Rakia Making Day Arrives in Bulgaria

Every year during the end of October to December the air around Bulgaria is filled with the distinctive smell of rakia. I don't need reminding as I've been waiting patiently for this time of year as I'm part of the enormous Bulgarian gangs of rakia makers responsible for this.

In case you didn't know rakia is a spirit normally of around 43-45% distilled from fermented grapes this time of year. Earlier in the year, rakia is made from other fruits that ripened in late Spring to early Autumn such as cherries, plums, apples, pears, etc.

Rakia made in previous years

The grape version is by far the most popular with the majority of rakia made from this product as it doesn't need too much added sugar to top up the alcohol content on the initial fermentation. It also provided an avenue for grapes that are not fit for wine, no grapes are wasted in Bulgaria.

This year I had to buy my grapes, I had a good source in a local village which supplied me with around 80 kg of mature grapes at a good price. These were put in two big 120 litre barrels, crushed then mixed with 15 kg of sugar diluted with water. this was to get more alcohol content in the final must before distilling.

The barrels were stored in my garage and visited every day for the next 6 weeks to be stirred until fermented out. It actually took 7- 8 weeks for the gravity level on my hydrometer to read no more sugar was left in the must. This now was ready for taking to the village rakia house. There are around 6000 of these in Bulgaria, but being Bulgaria only around 1500-2000 are registered which is a legal requirement now. I booked one up in the village of Kukorevo some 5 kilometers from Yambol. I've been to various other rakia houses but this one was by far the cleanest, most well organised and of course legally registered. They provide transport for the barrels which were an issue for me with such a small car. The service they offer also included making the rakia so you didn't have to be there while the process was being done. This was something I didn't want as one of the reasons I make rakia was being part of the process and a product that is made from my own hands. Without this it was being close to just buying a product, so I just chose the transportation option.

Moving the barrels in pouring rain

Along with the two barrels of grape must, fuel was needed, namely wood for the stove that heats the boiler (kazan). This was kindly given to me as a present from one of Galia's family. It was made up of lots of laminated MDF board offcuts from a renovated apartment. Nothing is wasted in Bulgaria and gratefully received. Added to the must was some old rakia that was leftover from a batch made in 2009. This was the last of the distilled must which read less than 40 percent proof and not good enough for drinking so it is saved for the next round of distilling albeit 8 years later. This was alongside old wine and leftover rakia and liquor from parties form a bygone age. Basically, anything that contained alcohol was mixed with the must, nothing wasted, all recycled. this is another reason I fell in love with the culture here. In addition to this was 1 kilogram of salt, 150 grams of bicarbonate of soda and the optional 100 grams of coriander seeds. These are to be added to the must just prior to heating up in the kazan.

The reservation was made for 7:00 on 28th November and the excited anticipation of that day was very much still there as it was on my first time back in 2006. It was agreed that the barrels and wood would be picked up the day before and be ready for the early morning process.

The kazan house van duly turned up at the garage at 7:30 pm in the pouring rain as we hauled the barrel up into the van leaving me with a wrenched wrist form the efforts(another story). The wood alongside and now in the hands of a Rakia Maestro and on their merry way to the village of Kukoreva to be greeted again early next morning. And in the midst of an injured wrist in the cold night and now soaked through from the rain, the excitement of the occasion to come builds further and overcame any pain and discomfort.

I rose the next morning before the alarm set for 05:00, the day had arrived and I was more than ready for it, despite not being able to use my left hand. Breakfast and bathroom served and I was off. Driving no problem, all the controls are on the right as had mustered the thoughts of managing the day single-handedly so to speak.

Arrived at he rakia house though the now mud laden road with my car that had been cleaned to perfection yesterday morning dead on 07:00, oh that's so English! It is funny how you can't avoid the disciplines of time that had been even more exaggerated by working in the bus industry in London for 6 years!

