Issue 93

QUOTE-UNQUOTE

DimanaT — Mon, 14 Jul 2014 08:24:07 +0000

QUOTE-UNQUOTE DimanaT Mon, 07/14/2014 - 11:24

May be I should have been killed to make everyone happy.

Delyan Peevski, MP for the DPS

In the past year Mr Peevski has gone too far. He behaves as if he is the overlord of Bulgaria.

Tsvetan Vasilev, owner of Corporate Commercial Bank

Until Ahmed Dogan is in power, there will be fat and blood in the streets. Dogan owns the state. Peevski is his errand boy and Vasilev
is his banker.

Former Culture Minister Vezhdi Rashidov who claims his own money is in the Corporate Commercial Bank and he now cannot withdraw it

The Russian Embassy has no influence in Bulgaria.

Ataka leader Volen Siderov

The Bulgarian National Bank never sleeps.

Ivan Iskrov, governor of the BNB

The weather sometimes plays bad jokes.

Prime Minister Plamen Oresharski after the deadly floods in Varna and Dobrich

You want from me to act as the traffic manager of a railway station.

Chief Prosecutor Sotir Tsatsarov

Issue 93

QUOTE-UNQUOTE

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THE SMILE OF THE DOG, an excerpt from a novel

DimanaT — Wed, 02 Jul 2014 09:59:20 +0000

THE SMILE OF THE DOG, an excerpt from a novel

by Dimana Trankova; translated from the Bulgarian by Kapka Kassabova

DimanaT Wed, 07/02/2014 - 12:59

Are these killings ritual? May be yes, may be no. Historians are being butchered around ancient Thracian sanctuaries and necropoli, and the killer acts as if he is using the Herodotus' Histories as a manual... Nothing is what it looks. Two journalists go after the crimes.

John, an American, is biding his time with the family of his Bulgarian wife as he drinks, smokes and makes enthusiastic but not particularly successful attempts to understand that strange Balkan country called Bulgaria.

Maya, a Bulgarian, is acquainted with the ancient history and agrees to help with the investigation.

The reckless journey brings John and Maya through dead villages and sanctuaries, abandoned cemeteries and luxurious villas as they meet treasure hunters, good cops and bad cops, and people, who have no future as they are too busy being obsessed with the past.

While the ring of assassinations encircles John and Maya, they discover that nothing is more scary than the amalgamation of organised crime and government that has erased the borderline between good and evil, between virtue and ignominy.

The Smile of the Dog is a provocative, dynamic archaeological thriller that entwines ancient and contemporary history, media, philosophy and politics, doomed love and the moral chaos of Bulgaria of the 21st Century.

The Smile of the Dog, the first novel by Vagabond editor Dimana Trankova,w as published by Collibri Press in Sofia, in June 2014; in Bulgarian. It is being translated into English and French, with publications pending in both the UK and France.

Prologue

The man on the rock could never have imagined himself asking this question. But then again, he could never have imagined himself in this situation to start with.

"With an ordinary knife?" he said. His mouth was dry. He'd kill for a bit of water.

"It's not an ordinary knife," said the other man. "It's iron."

The man on the rock couldn't see his tormentor in the dark but felt his hot breath every time he put a cut in his flesh with that ordinary knife of his.

The man on the rock shook with the pain and the insult of it, with the cold mountain air too, and with the bleak emptiness that is left when dignity goes. At the beginning, he refused to talk, partly out of vanity and partly because he was afraid the stranger would sniff the fear hormone on his breath like a dog, and pounce on him with greater ferocity. But they'd been up here on the rock all night. Too much blood had flowed, its heavy smell intensified by the stench from his bladder. He felt very sorry indeed that he didn't have what his tormentor wanted, that he couldn't undo what had already been done to him, that he couldn't somehow fix everything.

He looked at the stars, brighter than ever, and imagined they were slowly revolving in the universe. The wind pushed his body, and he saw it being lifted up and carried away, over the mountain, towards the Milky Way. He knew he was going to die now, and he was filled with sorrow that his death was already here, and so undignified too. He'd be an ugly corpse, with these wounds to his face, these slashes – an embarrassing affair. He already saw the newspaper headings, the shocked faces of his colleagues, and the two among them – he knew exactly which two – who would gloat at his funeral. "Did you hear, they killed him with an ordinary knife", they'd whisper and nudge each other.

You're feverish, he told himself, and the insult of it hit him again. He forced his parched lips to part.

"You're making a sacrifice," he whispered. He still couldn't see the other man.

"I am."

"To Her."

"For a sacrifice you need something more sacred."

"Iron is a sacred metal."

"No it's not. Flint is. Copper. Gold. Not iron."

For a wretched second he almost believed that his tormentor would buy this and let him go. The wonder, the beauty of that! But the man laughed.

"Bollocks," he said and bent over him. His dark form blocked the starry sky from view. The man on the rock felt completely abandoned.

"You're not appreciating what is being given to you," his tormentor said. "Iron is the most sacred metal in the world."

"The ancients thought it warded off evil," the man on the rock whispered. He couldn't give up, not yet. It was true. In ancient times, no birth or wake would go without the protection of an iron knife, comb, or nail, to stop the newborn or dead man from becoming a vampire. He was surprised at the clarity of his thoughts and made a painful effort to speak clearly too. "What was sacred to them was the ironsmith's trade. It's the people who give it form that are sacred."

"I've given this knife form," the man said evenly. "To others too. But what makes it special is the iron, nothing else. "

"The ancients knew iron was sacred before they gave it a name," he continued. "Before they were even human. They knew it was part of them and of all living things. The moment they crafted the first iron object, they knew they'd found the metal of the gods. Do you understand that?'

"No." he gurgled. His strength was leaving him along with his body fluids. He didn't see the blow coming. It smashed his mouth and knocked out several teeth, filling his mouth with blood.

"What's it taste of?" the man said.

He choked on it, and tried to turn onto his side to spit out the blood and saliva.

"Metal," he croaked.

"What kind of metal?"

"Iron," he whispered.

"Exactly. Iron. Blood tastes of iron, iron tastes of blood." His voice became dreamy. "Just picture our predecessors. How well they knew the smell and taste of iron. From the blood of animals and the humans they sacrificed, from the monthly cycle of women. They revered blood because they knew it meant life, it meant food for humans and gods alike, and it meant the birth of new children. And when, one day, they beat out the first iron, when they licked it, they knew they'd found the metal of the gods, they'd divined the secret of life and death. Then of course they forgot. But forgetting is a human characteristic and gods are inclined to forgive when they're in a generous mood."

The man on the rock heard the other get up and move away. His voice came from a distance:

"Have you seen a water spring with a high content of iron? Iron in water is heavy and sits on leaves and branches, on stones. The colour is rusty and it smells a bit like blood. You can imagine how the ancients were afraid of coming near the spring, its smell, the feeling that something was behind them, an enemy, a predator. A god."

The man on the rock said nothing. He looked at the stars and trembled, and wondered why he felt so very cold and why there was the splash of water. He felt a terrible sadness.

Then he heard a whisper in his ear:

"She's thirsty. It's been a long time since She last drank. But I'm ready to deny Her this feast, make Her wait, and take you to a place where you'll be helped. Your wounds aren't as bad as you think. Do you want to live?"

"Yes!" the man moaned.

"Okey-dokey. Then tell me where it is, and I'll take you away from here.'

"I don't know!"

"But you said you knew. You've written about The Knowledge. We came here at the appointed time. You insisted it were just you and me, without the others. Now you have to tell me."

Whatever he said would only make it worse.

"If you didn't believe in what you preached yourself, you wouldn't have come here. Right?"

He couldn't answer this. Until yesterday, he thought he believed.

"Right?" the man shrieked and plunged the knife into his stomach. He nearly passed out this time from the pain. His intestines were punctured.

"Stop! I lied!"

