Suzanne
17-02-06, 10:36 AM
A weekend, spent among four walls in the company of your most loved creature is a trial for every parent. Even when there aren’t aggravated conditions as bad weather, bad catch cold or a temporary absence of the marriage partner. And so, after the endless cleaning, laundry, dish washing and many other exciting Saturday procedures, combined with the no ending murmur of the small vampire, which is begging just for a little sympathy – I just want to die quick and irrevocably. Instead the phone is ringing. I grab the receiver as a last saving opportunity and hit the jackpot – friends who are inviting us to trip to Jeravna. (They also have two little and cute creatures in their home, they also wonder where to take them through the weekend, and to save them from killing each other). Letting them to convince me, I patiently wait the monsters from the computer game to subside between two levels and use the pause to announce to the smaller one for the coming journey. As I suppose my daughter is not very exciting of the perspective to have a night in a house without a TV and even without a computer!!!, to have a walk in a village and to hang up in a forest. I gave her a little time to think of it and to kill the rest of the monsters. Take up to get some baggage – one sweater to each one, socks, poke a green American bank – note in my purse and in the next short pause put an end to this computer madness.
Set out two cars from Varna – three families with common four children and with the hope for a pleasant two days stay. At this time I realized that I have forget the kid’s pills and that there isn’t a tape in my camera, but what so – I can by everything from Jeravna. And so we go on carefree. The shy autumn sun is hiding among the clouds, the wind become stronger and the temperature come down with every passing minute. There is an air – conditioner in the car, which keep our mood, the kids draw orange trees, stony lions and Proto – Bulgarian warriors, which stand at the foot of the mountain. The turns are countless, with a lot of route marks, reminding for the waiting dangers from falling stones. In fact the real dangerous are the donkey cart with they babies donkeys, horse harness, motors with baskets (the kids admire to them – where have they see something like this?!) and the old Russian cars, born in the epoch of the socialism, load up with wooden crates, corns, crowded Gypsy families. All of them come up suddenly on the road and combined with a few suicide dogs, hanging aimlessly on the road they make the adrenaline in our blood to rise up. The journey to Jeravna is real emotion.
In the late afternoon we are at the village square, and there we found out that our self – phones do not work here and that there are common zero pharmacies, change and photo – stores. The end of the civilization. What ever!!! No more phone terror, think philosophy – the fresh mountain air is better than the poison of the pills. The temperature reminds us to put all of available clothes and begin to search a hotel dressed like clumsy walking cabbages. A local man advises us to look for a hotel by cars.
There are stony little streets, which make branches as a crazy spider cobweb, and the numeration of the houses is like – from one side 224 and 225 and from the other – 66 and 67 and this definitely do not help us in the orientation. But as a citizens from big town we do not believe that is possible to get lost is a small village with about 300 houses. There are high stone walls of the houses which keep us from the merciless wind, but there is and nice smell coming from the wild geranium just like in a church backyard. Only the voices of our little explorers, who run somewhere in the street cobweb, disturbed the thick and majestic silence. The short expedition to the near little square is successful – there is a hotel. The house is very old, something like more than 300 years, two – storey with small overgrow ivy tree and a backyard with vine. There is a plate at the wall, according to which the price per night is five leva. Go upstairs to the creaking stairs leading to the rooms, which smell like an old tree, with darken splendid ceiling wood - carvings and motley rugs from Kotel. After a short discussion we decide that in spite of this temptation to dip in this authentic Revival atmosphere, we can’t make hygiene compromises because of the children – there is only one bathroom at the floor for the whole house and for the guests of the house. So we left with reluctance the coziness backyard and continue to look for another one.
Most of the houses are locked with large, heavy padlocks and the windows’s lids are very well closed, some even nailed up. The inhabited houses are with white small curtains handy decorated with laces. There are and small rugs stretched at the fences – the rugs are with different decoration - probably earn local women living. The vivid colors cheer up us in the gray dark afternoon. There are no cars and almost no people. The insidious confused little streets and desert and lead us again to the little store from where our walk begins. We taste the grapes from a vine and the kids become to scream after a turkey – “Pea – cock! Pea – cock!”. There are small downy chickens in the village yards and we all get together to enjoy them and proudly explain to our town child, which one is a goose and which is a turkey.
