Issue 134

Yes, there are dolmens in Bulgaria, and it was the Thracians who constructed them. This ancient people had a predilection for megaliths, the prehistoric manmade structures found all over Europe, whose most famous example is Stonehenge. The term megalith, a derivative of the Greek for "big stone," traditionally applies to the single standing stones called menhirs, the stone circles called cromlechs, and the dolmens, which are low, heavy structures often used as tombs.

Expats in Bulgaria often fell deeply for the country, but the enthusiasm that Israeli entrepreneur Avinoam Katrieli nurtures for all things Bulgarians stands out. It comes second only to his belief that Bulgarians can build a better version of modern Bulgaria, and that they should be proud with their nation.

Most recently, she was the dean of graduate admissions at Babson College, where she frequently canvassed the globe in search of the next best and brightest candidates for the Babson MBA. "Wanderlust is my number one vice, liberally cultivated and indulged," Petia says. During a recent visit back to Bulgaria, she identified an unexplored opportunity to introduce the culture, history, nature, wine and food of her homeland to fellow US and world travelers. In 2017, she leveraged her entrepreneurial training as a Babson MBA to launch Flying Raconteur.

It belongs to the largest emergency hospital in the country. The tall, rather drab building on Tsar Boris III Boulevard has seen countless casualties arrive by ambulance or taxi after suffering accidents or becoming victims of crime, to be treated by some of Bulgaria's finest medical specialists.

It was the winter of 1980, the year of my birth and of my grandfather's death, when Grandma Nelly first put on Dencho's Dress, as she used to call it, and never took it off again. I remember she even used to wear it at night and sleep in it, with her arms crossed over her chest, as though to embrace herself as strongly and as tightly as possible, tucking her fingers underneath her ribcage. When I asked her why she did that, she would smile and say it was a way for her to embrace two people at once—my grandfather and herself.

It was the winter of 1980, the year of my birth and of my grandfather's death, when Grandma Nelly first put on Dencho's Dress, as she used to call it, and never took it off again. I remember she even used to wear it at night and sleep in it, with her arms crossed over her chest, as though to embrace herself as strongly and as tightly as possible, tucking her fingers underneath her ribcage. When I asked her why she did that, she would smile and say it was a way for her to embrace two people at once—my grandfather and herself.