"Why did you lie?" The knife was churning inside him and he imagined it was the man's sharp nails that were pulling and tearing inside his guts, making a big ball from his innards and when the ball was big enough, he'd throw it up to the stars, like an offering.

"I thought…" he groaned, delirious, "you knew something new and we could…. Together... Please stop."

"So you really were bluffing. How could you be such an idiot.'

"It was Gabriela's idea," the man on the rock whispered, though all hope was gone from him.

"Are you sure?" He sounded genuinely curious.

"Hers, all hers. It's all her fault."

"Not very gentlemanly on your part, you know. You're supposed to defend her with your last breath."

"Ask her. She knows. She lied to me. She lied, the bitch."

The other didn't say anything. The man on the rock lost consciousness but came round again when he felt he was being lifted up by hands and the pain exploded in his gut with renewed force. He thought the stars were coming closer. The hands felt strong and warm, like his father's, back in the day when he'd put him up on his shoulders, before the State Security men came in their black sedan and took his father away forever and his life filled with whispers about debts to the State.

But the hands were not his father's.

"I know about the debts…" he whispered.

"You're ranting. What debts?"

"The debts."

"I know you're afraid," the man with the hands said. "Don't be. So many have dreamt of being in your place. I'll take you straight to Her. With Her, there is no pain or sorrow, no lies. In exchange for this favour I'm doing you, I ask for one thing. Tell Her that the hunt has begun."

The hands cast their charge down. No, the stars were not any closer. He fell into the darkness.

Chapter 1.
21 June

"Purpose of visit?" said the border control officer in the glass cabin. The artificial light made her face green.

"Pleasure," John said and swallowed the sour saliva left by the beer on the plane.

The woman stared at him with genuine surprise.

"Honeymoon," John explained. "Of sorts." Then he felt annoyed for explaining himself to some random official who didn't care one way or another. He looked for Emilia in the EU queue, but she was stuck behind someone and didn't see him.

"Welcome," said the green woman without any feeling, and stamped his passport. "You can stay on Bulgarian territory for three months. And don't forget to register with the police."

"Thanks. I doubt we'll stay that long." John smiled but her face remained impassive. He stepped over the invisible airport line which marked the beginning of Bulgarian territory. He looked for a smokers' room, didn't see one, and put a piece of chewing-gum in his mouth instead. Just hang in there a bit longer, he told himself.

Emilia appeared a few minutes later.

"When we weren't in the European Union, we waited in queues. And now that we're in the EU, we're still waiting in queues," she hissed past him, and rushed into the baggage hall. She found a good spot by their baggage belt and waved to him to join her with a trolley. He'd never seen her so nervy before. He smiled at her, but she frowned back and turned to face the revolving belt.

When their suitcases turned up, Emilia threw herself at them, pulled them off the belt with unsuspected force, pushed them onto the trolley before John could do anything, and started with the trolley towards the exit. Just before the exit door, she stopped and looked back at him with sudden panic – blind to the other passengers pushing past her. She had travelled the world to return home, and now she was scared of taking the last step, John thought.

"Come on, Eims" he said and took the trolley from her.

On the other side, the wall of welcoming bodies was so noisy and unruly, Emilia felt as if it would collapse any moment and crush her. The sound of everyone speaking Bulgarian shocked her, she was unused to it after years in the States. Then she recognised the three faces in the crowd, all of them smiling tearfully. She burst into tears and ran into her mother's arms.

John stopped near-by with the trolley. The four of them were crying, laughing, and talking over each other. He recognised their faces because he'd seen them on Skype, but seeing them in the flesh was still strange. Ivan, the brother, was stockier than John had imagined. He was the first one to break away from the family and shake John's hand.

"Welcome," Ivan said, "I'm glad to finally meet you." His hard hand squeezed John's painfully.

"Me too," John said. "Emilia has wanted to do this for ages. Do you mind if I wait for you outside? I'm dying for a smoke."

"No you haven't put on any weight. I don't know how you manage it. You know your our neighbour's daughter, she put on weight too, you know the one that looks like a model from Auschwitz? Don't look at me like that, it's how we talk here, you've forgotten. Now, everyone is dying to see you, but I said No, Emilia will be tired, the trip is long, let them rest for a couple of days. You won't recognise cousin Katya, she's got a new boyfriend, but nobody has seen him yet. But you know that already. I forgot we're on Skype all the time."

Eventually, her mother ran out of breath. The whole car went quiet. Emilia sat in the back of her brother's new Skoda, squeezed between her parents, and watched the traffic along Tsarigradsko Road which led into the city centre. The only thing she could see in the night were street lights, shop windows, and billboards. Most of this wasn't here when she left.

"This is not your first visit then," Ivan said.

"No, I was here once briefly. Just one night, actually," John said.

"Do you remember anything?"

"Almost nothing."

"Well, now you'll have more time." Ivan said. They entered the centre, passed some artistically lit-up buildings, and drove into a neighbourhood of tall concrete apartment buildings from the Communist era and shopping malls from the post-Communist era.

They stopped in front of a building that looked just like the others in the concrete jungle. With much fuss and courteous arguing over who should carry what, the suitcases were extracted from the car trunk, and Emilia and her parents got into the lift. John, Ivan and the suitcases found themselves on a narrow landing which had a familiar stench of cooking, damp, and cats. Ivan lit up. John was taken aback but followed suit.

"You won't be needing this," Ivan nodded at John's leather jacket. "Didn't Emi tell you that the summers here are hot?"

John smiled. He just wanted to lie down and sleep.

"We bought it in Bangkok. Emilia said that if she saw me wearing my old jacket, she'd cut it up with scissors. But I love the old one, so I thought I'd save it and get this cheapish one."

Ivan laughed. The lift arrived and they loaded up. It was just like the lift from his previous visit all those years ago.

When they reached the sixth floor, the ceremony of arrival was in full swing. Her mother's voice echoed in the stair and her father was pottering excitedly in the narrow corridor. The rest of the humble apartment was taken up by

Ivan's wife and their two young kids who had never met Emilia and John before, and thought they lived on Skype.

"So it's true," Emilia said. "When you come home after a long time, everything is smaller."

They were lying in the darkness of her old bedroom. The dinner, which was supposed to finish early because the guests were tired, had dragged on for hours and only ended when the kids fell asleep on the couch. Everyone overate and over-drank.

"You'll get used to it," John mumbled.

"Mm," Emilia said. She sensed him relax and go to sleep which comforted her. She lay motionless for a while, and had a little cry, then got up. She felt her way in the dark.

"Emilia, is that you?" her mother's anxious voice came from the parents' bedroom.

"Yes."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, I'm just thirsty."

"Get the mineral water in the jug. You dad got it this morning from the Mineral Baths."

"Okay."

She continued to the kitchen and poured herself a glass from the tap. It tasted the same as before. On the way back through the corridor, her mother called out again:

"Are you okay?"

"Yes, mum, I'm okay. Good night."

Emilia lay in the darkness and fretted she would spend the night wide awake. And with that thought, she fell asleep.

DIMANA TRANKOVA is an archaeologist by education and a journalist by vocation. She has authored over a thousand articles on travel, politics, history and archaeology in her native Bulgaria. She is the coauthor of several bestselling non-fiction books such as East of Constantinople/Travels in Unknown Turkey (2008), A Guide to Jewish Bulgaria (2011), A Guide to Ottoman Bulgaria (2011, 2012) and The Turks of Bulgaria (2012). She has been the executive editor of Highflights, Bulgaria's English-Bulgarian travel magazines, and of Go Greece!, Bulgaria's magazine about Greece.
The Smile of the Dog (2014) is her first novel.