The kazan being fuelled up

My barrels waiting for a clean kazan

As I entered the house, my barrels were by the kazan which was being cleaned by one of the workers there. The wood was outside so I gathered them up and transferred them into the purposely placed plastic basket in readiness. These kazan had temperature gauges for the must in the kazan and the steam that exits the kazan. This was something I hadn't had before when processing. Also, there was a design on the final exit of the rakia that cools the finished product off by means of extra traveling through a little maze of copper routes. Prior to this have to use jam jars on the final exit so to cool the rakia that frequently comes out hot. Also on this system, after the condensing was a place for the alcohol to be measured, a great design saving having to extract rakia in a jar away from the kazan to be measure as I did on many other occasions. Somehow though, it felt like I this was cheating and the chore of constantly checking of the level of alcohol by taking samples was all part of the hands-on tradition of rakia making. Getting more practically and physically involved rather than passively just watching just adds to the occasion and fulfillment of achievement. Guess most would say just why add to your workload when there is no need to? I can answer that but is would probably turn into a chapter of deep personal historical psychology.

The distilling has started

So, back to the kazan that is now filled with the fermented grape must plus salt, bicarbonate of soda and coriander, then the lid sealed. Again this lid sealing is different from my past experiences. It used to be seal with the rims cemented with flour which seals once heated. Again, this screwed lid is more secure and practical than the old method, but do miss the old fashion process with the flour. Harder work and not foolproof? Yes, but it was at one time the only way and part of the rakia making process culture.

Because I was the first there it meant that the stoves were cold and it took a good hour or so for the temperature to rise to 100 degrees and the steam to travel to be condensed. this takes up a lot of wood. More than I had anticipated and had to use up local wood with an extra 2 leva levy for this. I was asked if buying the wood at this price was a problem. My reply was yes, no wood was a bigger problem.

End of the journey for the Rakia

The first trickle of rakia journeyed into the bucket after 90 minutes. I measured the alcohol from that first batch to be 80% proof. quite happy with that. But then didn't expect anything less as I knew the grape fermentation was made effectively. Throughout the process, the alcohol level was monitored not just with my rakia but four other parties who had it going at the same time. The conversation was solely based on rakia and many tips and tricks in the process. Funny how you can spend hours talking about one subject. There was a big screen TV in the house but that basically got ignored in the main as the focus was on rakia production. Another big plus in my books that!

After another three hours, the alcohol level fell to 40% proof and that was the end of the promised 23 litres of drinkable rakia at just under 70% proof. The distilling continued for another 5 litres weaker rakia put in another container in readiness for recycling in the next visit.

All done, barrels washed out one-handed and put in my car, they just fit horizontally. Then last but not least the results achieved by midday. There was a very happy man driving back in the rain to Yambol stinking of alcohol, must have got a little high by the time I landed home!

Galia who was kept updated on progress greeted me at the front door with the rakia to hand saying we will have a great Christmas and New Year now this is in stock. And of course, it compliments all the other products we have preserved over the last few months to see us through winter. It felt like winter was no just around the corner and were well prepared.

Apples in tights

Apples in tights in rakia

One indoors the rakia was put into a big plastic container and submerged pair of tights stuffed with bitter apples peeled and sliced. I was going to add some mulberry wood to give it a dark colour, but then I've been doing this in the past and wanted something a bit different this time so omitted it this time. I should get a slight colouring as well as a subtle flavouring from the apples anyway. It has to be left open without the lid for two to mature. Then it can be diluted to the required strength for drinking although a longer maturing time would give it time to develop its character. Many store it in wooden casks made especially for maturing rakia, but I don't have that facility much I'd like to.

What did it cost I hear you ask? Besides the fact that it will be ten times better than anything you can buy in the supermarket along with the pride factor which you can't buy. Well, total expenses amount to around 130 leva. This includes everything including my own petrol costs. Once the rakia has been diluted to bring it down to around 43% proof I should end up with around 32 litres of rakia. this equates to just over 4 Lev per litre. Yes, 4 Bulgarian Lev! You can see why millions of Bulgarian do this and have their own kazan built on their property. With homegrown grapes and their own kazan the cost would be next to nothing!

So. another rakia making day drew to an end and Im still buzzing with that day every time I monitor the results and my wrist, well I've suffered for my rakia and that makes it even more memorable and special somehow. Ask the local hospital and they will bear witness to this, (like I said earlier, another story).

Having made rakia on many occasions this was a process I knew about and with this knowledge and experience, I have been running a blog over the years dedicated to Rakia. If you are more curious about rakia please visit my site:The Rakia Site

No Time To Relax Right Now In Bulgaria

Just a quick to say that I am off sick with a stitched up finger and busy trying to get well enough to start earning again. With the snow around again not much I can do on the land even if I was fit enough, so quite lucky to be incapacitated during unworkable weather.

