Bulgarian Family Trip to the Yambol Cemetery

There was a clue yesterday evening as I got back from my labours on the city farm. Galia had been to the shop and brought back with here lots of sweets, biscuits, cake bars and fruit. I know that these are given as gifts to people on special occasion and tomorrow was one of those days.

Early tomorrow morning we were to go to a Yambol cemetery to visit Galia's Baba's grave. She died 22 years ago and each year the family visit on this anniversary to tidy up, place new flowers and shrubs, give a blessing, light candles, water and give Baba a drink of wine.

Our 86-year-old current Baba was to come with us; we missed the occasion last year in the UK.

We loaded up the Lada with all the flowers and shrubs, that were picked from our own garden rather than being bought. A good supply of water, a bottle of home made wine, some Bulgarian gardening hand tools and the food bought the day before packed in five plastic bags to be presented to today's family visitors to the grave were also loaded up.

We arrived at the same time as the sun that was now beating down on us. Now our Baba insisted we park the car outside the cemetery grounds, as we would have had to pay one Bulgarian leva for entry. She would much rather buy a loaf of bread with this money that she felt would be ill spent. It was nearly had a kilometre to Baba's grave as young Baba stopped every 100 metres to draw breath.

Now I have done this before over the last two years with Galia who attends her late husband's grave each year. I knew the routine and the rituals so nothing surprised me today. The fact that no one felt sad or slightly morbid with lots of talking joking and generally normal bouncy behaviour was normal and I felt quite at ease with this mood this year.

All the graves have pictures of the deceased on the head stone, many is not most with the husband and wife in the same grave, some with whole families of up to five or six. Some graves have sculptured masks of the dead on the headstone, usually a more important figure, but in general in true socialist style every grave area is the same with slight variations of headstone style. All done in a reserved and respectful manner and always understated, no extroverts allowed here.

Beneath each headstone is a base stone with a cavity cut out. This has a glass front and a metal door at the back, which is padlocked entry to a cavity. This is a space for personal possessions and effects are stored, for instance a photograph of the family they had left behind or a book etc., which is probably why it is locked. tis can be seen through the glass at the front. Also the candles that are lit each year is usually placed in side a little hand built shelter to protect from the wind, but most are of an old oil can with one side cut out as they site permanently on the grave browned by the years of rust.

We finally got there and all three of us set about tidying the grave up, it took a good half an hour of graft to get everything looking spic and span. Just as we finished other members of out family turned up - 'Well timed!' we said as we wiped the sweat of our brows after slaving away with weeds and planting in this now blazing April sun. We all exchanged the bags of food goodies, each of us lit a candle and placed it in the freshly dug soil on the grave and said a prayer as we watched the candles burn lower.

We then each took bottle of water and poured it over the grave in a cross motion and exactly the same was done with the bottle of wine saying another small prayer whilst doing it. A few minutes of talking over the grave, again very happily and joyful conversations about when young Baba was going to join her mother whereas we all agree that she would have to lose weight before she passes away as she wouldn't fit in the grave for one and her pension wasn't enough to cover the cost of a tractor to lay here to rest. Like I said, there is no sorrow involved on these occasions, it is almost like another celebrations and of course food and drink involved.

We talked our way out of the cemetery grounds and took Baba for the first time in her life to a big supermarket, Kaufland. She pushed a supermarket trolley for the first time in her life, knocking quite a few people out of the way during the learning process. We only got a loaf of bread there, but spent over an hour talking to people we knew who worked there, this is normal.

So back home and the day is half gone as we tuck into the bag of goodies presented to us including some lovely home made cake on of the family had baked yesterday (riddled with local home grown walnuts!) Mmmm!

Why no photographs taken you might ask? It has nothing to do with respect, as you might be thinking. I took the camera only to find that the batteries were dead when getting there; perhaps I should have buried them and said a prayer while I was there!

The End of Egg Shopping Adventures in Yambol

It wasn’t that long ago when the thought of buying eggs in sixes only and nothing else considered before coming to Bulgarian was the norm. Them only to discover that in Bulgaria if you only need one egg then you can buy one egg, no problem and no waste.

It has been just this year in supermarkets in Yambol that eggs boxes have been introduced in the egg bound refrigerated sections. Before that they all came in tied plastic bags and it was quite a feat to get the eggs home without being scrambled, that was part of the fun of shopping, for me. It was an event and an adventure buying eggs this way and broke up the boredom of everything being so easy. Call me a man wanting to live on the edge if you may, there is nothing better than a challenge, that's the appeal with the way eggs were sold.

It all began in new supermarket Kaufland, which had just finished being built. It opened on the edge of Yambol last year. The German supermarket monster introduced egg cartons, specifically design, and well designed I may add, for Bulgarian customers making life so much easier to take eggs back home with them. When I saw this my heart dropped, a big of Bulgaria had disappeared before my very eyes, I knew this was the beginning of the end of the flimsy plastic bagged eggs. Even worse now was the fact that you could not buy less than six eggs! The cartons were not for splitting Bulgarian folk now have to take all six. Europe has invaded and conquered were my thoughts.

What did Bulgarians think of this? Galia, understandably with her true Bulgarian mind, just for the life of her couldn’t figure out why I was so upset about the change. All she could see was the benefits of getting the eggs home unscathed. She also couldn't see the deeper turning of the screw where she was being forced to buy more eggs than she needed. She didn’t see the supermarket taking control of her budget on eggs.

I thought that was the end of the story, as other supermarkets in Yambol will now adopt the same packaging. It was only last week, the last bastion on eggs in plastic bags suddenly disappeared in my local small supermarket. Not a bag of eggs to be seen, just egg cartons sealed in plastic in sixes. There was just as much plastic there as was used as a bag the eggs before but now the carton is added which will end up as carbon in the atmosphere. Another sigh was made as I saw this moment of no return came about.

Was that the end? Not quite as I looked again last night at the egg section, there were now cartons containing just four eggs not six! This was a spanner in the works of EU dictatorship, I’m just waiting for a EU official to see this and put a directive on it as well as making sure that the Rakia duty comes in eventually.

The whole egg saga is of course purely contained to town shops and supermarkets; in the villages it is a different story as the eggs, even if delivered in sixes. These will be split for customers, besides, no one buys eggs in villages except the expatriates, but then they will ask for six and demand six anyway as they have been brought up on this.

Add:
Finally, the EU had caught up with us as I looked in our small local Vilton supermarket. this very day. All eggs were now in the cardboard containers in sixes! I have just experienced eggs packed as we used to know them here for the last time ever. This is a very sad day for me in Yambol.