Issue 93

FICTION

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TOGETHER WE CAN

DimanaT — Wed, 02 Jul 2014 09:56:32 +0000

TOGETHER WE CAN

interview by Dimana Trankova

DimanaT Wed, 07/02/2014 - 12:56

Iliyana Nikolova, Executive Director of Workshop for Civic Initiatives Foundation, on how phylanthopy can become bigger in Bulgaria

In times of crisis and catastrophies, many Bulgarian take the cause to help other by heart. They volunteer to dug out mud of flooded streets and homes, or to extinquish forest fires, and sent donation SMS-es or small sums of their counted salaries and pensions to the ones in need. Yet, Bulgaria is still lagging in terms of big-scale phylanthropy, and the WCIF, or Workshop for Civic Initiatives Foundation, has been working to improve this.

The foundation is the organiser of the annual awards Zaedno, or Together, which for nine years have been promoting phylanthropy. The cathegories are for best campaing of an NGO, for a best campaign, for most efficient campaign, for best co-operation between a business and an NGo, and for a private phylanthropist. Iliyana Nikolova, Executive Director of the WCIF, tells more.

What is the mission of the Workshop for Civic Initiatives Foundation and which are its biggest achievements?
The mission of WCIF is to encourage various communities to work actively for social development while using local resources. This means that we in WCIF develop phylanthropy and offer funding and other resources to civic organisations. We support projects and ideas leading to change. We encourage them to be initiative and to pass over their expertise and know-how to others. We have been working in this direction for 14 years.

Numbers easily measure our achievements. We have donated over 7 million leva to civic organisations and have financed over 700 civic initiatives. We have donated software for over 500,000 leva, thus making the work of over 150 organisations better. Additionaly, we sourced over 2.5 million leva throught the organisations we finance. The foundation manages three corporate funds and is the first in Bulgaria to do this. Over 10,000 volunteers have worked on initiatives which we helped.

Outside the statistics, however, are the changed and improved lives of many people, the improved living conditions, the skills developed in thousands of children and young adults through our work, the improved environment in a number of cities and villages with the participation of local people.

I wan to clarify, that WCIF works for the development of strategical philanthropy which aims long-term change. A philanthropy of this kind works best in risk zones where it is hard to have quick visible results.

How did the idea for the Zaedno awards come to being?
The team of WCIF have always thought strategically. When 8 years ago we had our first private donors, we decided to show the existence of these isolated cases to the broader public. The Zaedno awards were also our attempt to develop philanthropy through showing it as an alternative to the institutional model of solving social problems.

How the Zaedno awards encourage philanthropy in Bulgaria?

They give an example, initiate a conversation on the meaning of philanthropy and the ways it is made, discover the trends, promote people and their companies, and put philanthropy in Bulgarian context. The awards also distinguish media and journalists who covers philanthropy. We have also the special "Civic position provoking debate" award, which is again linked to philanthropy.

Tell us more on the nominations of the 2014 Zaedno awards.

We had 24 candidates. There is an important trend in the "Best partnership between a private enterprises and an NGO" category: the number of nominees has increased. It is positive as it shows that the business can work together with civic organisations. This creates a top opportunity for dealing with serious social problems. It is positive, too, that the candidates in the "Private philanthropist with a cause" category now have bigger donations. This brings Bulgaria closer to the wider world, where philanthropists are big, with personal causes.

Which are the greatest problems of philanthropy and social causes in Bulgaria? How can be they solved?

More than 20 years after the collapse of Communism, Bulgaria still lacks a strategy for philanthropy development. Sponsors are seen as a mean to fill gapes in the health and social care system. Somehow the Bulgarian society refuses to understand that social costs which are about 2 billion annually, cannot be replaced by donated money, which in the best of times are 10–15 million leva annually.

The civic organisations for their part failed to create working models for attracting big private sponsors. Poverty and economic crisis also influence philanthropy. In Bulgaria, philanthropy is a form of solidarity, with donation of small sums by people in comparatively bad economic condition. The lack of middle class, which is the spine of philanthropy in developed societies, is the other part of the explanation of the current situation.

Legislation problems include lack of alleviations for donations and donated goods and services are still taxed with 20 percent VAT. The paperwork is overwhelming. For example, every single donation should be declared separately, on three sheets of paper. So, if an organisation receives 600,000 leva by SMS-es, it should declare each of these SMS-es separately. The lack of a law regarding volunteers is a problem, too.

The solution is easy. We need clear vision on philanthropy, state strategy on its development, legislation changes to regulate it and clear and meaningful activities to boost it. Bulgaria needs civic education in schools, including philanthropy as a theme. Cultivation of attitude towards donation and volunteering among children and young adults is also needed, together with popularisation of the good practices and role models.

Issue 93

BULGARIA INTERVIEWS

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GHOSTS OF SARAJEVO

DimanaT — Wed, 02 Jul 2014 09:46:31 +0000

GHOSTS OF SARAJEVO

by Dimana Trankova; photography by Anthony Georgieff

DimanaT Wed, 07/02/2014 - 12:46

First World War triggering shot remains controversial in Bosnia's capital

A century ago, on 28 June 1914, an 18-year-old Bosnian Serb killed the heir to the throne of the Austro-Hungarian Empire and his wife during their visit to Sarajevo. By the end of the summer, the greatest war that humanity had experienced was already in full swing. It lasted four years, claimed the lives of millions of people, brought down three empires and led to the outbreak of an even nastier war, the Second World War.

Sarajevo, the city "where it all began" in 1914, looks as if were made to be the scene of a seminal event. Inhabited by Slavs divided by their religions (Eastern Orthodox, Catholics, Muslims) and their historical background, Sarajevo and Bosnia had spent five centuries under the Ottomans, before being passed to the Austro-Hungarian Empire in 1878. The Muslims leaned towards the Sultan, but still felt confidence in Vienna, while many of the Eastern Orthodox Bosnians preferred federation with neighbouring Serbia.

Sarajevo looked like a city that had got lost in the search for its self-consciousness. After 30 years under the Emperor Franz Joseph, the Ottoman streets and marketplaces, the tile-roofed houses and the mosques were now rubbing shoulders with fine fin-de-siècle façades. The Balkan Wars of 1912-1913, when the young Balkan nations fought for the European lands of the Ottoman Empire, added to the tension. Serbia had emerged as a regional leader, raising the hopes of Bosnian Serbs for a common political future.

The Latin Bridge at the beginning of the 20th Century

In this tense atmosphere, the royal visit of Archduke Franz Ferdinand, heir to the Austro-Hungarian throne, to Sarajevo on 28 June, was seen by many as an open provocation. For the Serbs, 28 June, or St Vitus's Day, was the day of their glorious defeat at the Battle of Kosovo by the Ottoman Turks in 1389. Five centuries later, Franz Ferdinand not only embodied foreign power over the liberty-hungry Eastern Orthodox Slavs in Bosnia and Herzegovina, but his plan to create an autonomous Slavic entity within Austria-Hungary encroached on Serbia's political ambitions for the region.

When the plans of the royal visit to Sarajevo became known, a group of youths, members of the Young Bosnia revolutionary organisation, decided to take action. On 28 June, armed with weapons provided by a Serb terrorist organisation – their real or imaginary connections with the Serbian intelligence are still disputed by historians – the conspirators lined up on Apple Quay, on the banks of the Miljacka River, waiting for the royal cortège.

There were five conspirators, and each of them was determined to kill the archduke. Determination, however, is one thing and action is another. The open cars of the cortège smoothly passed by the first two would-be assassins.

Nothing happened.

It was the third conspirator, Nedeljko Čabrinović, who threw a bomb at the cortège. But the fuse was too long, and the blast only wounded several people who were travelling in the car behind the Gräf & Stift containing Franz Ferdinand and Sophie. In the commotion, Čabrinović swallowed the emergency poison and jumped into the Miljacka, only to discover that the poison was out-of-date and the river was only knee deep.