All the family are fine and the celebrations are non stop here at the moment in March what with Martinitsa, Baba Marta Den and my Name Day (1st), Bulgarian Independence Day (3rd), Ladies Day yesterday (8th) A Birthday today (9th) all require parties and small tokens of gifts of course.

Day to day has been pretty routine over the last month of so. Work during the day and write during the evening and weekends. Just one visit to the village of Skalitsa over the last month and managed to get a barbecue in with family there as it was so warm that particular weekend. We only really went to check up on the farmhouse and pay our neighbour money for the electric and water.

One thing is bothering me right now and that is the language, I want to know more as my conversations at work are limited not only from the point of socialising but being more effective at work. A whole new load of vocabulary has been learned at work, but it's not enough for me, or others I suspect. To insure my stay in Bulgaria the language must be focused upon more and my blogging taking another step backwards what with work on the land, other books I am working on and learning more formal Bulgarian language in the evenings. There is no time for relaxing right now, but then I thrive on that. 

Another New Year Celebration In Skalitsa

At last we got to get to the village after a month of town life over Christmas and New Year. We have had absolutely no time on our own together throughout this time and we looked forward to the trip and stoking up the wood burner and doing the things we do in the village.

We also had to catch up on the news from out neighbours in Skalitsa who we also hadn’t seen or spoken to since before the festive season. We knew that much of the time there this weekend would be talking and perhaps having a belated New Year celebration with them.

Just of a point of interest, the celebrating has not stopped in Bulgaria after the New Year as the name days and other special days of celebration are now upon us. There seems to be a never-ending stream this time of year. 5th was Jordan name day, 6th was Ivan Name Day, 7th was Baba Day (midwives’ Day) and more to come over the next few months. Well, not much happening in the smallholding world to the design of celebrations days this time of year was thought out well.

It was dark when we arrived and the first job was to empty the water meter shaft of the damp boxes and hay stuffed sacks that were put down there to prevent ice damage. The shaft had ½ metre of water standing due to the tremendous amount of rain and snow recently and had made its way there form the tilt that lies on the main road onto my land. This is something that used to worry me, but now I just accept that flooding of the shaft happens and that’s that. What’s the point of changing the landscape for a little water that truckles in? If I had the money a few years ago with my English brain I would have spent it on re-landscaping the whole area to stop this happening. Glad I didn’t have the money now.

Job done in the dark as Galia had the wood burner going and we could relax for the rest of the evening. It was early to bed as we were both tired from a hard first week back at work.

The following morning it was me up at 6:30 before sunrise, I just can’t sleep in her ein the village, too many things I want to do and before I knew it daylight had arrvived by 8:00 and I had spoken to my neighbour who wanted my help with the slaughtering and butchering of two goats later that morning. He wasn’t a well man, but that’s not the reason I offered my help. I love this type of chore, I certainly don’t mind the killing, in fact I quite enjoy it because I know it if all part of the ways things are here form the point of survival. I also knew that these two 5-month old goats would feed his family through to spring when more would be slaughtered for the same reason.

I now consider myself a bit of an expert in goat slaughtering and butchering having done this, including my own goats, on many occasions so I would be genuine help not a hindrance when I turn up and lend a hand. As so it was to be. By 1:00 there were two goats having gone through the process and it seems so right doing what we do here.

My neighbours being good neighbours and generous to the hilt rewarded me with some goat parts. I used to kick up a fuss about accepting gifts like this, but now take it away without any protest knowing that they were actually just as pleased giving it to me. This was taken back home and put in the freezer no doubt processed into excellent food and returned to our neighbours in the future when they visit.

That same evening we returned to our neighbour’s house for a belated New Year celebration and of course fresh goat on the menu that night – Homemade rakia and wine to accompany the talking, chalga music and dancing just after midnight. Then the short walk home in the pitch darkness with winter stars pinpricking the sky, we wished the walk were longer.

Next thing we know its Sunday and we travel back to Yambol in what has been a busy weekend in record warm temperatures, it didn’t seem like winter at all as we loaded the car up. Skalitsa really is a food factory and warehouse for us as the larders and freezers were raided for supplies of food for the coming week.

Fire Hazards Not Just On The Television News

Quite often I see fires raging swamping up homes, but mainly confined to the television news. Well in this intance is was a live hands on experience and more advice to those who have holiday homes and leave them for the best part of the year unattended. The reason I am writing this is that I nearly ended up with a fire-gutted property and to be quite honest I was extremely lucky to get away with it.

