Sunday- July 6th Melnik
I preface today with this simple statement- YOU HAD TO BE THERE! It is impossible to capture in words (or at least the words in my left brain) the beauty of the land, the generosity of the people and the richness found in Bulgarian culture.
The message arrived that we were to be on the bus at 8:45 with our bags packed. But first we greeted by the smiling and energetic Ivan Usunov who ushered us into breakfast with a beautifully set table and a wonderfully homemade bonista (a cheesy flakey pastry that I could easily eat everyday) and delicious coffee. We got our taste of Bulgaria’s specially made yogurt which is unique to the region because of the cultures found in the air- many of us added jam so the taste would not be as sour. Then we said our goodbyes to Melnik. I couldn’t help but wonder what the town at been like at the height of its population. In 1913 the Greeks came and took all the other Greeks with them sending Menlik’s population into a decline. Today it is home to 150 people making it “Bulgaria’s smallest town” according to Lonely Planet (my source of all information outside of Heather). It felt like home to many of us while we were there.
After a brief stop to pick up Yane and Elana, we traveled deep into the mountains to a village that captures the hospitality of Bulgaria. We wound through the mountains and found ourselves in the village of Jacobcovo- Jacob’s town. Thirty years ago, the Communist government told the village people that they needed to move to another village and begin collective farming making the people easier to control. Now the residents of Jacobcovo are mainly from the older generation and hold the traditions that are slowly fading away from Bulgarian folk music. The village greeted us warmly with a 75-year old aunt of our guide climbing down a rocky hill in 5 minutes that took us Americans a good 15 minutes to navigate. As she welcomed us into her home she turned to a few of us and proclaimed, “welcome to my Neolithic home.” It got a chuckle out of all of us as we greeted each other with kisses.
As we finished our tour of the village, including fresh cherries from the tree, we were given a great treat with an impromptu jam session of traditional Bulgarian music played on the most beautiful instruments by smiling old men who were joyous to share their culture with us. I will leave it to my right brain counterpart to capture the moment and feeling in the air, the best I can say is that it was magical.
We all piled on the bus and headed back down the mountain. As I looked out the window, I asked Elana what was beyond the majestic Pirin Mountain range. She simply “replied another culture, another piece of Bulgaria.” I couldn’t help but pause and be so thankful that we are all working on putting together the puzzle pieces of Bulgaria.
Lunch was next and proved to be more than any of us could imagine. We had a true feast (although they claimed they eat like this in everyday life) with one of the families who had been displaced from the mountain village we visited earlier in the day. Dish upon dish came out, one after another- all completely homemade from the plentiful lands around the home. First was the traditional drink of Rikea, followed by a cucumber, dill, yogurt drink, mish-mash, potatoes and onions, fresh tomatoes, homemade feta cheese, cucumbers, rice with eggs on top, stuffed green peppers, bread, bonista, hot peppers…..our eyes grew wide with each new plate being passed. One glance over at the couch after lunch and you could see the glassy “I’m the kind of full I get on Thanksgiving” look on everyone’s eyes. Somehow we managed to find room for another round of Bulgarian yogurt, this time with a fresh fig from the tree out back and a little bit of sugar to make it a sweet treat.
We spent the afternoon dancing away the day learning the traditional dances to go with the melodic songs coming from magical instruments behind us. Some of us danced, other sang and still others were invited to play along. However, all of us were welcomed into the hearts and home of our new Bulgarian friends. Language did not matter, citizenship did not matter, we simply learned to sing and celebrate in our own common language.
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