After the fateful shot which ignited the First World War

Meanwhile, Franz Ferdinand reached the scheduled reception at the Town Hall safely. He telegraphed his uncle, the emperor, to report what had just happened, vented some of his anger at the local dignitaries, made a speech, posed for an official photograph, and went out again, with his wife. The royal couple got into the Gräf & Stift, which bore the marks of the failed assassination attempt but, instead on continuing along the planned route, decided to go to the hospital to visit those wounded by Čabrinović's bomb.

The driver, however, was unfamiliar with Sarajevo. Instead of taking the turn to Franz Josef Street, he continued along the scheduled route on Apple Quay. He passed Moritz Schiller's delicatessen, where he was told to make a turn to the right, and Franz Josef Street. While he was manoeuvring, two shots rang out from the side entrance at Schiller's.

Gavrilo Princip, aged 18, was one of the initial conspirators. After Čabrinović's failure, Princip wandered around, gun hidden, and decided to wait for the cortège on the official route. When he saw the archduke within arm's reach, Princip was quick to react. He didn't even take aim properly and only fired two shots, but both fatally wounded Franz Ferdinand and Sophie.

The funeral of Franz Ferdinand and his wife Sophie

After several days of hesitation and consultations, Austria-Hungary demanded retribution from Serbia, which was alleged to have masterminded the assassination. Serbia, which was backed by Russia, did not oblige and on 28 July, Austria-Hungary declared war. Today, however, 28 June 1914, the day of Sarajevo's assassination, is regarded as the true beginning of the First World War.

The global impact of the killing of a man in a Balkan backwater town is baffling. It seems that people still struggle with the idea of the butterfly effect when it is applied to politics and history. Ever since, historians, politicians, journalists and enthusiasts have tried to make sense of the incredible run of circumstances which led to the "perfect storm" in Sarajevo. Franz Ferdinand had had premonitions of his imminent death, we are told. The man who should have told the inexperienced royal driver the route was unable to direct him as he was in hospital, wounded by Čabrinović's bomb. And what about the number plate of the ill-fated Gräf & Stift, now on view in Vienna's Heeresgeschichtliches Museum? It reads A III 118. If you re-arrange the Roman and Arabic numerals as II I1 18, you end up with 11/11/18, the date of Armistice Day (and there is an A in the plate, too, for Armistice). The day when the war which began at Sarajevo finally ended could have been divined from the very beginning. And did you hear that Princip was at Schiller's delicatessen solely because he felt hungry and was having a (supposedly cheese) sandwich?

Would the First World War with its millions of casualties and consequences like the advance of Communism and the Second World War have happened without Princip?

Actually, the Great War would have broken out, Sarajevo or no Sarajevo. In the first decades of the 20th Century, the young Balkan nations were rife with nationalism and conflict, with ambition and desperation. The Great Powers, too, had conflicts to resolve and this was already impossible through negotiation. A huge-scale armed conflict was imminent.

Combing every second of that fateful 28 June for interesting information actually prevents us from seeing the greater – and much grimmer – picture. Franz Ferdinand, who was actually not much loved by Emperor Franz Joseph, was given a humble funeral outside the capital, and Vienna's social life did not stop in the first days after the assassination. The perpetrators were arrested, and tried. About 30 people faced court and three of them were hanged in 1915. As minors, Princip and Čabrinović were sentenced to 20 years in prison. Both died of tuberculosis soon afterwards, at Teresienstadt, now Terezín in the Czech Republic. In yet another twist of historical irony, Terezín was a Nazi concentration camp during the Second World War.

For the world, the events of 28 June 1914 were a tragedy unleashed. In Serbia and Yugoslavia, however, the bomb attempt was seen as a violent cry by oppressed people for freedom. These conflicting views are best seen in the history of the monument at the intersection of Apple Quay and the northern end of the Latin Bridge over the Miljacka, where Franz Ferdinand was killed.

As Princip and Čabrinović were under 20 at the time the assassination, they were given prison sentences rather than the capital punishment. They died of consumption, in the prison of Teresienstadt, now in he Czech Republic

The first monument "to the killing," with portraits of the victims, was erected by the Austro-Hungarian authorities in 1917. It was removed after Yugoslavia took over Bosnia and Herzegovina in 1918. Princip and his associates were now not killers, but heroes. Yet the next monument, a humble plaque with the words "Princip proclaimed freedom on Vidovdan 15 (28) June 1914," appeared on the wall of Schiller's delicatessen as late as 1930, without an official state inauguration and to widespread international criticism.

In 1941, when the Nazis entered Sarajevo, the plaque was removed and presented to Hitler, and propaganda presented the Young Bosnia conspirators as Jews and Freemasons. This approach, however, was soon overturned, as in 1945 Bosnia and Herzegovina became a part of the Socialist Republic of Yugoslavia. Princip and the others were hailed again as freedom fighters.

A matter-of-fact plaque on the wall of Schiller's delicatessen where Princip stood when he fired

In the decades to follow, streets all across Yugoslavia were given their names. The fateful Latin Bridge became Gavrilo Princip Bridge and a museum of the assassination was opened. At Schiller's a new monument appeared: the bronze foot prints of Princip in the pavement. The text of the plaque said: "From this place on 28 June 1914, Gavrilo Princip with his shot expressed the people's protest against tyranny and the century-old people's desire for freedom."

This was at the time of the 50th anniversary of the assassination and the international community was not amused. Tito tried to downplay the respect in which the Young Bosnia men were held in Yugoslavia. And anyway, tourists just loved Princip's foot prints. Many stepped on them, posing as if they were shooting, again and again, the ghosts of Franz Ferdinand and Sophie.

In 1992, the monument was taken down yet again. The Muslim-dominated Sarajevo was under siege by Bosnian Serb forces, an atrocity whose bloodshed ravaged the city for almost four years. This time, the Young Bosnia members were seen as the propagators of oppression by Serbia and its successor, Yugoslavia.

The monument which now marks the place of the assassination by the Latin Bridge (the bridge has now reverted to its old name) and Obala Kulina Bana Street (former Apple Quay) dates from 2004. It has the least controversial text possible: "From this place on 28 June 1914 Gavrilo Princip assassinated the heir to the Austro-Hungarian throne Franz Ferdinand and his wife Sophie."

It does not say anything about the sandwich Princip never finished. That story, actually, is yet another fabrication, born of the persistent desire for an explanation of how a world war could start at such an insignificant place.

Issue 93 Bosnia and Herzegovina

FOREIGN TRAVEL

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STILL AT BLACK SEA COAST

DimanaT — Wed, 02 Jul 2014 09:37:00 +0000

STILL AT BLACK SEA COAST

by Dimana Trankova; photography by Anthony Georgieff

DimanaT Wed, 07/02/2014 - 12:37

Soviet Army monuments celebrate grandparents of Russian holiday home owners

As you travel along the Bulgarian Black Sea coast you will inevitably pass through Varna and Burgas, the two biggest Bulgarian seaside towns. As you stroll through them, you will inevitably be confronted with a couple of monstrosities that will make you wonder, who or what are those to celebrate? Do they not belong to a bygone era that few Bulgarians want to remember? Should not they be consigned to the dustbin of history, as Marx put it, which seems to be their rightful last abode?

To understand why Bulgaria is at the present time the only former Warsaw Pact country that still tends to its Communist-era monuments, you need to know both the background and the reason for why Bulgarians, unlike Poles, Czechs, Hungarians and everyone else, actually believe that Russia, including Putin's Russia, is their friend.

First, a bit of history. Bulgaria's position in the Second World War was at best ambiguous. The country was in the gravitational field of Nazi Germany as early as the 1930s, and joined the Axis as a (some say reluctant) ally on 1 March 1941. At that time, the Soviet Union and Germany were still keeping their 1939 Treaty of Non-Aggression, the infamous Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact.

On 21 June 1941 Germany attacked the USSR. What Bulgaria did to show loyalty to the Third Reich, was to declare "a symbolic war" (yes, the Bulgarian parliament used these words) on Britain and the United States. Bulgaria, however, did not declare war on the Soviets and kept its diplomatic relations with Moscow intact.