It happened a few weeks ago, where one of my neighbours was burning used toilet paper in their yards and left it unattended for just five minutes. The wind picked up and blew away one of the burning tissues into the adjoining field of tinder dry hay. This caught alight easily and the wind now took hold and swept the fire onto a direct path of destruction not only to my house but others in the neighbourhood.

It was quite a few minutes before the true realisation of the potential of this trail of wind swept fire became apparent. We were sitting watching television when we could smell smoke; we assumed that someone was barbequing peppers as that was what we did earlier that morning. It wasn’t the smoke that made us aware of the ongoing fire now gathering momentum, but the crackling that could now be heard a walnut and sliva (plum) trees were caught up in the fire. This led me to make an investigation and as I walked out into the street there was a few locals gathered watching a blazing fire sweeping towards my house, no action was taken at this point as they had already rung for the fire brigade and the fire was too fierce to tackle by hand. The trouble was that the fire brigade had to come from Yambol 37 kilometres away and that was half an hour journey!

I barged into a neighbours garden and asked for help and some brooms to try and beat some of the leading fire trail down leading to my house and we were all soon armed with home made twigged brushes trying not to get too burnt as we hit the trail. There was also fire trails now leading in four different directions, all to neighbouring houses and homes, mine was the first in line.

We managed to stem the route of the fire with only 10 metres to spare where there was long overgrown dried grass in the surrounding landscape. Another tow or three minutes and the house would have gone up in flames. Our efforts now were directed to other homes in danger as the women passed buckets of water to dampen down the area that could well have re-ignited. One of my neighbours was the president of the village hunting club. He called all his members out to help as hunters came from all directions. Without this help it would have been a hopeless situation.

The fire brigade finally arrived after we had got everything under control and just spent a couple of hours dampening down the whole burnt out area and made inquiries as to how it was started, which is why I know.

There was a great sense of community satisfaction that we managed to deal with this and if it had not been for my neighbour harvesting the field next to my house for winter hay this would not now have a house there. If is happened on a weekday there wouldn’t have been anyone around and I would not have a house. If I had not reacted to the hearing the crackling of the fire when I did I would not have a house.

People beware of overgrown dried out gardens bordering your holiday home, it only takes a second for a spark to become a raging inferno, as was the case here. I consider myself to be VERY LUCKY to still have my house thanks to the help of the local community; others might not be so lucky.

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Surviving In Bulgaria With Little Money

Many people have asked me how I survive in Bulgaria with so little money. It is no secret that I came over here with hardly any savings, no job and very much with an adventure on a shoestring in mind. Most of my money that I came over with vanished completely as I crashed someone's car and had to fork out thousands of pounds to replace it. Without that incident, I would not have had to go back to the UK for a few months to work for more funds to stay here.

Back to the question and maybe an answer. Living here, I can easily live on my own for next to nothing. I was living on less that 20 Bulgarian leva a week when living on my own in my first year here and I ate well, no restaurants or uneccessary spending. Right now I could quite easily return to that economical life although the cost of living here has risen substantially since joining the EU so to survive here solo it might have risen to around 30 Bulgarian leva a week, plus the fact that expatriates have extra cost as the running of their business have to be paid, (Your land can only be owned by a registered Bulgarian company of which you are the manager.)

Right now though we are finding it difficult to live on 100 Bulgarian lev a week, mainly because we are having to provide food for our family, fuel costs for the car, electric, gas and water bills for two homes. When we leave Galia's family home, which will happen one day, we are not sure when or where we will end up, we should be able to survive on around 70 Bulgarian leva a week or even less if we gave up the weekly trips to the Skalitsa farmhouse.

Whatever happens, both Galia and I remain quite sure that I will not have to return to the UK to work, we will try an make out here indefinitely no matter how hard it is. If Galia was to lose her job again then we would really struggle and make even more cuts on our simple lifestyle. This is how it used to be not so long ago in the 1990s with Galia. Like many others here., she had no job, no social security to fall back on and had to resort to selling her possessions to pay for food. She doesn't like to talk about it, but I know they were close to starving many a time, which happened in many town and city areas throughout Bulgaria. Those in the villages where luckier as had their own food from their farms to rely on of course.

