Issue 97

FINAL CALL

DimanaT — Fri, 17 Oct 2014 08:15:18 +0000

FINAL CALL

by Iren Levi; translated from the Bulgarian by Marinina Gadeleva

DimanaT Fri, 10/17/2014 - 11:15

Iren Levi's novel Final Call has been shortlisted in the Contemporary Bulgarian Novel Contest of the Elizabeth Kostova Foundation and Open Letter Books at the University of Rochester in January 2014

…It was an almost ordinary day. We gathered in the common room and discussed the spelling of the words cappuccino and espresso. According to a nice little old man in a checkered shirt and striped pants, I forgot his name, the spelling was "campuccino" because it originated from Campuccio, and "expresso" because it was brewed fast and they served it on express trains in the past. He was very convincing and it took them some time to change his mind. Then we passed a ball to each other and we had to be truthful. The five of us were very careful not to be.

We did nothing special throughout the whole day. I did not ask anything.

But that night Matthew went to bed with his socks on. That seemed like Plan A. I got worried. I was wondering whether to keep my socks on, too. Better have some extra socks on – I thought, but I was wrong. I did not get a wink of sleep because of them the whole night. From time to time I dozed off and had dreams of tying up the sheets and using them to escape through the window of the second floor to the yard, then the sheets turned into birds and we chased after them to return them to the nursing home, where they belonged. Good thing Matthew was noisy and woke me up early.

He got up, changed his socks and looked well rested. All five of us went to breakfast. John drank five cups of milk. Luke rarely came to breakfast. But today, as if in his honour, the girls rattled the plates, cups and spoons less. It felt suddenly wonderful to me that all five of us were there. We met in this nursing home, where we all came bearing the shame of having no one out there to love us at the end. We were loners who fit together in their loneliness. Essentially, we were idiots. Idiot is a good word. Means "unique," but does not sound so lofty.

Thomas appeared gloomy. Luke – gracefully melancholic, Matthew – dreamy, John – optimistically crazy, and I did not appear like anything. I was all that and none of it. I never got to discover myself my whole life, so how was I expected to do it now, in-between two pieces of meatloaf.

Then the Senior nurse came by, but did not pass us. She stood there carefully scrutinising us. Her nostrils widened suspiciously. She was sniffing. She looked like a predator. She had the ability to make my skin crawl. That thin, rather tall, gaunt woman with long nails and thin lips. I remember the day when she admitted me here – me and a few others. It was pouring with rain. She lined us up in front of the entrance of the nursing home and told us its whole history – names and facts, including the unverified ones. She held her umbrella with the curved part of its handle right in front of her lips like a microphone and we stood in the rain, which poured down our collars and ears. I realized that she had no intention of being our friend. She was the official witch of the home.

I saw her naked one night. Inadvertently, I went down the wrong hallway. I was sleepy and upset and I walked down the Forbidden Hallway. It was designated only for members of the staff. At its entrance there was a desk chained to a cabinet, and that cabinet was chained to a garbage bin, and there was a piece of paper pasted on the desk that read: "To be used only by the Senior nurse." Further down there was an armchair tied to another armchair, and both were tied to a small table. They were: "To be used only by the Senior nurse and her guests."

That's the hallway I mistakenly ended up in one night, while dragging my slippers, which whispered that I was just a little old man. Then she appeared like a phantom at the other end of the hallway. Stark naked. The bathrooms were at her end, the bedrooms – at mine. Apparently there was no doubt in her mind that she was alone, because she was humming a tune badly. This was her hallway. I was terrified and froze, unfortunately with my eyes wide open. She saw me, stopped humming, stopped walking, stopped breathing. That's the one time I felt the earth stop turning. And scientists keep wandering why there are time shifts...

She was thinking rapidly. I could simultaneously see and hear her thoughts. I had no contact with my own. After some time she moved towards me with resolve and with even greater resolve passed me by. I understood, I was just a piece of furniture which she could use some other time.

That was one of the scariest things that had ever happened to me. I survived a naked witch in the Forbidden Hallway. This memory encouraged me. No Plan A could be scarier than that.

The Senior nurse walked on. I sighed with relief. I could once again hear the rattling of the plates and spoons.

"What about the bed sheets?" I quietly asked John, who was sitting next to me.

"What bed sheets?" he wondered.

Apparently Plan A did not incorporate any sheets. I hoped I'd had a revelation. So if it wasn't bed sheets that turned into birds, then what?

"Remind me how Plan A begins." I smiled casually at John.

He just laughed. Took it as a joke, of course. Who could possibly forget how one of the most important escapes in his life began?! And who could fall asleep while it was being planned?! Well, me.

Just before our afternoon nap Matthew said:

"Let's go get a paper."

"Now? I don't feel like reading, I'm sleepy."

He stared at me.

"You're sleepy?"

"I didn't sleep well last night... the socks, the bed sheets..."

"Judas, let's go get a paper." He sounded serious.

I thought he wanted us to talk about the escape and that's why he wanted us to go out. That was wonderful! I was going to find out something at least. I hastily put on my shoes and proceeded to go.

"The jacket," Matthew said.

"It's warm."

"Jacket!" said Matthew.

Maybe he wants me to hide some plan under the jacket – I thought.

"And the money, right? he asked me. "Judas, what's wrong with you?"

"What do you mean?"

"You're acting strange."

"It's all because of the birds," I said. "How much money should I take?"

Matthew headed towards the door:

"All of it."

Apparently the plan began with buying all the papers on the block – I thought and then I laughed at my own stupidity. I swiftly stuffed the money into my pockets and followed Matthew. Luke, Thomas and John were also heading somewhere. We met them at the gatekeeper's.

"To get a paper," said Luke.

The gatekeeper made a note of it.

"To get a paper," said Thomas.

The gatekeeper noted that.

"To get a paper," said John.

The gatekeeper made a note of that, too.

"To get a paper," said Matthew.

The gatekeeper noted that as well.

"To get a paper," I said and realized that I sounded the dumbest. Matthew and John sounded a little less dumb.

The gatekeeper gave me a look:

"Nope. Four just went out to get a paper. Why didn't you ask them to get you one?"

"I asked them, but they wouldn't. I have to go myself."

"No way. According to the regulations I can only let four at a time go to get a paper. When the first one comes back, you'll go."

"Fine," I agreed. The whole endeavor seemed like a pointless waste of money for papers and gatekeeper's ink, anyway. One of us could have easily gone out without sounding so dumb. But then I got worried that I'd miss out on information on Plan A again. "Can I go out for something else?" I inquired.

"Yes, no problem."

"What would be appropriate?" I asked him.

"Ah, that I don't know," he said. " I can't give clues."

The gatekeeper never left his little booth. I saw him through the small dirty window and his little face looked sort of endearing and insignificant. I thought that whenever he left, he took his booth with him, like a snail carrying his shell, but I had never seen him leave. He was not insignificant, though, and he knew it. In order for me to go out, he had to push a button and the door had to make a buzzing sound. Then I quickly got to work before he could change his mind. What other reasons did people give to go out – I wondered, I had only been outside to get papers.

"For gum?"

"No one leaves just to get gum, you need a more justifiable reason," the gatekeeper explained.

"A case of whiskey?" I asked.

"It's not on the list," the gatekeeper said sternly, he was very strict.

"For smokes!" It struck me.

"Smokes, yes, I'll note that."

None of us smoked and for a moment there I almost forgot about this wonderful excuse to sneak out. From time to time Matthew chewed on an empty pipe and Luke sometimes found a cigar from someplace, which we all shared, but that was not something you remember in a pinch.