What is less well known, however, is that the Soviets actually did attack "non-enemy" Bulgaria without declaring a war on it. On 22 June 1941, a Red Army aircraft bombed Dobrich. The north east of the country was attacked again in August. On the night of 12 September 1942, Soviet planes attacked Ruse, Gorna Oryahovitsa, Kazanlak and Stara Zagora, an incursion which forced the Bulgarian government to impose a blackout. The Black Sea coast, where the Soviet and Nazi Germany navies fought, suffered particularly badly. On 1 December 1942, Soviet ships fired at the Bulgarian villages of Gorun, Sveti Nikola, Nanevo, Kamen Bryag, Poruchik Chunchevo, Tyulenovo, Shabla and Ezerets.

One of the bloodiest acts committed by the Soviets against Bulgaria was the sinking of the Struma, a Bulgarian ship that carried 760 Jewish refugees to then British Palestine. All passengers as well as the Bulgarian crew perished. The episode is not in Bulgarian history textbooks and few Bulgarians actually know about it.

Nevertheless, Bulgaria would not declare war on the USSR. Finally, Stalin did, on 5 September 1944, as a justification for the invasion which followed on 8 September. While the Bulgarian army did not fire a shot, the Communist partisans seized the moment with the 9 September coup. 45 years of Communism that Bulgaria is still unable to shake itself clear of ensued.

Not a single Red Army soldier died in action against Bulgaria. What Soviet submariners perished at the Bulgarian Black Sea either died in battle with the Germans, or had hit mines.

Still, Bulgaria is covered with monuments of victorious Soviet soldiers with propaganda slogans claiming they died for Bulgarian freedom. The Black Sea coast is no exception. In fact, along the Black Sea coast these monuments to a undeclared war in a bygone era are actually well-kept and tended to. Why? These days Russians make up the biggest chunk of foreign visitors to the Bulgarian resorts. Many buy properties in Bulgaria. To put it in a nutshell, the construction companies depend on Russian custom for their livelihood now the Brits and the Irish have gone for good. Perhaps the Bulgarian local authorities think that they would step up business if they showed the current Russians that they still "love" their grandparents?

Alyosha, Burgas

Standing in the central square of Burgas, the statue of Alyosha with hand raised in salute is 18 metres high. Reliefs of the meetings of Red Army soldiers in Burgas adorn the pediment. The monument was built in 1952-1953, and was designed in the best Stalinist fashion by the architect Minko Minkov and sculptors Vasil Radoslavov and Aneta Atanasova.

The inscription hails the Soviet soldiers who died for the liberation of Burgas. However, the only Soviet military personnel who died in 1944 in the city were killed in accidents, such as defusing a mine.
Since 1989, there have been regular demands for the dismantlement of Alyosha, which will probably never materialise, especially now that the number of Russian property-owners on the Bulgarian Black Sea coast is rising.

Monument to Submarine ST-211

On 11 August 1941, the Soviet submarine St-211 arrived secretly at the mouth of the Kamchiya River. Several men disembarked. They were all Bulgarian Communists, sent to stir up anti-government resistance. The St-211 trip was only a part of a larger operation by the USSR, which in the summer of 1941 brought 55 saboteurs to Bulgaria by air and water. In 1942, however, many of the Soviet agents were arrested and sentenced to death.

The St-211, too, had an unfortunate destiny. In November 1941 the submarine sank in Bulgarian territorial waters, probably after hitting a mine. All 44 aboard died. The submarine was discovered in 2000 by a joint Bulgarian-Russian expedition, and has now been declared a military cemetery. The crew and the Bulgarian saboteurs have a land monument, too. It is near Bliznak village, by the mouth of the Kamchiya – the site of the August landing.

Memorial to Bulgarian-Soviet Friendship, Varna

It took 10,000 tonnes of concrete and 1,000 tonnes of steel for this monstrosity to appear beside one of Varna's busiest boulevards. Built in 1978 by 27,000 volunteers in only seven months, the monument was lit at night with 180 spotlights. Shostakovich's 7th Symphony, composed during the siege of Leningrad, was played at the monument and giant bronze letters formed the slogan "Friendship from ages for ages." There was an eternal flame and a bomb shelter. The complex was designed by the architect Kamen Goranov and sculptors Alyosha Kafedzhiiski and Evgeni Baramov.

The memorial, which is on the hill where Russian command was positioned during the 1828-1829 Russo-Turkish War, was abandoned soon after the collapse of Communism in 1989. Looters removed all the bronze (including a 3.5 tonne door), and graffiti artists and climbers took over the walls.

The monument became a place of protest, too. During the Pussy Riot trial, some daredevil covered the heads of the Soviet soldiers with colourful hoods.

Monument to the Soviet Soldiers, Tsarevo

This is dedicated to the memory of the "Soviet brothers" who died "along these shores... for us and our freedom." In 2013, the memorial got a facelift during the renovation of the area around St George's Church. The project was funded with EU money.

There is story circulating about how the monument came into being. During the war a dead man in Soviet uniform was found on the shore by the sea. The authorities identified him as Seleviz Selevizov. After the Communist coup of 1944, someone remembered this and the monument was built, and a nearby street was named Seleviz Selevizov.

Later, a local history teacher encouraged her pupils to write to the Military Museum in Moscow and ask for more details about Seleviz Selevizov. The reply was unexpected. Selevizov was a traitor and a Germany spy, the letter said. After some embarrassment, consideration and consultation with the Moscow museum, the street was renamed after a safer Soviet soldier, one Salah Salahovich. The fact that he had never been to Tsarevo didn't really matter.

Memorial to an Unknown Soviet Soldier, Ropotamo

This commemorates the place where the body of a supposed Soviet submariner was found, floating in the water.

Memorial to the Soviet Submariners, Sozopol

During the Second World War, five Soviet submarines sank in Bulgarian waters, after hitting mines or being torpedoed by Germans. 237 soldiers died. The bodies of only two submariners were found later, floating in their diving suits. They were identified as Violet Lavrentievich Dushin and Frol Dmitrovich Terehov, both from submarine C-34.

In 1969, at the spot in Sozopol where the bodies were found, a memorial was built, designed by the architect Alyosha Kafedzhiyski. After 1989, the memorial was utterly forgotten, but in 2010 it was cleaned and restored on the initiative of the owners of one of the biggest holiday properties in Sozopol.

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 93 America for Bulgaria Foundation 20th century Bulgaria Communism PostCommunism The Black Sea Monuments

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RUPITE

DimanaT — Wed, 02 Jul 2014 09:25:18 +0000

RUPITE

by Dimana Trankova; photography by Anthony Georgieff

DimanaT Wed, 07/02/2014 - 12:25

Vanga's last abode set among mineral springs, mystic mountain

A Christian cross was erected by the Vanga Foundation to the memory of the people who, according to Vanga, died in a volcano eruption a million years ago

The summer heat is oppressive, yet the shallow mineral pools in the yellowish clay are packed with men and women. Pleasure, peace and silent ecstasy can be read on their faces, which seems strange, as the temperature of the water is 75°C, the air stinks of sulphur and the skin of some of the people in the pools is alarmingly red.

"I used to have high blood pressure, but since I started to spend an hour a day here, it has stabilised," says a man, soaking in a particularly hot spot. The others in the pool agree. Everyone had an illness or condition which disappeared or eased after self-prescribed therapy in the mineral springs at Rupite, an area near Petrich, in Bulgaria's far southwest.

Open to the air and free of charge, though there is a bath house where must pay, the mineral springs are an authentic spa experience. They are hugely popular with the local people; even in winter there are men and women testing the hot waters.

The mineral springs are the last remnant of a volcano which existed here a million years ago. The western slopes of the crater form the 282-metre high Kozhuh Planina, or Fur Coat Mountain, beside Rupite. The crater's eastern edge is the 280 metre Pchelina, on the opposite bank of the Struma River.