I don't think it will ever get to the 'starving' level whatever happens as families support each other in times of need. In the village that would certainly be the case with our close friends there who would also 'help us out' food wise. We could survive financially if we moved out into a village where generations had lived on almost nothing other than their working on the land, wits and total practical way of life.

If there is one thing I have found out since living here in Bulgaria, it is that town and city living is far more expensive that village life. That is entirely due to the barrage of advertising in the totally business based cities and town environments. The seeds of materialism have been sown and the only escape is out of town, but then the invasion of the television is still very much a threat, even out of town.

The answer ot the original question can now be answered - How do I survive on so little money? Simple I live the lifestyle of a Bulgarian.

Image via Wikipedia

A Tortoise Or Slow Coach On Bulgarian Roads

Every since setting foot in Bulgaria I hear from lots of Bulgarians that there are lots of tortoises roaming around the country. Up unit this week the only ones I have see are pets that are kept by one of Galia's family. I haven't seen any 'wild tortoises' anywhere despite living in perfect tortoise country with vegetation abound for those slow but constant lawnmowers. Even in the village farmhouse tortoises have never nibbled my vegetables, but then they might have a preference for my neighbour’s superior vegetables.

So it came to pass that we were on our way to the village farmhouse in the Lada, a slowcoach itself today as I was freewheeling wherever I could to save on gas. We got about 8 kilometres for the Skalitsa village and I saw my first 'wild' tortoise in the middle of the road taking its time to cross dead casual like! It wasn’t exactly a screech of the brakes, I wasn't going fast enough for that, but we stopped and it was out of the car to investigate this 'wild' Bulgarian tortoise.

As I got to the tortoise it shelled up and remained in its home throughout our encounter, I don't blame it I'm an ugly and mean, perhaps it thought I was a gypsy and it was lunchtime. Anyway, the investigation went on as I picked it up and had a close look at it. Funny but for a wild tortoise it wasn’t wild' at all, it did nothing. I could see its head tucked away and its eye peering out at me and I knew it wouldn't budge with me holding it. It was put in the verge with some greenery, but still wouldn't come out even after a five-minute wait. Time to go home was the call from Galia waiting patiently in the Lada looking at this Englishman with a fascination for this creature. She of course is well used to tortoises in Bulgaria and found them quite boring as they didn’t do anything.

So it was a reluctant Martin who got back into the car after saying goodbye to this temporarily hibernated tortoise for what is was worth, I didn't even have a chance to say hello!

Well I got a picture or two of my first encounter with a wild Bulgarian tortoise, but I was wilder with excitement than anything else.

A Classic Bulgarian Misunderstanding

Cases of classic misunderstandings Bulgarians has caused all sorts of problems over the years and it still happens. There was one prime classic misunderstanding that wasn't realised until this week and reminded me that these misunderstandings will probably never end here in Bulgaria.

Just to give some background here, the previous owners of Skalitsa farmhouse and smallholding off where an elderly couple called Marina and Mitko. They moved in with their son to the town of Stara Zagora. Marina couldn’t wait for town life, but Mitko didn’t want to move, he loved village life and was in tears when we signed the contract. This is the case for many couple here, women want the town and the men want the country life.

Last year we were at the Skalitsa Farmhouse sitting out in the garden. We heard the iron garden gate creak as it always does to warn us of visitors. We waited a moment for the visitors to walk a short distance and peer around the corner as we all watched. It turned out that the visitors was Marina, the woman who used to live here with here son. They were in Skalitsa and though they’d pay us a visit out of courtesy as they were here.

And so the talking started. I wondered where Mitko her husband was and naturally asked. The answer given was that, ‘He is above us’ with a finger pointing to the sky. I was quite shocked with the though that he had passed away and gave my condolences.

The message that Mitko had died so much was passed on to my nearest neighbour the next day with mention that it must have been the heartbreak of having to move away from the village life he loved. No more was thought about it at the time.

A year on and my neighbour Sacho told me that he was sure he had seen a ghost a couple of days before. It was evening and he was putting his goats in for the night and he saw Mitko wondering around his old home. There are many ghost stories in the village and this was another one that he though he saw. He told his wife Rosa what he had seen and again, they put it down to Mitko paying a ghostly visit to his old loved smallholding.

Sacho went on to say that Rosa went to work in the school the next day and told others of the story of Mitko’s ghostly figure wandering around the previous evening. She was duly informed that there was no ghost of Mitko around, but Mitko in real life who had come this year to see old friends in the village and went to see his old home!