I went out, took a few steps and stopped, inhaled deeply, and was once again in the "front yard of my house." The birds sang, the grass was green, the glass waited for me on the porch, the swinging chair rocked gently, as if I had just left it, it was cloudy, just enough so the sun would not make you squint...

"Judas!"

The yard disappeared, I could not even keep the glass, John was waddling towards me as he always did when he was in a hurry.

"What's going on? We're running late."

"Late for a paper?" I asked.

"Enough already, no need to pretend anymore. The train leaves at 3:15pm sharp, you know that."

The train? Plan A. We were out. Nothing could make us go back. Ingenious – we used the afternoon break to gain time. They wouldn't discover our absence until almost 4pm. No, it wasn't ingenious. Strangely enough, I had always envisioned a night escape. With bed sheets, ropes, drugging the gatekeeper and the Senior nurse, bribing the nurses, who would secretly give us the key to the gate, and we would give them a farewell pat on the butt, and all kinds of complications that we eventually overcame. And what did we do? We just lied to the gatekeeper. That kind guy. How could I fall asleep that night! They ruined the whole romantic adventure of the escape by choosing the safest way. I wondered how trivial Plan B must have been! I later found out that John wanted us to escape on horses and Matthew proposed we jump with parachutes from the roof, but due to the lack of horses and parachutes and the availability, instead, of a gatekeeper, things worked out the way Thomas had suggested.

I was walking beside John, who was skipping along and I suddenly remembered that I liked to run. I tried. I ran. I could do it. Maybe I waved my hands a little funny, but so what! It was like riding a bicycle. Then a boy on a bicycle rode by.
"Hey, kid! Please, let me see your bike."

The boy looked at me but did not stop, he actually went faster. He was holding an ice-cream in one hand and couldn't go that fast. I chased after him:

"Kid, stop!"

Luke, Thomas and Matthew watched me from the other corner of the street and Luke ran after me.

"Judas, stop!"

"Kid, stop!"

"Judas!"

"Kid!"

I was gaining on him. He looked back in alarm and I gave him a friendly wave. Then he dropped his ice-cream. It seemed like he slowed down, looked at it with regret and darted away, using both hands. I stopped by the ice-cream. Chocolate and mint. I was embarrassed.

"Judas!" John caught up with me.

"I wanted to see if it's true that you never forget how to ride a bike," I said quietly.

John put his arm around my shoulders and took me to Luke, Thomas and Matthew, who were looking at me in disbelief from the opposite corner. No one said a word and I loved them for it.

The train station was wonderful. Everyone was running and shouting. Suitcases flashed by as if alive. Some had wheels. Others – a hand that carried them. All were hiding secrets. When I was little I dreamed of working as a suit case checker at a train station. I wanted to find out what people carried around here and there. I would discover what was important to them, what it was that they refused to let go. I had only seen the contents of my own suitcase and those of my parents, it seemed to me that there was some kind of mistake in the choice of things that we believe we can't do without. Unfortunately, it turned out that I had talents in another area, the family gathered to discuss the facts and the checking of suitcases was left for another life. I became a priest. I was handsome. And an eloquent speaker. Forget suitcases and sense!

"I'll go crazy in this station" Thomas said. "Where is platform 6?"

We found platforms 5 and 7, but 6 was not between them…

IREN LEVI was born on 1 June, 1973, in Bulgaria. She studied at Sofia University, where she completed a master’s degree in journalism and mass communications, majoring in television studies. She is the scriptwriter of several documentaries. In 2007, her poetry collection The Naked Scarecrow was published by Zahariy Stoyanov Publishing House; and, in 2012, her novel Final Call was published by KITO. She works as a scriptwriter and TV host of the Little Stories TV show, broadcast by Bulgarian National Television.

THE ELIZABETH KOSTOVA FOUNDATION and VAGABOND, Bulgaria's English Monthly, cooperate in order to enrich the English language with translations of contemporary Bulgarian writers. Every year we give you the chance to read the work of a dozen young and sometimes not-so-young Bulgarian writers that the EKF considers original, refreshing and valuable. Some of them have been translated in English for the first time. The EKF has decided to make the selection of authors' work and to ensure they get first-class English translation, and we at VAGABOND are only too happy to get them published in a quality magazine. Enjoy our fiction pages.

Issue 97 Elizabeth Kostova Foundation

FICTION

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PEOPLE OF ISTANBUL

DimanaT — Fri, 17 Oct 2014 08:06:13 +0000

PEOPLE OF ISTANBUL

by Dimana Trankova; photography by Anthony Georgieff

DimanaT Fri, 10/17/2014 - 11:06

Buzzing megalopolis sits on two continents, two-hour drive from Bulgarian border

Reasons to visit Istanbul in the autumn are many, and range from the milder and sunnier climate of the Bosporus to the hope of encountering fewer tourists at the city's famous historical sites, while the nostalgic aroma of roasted chestnuts wafts around the corners of old neighbourhoods such as Galata and Beyoğlu.

The crowded streets, however, are one more reason that justifies making the trip to Turkey's largest city. Home to an estimated 15 million citizens, though the actual number is probably higher, Istanbul has stayed true to its millennia-old role as a melting pot of people of diverse stock, ethnicity, religion and way of life, becoming one of the most cosmopolitain cities in the world. A whirlpool of faces, cultures and languages, Istanbul cannot be compared to any other big city in Europe. It is the New York of the eastern hemisphere.

Swimming in the waters of Kabataş, one of the busiest ferry stops on the Bosporus

Turks make up the majority of Istanbul's inhabitants, but even this group is far from homogenous. With only about 28 percent of the population being native to the megalopolis, Istanbul has swelled with internal migrants attracted by its booming economy, daring infrastructure projects, top class universities and the promise of prosperity. Growing at a rate of more than 3 percent annually, Istanbul is now home to Turks from all corners of the country, with the most numerous communities coming from Sivas and Kastamonu.

A party at Pera Palas Hotel. Built in 1892, it was at the final stop of Orient Express and had guests like Agatha Christie

The result is a variety of local traditions thrown together and sometimes lost in the multi-cultural vortex of Istanbul. Walking the streets or taking public transport you are confronted with the sight of women dressed in everything from colourful hijabs, to miniskirts, to the omnipresent blue jeans. Men favour suits, or stone-washed jeans made by some up and coming local menswear brand.

Turkey is also the home of Kurds, Assyrians, Arabs, Bosniaks, Tatars, Laz and many other nationalities, and all of them are present in Istanbul. Since the beginning of the Syrian Civil War, there has been a visible presence of Syrian refugees in the city. Black and Asiatic faces are also discernible in the dense human mix of Istanbul, migrants from Asia and Africa who have sought a better future in the megalopolis or are using it as a stopover on their journey further into Europe.

Street vendors are the most charming part of Istanbul's shopping experience

Istanbul, the modern reincarnation of ancient and medieval Constantinople, is also the home of Greeks, Armenians, Jews, and Bulgarians. The latter tried in vain to conquer Constantinople in the Middle Ages and settled en masse in the 18-19th centuries, when the city was the capital of the Ottoman Empire. In Bulgarian, the name of Istanbul is still Tsarigrad, or City of the Kings.
Historical turbulence and political changes in the 19-20th centuries have diminished the population of these groups in Istanbul.

Today they are only a tiny presence in the fabric of the city, but their faces and voices, businesses, homes and graveyards, churches and synagogues are still there, forming an important and visible part of the heritage in neighbourhoods such as Galata and its surroundings.

