Issue 27

RETURN TO CHRISTMAS PAST

Fiona Williams shares memories and a good English Christmas dish

A graduate in archaeology and ancient history, a teacher of English as a foreign language and a Montessori nursery school teacher, Fiona Williams has been in Sofia for just over a year with her husband, Steve, the British Ambassador to Bulgaria. While expecting their two daughters and son to join them for the holiday season, Fiona will be hanging up the Christmas stockings that she bought here 24 years ago.

You're an expat in Bulgaria this Christmas and you want to celebrate the winter holidays with the locals. But you are confused: Why are your usually easygoing neighbours banging on your door in the middle of the night or pouring grain over your head? Why does the whole village suddenly reek of garlic and pork fat? Here's a bit of insight into Bulgarian superstitions and traditions to help you avoid embarrassing cultural faux pas, such as getting up from the dinner table too soon or falling victim to evil horsemen.

If you're a golfer, you're sure to have heard of it. If you're not, Vagabond is here to tell you all about the golf event that made a difference.

For Javor Gardev – loved by some and disliked by others (probably with equal strength) – 2008 has been a successful year. Zift, the 35-year-old director's first film, went to its first international festival, in Moscow, and won the Best Direction Award. Soon afterwards Gardev's second child was born. Zift later became the Bulgarian Best Foreign Language Film Oscar nomination, and was also pronounced as historic (at least by its fans) due to its introducing a new genre in cinema – Socialist Noir.

In Bulgarian, a zelena valna, or green wave, used to mean a series of green traffic lights – something every Bulgarian driver dreams about in Sofia's traffic-clogged streets. More recently, however, a different kind of green wave has appeared – one that stops cars dead in their tracks. A couple of times a year, police estimate that between 2,000 and 3,000 people take to the streets in central Sofia to protest against construction on Bulgaria's Black Sea coast and mountains.

"I was about to make tea," Pavel offers. On the bureau beside the window sit an electric samovar, a serving tray, tea glasses and spoons, a darkly tarnished tin, all left behind by the office's previous occupant, absent now. Behind the desk, where a row of pictures once hung, the plaster is noticeably lighter; only nails remain. "Would you like to sit down?"

The secretary Mimi screamed and threw down the martenitsa the second she realised it was made from locks of hair. After managing to control her shaking hands, she picked up the phone – first she called the police, then she called her boss, whose mail she had been opening and getting ready for his arrival at 10 o'clock. Her boss, the prominent construction magnate Mr G.B. Nedyalkov, became hysterical when he found out the order of her actions, but it was already too late.

If you happen to find yourself in Pleven's central square on 10 December, you might think you've stumbled into a historical film. Men in copies of 19th Century Russian, Romanian and Ottoman military uniforms pose with sabres and Berdana and Martini rifles against a backdrop of cannons and bayonets – the fence surrounding the Mausoleum, one of the city's prime tourist attractions. This re-enactment of the Ottomans' surrender to the Russians at Pleven in 1877 after a five-month siege is a set, not for a film, but for the city's traditional liberation celebrations.

They circle the perimeter of our land and often take an aggressive stance. We spoke to the neighbour and subsequently with the police, because my 14-year-old son had had a close and dangerous encounter with the dogs. Usually they were kept in for a few days, but then let out again.What we did not realise at the time is that a small herd of 20-odd calves were being housed in the family's garden. These cattle are being milked and slaughtered on the same premises.