Sacho said that he spoke to Mitko yesterday and he was very much alive. He then asked me who said that he had died. I explained that his son said that he was above us and pointed his finger to the sky. Sacho then burst out laughing saying that Mitko was up above us in the apartment block he was living in Stara Zagora. He didn’t come to Skalitsa last year but stayed at home – That’s where he was!

Well the misunderstanding lasted a year and I’m glad Mitko is still alive and kicking albeit still not very happy with town life. As for ghosts, well no recent additions recently, but lot so stories from neighbours of existing ones to be told on a cold and still winter night – That’s a long way off right now.

The Worms That Turned To Bulgaria

When I first decided to move to Bulgaria it was never my intention to just have a home there as a holiday home. What is the point of having a farmhouse with land for crops and animals just for a couple of weeks a year - Totally impractical, many others people do though and it has brought about major headaches and inherent problems which I plan to talk about in another post.

In my case all that knew me in the UK thought this was a crazy idea and that I should carry on teaching, then retire like any other normal person. The thought of delaying this for another ten years was not something I felt that I could have managed. I knew within myself that reaching pension age and remaining sane and in good health was bigger risk than taking my chances moving now.

With this view there was only one or two close friends who knew that knew I had to do this. Everyone else, including most of my family thought differently the my closest allies. The idea of buying a home in the Bulgarian countryside was mad, even a ridiculously low prices and to actually move the permanently was even crazier.

The decision was made and I was effectively 'blacklisted' and labelled a 'madman' by many. Funnily enough though, all the strongest critics where those who knew nothing about Bulgaria let alone have been there.

'What the hell are you going there for? What happens if you're ill? How will you survive without money? You can't speak Bulgarian! You're be back in a few months, wait and see! These were some of the comments made to me before I left. Yet one of my brothers is an expatriate in Cyprus and that was considered a wise move. It wasn't the fact that I was moving abroad that was wrong to many, but moving to Bulgaria was wrong and that was judged purely on ignorance!

The worms that turned is the only way I can described what happened once I was here. Most people who have had the courtesy to come to Bulgaria to see me have now seen what I saw and dreamed of. Some of my most fierce family critics have now bought homes here both in neighbouring villages and in my home village of Skalitsa. Two of my brothers have bought houses in the same street, one is now a direct neighbour of mine and they both want to live the home growing village life next to me.

It is so strange that now I have family from the UK that want to live right next to me, this is how much they were impressed with the lifestyle and the people here. They have also seen a changer in me, less stressed not only from a good woman by my side but the slower lifestyle. Before I moved to Bulgaria, some of my family were hardly on speaking terms with me, now we may be living as a bigger family unit here in the near future. How strange it has come to this and Galia is part of that reason.

Apart from some of my family who are so narrow minded that they think that unless you have money you are no good, they all love Galia to bits. They often tell me how lucky I am to have her and how unlucky I was with money oriented and material based women in the UK in the past. My previous partner I realise now, didn't really care for me, but just the money I earn to maintain an unsustainable flamboyant lifestyle.

Well the die is cast and my thoughts turn to whether I want my family living next to me here. I didn't leave the UK to get away from family that's for sure, so I'm quite at ease with that. It's not as if Galia and I are going to be living with them after all. We will just have to see how it goes.

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Jogging and Cycling in Towns and Villages Respectively

Having taken up jogging in Bulgaria over the last month, there are many reasons behind this. Before starting can I mention that normally I am an avid cyclist, if ever a few kilograms wanted to be lost from a fit, but aging man, a couple of weeks cycling over long distances usually did the job. I just love cycling, even in mid-winter in sub-zero temperatures (see 365 Bulgarian Adventures.) So why jog instead of cycle?