The Kozhuh Planina and Rupite were declared a site of natural importance in 1962, but they would hardly be known outside the area, but for a single woman.

Locals believe in the healing powers of the mineral springs in Rupite

It was Vanga (1911-1996), the blind and supposedly unerring clairvoyant from Petrich, who settled in Rupite in the 1980s in a tiny house on a spot she chose after throwing a viper.

When Vanga died, the number of visitors actually grew. While she was alive, one needed to be desperately in trouble, and often had to wait for weeks on end to meet the clairvoyant. Post-1996, Rupite became an ordinary tourist destination, welcoming anyone interested in seeing the place where Vanga made her predictions, in lighting a candle in the controversial St Petka Church she sponsored in 1994, or in visiting her grave beside the church. Those prone to spirituality try to feel the "cosmic energies" that, according to Vanga, made Rupite a place like nowhere else in the world.

Mysticism is still making profit in Rupite. This sign points to the office, in a ramshackle building in Rupite, of a new clairvoyant who receives paying visitors

The tourist potential of Vanga is ruthlessly exploited in Rupite. Until the mid-2000s, the approach here towards what is called the "Vanga legacy" was relatively liberal. The manicured 20 hectares with the house, the church and Vanga's beloved guinea fowl were open to visitors. Today there is a massive, pseudo-Revival Period wall surrounding the complex, and strict opening hours. The house has become a museum, and the whole complex is listed in the 100 National Tourist Sites of the Bulgarian Tourist Society.

According to the Vanga Foundation, which takes care of the premisses, the blind "prophetess" predicted that, slowly but surely, Rupite will rival Jerusalem as a place of pilgrimage. They have already started building the so-called "monastic quarters," where pilgrims will stay.

Vanga was positive that thousands of years ago there was a city at Rupite. It was called Petra and was inhabited by "tall, strong-built people dressed in thin clothes, shiny like tin-foil." The citizens were very "enlightened and pious, and had three big temples, and the city's main gates were decorated with gilt winged animals." It all ended, according to Vanga, on 14 October, the feast of St Petka, when the volcano erupted. "The fire void which engulfed the city is now sending us its warm breath, to heal us. The steam is the sighs of those who died. They want us to remember them, and to revere them," was how Vanga explained the mineral springs.

In the 2000s, the Vanga Foundation fulfilled the wish of the clairvoyant, and carved a 40-metre cross in the rocky slope of the Kozhuh Planina. It is dedicated to the victims of the eruption.

Truth be told, there was indeed a city near Kozhuh Planina, but the volcano definitely did not destroy Heraclea Sintica, as the town was built around 300 BC by Cassander, one of the generals of Alexander the Great. The city grew in prominence and even became the scene of a 2nd Century political murder which led to the Roman conquest of the Kingdom of Macedonia, in 168 BC. Heraclea Sintica was abandoned in the 5th Century AD, when the people settled in the more easily defended heights of what is now Sandanski.

Historians spent a century searching for the whereabouts of lost Heraclea Sintica. The quest ended in 2002, when a 4th Century AD inscription with the name of Heraclea pointed to the city having been at Rupite. Archaeological research continues; a cooperation between the Archaeological Institute of the Bulgarian Academy of Sciences and the American Research Centre in Sofia.

This, however, does not prevent sensationalist media claiming that the archaeologists are just following the lead provided by Vanga.

Issue 93 America for Bulgaria Foundation Vanga Esoteric Bulgaria Communism PostCommunism

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TRUE OR FALSE?

DimanaT — Wed, 02 Jul 2014 09:06:39 +0000

TRUE OR FALSE? DimanaT Wed, 07/02/2014 - 12:06

Vanga's predictions played out in real world

Vanga is described as a "prophetess" on a stamp issued by the Bulgarian Post Office for her centenary, in 2011

Mostly right

"A time will come, a war will rage, a nation will rise against nations. It will move armed in iron and it will defeat many others, but it will lose the war."
Germany and the Second World War

"Your kingdom is growing, you have spread far, but be ready to get in a nutshell. Remember the date 28 August."
King Boris III's death and the outcome of the Second World War for Bulgaria

"Remember Prague! Huge powers fly over Prague and cry: 'War! War!"
1968 Prague Spring. Later, Vanga added, referring to Czechoslovakia "One day it will become two states. This will happen peacefully."

"I see a green wall, it will stay for a time, but it will eventually be demolished."
The partition of Cyprus.

"Keep the bread for the people! Hunger is coming!"
The 1995 wheat shortages in Bulgaria. Referring to the 1996-1997 economic crisis in Bulgaria, Vanga mused: "Bulgaria will have a war without war! We will go barefoot and in rugs, we will be hungry."

"Yugoslavia will fall to pieces because the Serbs curse God."
The disintegration of Yugoslavia.

"In 1999 or 2000 Kursk will be underwater and the whole world will mourn it."
The 2000 Kursk submarine disaster.

"Fear! Fear! Two American brothers fall, pecked by iron birds. Wolves howl in the bush [sic], innocent blood flows like a river."
9/11

"He will come back, but not as a guest. He will not have kingdom here."
The return of exiled King Simeon II to Bulgaria as a prime minister, in 2001.

"Oh, oh, Syria, oh, what is going to happen in Syria! Poor people of Syria, it will be all in ruins."
The 2012 civil war in Syria.

"Floods will be upon us in late spring, there will be a river full of corpses."
Specifically made for 2014. Deadly floods did occur in Varna and Dobrich in June.

People left coins for "good luck" in front of a photograph of Vanga, in Rupite. In her lifetime, people were supposed to pay to speak with Vanga

Mostly wrong

"Before 1990, science will make great discoveries in the immaterial field. All hidden gold will resurface, but the water will become scarce."
The iPhone did appear, but in the 2000s. Before 1990 Vanga might have referred to the Mac OS.

"Many cities will be destroyed by earthquakes and floods, cataclysms will shake the world."
Nothing like this happened precisely in 1991.

"The earth will shine with new, good light. It will be settled by new souls and some of them will become visible."
Bulgaria never got that in 1992.

"1996 will be good for Bulgaria."
The country experienced massive street rallies, poverty, hyperinflation and a collapse of the banking system.

"The teachings of the White Brotherhood will emerge from Russia."
In 2000, thankfully, nothing like that happened.

"New information about the Universe and the past will be discovered in the old books."
Dan Brown?

"The city will go to bed and won't wake anymore, and those who wake up, will regret it."
A failure in a chemical factory in the Russian city of Bratsk, for 2007. None happened.

"A war between Russia and China, plus a civil war in Russia in 2007."
None.

"Remember, we haven't hit rockbottom yet. Bulgaria will start to improve after 2005."
The 2000s were a period of an unprecedented economic upswing for Bulgaria. Things started falling apart with the beginning of the world economic crisis and the advent of GERB, in 2009.

So and so

"In May 2014, there will be a shift at the top. A new man, tall, from abroad, will come to Bulgaria and lead it toward a better life. A new disease, worse than AIDS, will hit us, targeting mainly men."
The 25 May EU elections in Bulgaria led to the emergence of Bulgaria Without Censorship. Its leader is tall, but still lives in Bulgaria. Some people in the office have a nasty flu.

"No one can break Russia. Russia will develop, will grow, will become stronger. All will melt, but one thing will remain unchanged, the glory of Vladimir."
Did Vanga mean Prince Vladimir, who brought Christianity to Russia, or did she have in mind the other one?

"Russia is great and will remain great. One day the former Soviet republics will come back to Russia."
With the obvious exception of Ukraine.

"India, China and Russia will get together."
Wait and see.

"Without Russia, there is no future for Bulgaria."
Particularly relevant in 2014.