In front of the mixed little store old woman weave a rung on a hand - loom. She begins it soon and the patterns are not very clear, but the colors enjoy the eyes. We asked her for lodgings and without explanations she brings us at her home. Her home – a high wood gate with a crooked bench in front of it. The yard is spacious with smooth stone slabs. And the walls, with painted cart wheels, big water – mill stone, decorated pots – atmosphere like in a ethnographic museum. The roofs of the nearest houses can be seen – they are with Turkish tiles, covered with a lot of moss, stony chimneys and something fogging and gray, may be this is the sky!!! The house is old, wooden, but the bathrooms were soon renewed, so we are ready to dip into this authentic atmosphere with civilized conveniences. After the kids detailed inspection of the rooms, niches they report that there is a TV, but the bathroom is with boiler with woods – more exotic. The rent the whole house with the yard for 32.50 leva. While the kids attack again the rooms for strange objects with obscure function like bagpipes and three - legs little chairs we ask the landlord about a nice establishment where we can have dinner. According to him there is only one place where we can go – only two blocks away. We leave the cars, because we all have decided that we are going to drink a lot to rehabilitate our temperature. There is a thick, moist fogging diaper coming from the mountain and the streets become mysterious and riddle. The steps begin to deaf in the dark, even the kids now are more quite than before. The hunger has sharpened our senses, and in spite of the darkness and mist we faultlessly find the place – a smell of delicious roasted meat drift everywhere.
The establishment is settled in a big two – storey wooden house, not younger than the others in the town, the ceilings are darken from the ages, but carvings on them are still so beautiful, there are and painted with flowers landscapes walls in one of the premises. The nars (wooden old beds) are with woven rugs with numerous small pillows, a fire place carry the warmth and the smell of delicious dishes, and the menu is full with promises of delicious home made dishes. The not numerous staff succeeds to hold up the good service level and a friendly atmosphere, almost home cozy atmosphere in which the hours pass imperceptibly. Not until midnight and after a lot of bottles of red wine we pick up in the rented house (we discerned it by the bench) and go to bed under the woolen blankets in the creaking beds.
The morning is clear, noisy by the cocks and by the warble of the sparrows, there is no allusion from the drunk bottles of wine because of the clean mountain air. There is no memory of the past mist and cold. The sun shines on the stone roofs and streets and invites us to continue our trip. The aimless stroll lead us to the houses of Sava Filaretov and Rusi Chorbadji, which now are museums with perverted authentic Revival interiors, high stone walls and motley color gardens. The houses are rich from the inside but poor from the outside – the Turks do not allowed to be showed extravagance. The Sunday morning has bring a lot of tourists in the town and following them we land in the yard of the old village school, built with the money and the labour of the local population. The two – storey building now is Art Gallery and than in the yard of the church “St. Nikola” built in the beginning of the 19 th century, again with donations and the voluntary labour of local people. Here the visitor can light a candle and to examine the unique collection of icons and stone crosses, which are at about 300 years. We are tempted to slake our thirst at the high stone fountain in front of the church, the mountain clean water is very cold, so we go into the cafй, where accept the non alcohol drink there is and real Turkish coffee.
Since our student years we vaguely remember that the house of Jordan Jovkov (Bulgarian writer) must somewhere here. Finally we find it in the end of the village. Now the house is a museum and there is a poet’s monument in the yard of the house. But this all that we can see because in old Bulgarian tradition the museum does not work in Sunday – the most proper day for rest day! The museum is opened through the whole week and no body comes, and the tourists want the works and in Sunday?! Tourists! You can’t indulge them! We explain to our kids who is infact Jordan Jovkov and slowly our feed lead us to the restaurant from the previous night. Now we taste all the delicious dishes that haven’t try last night and with reluctance we prepare to come back to our dusty and monotonous live as a citizens. We say good bay to our landlords with promises to come back. We have to remind to our kids that at home the beloved computer games and the animation heroes are waiting for them. This is the only way to overcome they resistance and to share them out in the cars with a lot of new treasures – bubbles, fir – cones, twigs, yellow leaves, feathers from hens and many other beauties.
