon and daughter of Chinka), and me. Notice the background. The large building to the left is a "bloc" or apartment building. It is more common for people to live in an apartment than it is to live in a home. Especially for people living in the larger cities. The town of Ivailovgrad has about 3,000 people.


This is my cousin--he works in the Bulgarian Navy much like our Seals. Much of his work is secret--not even his wife knows exactly where he is at any moment. There was a magazine that did an article on his troop and he was on the cover of this magazine. Cool, huh? And isn't he handsome?

I laughed when I look at this next picture. When Dad and I went back 10 years ago, there were 4 little girls who adored me. Seriously. They were about 6-10 years old at the time and I couldn't do anything without having them hold my hand, lean against me, or sit in my lap. I couldn't eat lunch because they would not get off me. These girls are now young women and were so excited to see me again. Although they didn't sit in my lap this time, they did hang out with me the whole time we were at their house. They monopolized my attention. So cute. Anyway, the man in the back with the white hair is my Dad's cousin that he grew up with. He is also the cousin that had planned to go with Dad when he was going to run away to America. Dad showed up at the appointed place/time, and Georgi didn't. The rest is history.....

I'll end on a slightly sad note. This is the gravestone of my cousin, Ivan (popular name, right?). He was very wealthy, even by American standards. Remember the story of the spit? He's that cousin. When he passed away, this is the gravestone his family chose. The stones in Bulgaria are not this elaborate. Even by American standards, this is pretty impressive. Ivan was larger in life when he was alive; it seems appropriate that his gravestone be loud as well.

By the way, the gravestone gives his name, birth date, death date, and the bottom says, "His life was stormy, but honest and peaceful." I think this is a Bulgarian cliche that essentially means that he lived hard, but full of honesty and good will.

Baby, it's cold!

I went back to Bulgaria recently with my dad and brother. I served my mission there and my dad is originally from there.

While there, my dad got really sick. I play doctor at work, so I diagnosed him with too much milk products (he's lactose sensitive), too much activity with little sleep, and too much annoying family members.

However, ALL (and I do mean ALL) the Bulgarians (family, friends, acquaintances) said he suffered from too much cold. It was a pleasant 80-85 degrees while there. What cold you ask? Cold water, ice, and leaving the windows open at night.

You see, Americans apparently are full of sickos because we like to be cool when it's hot. Bulgarians are afraid of the cold. I truly don't understand it. When Dad and I went back about 10 years ago, we could not find ice. Some restaurants had ice and when they did, we would ask for LOTS of ice. That meant to a Bulgarian to give, at most, 3 small pieces (their ice comes in the size of an oversized marble--maybe Milkdud size).



Here's a picture of my cousin (in the red), my aunt (dad's sister-in-law), my dad, and me. Notice Chinka's clothing? Yeah, she's wearing a woolen vest, with tights, and a scarf. When it gets really hot, she'll remove the vest.

Anyway, Bulgarians are starting to use ice a little more now, so we were able to find some. But they came packaged...seriously. You know the bubble-wrap you get in packages? The kind that are fun to pop? Well, imagine something similar, but instead of air in the bubble, there was ice. And the plastic was some kind that was demon-made because it was thick and hard to get the ice out. I lost so many pieces of ice to the dirt floor because of the devil inspired packaging.

Dad had planned on staying 2 weeks after my brother and I left, but once he got sick, he wanted to come home with us. So, after some expensive cell phone calls and texts, we got his ticket changed. Once he got word that he was coming home with us, he had a miraculous recovery. Ok, not miraculous, but he did start feeling a lot better.

He said that he won't be going back again. Of course, he said that 10 years ago when he and I visited and it was literally 100+ degrees there.....

Dobrey Doshlee na Bulgaria

That's "Welcome to Bulgaria" in Bulgarian for the non-speakers. This picture is the sign into my Dad's hometown. Just so you know, the name means "city/town of Ivan" and my Dad's name is Ivan in Bulgarian. But the town isn't named after Dad--Ivan is just a very, very popular name. In fact, in my family we have my Dad's uncle Ivan, Dad is Ivan, his niece is Ivanka, she is married to Ivan, they have a grandson named Ivan, Dad's brother has a grandson named Ivan. YIKES!