"One day all will recognise the spiritual superiority of Russia, even America will."
No, thanks

Issue 93 America for Bulgaria Foundation Vanga Esoteric Bulgaria

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SO SPAKE VANGA...

DimanaT — Wed, 02 Jul 2014 08:54:25 +0000

SO SPAKE VANGA...

by Dimana Trankova; photography by Anthony Georgieff

DimanaT Wed, 07/02/2014 - 11:54

21st Century Bulgarians are still in grip of 'prophetess' myth

Bulgaria's destiny is to be the friend of Russia. It will overcome its current difficulties when the Saints 40 Martyrs Church in Tarnovo is restored and the ancient gold treasures are found. And a man will come and set everything straight in Bulgaria, ending that stupid game, democracy.

The paragraph above is of course gibberish, yet the ideas expressed in it have been a staple of both tabloid and "serious" Bulgarian media for the past 25 years for one simple reason. They were propagated, or "sources" allege they were, by Vanga, a blind clairvoyant who supposedly never got the future wrong. She died in 1996, without ever writing down any of her predictions, but nevertheless new "prophecies" made by her still pop up, released to the hungry public by some of Vanga's relatives and admirers. They usually claim that Bulgaria should stick with Russia, that Bulgarians are a chosen people and that a saviour will arrive, one day.

Many believe. Why? Because Vanga said so.

Vanga and her husband, Dimitar Gushterov

The Vanga phenomenon is one of the oddest events in Bulgaria under Communism and through democracy. To understand it is to know intimately the bizarre mixture of poor man's common sense and the fascination for treasure hunting, the unique mixture of Orthodox Christianity and pagan superstition, the ubiquitous love for conspiracy theories and the at times bewildering refusal to face up to reality that characterise Bulgaria and the Bulgarians.

The woman who spoke with the souls of the dead, healed the sick and predicted the future was born on 31 January 1911 in Strumitsa, now in the former Yugoslav republic of Macedonia. Her name was Vangeliya Pandеva. Little Vangeliya was a girl like everyone else, except for her strange propensity to pretend that she was blind and to find her way around by touching objects. One day, when she was 12, she was caught up in and carried away by a whirlwind. When Vangeliya was finally found, she had gone completely blind from the sand that had filled her eyes.

Vanga Superstar: In the early 1990s Vanga was often shown on TV with visiting intellectuals and dignitaries

Vanga spent several years in a facility for blind girls, and then returned home to help her family. Gradually, her strange powers of divining hidden truths became apparent and the day came when she saw with her "inner vision" a horseman. "Listen to what I'm telling you," the horseman said. "The war is starting tomorrow, and you will keep a candle lit and will tell who is alive and who is dead."

The next day, 6 April 1941, Germany invaded Yugoslavia and Greece. Bulgaria was not involved in combat, but being an ally of Germany it was given to administer Aegean Thrace and Vardar Macedonia. According to the official biography of Vanga, a huge number of villagers went to the blind seer to enquire about their relatives' whereabouts.

The fame of Vanga's infallibility grew, and Bulgarian King Boris III himself consulted her. She told him: "You should be ready to get into a nutshell. Remember the date 28 August." The king died on that date, in 1943.

By that time Vanga was already living in Petrich with her husband, Dimitar Gushterov. The two met in 1942, when he came to ask her who had killed his brother. Vanga spent the greater part of her life in Petrich, predicting the future for ordinary Bulgarians and dignitaries in a humble two-storey house, which is now a museum.

Vanga prompted ecstasy in visitors

Interestingly, even after the Communists took over Bulgaria in 1944 and forcibly imposed atheism and banned clairvoyants and others labeled as charlatans, Vanga continued her work. Her popularity grew, spread by word-of-mouth. It was understandable. Deprived of the solace of official religion, Bulgarians – whose pagan tendencies had never been completely uprooted – found in Vanga an unofficial outlet for their spiritual longings and hopes of a better life. Gradually, the words Baba Vanga kaza, or "Auntie Vanga said," whispered between friends, became the sign of truth, even for those who had never visited her in faraway Petrich.

Possibly the only town in Europe which has a street named after a seer. Vanga Street in Petrich is where she used to live and receive visitors

In 1967, the authorities realised that if they could not stop people from visiting Vanga, they at least could control the unwanted interest in the clairvoyant. Vanga was appointed to the Institute for Suggestology at the Bulgarian Academy of Sciences as a "fortune teller," with a monthly salary. The government took over the organisation of her visits – including the collection of "consultation" fees, which flowed directly into the state and local budgets. Thus, Vanga became the first and possibly only "official" clairvoyant to be employed by a Communist state. Or by any state, for that matter.

The presence of the DS, or State Security, around Vanga was heavy and there are strong suspicions that her house was bugged. Some speculate that the "phenomenal" knowledge Vanga had about the personal lives of her visitors was due to intelligence collected by DS officers. Was Vanga herself a DS agent? She could have been, but a search of the former State Security archives found not a single trace of her.

The connections between Vanga and the regime went even farther. Lyudmila Zhivkova, Minister of Culture and daughter of Communist dictator Todor Zhivkov, was fascinated by occultism and mysticism, and became a frequent visitor to Vanga. It was through Zhivkova that a group of well-connected intellectuals, including painter Svetlin Rusev and rhythmic gymnastics trainer Neshka Robeva, were introduced to Vanga. Their relationship continued after Zhivkova's death in 1981.

Vanga's bedroom in her house, now a museum run by the local city council

Rumour has it that, in the 1970s-1980s, Soviet dignitaries, too, visited Vanga, but Todor Zhivkov himself never believed her "prophesies."

Under Communism, people knew about the supernatural abilities of Vanga largely through word-of-mouth, but after the fall of the regime in 1989 the clairvoyant became a superstar.

Once not to be seen in the government-run media, Vanga was now all over the newspapers and TV, openly meeting politicians, businessmen and intellectuals. A film was made about her and a biography, written by her niece Krasimira Stoyanova, became a bestseller. Vanga was consulted on important questions such as elections outcomes and the 1994 World Cup.

By this time, Vanga was already in her sunset days, and was living in a small house she had built in Rupite, near Petrich. The area is a surreal place. Hot sulphur springs fill the air with their stench and steam, amid the slopes of Kozhuh Planina, or Fur Coat Mount, a former volcano. According to Vanga, the place is a "centre of energies."

Multimedia at a new museum to Vanga, in Rupite

It was here, in the final years of her life, that Vanga became the centre of a full-blown scandal. In 1994, Vanga, who was an ardent Christian, built a church to St Petka in Rupite. The architectural plan, however, and especially the murals by Svetlin Rusev, ran counter to the Orthodox cannon to such a degree that the Bulgarian Church refused to consecrate it. Indeed, Rusev had painted Vanga not as a benefactor, but in a manner that suggested she was a saint.

Eventually, the Bulgarian Church gave in after a bishop from Macedonia declared that he would proceed with the consecration. Vanga, however, was devastated.

She died in 1996, and was buried next to the church. A crowd of politicians, state dignitaries and even some foreign ambassadors attended her funeral, including the then president, Zhelyu Zhelev.

Vanga's grave and Rupite became a centre of pilgrimage. The once peaceful area is now divided by a wall, encircling the church and Vanga's house, which in 2014 was opened as a museum. A giant cross is carved on the slopes of the mountain. Miracles are reported. The stories of what "Auntie Vanga said" are growing. Strangely enough, they often serve current political agendas. The first sentence of this article, for example, is taken from an 2014 interview with Neshka Robeva, who is now the director of a patriotic dance show of the Lord of the Dance ilk and supports the Bulgaria Without Censorship political party.

The Ss 40 Martyrs Church was restored and there was a surge of archaeological finds, but nevertheless Bulgaria is still in a deep political, economic and moral crisis. However, it is one of those predictions which were rumoured after Vanga's death. The prediction for the saviour is the only one in the opening paragraph of this article, which was revealed in Vanga's lifetime.