The stone warriors and lions send us off, still so unruffled and strict. The numerous and steep turns are again a trial for the abilities of the drivers, and the kids finish their drawings.
Already at home we found out that the pills are not needed anymore. The mountain is cured not only the cold, but our nerves and alarmed souls. We did not made any pictures, but put in the photo – album the picture with the orange trees, the stony lion, and the shy orange sun – all this with the feeling that we have found a real treasure.
By Rumen Shopov
http://www.bgglobe.net/index.php?l=1&c=27&a=14
Set out two cars from Varna – three families with common four children and with the hope for a pleasant two days stay. At this time I realized that I have forget the kid’s pills and that there isn’t a tape in my camera, but what so – I can by everything from Jeravna. And so we go on carefree. The shy autumn sun is hiding among the clouds, the wind become stronger and the temperature come down with every passing minute. There is an air – conditioner in the car, which keep our mood, the kids draw orange trees, stony lions and Proto – Bulgarian warriors, which stand at the foot of the mountain. The turns are countless, with a lot of route marks, reminding for the waiting dangers from falling stones. In fact the real dangerous are the donkey cart with they babies donkeys, horse harness, motors with baskets (the kids admire to them – where have they see something like this?!) and the old Russian cars, born in the epoch of the socialism, load up with wooden crates, corns, crowded Gypsy families. All of them come up suddenly on the road and combined with a few suicide dogs, hanging aimlessly on the road they make the adrenaline in our blood to rise up. The journey to Jeravna is real emotion.
In the late afternoon we are at the village square, and there we found out that our self – phones do not work here and that there are common zero pharmacies, change and photo – stores. The end of the civilization. What ever!!! No more phone terror, think philosophy – the fresh mountain air is better than the poison of the pills. The temperature reminds us to put all of available clothes and begin to search a hotel dressed like clumsy walking cabbages. A local man advises us to look for a hotel by cars.
There are stony little streets, which make branches as a crazy spider cobweb, and the numeration of the houses is like – from one side 224 and 225 and from the other – 66 and 67 and this definitely do not help us in the orientation. But as a citizens from big town we do not believe that is possible to get lost is a small village with about 300 houses. There are high stone walls of the houses which keep us from the merciless wind, but there is and nice smell coming from the wild geranium just like in a church backyard. Only the voices of our little explorers, who run somewhere in the street cobweb, disturbed the thick and majestic silence. The short expedition to the near little square is successful – there is a hotel. The house is very old, something like more than 300 years, two – storey with small overgrow ivy tree and a backyard with vine. There is a plate at the wall, according to which the price per night is five leva. Go upstairs to the creaking stairs leading to the rooms, which smell like an old tree, with darken splendid ceiling wood - carvings and motley rugs from Kotel. After a short discussion we decide that in spite of this temptation to dip in this authentic Revival atmosphere, we can’t make hygiene compromises because of the children – there is only one bathroom at the floor for the whole house and for the guests of the house. So we left with reluctance the coziness backyard and continue to look for another one.
Most of the houses are locked with large, heavy padlocks and the windows’s lids are very well closed, some even nailed up. The inhabited houses are with white small curtains handy decorated with laces. There are and small rugs stretched at the fences – the rugs are with different decoration - probably earn local women living. The vivid colors cheer up us in the gray dark afternoon. There are no cars and almost no people. The insidious confused little streets and desert and lead us again to the little store from where our walk begins. We taste the grapes from a vine and the kids become to scream after a turkey – “Pea – cock! Pea – cock!”. There are small downy chickens in the village yards and we all get together to enjoy them and proudly explain to our town child, which one is a goose and which is a turkey.