Fishing at the bridge over the Golden Horn is a favourite past time of many citizens of Istanbul

Westerners have been a part of the human conundrum of the megalopolis since the time of the Byzantine Empire. They came here as traders and businessmen, diplomats and tutors, and some of them stayed.

The diversity of inhabitants has resulted in a diversity of cultures, behaviours, religions and cuisines. In the central areas of European Istanbul mosques, churches, and synagogues rub walls in the contested and limited space. The air is thick with the scent of the typical kebabs and stuffed vegetables from the simple restaurants serving the ordinary people, while a range of fine dining restaurants vie for Michelin stars with their reworking of Ottoman cuisine. Shopping opportunities are everywhere, from the touristy lanes of the Grand Bazaar and the more genuine experience of the Misir Bazaar, to the flashy shopping malls and Istiklal Caddesi, the city's oldest and most refined (nowadays somewhat over-refined) shopping street.

Despite the bustle and modernisation, there are times when you can still feel the hüzün, or melancholy, of Istanbul, so beloved by Nobel Prize winner Orhan Pamuk

Trying to catch your breath in overpopulated Istanbul can make you think that somehow the world has managed to cram itself into a nutshell, and you are right at the centre of the pandemonium, but to lose yourself among the noise and jostle of thousands of people is one of Istanbul's greatest pleasures.

Issue 97 Turkey

FOREIGN TRAVEL

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OTTOMAN BULGARIA

DimanaT — Fri, 17 Oct 2014 07:45:25 +0000

OTTOMAN BULGARIA DimanaT Fri, 10/17/2014 - 10:45

Heritage from five centuries of imperial domination abounds throughout country

The Devil's Bridge near Ardino, in the Rhodope, is 56 metres long and 13 metres high

As you travel through Bulgaria you will inevitably be confronted by remnants of its Ottoman past: mosques, water fountains, bridges, forts, baths and public buildings. It would be strange if you were not – Bulgaria spent 500 years under Ottoman domination. It began with the invasion at the end of the 14th Century, which brought chaos to the Balkans and destroyed the Second Bulgarian Kingdom, and ended for the different parts of the Balkans inhabited by Bulgarians between the 1878 San Stefano Peace Treaty and the 1912-1913 Balkan Wars. The heritage of the Ottomans, however, remains contentious, provoking sometimes heated debate among Bulgarians, and is more often than not hijacked for political purposes by politicians of various shades and opinions.

The reasons are many, varied and too complex to explain in detail here, but in the minds of the overwhelming majority of Bulgarians those 500 years of "Turkish yoke" were a dark age of an economic and cultural backwater, of blood-letting and slavery, and of atrocities committed by Muslims against Christians. Yet, Bulgarians under the Ottomans were allowed to own property, and managed to ensure the survival of their own national church, set up schools, spoke Bulgarian and traded all over the empire – and abroad. There is little doubt that the Ottomans greatly influenced the lifestyle, culture and landscape of the Bulgarian lands; a new cuisine was developed – you already know the similarities and differences between Bulgarian, Greek and Turkish meatballs and baklava. Turkish, Arabic and Persian words entered the Bulgaria language, and the architecture and the urban landscape also changed, acquiring a distinct Middle Eastern feel that remains to this day.

Plovdiv boasts the earliest clocktower in the Balkans, and the beautiful 15th Century Cuma Mosque

Unlike cuisine and language, however, the material heritage of the Ottomans is not obvious everywhere. Most of it was lost during the waves of modernisation in the late 19th-early 20th centuries, and in the mass reconstruction of town centres in the 1960s-1980s. Yet, there are still many fascinating examples of Ottoman heritage, and no visit to Bulgaria would be complete without exploring what will always be a major part of Bulgaria's history.

Since the 1880s, Sofia's Archaeological Museum has been housed in a former mosque

Understandably, with their tall minarets, mosques are the most obvious example of Ottoman architecture in Bulgaria. Sofia, which under the Ottomans alternated between prosperity and decline, now has only one functioning mosque, the Banyabaşı. Built in 1576, it stands in the oldest inhabited part of Sofia. The ruins of Roman Serdica lie beneath it, and the steaming mineral springs, the Stalinist Central Department Store, and the bustle of Pirotska Street and the Women's Market are nearby.
In fact, Sofia has two more surviving mosques, but they have been converted into a museum and a church. Built in 1451-1491, the Great Mosque has nine domes, covered with lead. Since the 1880s, the building has been used as a museum of archaeology.

The 16th Century Imaret Mosque is the creation of the influential Ottoman architect Mimar Sinan. Until the end of the 19th Century, the mosque stood outside the city boundaries and after 1878 was turned into a prison. In 1901-1903, the mosque was remodelled into one of Sofia's most beautiful churches, Sveti Sedmochislenitsi.

The 17th Century Kurşunlu Mosque in Silistra is now abandoned

Plovdiv, Bulgaria's second largest city, has preserved two fascinating old mosques. The 15th Century Dzhuma Mosque is a monument of national importance and stands by the remains of the ancient Roman stadium. Down the road is the Imaret Mosque, also from the 15th Century. Its minaret with a zigzag pattern laid in brick is truly amazing.

To see Bulgaria's largest and possibly most beautiful mosque, you have to go to Shumen. The central dome of Tombul Mosque is 25 metres high and the minaret rises to 40 metres. This building is also the only example in Bulgaria of the coquettish, decorative, Baroque-influenced style of the Tulip Period in Ottoman art.

Ibrahim Pasha Mosque in Razgrad is one of Bulgaria's finest, but has been abandoned for decades

What is probably Bulgaria's most unusual mosque is in the Rhodope village of Podkova. The tiny mosque is built entirely of wood, without a single iron nail in it. The origins and the history of the mosque are lost in time but, according to legend, it was built by seven maidens whose fiancés were killed in battle. The girls vowed to remain unmarried, spent their dowries on wooden beams and built the mosque in a single night.

Demir Baba tekke, near Isperih, is the supposed grave of a 16th Century sage renowned for his physical power and ability to cure all illnesses

Here and there around Bulgaria there are remains of Muslim sanctuaries, known as tekke, or shrine, and türbe, or tomb. Most of these belong to the Alevis, followers of a branch of Islam that includes elements of certain different religions.

The most famous is the tekke of Demir Baba, or the Iron Father, near Isperih. Built in the 16th Century, this sanctuary is a part of the Sboryanovo archaeological reserve, which also has the remains of an ancient Thracian city and the caryatid-adorned Sveshtari Thracian tomb, included in the UNESCO World Heritage List. Demir Baba tekke is at its busiest on 6 May, when Muslims celebrate the spring festival Hıdırellez and Bulgarian Christians mark St George's Day. The shrine is rich with Alevi symbolism. The stone tomb has seven corners, mysterious painted decorations cover its walls, and some enigmatic reliefs are to be found on the wall around the sanctuary. Demir Baba is venerated as a healer and evidence of his powers is everywhere. Colourful rags torn from the clothes of the sick are tied to the branches of nearby trees, in the belief that the illness will be tied to the tree as well.

The latest layout of Baba Vida fortress in Vidin is from Ottoman times

Besides mosques and shrines, there is a host of other examples of Ottoman heritage scattered throughout Bulgaria.
Fortresses are probably the most spectacular. In the early centuries of Ottoman rule, while the empire was still expanding, erecting new fortifications in the Bulgarian lands was not a priority because they would soon be far from the borders. However, when the Ottoman conquest stopped at Vienna in 1683 and the empire started to contract, the erection of forts became of vital importance. The sultans responded by hiring European military engineers and architects to construct forts using the latest designs and techniques. When Bulgaria gained independence in 1878, some of these were destroyed, but a few were preserved, mostly along the Danube.