During the week I am in Yambol and the many cyclists that wheel and hobble along the cobblestone street is a refreshing sight. Every cycle I see my mind says 'one less car', but the cycling is down more to cost than environmental conscience. Most of the bicycles I see are not roadworthy and those that are ride the wrong way up roads, on pavements and carry vast amounts of luggage making the bicycle too unstable to ride so it is pushed. The average speed limit to cyclists in Yambol is just generally just slightly faster than walking pace. If yo add the horrendous potholes that have really got worse and worse this winter as each day goes by, going any faster, without brakes on their bikes, makes absolute sense.(see Roma Riders)

With all this in mind, my bikes is sitting in the garage as my style of cycling is very different from Bulgarian cycling. First and foremost I do it for pleasure and health, I don't think this aspect is even consider for one moment by most Bulgarians. Riding a bike is done only because a car can't be afforded! I cycle like I am on a time trial most of the time, this can't be done in Yambol, nowadays there is too much traffic, too many bad roads making it far too dangerous to travel at speed in such environments. If I have a hybrid mountain bike it would be fine but I have a light and fast touring bike designed for speed on good roads, I can't do that here. I have another bike, a pure road bike in Skalitsa as the road there are excellent for touring and road riding, this is where my cycling usually takes place.

So, the jogging has taken over form cycling in Yambol. I once competed the London Marathon a long time ago, but that is ancient history now as I tramp the back roads of Yambol. Even on the road it is like a cross country event with the torn and uneven road surfaces. I think I must be the only person in Yambol who goes out jogging. I have never seen anyone jogging here since I been here, even in the warmer months. Bulgarian drivers just don't know how to react when passing a jogger, they always pause as they are not sure whether to give me a wide berth or run me over - they certainly have been close to that. Yet if I was on a bike they would give the greatest respect when passing.

Dogs haven't a clue what to do when I pass them. The ones that are chained up bark to the hilt, well that's what they are there for. The wild, free dogs bark when I approach but that stops suddenly when I pass, they also have not seen anything like this going on. It's almost if they are saying that it's their job to run on Yambol roads not mine!

Loosing weight is my prime objective here, plus I've had a few warning signs from my heart telling me to work it a bit more. Also in view of reading Malcolm and Ciejay's Blog, it probably makes me even more determined to keep it up.

Galia did a half marathon here in Yambol quite a few years ago, it was a one off event for charity so she tells me. Pity it's not an annual event, but then jogging is not at all a Bulgarian thing!

Slow Village Life - But Only With More Time There

Back in the village of Skalitsa, the pace of life just comes to a stand still for everyone there, nothing changes there on a day-to-day basis and you know what to expect every time. There is always time for everything, no rush, no panic and the talking just carries on like there is no tomorrow. So why are we always in a rush?

The reason is quite simple, lack of time there. We only have a few days in the farmhouse before the return to work. The tidying up the garden, including finally pruning and burying the roses, a bit of a spring clean in the house, then visits to our neighbours who we haven’t seen for over a month and the time is up! In no time at all our stay came to an abrupt end, no time to wind down and acclimatise to village life at all.

If only we had more time there, we’d eventually slow down and not worry about time constraints. It is my plan to spend more time there in the spring with the beginning of the growing season, this has to be done of course as most of the food will be for the family meals in Yambol and the next winter. We don’t intend to miss out on many crops and harvests this year like last year. In village life there is always something to do unlike living in the town, even in winter, chopping wood, clearing paths, milking goats, sheep and cows and still burning fallen leaves even in December. There is just something I love about being busy, but doing things slowly on the farm, Galia is different, she can quite easily do nothing and be content with that, I can't.

We got to taste the village good once again at our neighbour’s house, fresh goat’s cream cheese, today’s laid chicken eggs and salami only made last week. Then there was the exchange and tasting of our home made Rakia. Sometimes we forget that the food and drink tastes even better it the villages than in the town. It seemed such as long time ago that we'd eaten at our neighbour’s house and is always a pleasure in winter anyway without the invasion of flies around.

Now we’re back in Yambol one day later, yesterday seems such a long time ago, but the taste of the village is still with us as we plan to go again New Year’s Day after excepting an invitation to a friend’s house in Yambol for New Year’s Eve. Can’t wait for both!

Bulgarian Cities and Towns and Much Needed Villages

This is Bulgaria and in this place where I have chosen to live we find 249 towns and cities over 5,000 villages scattered around the country. Almost every Bulgarian has a village connection either because they once lived in a village or their ancestors lived or still live there. Bulgaria remain a rural country in so many ways. Many Bulgarians have moved to the towns and cities for work but often they return the villages as it is only there that they can resurrect their Bulgarian soul.

Life today in Bulgaria as many Bulgarians will tell you, takes a village to survive. If there were no villages, life for many would be unbearable for many that live and work here. This is more true for the older generation, but in time the younger generation will become that older generation and have the same feelings.