For ordinary people, Vanga predicted the future correctly. The list of her "prophecies" include the disintegration of the USSR, the return of the exiled Bulgarian King Simeon II, the sinking of the Kursk submarine and the death of Princess Diana.

As with the Delphi oracle and Nostradamus, however, Vanga's "prophecies" are ambiguous and open to interpretation – and there is the question of their authenticity. Often, words too sophisticated for an elderly woman without formal education are put into Vanga's mouth, for example: "Every nation has a star which charges it with light energy. But there are exceptions. Some nations have a planet instead of a star and one day these nations will not survive. They will suffocate in the unusual atmosphere of these planets. A nation which has a planet instead of a star will disappear. Bulgaria has not a star, but a whole constellation."

How Vanga came up with her prophesies is a question without an answer. She claimed she received them from spirits, or extraterrestrials. A scientific survey done during Communism proved that Vanga predicted correctly only half of the time, within the statistical margin of error.

For the official Church, Vanga was at best a charlatan and at worst possessed by demons, a dangerous woman who duped many weak souls and introduced neo-paganism into Bulgaria. The St Petka Church, however, continues to function and, according to the foundation which manages the property, there will soon be a "monastic quarters" beside it.

Meanwhile, what looks like the formation of a cult of Vanga continues to thrive. The Russian TV series, Vangeliya, was broadcast by Bulgarian National Television in 2014. The signposts to the Rupite church read "To the Vanga Church" and few people seem to object to this ambiguous meaning.

Vanga's appeal is unlikely to disappear in the near future. Bulgarians have been Christians since the 9th Century, yet their spirituality was always mixed with a hefty dose of paganism. The official atheistic policy of Communist Bulgaria only made that worse, spawning an interest in all things occult. And there is another thing which makes Vanga irresistible. Her prophesies are all about Bulgaria's superiority, the divine mission of the Bulgarians in the universal scheme of things, and the bright future which awaits everyone who does not "sell himself to American money" and stays close to Russia.

For a Bulgarian, wasting his life and hopes in a decade-long crisis, what's not to love in these words?

Issue 93 America for Bulgaria Foundation Vanga Esoteric Bulgaria

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YOU SNOOZE, YOU LOOSE

DimanaT — Wed, 02 Jul 2014 08:45:48 +0000

YOU SNOOZE, YOU LOOSE

by Dimana Trankova; photography by Anthony Georgieff

DimanaT Wed, 07/02/2014 - 11:45

Places and experiences in Bulgaria best enjoyed with sun's first rays

There are moments when time and place merge, creating an overwhelming sentiment which makes you wish the world would stop spinning.

Sunsets, for example, can be glorious and sites like Santorini have made a business out of them. In Bulgaria, a similar experience could be enjoying a cold menta, or mint liquor, with a dash of Sprite in the shade of a beach bar, while the mid-day sun shines in the bleached sky. Or it could be entering the warmth of a tavern, filled with the smell of burning wood, with the anticipation of a hearty dinner after a day skiing.

Some experiences, however, are best at the very break of day, and at very, very special places. Here is a collection of some of the best early morning experiences in Bulgaria.

SEA DAWN

Bulgarians are proud with their unique festival, Dzhulaya, when groups of friends spend the night of 30 June on the beach and greet the rising sun while listening to Uriah Heep's July Morning. For the rest of the summer, however, they are too exhausted with wild partying to find early mornings refreshing.

Waking up at dawn, however, and seeking out a place far from the crowds, like the northern beach at Sinemorets, is an experience to remember. The air is still cool, and after the night work of the wind and sea, the sand is undisturbed by human presence. Fish jump in the sea, and the seagulls are already awake. The sky lightens, and turns pink, and yellow, and then blue, as the rising sun casts long shadows on the cool beach, making even the tiniest crease in the sand look like a dune.

IN THE CITY

Big cities taste better at daybreak, and Burgas is no exception. It swarms with townsfolk and tourists in summer, but in the early morning Burgas is only for you, with its crying seagulls and summer smells of humid air, thick fig leaves, old houses and fresh banichki from the nearest pastry shop. There are a few other people around, but the hurrying burgazlii are still too sleepy to cherish the moment. Enjoy the morning glories!

UP IN THE HILLS

Early mornings year round are pure pleasure in Malko Tarnovo, a tiny town in the Strandzha that still preserves its traditional atmosphere, but winter dawns there are truly special. The air and the light of the sun are crisp, and snow covers roofs, gardens, roads and squares. The barking of dogs mingles with cock crows, and the smoke from freshly-lit stoves wafts in the streets.
A walk around snow-clad Malko Tarnovo is best finished off in a warm café with a hot strandzhanka, or mince toastie.

THRACIAN SUNRISE

Greeting the sun at a Thracian sanctuary, like Harman Kaya near Kardzhali in the Rhodope, is thrilling. You have to spend the whole night there, and for a first-timer, this could be a bit scary as the night is dark and full with unexplained noises. Your imagination is hard at work as those may be the spirits of long-dead Thracian priests. The real danger, however, is the terrain. Thracian sanctuaries are in precipitous places, and one wrong step can send you in a free-fall for dozens of metres.

However, with daybreak the mystery gives way to awe and an appreciation of life. Birds wake up slowly, with reluctant chirps, and then burst into the dawn chorus. The strange carvings on the rocks are now visible without torchlight, and you are not thinking about ghosts anymore.

BIG-TIME RIVER

During the day, Vidin is an interesting place, if you stick to the central part with the tourist sights. By evening and nigh time, Vidin is a disappointment, as the night-life scene is very limited. Wake up early and you will have a one of a kind experience: the sun rising over the Danube, painting the sky and water with vivid reds and yellows. Even the fishermen's boats heading out on their daily business add to the serenity.

MISTY

The vast panoramas of the Rhodope, filled with gently rolling slopes, have the ability to make you feel removed from all cares – especially if you have enjoyed some local rakiya with spit roasted lamb, while listening to Rhodope folk music.

In the early morning, however, you do not need rakiya or anything else to feel as if you are in a magical place. Mist rises from ravines, bleaching the blue, green and pink of the slopes. The sound of sheep bells tell of flocks on their way to pasture, and the air is so clear that you could hear the morning coughs of smokers waking up in a village a kilometre away.

THE BALKAN

This tiny town in the central Stara Planina is famed as the birthplace of poet and revolutionary Hristo Botev, and is a good starting point for mountain treks. Its early summer mornings, though, are for connoisseurs.

Kalofer women eagerly compete to create the most beautiful garden. While you wander the quiet morning streets, you are surrounded by roses and lilacs, geraniums, marigolds, peonies and carnations in all varieties and colours imaginable, and the fresh dew makes them brighter and more aromatic.

Issue 93 America for Bulgaria Foundation The Black Sea The Rhodope The Stara Planina The Strandzha The Danube Small-town Bulgaria

HIGH BEAM

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WHERE IN BULGARIA ARE YOU?

DimanaT — Wed, 02 Jul 2014 08:44:47 +0000

WHERE IN BULGARIA ARE YOU?

by Stamen Manolov

DimanaT Wed, 07/02/2014 - 11:44

Perched on top of a Balkan mountain peak, this strange monument, which was abandoned many years ago and now stands in ruins, has recently acquired something of a cult following.

Originally designed in the 1980s as a congress hall for Communist Party conventions, the "Flying Saucer," as Bulgarians refer to it, is in most international books for alternative travel, spooky locations Internet sites, urban decay research reports and guidebooks for Austrian bikers.

Access to it has been banned as the building is considered dangerous, but many still find their way inside to view the surreal destruction in its great hall or the stunning views from the top.

A visit there is a must before the Flying Saucer collapses completely – or is turned into a luxury hotel.

Where in Bulgaria are you?

Issue 93

WHERE IN BULGARIA ARE YOU?