The most picturesque of the surviving Ottoman fortresses is at Belogradchik. Its citadel is protected by strong walls overlooked by some of the most remarkable formations of the natural phenomenon, the Belogradchik Rocks. In nearby Vidin, the most recent layout of the Baba Vida fortress dates from Ottoman times. The fortress above Silistra designed by German military engineer Helmuth von Moltke was finished in time for the Crimean War and still housed an active regiment at the beginning of the 20th Century.

Few Bulgarians are aware that the lighthouse adorning Bulgaria's easternmost tip at Shabla was built in the 1850s on the orders of Sultan Abdülmecid I

From the end of the 16th Century, city life in the European parts of the Ottoman Empire was regulated by the chimes of an increasing number of clocktowers. The earliest one was in Plovdiv, built atop the appropriately named Sahat Tepe, or Clock Hill.
By the end of the 19th Century there was not a town of importance in the Bulgarian lands without a clocktower. Many of these buildings were lost in subsequent decades, but an incomplete list of the most interesting ones should include the clocktowers in Razgrad (1864), Berkovitsa (1762), Etropole (1710), Dobrich (17th Century), Svishtov (1765) and Sevlievo (1777).

Water is very important to Muslims and, though public baths were known in the Balkans from the time of the Romans, their heyday was in Ottoman times. Cities and towns were dotted with large and small hamams, or public baths, and hot mineral springs added healing properties to the pleasure of bathing. Like clocktowers, baths were built and happily used by Christians too.

Plovdiv's most impressive Ottoman bath, Chifte Banya, is now a contemporary art gallery

Many of these baths were still in use well into the 20th Century, but today most of the surviving hamams are abandoned, including the ones in Kalofer, Berkovitsa, Gotse Delchev and Banya, near Razlog. Some were luckier and were turned into galleries or even restaurants. In Plovdiv, Chifte Banya, or Double Bath, now houses a contemporary art gallery, and in Kavarna the old hamam has become a maritime museum.

In Ottoman times, public water fountains were usually a gift from a local benefactor to the community. The most common type of water fountains were ornate slabs built into walls, but larger, freestanding, roofed examples with several outlets after the imperial fashion in Constantinople were also erected. Perhaps the most beautiful of these is the freestanding water fountain, dating from 1666, in the centre of Samokov, a now sleepy town which in the Middle Ages and the Ottoman period was a busy mining centre.

Bulgaria's longest Ottoman bridge, Mustafa Pasha in Svilengrad, is 295 metres long and has 21 arches

The Ottomans were dedicated builders of stone bridges and started construction in the 15th Century, as soon as they felt secure in their newly-conquered lands.

The longest Ottoman bridge in Bulgaria is the Mustafa Pasha Bridge, built in 1529, at a major crossing on the Maritsa River, now the town of Svilengrad. It is 295 metres long and has 21 arches, the widest of which has a span of 18 metres. The bridge is still in use by local traffic.

The 15th Century Kadin Bridge over the Struma and the 16th Century Devil's Bridge on the Arda are considered the most beautiful in Bulgaria, but the country abounds with equally charming, lesser known bridges. Hidden in ravines and over dry river beds, they are to be found mainly in the mountains. Some of them enjoy local fame, others are overgrown. Do not be surprised when locals or even tourist signs refer to these bridges as "Roman." It is still a received notion among people in the Balkans that a structure so old that its true history has been forgotten simply must be Roman. In Greece, however, anything old is Byzantine.

The Agushev Konaks, in the Rhodope village of Mogilitsa

One of the biggest surprises of the Ottoman architectural heritage in Bulgaria are its houses. The majestic buildings in Plovdiv's Old Quarter, Kovachevitsa and Zheravna all belong to a tradition of Ottoman housebuilding which was popular with all religious and ethnic groups in the empire. This impressive style of architecture developed in the Balkans and Asia Minor in the European and Anatolian parts of the empire in the 18-19th centuries, and was spread throughout the empire by itinerant builders of all faiths and nationalities. Similar houses exist in places as far away from each other as Mostar in Bosnia and Herzegovina, Kastoria in Greece and Safranbolu in Anatolia.

The Ottoman cemetery at Balchik

The so-called Roman Wall in Sofia is actually an Ottoman open air prayer site from the 15th Century

In Bulgaria, there is only one completely preserved mansion of an Ottoman dignitary, the Agushev Konaks in the village of Mogilitsa, in the Rhodope. Built by local notable Agush Aga between 1825 and 1842, this compound of three buildings has a total of 221 windows, 86 doors and 24 chimneys, plus a tower decorated with cityscapes.

Some of the Ottoman remains in Bulgaria are sheer curiosities. One is the so-called Roman Wall in Sofia. Remember the Everything-Old-Is-Roman rule? There is no better example than this freestanding wall in the middle of an open air market. Though everyone in Sofia knows it as the Roman Wall, it has the distinctive appearance of early Ottoman architecture, as it is built of rectangular stones encased in narrow bricks. This "Roman" wall was probably built at the beginning of the 15th Century as an open air place of prayer.

High Beam is a series of articles, initiated by Vagabond Magazine, with the generous support of the America for Bulgaria Foundation, that aims to provide details and background of places, cultural entities, events, personalities and facts of life that are sometimes difficult to understand for the outsider in the Balkans. The ultimate aim is the preservation of Bulgaria's cultural heritage – including but not limited to archaeological, cultural and ethnic diversity. The statements and opinionsexpressed herein are those of the authors and do not necessarily reflect the opinion of the America for Bulgaria Foundation and its partners.

Issue 97 America for Bulgaria Foundation Ottoman heritage Minorities in Bulgaria Religions in Bulgaria Sofia The Black Sea The Danube The Rhodope

HIGH BEAM

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SÜLEYMAN GÖKÇE

DimanaT — Fri, 17 Oct 2014 07:39:13 +0000

SÜLEYMAN GÖKÇE

interview by Anthony Georgieff

DimanaT Fri, 10/17/2014 - 10:39

Turkey's ambassador building on the past, looking to the future

Having spent a quarter of a century in the Turkish diplomatic service, including postings in Afghanistan, Italy, Pakistan, the UK and the United States, career diplomat Süleyman Gökçe arrived at the end of last year to take up his first ambassadorial position in Sofia. A graduate of International Relations at the University of Ankara, Süleyman Gökçe is experienced sufficiently to know that even though Bulgaria and Turkey are neighbours that share a common history, and are furthermore now allies in NATO and partners in the EU, just mentioning Turkey in Bulgaria is like walking on thin ice – if you do it to the wrong audience. While I am being entertained in impeccable English, I catch myself wondering what it must be like for a senior Turkish official to be confronted, on a daily basis, with the usual mixture of mistrust and outright suspicion that many Bulgarians feel towards their neighbours. But Süleyman Gökçe dispels my thoughts.

Bulgarians are generally very hospitable, embracing and welcoming. I have received positive vibes at all levels: national, local and personal. There is a huge prospect for cooperation between Turkey in Bulgaria, in terms of investment, industry, tourism and so forth. Merchants, industrialists, small and medium-sized businesses always find a way to work with each other. They have many success stories to tell.

We also want to have those success stories at the formal level, supported by the administration and the governments of the two states. The huge potential I referred to can be unleashed and utilised better at the formal level. Then, investment and trade will multiply.

Have you experienced any anti-Turkish sentiments in Bulgaria – not as a diplomat, but as a Turk?

I wouldn't say anti-Turkish, but yes – I should characterise this as perhaps a sense of unease, at least sometimes. I suppose certain things can get difficult to accomplish owing to a lack of ease, based on certain prejudices. That lack of trust stems from the long decades of the Cold War.