So, let's look at another fun picture of Bulgaria.



Bulgaria is getting more and more American. Too much, in my opinion....but that's a different post. Notice the sign beneath the big M? It says McDrive and that means they have a drive thru. Although no one was using it while we were there--and it was busy. I don't think the lazy American way has caught on there yet.

Let me show you one more picture from Bulgaria. This is one reason why I love Bulgaria. I love their open market shopping.


See the men on the left side of the pic? After I took this picture, I wanted to get the other side and so pointed my camera that way. The tall man standing in front of the 2 older men in lighter shirts (the tall man is looking at me) quickly walked away right after this pic. A lot of the people there still have Communism fears--picture taking means they can find you anywhere.

Also, notice the cobblestone street. I absolutely love that look. But it plays heck with your shoes. I ruined so many shoes while on my mission. In fact, many of the sister missionaries wore Doc Martens (I called them combat boots) because we just couldn't keep our shoes from developing holes so quickly. I never got into that look--I just kept buying shoes or wearing my holey shoes.

More pictures to follow......

Who is still reading this?

It's been so long since I've written anything. I'm thinking that now I'm writing just for me. Which is fine...I like me and find my conversation interesting.

I've been in a slump for a long time. It actually started getting worse around the time I went to Bulgaria. I know that my sleeping problems are a big part of it. And Bulgaria was definitely not good for sleep--the travel, the time difference, the bed bugs all contribute to lack of sleep.

But, now I'm back and looking foward to my trip to Hawaii. Which will probably mess with my sleep again--the travel, the time difference, but hopefully no bed bugs.

What was I talking about? Oh, yeah...my depression. I'm trying to change my thinking to help. I've decided that happiness is something that we work for...not a state of mind. But, it is work and I'm lazy. I want to find happiness in my cabinet or drawer and pull it out whenever I need it.

One thing that has me thinking even more is moving. As scary as that sounds, there's a part of me that gets very excited by the prospect of moving to the Mountain West. I love the mountains and always have. But, once again, I'm afraid I'm looking to just open a door to happiness--thinking that moving will solve my problems. I remind myself that it's not a problem solver, but rather a problem trader--one set of problems for another.

Goin' on a mission!

I was baptized the day before my 19th birthday. From that moment on, I wanted to go on a mission. I talked about it constantly, thought about it all the time, and prayed hard that I would go. When I turned 21, I was still in school at BYU. I was on the slow plan since I was having such a good time. So, I had at least 2 years before I graduated. But, I wanted to go on a mission. I called my mom to discuss the possibility. But, my non-member dad was dead-set against it.

After praying about it, I decided to wait until I graduated to go. I was at BYU home one Sunday morning. My roommates were gone and I was getting ready for church. As I normally did, I was listening to a churchy station while showering. This station would play hymns, church songs, and gave church news throughout the day on Sundays.I'm doing my thing in the shower when the news from the church came on the radio. It was announced that a couple of new missions were open. The first one they announced was the Bulgaria, Sofia mission. I dropped my soap and screamed. At last! The former Communist country of my father's was opened for the Gospel!

I was so excited, laughing, and crying, that I just turned off the water to not waste anymore. All I could do is think about this and how it affected my family there in Bulgaria. I couldn't collect enough thoughts to finish my shower. Suddenly I heard the phone ring. Since no one was home, I rushed from the shower to answer it. It was a friend who had heard the same radio broadcast and called to alert me. I kept saying, "I know! Isn't it wonderful?," while standing there naked and dripping.

I finally felt a cold breeze as the air conditioner began to blow. That made me realize that I was naked and dripping.

Later, I reflected on the news and was impressed that my decision to not go at age 21 was for this very reason. Had I gone when I was 21, Bulgaria was not open as a mission and I would not serve there. Somehow I knew that since I waited, I would have an opportunity to serve my father's native land. I wasn't sure if it meant now, as a young woman or when I was old and retired, but I knew that this was important news for me.