In front of the mixed little store old woman weave a rung on a hand - loom. She begins it soon and the patterns are not very clear, but the colors enjoy the eyes. We asked her for lodgings and without explanations she brings us at her home. Her home – a high wood gate with a crooked bench in front of it. The yard is spacious with smooth stone slabs. And the walls, with painted cart wheels, big water – mill stone, decorated pots – atmosphere like in a ethnographic museum. The roofs of the nearest houses can be seen – they are with Turkish tiles, covered with a lot of moss, stony chimneys and something fogging and gray, may be this is the sky!!! The house is old, wooden, but the bathrooms were soon renewed, so we are ready to dip into this authentic atmosphere with civilized conveniences. After the kids detailed inspection of the rooms, niches they report that there is a TV, but the bathroom is with boiler with woods – more exotic. The rent the whole house with the yard for 32.50 leva. While the kids attack again the rooms for strange objects with obscure function like bagpipes and three - legs little chairs we ask the landlord about a nice establishment where we can have dinner. According to him there is only one place where we can go – only two blocks away. We leave the cars, because we all have decided that we are going to drink a lot to rehabilitate our temperature. There is a thick, moist fogging diaper coming from the mountain and the streets become mysterious and riddle. The steps begin to deaf in the dark, even the kids now are more quite than before. The hunger has sharpened our senses, and in spite of the darkness and mist we faultlessly find the place – a smell of delicious roasted meat drift everywhere.
The establishment is settled in a big two – storey wooden house, not younger than the others in the town, the ceilings are darken from the ages, but carvings on them are still so beautiful, there are and painted with flowers landscapes walls in one of the premises. The nars (wooden old beds) are with woven rugs with numerous small pillows, a fire place carry the warmth and the smell of delicious dishes, and the menu is full with promises of delicious home made dishes. The not numerous staff succeeds to hold up the good service level and a friendly atmosphere, almost home cozy atmosphere in which the hours pass imperceptibly. Not until midnight and after a lot of bottles of red wine we pick up in the rented house (we discerned it by the bench) and go to bed under the woolen blankets in the creaking beds.
The morning is clear, noisy by the cocks and by the warble of the sparrows, there is no allusion from the drunk bottles of wine because of the clean mountain air. There is no memory of the past mist and cold. The sun shines on the stone roofs and streets and invites us to continue our trip. The aimless stroll lead us to the houses of Sava Filaretov and Rusi Chorbadji, which now are museums with perverted authentic Revival interiors, high stone walls and motley color gardens. The houses are rich from the inside but poor from the outside – the Turks do not allowed to be showed extravagance. The Sunday morning has bring a lot of tourists in the town and following them we land in the yard of the old village school, built with the money and the labour of the local population. The two – storey building now is Art Gallery and than in the yard of the church “St. Nikola” built in the beginning of the 19 th century, again with donations and the voluntary labour of local people. Here the visitor can light a candle and to examine the unique collection of icons and stone crosses, which are at about 300 years. We are tempted to slake our thirst at the high stone fountain in front of the church, the mountain clean water is very cold, so we go into the cafй, where accept the non alcohol drink there is and real Turkish coffee.
Since our student years we vaguely remember that the house of Jordan Jovkov (Bulgarian writer) must somewhere here. Finally we find it in the end of the village. Now the house is a museum and there is a poet’s monument in the yard of the house. But this all that we can see because in old Bulgarian tradition the museum does not work in Sunday – the most proper day for rest day! The museum is opened through the whole week and no body comes, and the tourists want the works and in Sunday?! Tourists! You can’t indulge them! We explain to our kids who is infact Jordan Jovkov and slowly our feed lead us to the restaurant from the previous night. Now we taste all the delicious dishes that haven’t try last night and with reluctance we prepare to come back to our dusty and monotonous live as a citizens. We say good bay to our landlords with promises to come back. We have to remind to our kids that at home the beloved computer games and the animation heroes are waiting for them. This is the only way to overcome they resistance and to share them out in the cars with a lot of new treasures – bubbles, fir – cones, twigs, yellow leaves, feathers from hens and many other beauties.
The stone warriors and lions send us off, still so unruffled and strict. The numerous and steep turns are again a trial for the abilities of the drivers, and the kids finish their drawings.
Already at home we found out that the pills are not needed anymore. The mountain is cured not only the cold, but our nerves and alarmed souls. We did not made any pictures, but put in the photo – album the picture with the orange trees, the stony lion, and the shy orange sun – all this with the feeling that we have found a real treasure.
By Rumen Shopov
http://www.bgglobe.net/index.php?l=1&c=27&a=14