The feeling of unease is probably coupled with estrangement. The perception in both Turkey and Bulgaria of each other was just that, the "other," the "adversary." By definition, the adversary was profiled as "bad," if not "evil," "counterproductive" rather than trustworthy.

I first came to Bulgaria in July 1980. At that time, Bulgaria was a very different country. Hardline Communism and strictly toeing the Soviet line brought it in a league with Eastern Germany. Things have come a long way since then. Turkey was an adamant supporter of Bulgaria's bid to join NATO. In fact, Turkey made it a condition that no other country could join the Alliance before Bulgaria and Romania did.

In Bulgaria, it seems to me, there is an underlying desire to settle scores with the past. I do not mean just history, but the past, any kind of past. It can be on a personal, or on a family, or on a local or even on the national level. I suppose deep down many Bulgarians are at unease with the past. Inevitably, everything that's related to Turkey sooner or later boils down to that.

Let me put the question in a different way. Let's look at non-political issues, such as the preservation of heritage. Whenever there is an official or unofficial statement in Turkey about the need to preserve Ottoman heritage, there is always someone in Bulgaria that snaps back that Turkey wants to resurrect the Ottoman Empire.

This is of course not only untrue and misleading, but also silly. What we mean is the need to preserve our common heritage. We have a very long common history, not only with Bulgaria but with all other modern states that are now in the Balkans that were once a part of the Ottoman Empire – Greece, Macedonia, Albania, Kosovo, Bosnia and Herzegovina, Serbia, Romania, and beyond. Every common history spawns good as well as bad memories, which is perfectly normal. The important thing is to construct a fair memory. If you have lived together with someone for hundreds of years, you establish a common cultural heritage. Your present and your future are to some extent based on it.

The world in 2014 is not what it was in 1914 – or in 1814. The world we are trying to build is forward-looking, creating prosperity, wealth, mutual understanding, empathy and respect. Our common heritage not only binds us together, but provides important milestones for our common future.

One important thing I should mention here is that we are not only talking about Ottoman heritage in Bulgaria, but also about Bulgarian heritage in Turkey.

Istanbul is the place where the first independent Bulgarian Church was established, by special decree of the Sultan, in the middle of the 19th century. Until that time, the Bulgarian Church was subservient to the Greek Orthodox authority in Phanar. One of the symbols of this is the marvellous St Stephen Church on the bank of the Golden Horn. Entirely cast in iron, it has been listed as a monument of culture. The Municipality of Istanbul has spent millions of euros to renovate it. Cultural heritage adds to the beauty and enriches the scope of our common history.

There are other examples as well. There is a large plot of land in Sisli, in Central Istanbul, that is being returned to a Bulgarian foundation. There is about a dozen properties in Istanbul and in Edirne that are being returned to Bulgarian foundations. The total value of those is in the range of several hundred million euros.

Until now, the Bulgarian minority foundations had to turn to expats, or to Bulgaria, or to the local authorities in Turkey for sponsorship and financial patronage. They do not need to any more. Henceforth, they are self-sufficient and financially autonomous. We have no problems with it. On the contrary, we encourage that. Because, civil society sustaining democracy is a bottom-up practice. This is great!

Seen through Turkish eyes, is Bulgaria any different from the other Balkan countries that were once a part of the Ottoman Empire?

I think, yes. The main reasons again stem from the Cold War. Bulgaria was in the Warsaw Pact and Turkey was in NATO. None of the other Balkan countries were as loyal to the Warsaw Pact as Bulgaria. In those days, Yugoslavia was not a member at all, Albania left in the early 1960s, and Romania was maverick. It all comes down to the prejudices accumulated in those years.

During the Cold War, Bulgaria's border with Turkey was sealed off with a barbed-wire fence to prevent Bulgarian refugees from crossing over. After 1989, it was dismantled. In 2014, Bulgaria built a new barbed-wire fence with Turkey, supposedly to ward off third-country asylum-seekers.

My personal response was one of amazement, though I was a part of the Bulgarian-Turkish team discussing the projected construction of the fence last year. We said to our Bulgarian counterparts that we have nothing against the fence provided it complied with the 1967 border agreement. It includes some technical specifications, like the distance to the actual borderline and that it should be entirely in Bulgarian territory, and it stipulates that any installation like this should be temporary. If the Bulgarians feel more comfortable with the fence in place, then that's fine. We are a neighbouring country, so we would love to make you happier and more secure.

The problem, however, is that Syrian and other third-country asylum-seekers in Bulgaria are about 8,000-10,000. In Turkey we have close to 1.5 million. It is obvious that there aren't hundreds of thousands of asylum-seekers in Bulgaria owing to the border security cooperation between Turkey and Bulgaria, and to the efforts of the Turkish police to prevent illegal migration into Bulgaria. One could fairly easily establish that it is the good-neighbourly cooperation, not physical barriers of any kind, that actually brings about desirable results. So, I think the "security fence" is quite unnecessary.

Bulgaria has a sizeable Turkish minority. In fact, proportionately, Bulgaria is the EU country with the largest amount of Turks living in it. In absolute terms, Germany has more, but all of the Turks in Germany are second or third generation immigrant whereas in Bulgaria they have been here for close to 600 years. Does the Turkish government have any specific policy towards them?

We see the Turks in Bulgaria as a cornerstone in Turkish-Bulgarian relations. Each and every one of them is a bridge between our nations, and each and every one of them evokes our common history and heritage, a building stone in our common future.

What issues will you prioritise during your tenure in Bulgaria?

Energy is one of them. We plan to extend the gas and oil pipelines from the Caspian Sea through Bulgaria. This would add to this country's energy security. Energy security by definition is not diversification of routes, but diversification of suppliers. This doesn't mean that Turkey is diametrically opposed to the Russian South Stream project. We aren't. But diversification of suppliers will add to the overall energy situation in Bulgaria – and in the region. Also, remember that it will add to Bulgaria’s strategic importance and security.

Tourism and related issues. There is a huge potential between the two countries. Last year over 1.5 million Bulgarian citizens visited Bulgaria, and 800,000 Turkish citizens visited Bulgaria.

Then, infrastructure. As you know, the world's largest airport is under construction west of Istanbul. The project will be finished in three phases, first phase by the end of 2017. By passenger numbers handled, it will be twice as large as Atlanta Airport in the United States –180 million passengers per year to be precise. This will bring huge opportunities to Bulgaria because we are immediate neighbours. Another example is the high-speed train that will connect the Caucuses to the Balkans through Turkey, being part of the 21st Century Silk Road on an axis from London to Beijing. It will come to the Bulgarian border in two years' time. It should then be obvious to all sensible minds that we should sit down and talk seriously, without any prejudice and emotional impediment, to take right decisions together, for the mutual benefit of our two countries.

Issue 97

BULGARIA INTERVIEWS

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PA-LA-MUD!

DimanaT — Thu, 16 Oct 2014 10:19:13 +0000

PA-LA-MUD!

by Dimana Trankova; photography by Anthony Georgieff

DimanaT Thu, 10/16/2014 - 13:19

'King' of Black Sea waters 'attacks' Bulgarian coast in early autumn

Eating fish in Bulgaria can be a complicated business. Along the Black Sea, the smell of deep fried sprats is everywhere, and the menus of seaside restaurants offer mussels and jack mackerel, bluefish and turbot. All over the country, expensive establishments attempt to lure you in with frozen salmon and bass, octopus, shrimps and squid – all imported from somewhere, mainly Greece. Sushi is trendy, and most Bulgarians eat carp for St Nikola's feast on 6 December.

