Sole Destroying Yambol

Bulgarian sandals are very cheap, look fantastic but not designed for walking on the Yambol footways. They don't last long with the state of the pavements as I found out walking around Yambol town last night.

It all started with a little parting of the sole towards the heel, the as each 100 metres was completed the parting got larger and turned into a flap. This of course added extra weight on each step up to aid the tear further and finally the whole sole parted company with the upper leaving me 2 kilometres away from home and all the shoe shops shut.

Walking home in a sandal minus the sole was difficult on the Yambol cobblestones and the jagged paving stones that just catch you suddenly in areas of complete darkness this Yambol night. I should have got a taxi home but this is Bulgaria and the cost of 2 leva is totally unnecessary in Bulgarian women's minds as they helped me walk back.

We got there and the sandal material which equated to a sock, held out, just. But at only a few leva a new pair of sandals would probably be about the same cost of the taxi home if we had got it. Oh no, I've just thought, it's another trip to the shops tomorrow. The last time we went to look for a pair of sandals, we visited 10 shops before finding the right pair, that's why they were such a good deal first time round. I just hope we go to the tenth shop first this time and that they have the same stock as last time.




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Bulgarian Fish and Chips

Another evening out last night with a friend of Galia. She is just as keen on fashion Galia is as all three of us walk into Yambol town at around 7:00 in the evening.

It is not often we see the town this time of the day as I was surprised that is was swarming with people of all generations. Most of the background noise was coming from the rented out little electric children's cars with their hard black plastic types rumbling along in and out of the crowds. It was a free for all traffic jam but no one was bothered with the inconvenience of having to avoid erratic steering of children as young as three driving unaided. It was very entertaining sitting there watching them for half and hour.

Why was I sitting watching them for half an hour? Galia and her friend were in a clothes shop looking for dresses, skirts and anything that tickled their fancy. I knew they wouldn't buy anything, they rarely do, they just love feeling and touching the clothing they can't afford.

So half an hour literally I waiting watching the Yambol folk walk, talk and enjoy the summer evening atmosphere. I remember before most families go for a walk in the town or park before their evening meal. That's exactly what we were doing but most clothes shops were still open after 7:00.

During this time I saw many unique Bulgarian happenings, in fact too many happenings they come and go so quick. One I particularly remember was a balloon seller. His wares are tied tot a fold up chair, as I looked closer he carried around with him a big chunky rock which is placed on the chair. It must weight around 5-10 Kg and placed there purely and simply to stop the chair toppling over with the balloons tied on the backrest being blown in the wind

The girls finally finished and it was now after 7:30, as we made a walk around town, this time just looking in the windows at goods but never stopping talking.

We finally stopped at a restaurant, we’d been to this once before and had fish and chips Bulgarian style. The same was about to happen with an added guest. This is also a stopping place for cats and dogs who get food thrown at them towards the end of most customer's meals. This is normal with restaurants in Yambol.

So, the talking continued but this time over food and beer, we didn't leave until gone 10:00. the place was just livening up with the night life coming into play, but we were too old for that tonight as we made out way back home.

The stars can be clearly seen in the black sky in Yambol and just a reminder of how unpolluted this region is.

A lovely evening and it made a change from sitting facing a computer all evening, in fact I think that's why Galia decided on this evening's plan, she says I work too hard and need a break.





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Ironing Things Out Bulgarian Style

Early morning, we had just woken up to the bright blue sky and ever ripening grapes seen looking out of the window that had remained open all night. “Happy 2nd Anniversary” was whisper to Galia as I gently kissed her on the cheek. “Blagodariya” was the soft reply and a return of a kiss. It was exactly 2 years now since first meeting Galia but to both of us it felt like a lifetime that we’d had together.

We made our way to do the routine things we do on a working day expect there was one extra thing today that had to be done, a bus had to be ironed, it had travel back from the Skalitsa Farmhouse and had been creased in transit. This woman and most other Bulgarian women must have a perfectly prepared set of clothing before setting to town in a public view. “I am not a village woman Martin!” would be her comment when I say it doesn’t matter.

So while Galia’s back was turned I go the iron out and was about to iron her blouse, it was always me that did the ironing in the UK so I though nothing of it this morning. I was caught in the act of ironing with Galia reacting on sight with a great intake air into her lungs before forcefully saying that it was not normal for a man to do the ironing in this country and that I was to give the iron to her. She went on to tell me that I didn’t understand how the iron worked or how to use the iron.

Regardless of my effort to explain that I did understand and knew how to iron from my past, it was falling on deaf ears. Galia refused to believe that a man could ever understand the complexes of the iron so I left it like that. I really felt quite insulted about trying to help and getting this agitated response. But then Galia probably feels just as insulted by me taking up something that she and most other women in Bulgaria do as a custom.

So I left it like that, “I’m glad we ironed that one out,” I said. But Galia didn’t get it, the pun doesn’t translate very well in Bulgarian.







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