It has been difficult for many Bulgarians over the last two decades. Before this, the population had time to relax with friends, enjoy the beautiful nature and have a stress free existence. This is not the case in Bulgaria today for many people who working harder, work longer with relaxation becoming a thing of the past. It is even more difficult with this for them to stay in communication to people. Money earned has to be spent on food and other things rather than other luxuries rather than having a good time with friends and family.

Village life is totally different from town and city life. It is cheaper, friends are always there working. People grow almost everything they eat. There is bread, sugar and a few other things bought at the store but most are homemade. Rakia, of course, the national drink, is made from the grapes or other fruits grown in the gardens in the villages. It is not uncommon for a village household to make in excess of 100 litres a year of Rakia for their own use. Buying Rakia from a store or offering anything other than home made Rakia to visitors is unheard of.

It is as important to people to spend time in a village as it is in the cities, but in a different way. Town and City folk work eight hours a day and go home or go out to play. Village folk work from dawn to dusk and never go anywhere. When all the work has been done, you will see people sitting on the street in front of their houses or in the yard around a run down old table. Town and City folk have time to waste, but this is never ever the case in the village as there are always chores to be done. They are deep in though of the arrival of winter and they must be
prepared.

To many Bulgarians feel that village life is not an appealing life style on a permanent basis. It offers very few of the nice things in life that the western world have come to enjoy. However, it offers something for the town and city folk for a few days or weeks. A deserved break from the rat race of the city and their stressful working environment. It is in the village that they can reconnect to their roots and the real Bulgaria. This is something they can't find anywhere else.

Their culture and tradition, while not as popular as they once were in the past, can still be found in villages. Grandparents and friends still live in the old ways, doing things how they had always been done and life itself is simple and good. the village is a refuge and relief over a glass of homemade Rakia and Shopska salad. These are moments in time to forget modern Bulgaria where the hectic life will wait again for them.

The Village Hairdresser - Beware!

In Skalitsa we have a hairdresser and if anything is to go by she is not a good advert as she has a mustache herself. Her name is Donka an elderly Skalitsa woman has been running the business for 38 years and never had a complaint until recently.

Her surgery, sorry saloon, has not been decorated for 38 years along with the same chair. It is my opinion that she was the vehicle from where punk hairstyles were founded

When ever I get the chance I go there but only because she is my friend and being seen in the village. I doesn't matter as many others have the same style but don't complain so I don't complain. The cost was 1.50 leva for a short back and sides with little bonuses in as some sides are shorter than others.

The other service she offered men was a shave. Now I have never been shaved before by another person, apart from having my appendix out! This was a first for me and for a fee of 50 stotinki it is actually cheaper than buying a razor blade. Why doesn't everyone go there for a shave then? Well I was to find out.

A nervy man sat there with the old lady bearing a cut throat razor and that's just what I feared. The trouble is I wear glasses and am shortsighted so looking in the mirror facing me which is also 38 years old, I can't see what is going on without the spectacles. It really wasn't something I was familair as she proceeded with the shave.

Funny I mentioned surgery by accident earlier because it was a general anesthetic that was needed before thew process began. but I this was all new I thought this is how it was having a shave with a cut throat razor.

When she had finished home made rakia was slapped on my face (ouch!) and I was asked to wait in the chair while we talked. Then a damp cloth was wiped and I was free to go after paying.

On myt way back along the Sklaitsa streets as usual it took a lifetime to get there meeting friends and neighbours en route stopping to talk. The strange thing is they normally ask me where I have been and what I am doing but today they knew where I'd been this time so just asked me where I was going. I wasn't quite sure how they knew until I finally got home.

Looking in the mirror there was a blood stained face staring back at me it looked like I had been treated and subjected to the torcher of a thousand cuts but all in the same area. Well for 50 stotinki was at a cut price and that's exactly what I got. No wonder everyone knew where I had been.

Don't just ask me my brother went there a few weeks later with sideburns Elvis style on one side and the original Black Adder style on the other. His face also looked like it had been through a mincer, you could have made black-pudding with the amount of blood that was seeping out! The only difference between his episode and mine was that he complained!

I still go there for a punk haircut but never for a shave even though she considers herself a cut above (and below) the rest.

A final thought came around that hairdressers used to be the wounded soldiers butcher of war but surely that was more than 38 years ago.