None of the above mentioned varieties of fish and seafood, however, evokes such awe, anticipation and generates as many headlines as the palamud, or Black Sea bonito.

A migratory fish, the bonito live in huge shoals that spend the winter in the Aegean and Marmara seas. In spring, the bonito pass through the Bosporus and enter the Black Sea. There they swim, spawn, eat smaller fish, and grow fatter from September until the end of November. Then, together with the new generation of bonito, they return to the Marmara and the Aegean seas. During this leg of the migration, thepalamud pass by the Bulgarian coast, where fishermen vie to catch as many as they can from the shoals of bonito.

The reason for this infatuation with bonito lies both in its size and its taste. When they reach Bulgarian waters, the bonito have already reached their optimum weight, at about two kilograms. The bones are nothing to worry about, and the flesh is smelly, juicy and pleasantly fatty. Palamud tastes best when prepared in the simplest possible way – grilled and served with lots of fresh lemon and onions. Other mouthwatering methods of preparation include cured bonito, when the fish is cut into round pieces and marinated in oil, salt, black pepper and bay leaves. You can down a lot of rakiya with this.

However, not every bonito is worthy of attention. The young fish between 400 grams and two kilograms are too small, bony and lean. Local fishermen, lacking political correctness, call them tsiganka, or Gypsy woman. A palamud over two kilograms, or toruk, is equally unwanted, as it is perceived as being too old and fatty to be really worth bothering about.

Before the 1970s, when industrial-scale fishing obliterated most of the fish in the Black Sea, palamud was not that popular. People were spoilt for choice. Turbot was in abundance, and so was lefer, or bluefish. The Atlantic mackerel, now an endangered species, was a common feature in the sea and on the dinner table. Many people would eat only the fillet of the Black Sea shark, throwing the rest away. Dolphins were killed extensively, because they stole the catch of fishermen. In such an atmosphere, the palamud's annual migration was not big news.

Ahtopol, Bulgaria's Bonito Capital

In the 1980s, the pollution of the Black Sea as well as overfishing killed all that variety, a trend which continues to this day. According to a report from 2014, the overwhelming majority of the catch in Bulgarian waters is of small fish, like sprat, and the Asian rapa whelk. The latter arrived in the Black Sea about 60 years ago clinging to the hulls of ships from Asia and soon obliterated a large portion of the local fauna. Since the end of the 1990s, the whelk has been harvested and exported to Japan, South Korea and China, where it is considered a delicacy.

The rest of the annual catch of fish in the Black Sea is made up of jack mackerel, goatfish and goby. Bluefish is a rarity, and turbot is protected by law, its catch regulated by EU quotas.

In this environment, the annual migration ofpalamud has turned into a major event. The fish prefer the waters of Ahtopol, on the Bulgarian South Black Sea. Each November, the tiny town known as Bulgaria's Bonito Capital, fills with restaurant owners from all over the country, who come to fill their freezers with palamud for the following year.

There is a catch, however. Too often, the bonito simply do not show up.

The palamud is a capricious fish, the Ahtopol fishermen say. If the water is polluted or too warm, or the shoals of smaller fish it eats are not abundant enough, the bonito will just pass by, heading straight for the Bosporus. There is also the bluefish factor. Larger than the palamud, their shoals mirror the path of the bonito. If the bluefish arrive around Ahtopol earlier than usual, the fishermen say, they scares the bonito away.

For many years, bonito have been non-existent. In 2013, for example, an Ahtopol fisherman said: "I cannot sell you any palamud as I caught only two this year and they are not for sale. I want to eat them with my family."

However, the hope that the palamud have not forgotten the waters of Bulgaria still remains. Two years ago, in 2012, Ahtopol fishermen experienced an unprecedented catch of bonito. "Sea Boils With Palamud," ran the headlines of the local and national media and, while the young scratched their heads and wondered at their luck, older fishermen were trying to remember the last time they had to deal with so many bonito. Apparently, it was sometime in the 1960s.

Will the bonito come back again in 2014, as they did in 2012? Or will the bonito-less 2013 be repeated? The only way to find out is to go to Ahtopol in October and November. Otherwise you will have to suffice with the frozen toruks imported from Turkey.

Issue 97 America for Bulgaria Foundation The Black Sea Bulgarian food

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IF BULGAR KHANS WERE SCI-FI CHARACTERS...

DimanaT — Thu, 16 Oct 2014 09:59:27 +0000

IF BULGAR KHANS WERE SCI-FI CHARACTERS...

by Dimana Trankova; photography by Anthony Georgieff

DimanaT Thu, 10/16/2014 - 12:59

Weddings and 'falling objects' mix at Founders of Bulgaria monument in Shumen

Japanese tourists just love the Founders of Bulgaria monument in Shumen, the woman in the ticket office says. The Japanese, the lady continues, are smitten. They stare and stare, and only when they get over their initial shock, do they take out their cameras. The lady at the city council-run ticket office was equally bewildered by the reaction of the Japanese until one day a guide explained.

For a Japanese, the 21 figures of the Founders of Bulgaria monument are like the real-life embodiment of the sci-fi super robots from anime classics such as Voltron and Beast King GoLion, or the Transformers. What a surprise to go to Bulgaria, of all places, and find all your favourite characters sculpted in stone and concrete!

After passing by the early rulers of Bulgaria, the visitor ends in front of a huge mosaic dedicated to Christianisation and development of the Bulgarian alphabet

The creators of this monument were completely unaware of the effect they would produce to the Japanese, however. They were just aiming to create the most imposing monument they could to glorify the foundation of the Bulgarian state. The main target were the Bulgarians themselves. They needed to be impressed beyond belief. Legends had to be created. To do that, the masterbuilders of what is possible the largest concrete monument in Europe subscribed to a peculiar style in the 1970s-1980s, which could roughly be described as Socialist Cubistic Expressionism – with a dash of Futurism. OK, to simplify, let's just call it Communist megalomania.

The idea of building a gigantic monument on top of the Shumen Plateau, at an altitude of about 450 metres, was promoted in 1977. This was the time when Lyudmila Zhivkova, daughter of Communist dictator Todor Zhivkov, was culture minister. A woman led by ambition, patriotism and an interest in Eastern mysticism, Zhivkova set in motion a incredibly comprehensive, incredibly vast and incredibly expensive plan for the celebration of the 1,300 years of the foundation of the Bulgarian state, which had happened in 681. This included, but was not limited to, the organisation of international conferences, lavish celebrations, and erecting bombastic buildings and monuments celebrating Bulgarian history and culture.

The monument outline should resemble the evolution of Bulgarian nation from Medieval grandeur to bright Communist future

Shumen was chosen as the site for a monument to the founders of the Bulgarian state because it is close to the ruins of Pliska and Preslav, the first capitals of Bulgaria between the 680s and the 970s. Unlike Pliska and Preslav, which are on the plain, Shumen is at the foot of a high plateau, so a monument on top of it would be seen for miles around. The plateau was also the location of a settlement and a fortress dating from the 12th Century BC to the 14th Century AD, another example of the millennia-old history of Bulgaria.

After a tough competition, the project of sculptors Krum Damyanov and Ivan Slavov, architects Georgi Gechev and Blagoy Ivanov, and artists Vladislav Paskalev and Stoyan Velev was selected. Construction began in November 1977 and the finished monument was unveiled on 28 November 1981. Lyudmila Zhivkova did not live to cherish the moment, as she had died on 21 July the same year.

