The caller to Sky News was increasingly belligerent. You felt a new political party was about to be formed, the Bulgar-Bashing Brigade. “They're the most vicious people in Europe; the KGB used them as assassins. We're going to be importing a nation of hit men! At least the Poles were on our side during the war.” The presenter berated the caller for “crude national stereotyping” and ended the exchange.
For a dozen Britons, paradise has a name: Kosharitsa. Some four miles west of Sunny Beach, this is the village they now call home.
Most of them lived in the north of England, but didn't know one another before they came here. Now, settled for good and showing no sign of wanting to return to the UK, they consider themselves part of the local community. They've even organised an expat club which meets regularly on Thursday evenings. Its purpose, however, is not to set them apart from the rest of the villagers, but to find ways to better integrate in the local milieu.
Chow Down, BG style.
Eat 100 percent Bulgarian-style for a day, just so you can say you did. Kick off in the morning with banitsa, an oily, cheesy pastry creation suitable for breakfast and roof insulation purposes only.
At lunch, have a gevrek. They're those bread-rings sold by old ladies on street corners. Possibly invented during the war, when fresh bread was unavailable, the idea kind of stuck, as a nostalgia thing. Chewier than old boots, you'll be munching away for hours.
You don't need to live long in Bulgaria to learn from your Bulgarian friends or from whatever scarce English language brochures you can get your hands on that the country boasts a rich history and an invaluable cultural heritage. It has been the birthplace of incredible generals and remarkable statesmen, an outpost against every foreign invasion into Europe and the cradle of at least a couple of great civilisations.
A cross from Jerusalem or a phial of water from the Jordan: these are the most likely souvenirs from the Holy Land that you will get if a Bulgarian friend of yours goes to Jerusalem for Easter. Whatever feelings you may have about such kinds of presents, bear in mind that you should congratulate the one who gives them to you with Chestito hadzhiystvo and address him at least once with "hadzhi".
Not unlike a religious mystery screenplay, a banknote fallen from somebody's pocket provided the link between world-famous director Wim Wenders and the little-known country of Bulgaria. After the Jerusalem Film Festival in 2000, Stefan Kitanov, director of the international Sofia Film Fest (SFF), was walking with his wife in a small valley by the Holy City. There, under a tree, he found a 20-dollar note. "Lucky me!" Kitanov thought without even suspecting the sort of followup that the invisible scriptwriter had prepared for him.
"If you want to take photos, you will have to pay another 10 leva." What you hear at the ticket desk of the National Museum of History (NMH) in Sofia may cool the enthusiasm with which you headed for the former residence of Communist leader Todor Zhivkov in Boyana, wanting to learn more about Bulgarian history. The shock will be even greater if you compare this with the situation in most British museums, where not only entry but the photography of exhibits is free - and encouraged.
Need I say more?
E. B., Sofia
DEAR VAGABOND,
I'm just back from Bansko, where I was reminded of a practice that you might like to include in your guide. We fell foul of this a couple of times in Sofia as well.
We are a nation of criminals - internet pirates downloading free music and films. We should all be arrested and put in jail. At least, that was the message behind the government's latest measures in the fight against organised crime.
Since all of Bulgaria's big time criminals like smugglers, murderers, drug dealers, mafia bosses, pimps and thieves are already safely behind bars, it seemed it was high time that the State did something about the millions of teenagers and otherwise respectable people stealing from Bill Gates, the members of the BSA, the MPAA and the RIAA.
This Is It
Last week I ordered a spare tyre for my car online and had it delivered to the office the next day, leaving my colleagues speechless. Most of them would never have believed such a thing possible. It turned out that few of them had ever ordered anything online besides concert tickets. In fact, only about five percent of all Bulgarians have ever indulged in any form of distance shopping.