Khan Asparuh, founder of Bulgaria

The Founders of Bulgaria monument is just incredible. Angular and made of exposed concrete, it is 140 metres long and 70 metres high. For the construction 2,400 tonnes of reinforced steel bars and 50,000 cubic metres of concrete were used.
For the monument, the architects chose two tall concrete structures with zigzag outlines, symbolising the upward spiral of Bulgarian national evolution. The narrow passage between them is inhabited by huge granite sculptures of early Bulgarian rulers and their retinue, a striking gallery of grey angular faces on top of over-proportioned bodies.

First in the line is, of course, Khan Asparuh. Hailed as the founder of Bulgaria, he brought the Bulgarians south of the Danube, made alliances with the Slavic tribes who were living there, won a decisive battle against the Byzantines and signed a peace treaty which legitimised his state as an international political entity. In the Shumen monument, however, Khan Asparuh looks more menacing than stately, with his deep eyes and huge Transformers-like arm pointing at the sky. The horse behind him, which looks like it exists in at least six dimensions, adds to the sci-fi atmosphere.

The monument overlooks Shumen and its surroundings, the core of early Medieval Bulgaria

Further along the concrete corridor, perched at a height of 18 metres, are Asparuh's descendants, the khans Tervel and Krum. They look as menacing and grim as their predecessor, and things do not change much when you finally reach Prince Boris and his son, King Simeon the Great. It was Prince Boris who compelled the Bulgarians to adopt Christianity, while King Simeon extended the Bulgarian borders far and wide, encouraging culture to such an extent that his reign was dubbed The Golden Age of Bulgaria. The years of their rule were also the time when the Slavic alphabet was adopted and developed in Bulgaria.

Christianity, military power and the alphabet are the main themes in this part of the monument. When you look up, the concrete walls form a cross against the sky. A huge mosaic in black, white, red, gold and blue is dedicated to the evolution of the Slavic alphabet, its creators Cyril and Methodius, and their disciples. This is the largest mosaic triptych in Europe, a task which took 12 artists to complete.

Khan Asparuh's horse. A few years ago one of its legs fell down

To get a good look at the monument's next imposing detail, you have to leave its concrete bowels and take several – the more, the better – steps away. Look up. A 1,000 tonnes lion made of 2,000 pieces of granite adorns the highest part of the monument. According to local lore, the lion commanding an imposing vista over Shumen – and indeed a large chunk of northeastern Bulgaria, is hollow, and has an elevator inside one of the supporting columns. Todor Zhivkov treated visiting Soviet leader Leonid Brezhnev to coffee in the lion's mouth...

Todor Zhivkov attended the opening of the monument, an event seen as the peak of the celebrations of the 1,300th anniversary of the founding of Bulgaria. Many of the Communist top brass were in attendance, and the series of ribbon-cutting events included the opening of a brand new aluminium factory in Shumen, and the new history museum in Preslav.

A massive lion adorns the top of the monument. According to urban legend, it is hollow

Even at the time, many people in Shumen were far from happy with the Founders of Bulgaria monument. Today some citizens complain that this showpiece of past glory was built at the expense of ordinary people, who were suffering severe shortages of anything from tomatoes and toilet paper to housing. Estimates of how many blocks of flats might have been built with the reinforced concrete used for the monument vary from five to 12.

Others, however, are proud of the thing, which is on the list of the 100 National Tourist Sites of the Bulgarian Tourist Union, and the mosaics and the grey figures of the early Bulgarian rulers are a popular spot for wedding pictures. The tourist office has responded to the demand by offering wedding ceremonies inside or around the monument.

The mosaic triptych is the biggest in Europe, and was made by 12 artists. One of them decided to mark the news of the birth of his son in an unusual way: he placed a blue pebble, instead of a black one, in the beard of St Cyril, the author of the first Slavonic alphabet

After the collapse of Communism in 1989, and in the following decades of economic difficulties, there was no money for the maintenance of the monument. The elements took over and in 2006, one of the legs of Khan Asparuh's horse collapsed. It was replaced with a replica made of artificial stone, but maintenance remains a problem. If she notices you, the lady at the ticket office will charge you a few leva for an entry ticket.

There are two ways to reach the Founders of Bulgaria monument. You can climb all the 1,300 steps of the grandiose staircase which starts with four griffons and a water cascade at the theatre in Shumen. The other option is to go by car; the monument is about six kilometres from Shumen.

Khans Tervel and Krum, with quotes from Byzantine chronicles about their deeds

Issue 97 America for Bulgaria Foundation Monuments Communism Bulgarian art Bulgaian history

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PYRRHIC VICTORY

DimanaT — Thu, 16 Oct 2014 09:18:50 +0000

PYRRHIC VICTORY

by Anthony Georgieff

DimanaT Thu, 10/16/2014 - 12:18

Bulgaria's snap election fails to produce stable parliament

To understand why Bulgaria is faced with further political instability and possibly yet another general election one needs to look at the larger picture of life in this country that has struggled with democracy for exactly quarter of a century now.

First, to politics. The 5 October snap election was the second in about 15 months. The first, in May 2013, had been prompted by Boyko Borisov, then prime minister, who resigned amid spreading protests against poverty and the inability of his government to handle it that culminated in a dozen Bulgarians publicly committing the terrible act of self-conflagration. Borisov at the time felt his party, GERB, had not lost all its charisma, as epitomised by Borisov himself, and called the early election hoping his popularity was still high.

It was – but not enough. Borisov's party failed to garner sufficient support, and a fragile coalition between the BSP, or Bulgarian Socialist Party, the Turkish-dominated DPS, or Movement for Rights and Freedoms, and the extremist nationalist Ataka was installed in Sofia.

No one thought that this sort of coalition would be long-lived – and the government did its best to dispel any doubts that it could. One of the first things it did was to appoint Delyan Peevski, an MP for the DPS and a media mogul, to a powerful security position giving him direct access to controlling the fight against organised crime.

Many Bulgarians, mainly in Sofia, could not stomach that. They felt that appointing Peevski to chair the DANS, roughly speaking Bulgaria's version of the FBI, was like appointing a child molester to the position of a school headmaster. Street rallies ensued. The summer of 2013 protesters, unlike the depressed and poor Bulgarians scratching to make a living who had been torching themselves a few months previously, were "beautiful and clever," as one writer billed them. They made a good impression. Some of them spoke English and carried placards that could be understood by foreign visitors. They cleaned up their bottles after their daily rallies in front of the government building in Central Sofia. The police were under orders to be generally tolerant, so no serious incident or violence occurred, in sharp contrast to the way Borisov had handled such matters during his tenure. The protesters, furthermore, were liked by the media.

What they demanded was transparency, an end to Bulgaria's long tradition of what they called Behind-the-Scene-ness, the sort of cloak-and-dagger attitudes that had become the rule rather than the exception in this Balkan nation of about 7 million. What they failed to understand, however, was that without a proper political platform and without solid support in the provinces, any effort to change the Bulgarian status quo would result in a return of Boyko Borisov and his GERB.

Their act was interpreted by many media and even by some foreign diplomats to be a manifestation of Bulgaria's inchoate civil society.

But what is civil society? Is it just the thrust of a few, perhaps a dozen thousand people to block the traffic in Sofia and perform light musical comedy acts to the bemusement of onlookers? Is it not measured, arithmetically, by the number of citizens going to the ballots at elections and casting their votes for politicians, young and old, that have coherent agendas designed to achieve concrete political, economic and social targets?

The first sign of the protesters' fallacy came soon after the beginning of the 2013 street rallies. It happened in Varna, the Black Sea coast town that for various reasons had become a hotbed of dissent. A by-election there failed to convince many to go to the ballots. In fact, the turnout in Varna was record low.

So?

The protests in Sofia continued, an increasing number of Bulgarians felt disillusioned with the parties in power, and the senior partner in the Oresharski coalition, the BSP, splintered. The European Parliament elections in May 2014 showed that Boyko Borisov's GERB was still the strongest political grouping in Bulgaria. It was the clear winner.

The BSP, the DPS and Ataka realised their time was over. The coalition stepped down, a caretaker government was appointed by President Rosen Plevneliev, a former GERB minister, and a new snap election was called.

The political tableau it produced is even more dysfunctional than the previous one. As many as eight parties made it past the 4 percent threshold. These include the Reformist Bloc, what some consider to be a genuine centre-right agglomeration of small pro-Western parties that favour democracy and reforms. But they also include two radical nationalist parties, Ataka and the NFSB, or National Front for the Salvation of Bulgaria, and an incongruous political grouping led by a former journalist, Nikolay Barekov, who had been first a close friend and then a fierce critic of Boyko Borisov. They even include ABV, a political group founded by former Socialist President Georgi Parvanov.

Boyko Borisov again emerged as the clear winner, but in the immediate aftermath of the election it transpired that his was a pyrrhic victory. GERB fell short, with a significant margin, of being able to rule on its own. Borisov indicated he understood. He refused to give a press conference on election night, breaching the tradition of having all the political parties that enter a new parliament speak out. On the following day, while his closest associates did begin to speak out, he was seen wearing his football suit and jogging boots in the corridor. He was off sweating out. The man, obviously, felt hurt. Any coalition with the other parties would be extremely precarious if not impossible chiefly because one of the conditions most other parties insist on is not to have Boyko Borisov as prime minister again.

The 5 October election was a failure because it did not achieve what Bulgaria needed most: stability and a desire to reform everything from education and health care to the energy sector. But it was a failure, first and foremost, for Bulgaria's civil society: fewer people bothered to go to the ballots than they had done even the previous year.

Now, for the more general conclusion. Why are not Bulgarians interested in voting, provided voting in elections is the main way in a Western-style democracy to prompt change?

The answers to this question are, unfortunately, not very pleasant. They are to be sought in the peculiar Bulgarian "national character," modelled largely under Communism, in the mix of preconceived notions rammed home for generations, irrational thinking and sheer prejudice that have come to characterise the Bulgarians for many years and that, as a rule, are mutually exclusive.

Here are some of them. Bulgarians are rebels. They have always been, but they rebel at the tax office or while sitting in the Sofia traffic. They rebel at home, in front of the TV set while they drink their rakiyas and eat their shopskas. OK, in recent years, some of the more outspoken would sit in front of a computer and send out political statuses on Facebook. But the political system, unfortunately, cannot yet be changed through FB.

Bulgarians want rights and democracy. Yet, 25 years of democracy (in the sense of multiparty elections) has left a majority so disillusioned with the democratic process that they increasingly demand a strong hand, someone like Borisov, to show up and put things in order in a no-nonsense way. Internationally, this can be seen in the fact that Russia's Vladimir Putin is so popular in Bulgaria.

Bulgarians want change. They want better pay and better conditions, but they lament the closure of that huge Communist-era metallurgy plant that depended exclusively on Soviet ore to manufacture heavy machinery. No one needs heavy machinery any longer and the Soviet Union ceased to exist 25 years ago. And that plant was losing money in the first place...

Bulgarians want an end to corruption and nepotism. But they know that the moment they elect more than three people to rule them the same Behind-the-Scenes-ness will come.

Bulgarians are atheist, regardless of the amount of senior statesmen TV cameras show kissing the hands of Orthodox clergymen on high holidays, in the sense that they are confident they have their fates in their own hands. Yet, they are convinced that nothing depends on them. Not at the ballot boxes. There, everything has been predetermined behind the scenes. That's why they do not bother to show up at all. Instead, the enlightened younger Bulgarians show up at Sofia Airport equipped with one-way tickets to Europe.

Issue 97

BULGARIA POLITICS

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WHERE IS BULGARIA'S ONLY RAILWAY MUSEUM?

DimanaT — Thu, 16 Oct 2014 09:12:01 +0000

WHERE IS BULGARIA'S ONLY RAILWAY MUSEUM?

by Bozhidara Georgieva

DimanaT Thu, 10/16/2014 - 12:12

Think you know Bulgaria and the Bulgarians? Take our test to doublecheck

1. How many parties entered the Bulgarian parliament after the 5 October snap elections?
A. Eight
B. Six
C. Twelve

2. How many of the people living in Sofia are foreigners, according to Eurostat?
A. 1 percent
B. 10 percent
C. 15 percent

3. Where in Bulgaria was the latest season of Survivor China shot?
A. In Vidin
B. In the Rhodope
C. In Lyulin

4. What does the Bulgarian expression "It will happen during a cuckoo summer" mean?
A. It will happen the next accounting period
B. It will happen only through my dead body
C. It will never happen

5. The pumpkin pie in Bulgarian is called…
A. zelnik
B. tikvenik
C. banitsa

6. Which Bulgarian city will be the European Capital of Culture 2019?
A. Sofia
B. Varna
C. Plovdiv

7. Which Bulgarian football team is competing in the 2014/2015 Champions League?
A. Levski
B. Ludogorets
C. CSKA

8. Where is Bulgaria's only Railway Museum?
A. In Ruse
B. In Stara Zagora
C. In Gorna Oryahovitsa

9. Bulgaria's run of the Danube is long...
A. 471 kms
B. 800 kms
C. 1,300 kms

Check the correct answers on next page

The correct answers:

1. – A; 2. – A; 3. – B; 4. – C; 5. – B; 6. – C; 7. – B; 8. – A; 9. – A

Issue 97

BULGARIA'S MONTHLY QUIZ

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WHERE IN BULGARIA ARE YOU?

DimanaT — Thu, 16 Oct 2014 09:09:58 +0000

WHERE IN BULGARIA ARE YOU?

by Stamen Manolov

DimanaT Thu, 10/16/2014 - 12:09

This is one of Bulgaria's most popular seaside resorts at a time when... very few visitors come.

The 6th of December, in Orthodox hagiography the feast day of St Nicholas – revered also as the protector of seamen, is celebrated here with particular enthusiasm as the majority of those locals not involved with summertime tourism are actually fishermen and live on the sea.

The celebrations involve a huge party at the harbour, with free fish soup and plenty of drinks, some blessing of ships by the local priest, and in good weather a free cruise around the islands in the bay.

Where in Bulgaria are you?

Issue 97

WHERE IN BULGARIA ARE YOU?

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QUOTE-UNQUOTE

DimanaT — Thu, 16 Oct 2014 09:08:32 +0000

QUOTE-UNQUOTE DimanaT Thu, 10/16/2014 - 12:08

This parliament will be worse than its predecessor. It is full of garrulous people who can spit and spew, but are unfit for any lawmaking. If the Bulgarians want such a pageant, let them have it.

Tatyana Doncheva, leader of Movement 21

My phone is ringing the whole day, everyone is greeting me - Erdogan, the president of Portugal... No other party has beaten the Communists two times in a row!

Boyko Borisov

All parties are lined up as the women at the windows of a certain Amsterdam district, and offer themselves.

Volen Siderov, Ataka leader

Boyko Borisov is as rightwing as the English traffic.

Writer Ivaylo "Noisy" Tsvetkov

We will be neither a golden, nor a silver, nor a middle finger in the new parliament.

Krasimir Karakachanov, leader of the VMRO and the Patriotic Front

Issue 97 Boyko Borisov

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