My Bulgaria

It feels so good to be home.

I do call Asheville, North Carolina home, but my true home is right here, in this small, somewhat confused country called Bulgaria. I am not nationalistic but I do define myself as Bulgarian when asked. My pride as Bulgarian is limited to the fact that my hometown of Plovdiv is one of the prettiest in the whole world (see for yourself if you don’t believe me) and I am still in denial that Bulgarian yogurt is the best one out there. The love I have for my country is like a double edge sword though. For every Bulgarian thing that tingles me with delight I can easily name its buddy that makes me irritated.

Examples? Bulgarians are famed to be hospitable and kind hearted, yet rudeness, jealousy and badmouthing is ample. Bulgarian women are naturally pretty, yet the provincial fashion trends transform beauty into what our children labeled as ‘страшно’ scary. Bulgarians are educated and intelligent, yet the popular culture here is nothing but appalling. There is no demand for serious art. Chalga ‘pop folk’ rules the entertainment scene, cinemas are disappearing and theaters are not getting the financial support they deserve.

Against all odds though in Bulgaria, I am fully myself, if only for short periods of time. It takes me a week for my English to get rusty and for my Bulgarian to become rich and comfortable. At home I get full on things I have been missing without knowing. What is it that I have here and nowhere else?

I have family whose love and support brings tears to my eyes.

I have friends I can call after years of no contact and feel like it was yesterday we chatted or shared happy moments together. I do have this in USA, but it took forever for my relationships there to become somewhat less measured and less careful and for my English to become custom enough to capture my sense of humor.

I feel a complete release of all the ambition of belonging and trying to fit in. I know my place and I feel my connection to everything around me. I can trace time in every building and every street and every tree I have known since I remember.

Here I loose the burning desire to constantly prove that my time away from my roots is a meaningful one and not one wasted in fruitless pursuits. I feel content and being present is plenty to feel complete.

I LOVE the food. It is that simple. I can live all my life on feta, olives, tomato and cuke salads, banitsa, yogurt, liuteniza and the endless list of Bulgarian vegetarian dishes.

I am calm about my children roaming away and exploring on their own. I love that they have the same freedom I enjoyed when I was little. I am grateful that cities feel pedestrian, that there is plenty of shared open spaces and the urban life is rich, engaging and colorful (at least when the weather is warm).

Are there things I don’t miss?

I don’t miss the gray of winter that colors everything in drab.

I don’t miss the rude manners, the lack of smiles on the streets and the close mindedness of many.

I don’t miss helplessness and surrender people embrace. There is a general feeling that speaking up is a waste of time. Instead many Bulgarians choose to bitch in private as they have no confidence that their voice will be heard and will make a difference.

I don’t miss the feeling that I need connections to flourish here, as I have none.

I don’t miss that my kids are being disciplined all the time by strangers too stiff and too grown up to trust a child climbing a tree or playing with a stick.

And still, I am not going to lie that I am always brainstorming of ways to make my way back. Who wouldn’t want to make a simple and happy life next to family and friends? For the first week here I usually feel excited and optimistic and then slowly the reality sets in. I start noticing all the black and brown that people are wearing, the tired faces, the negativity, the sudden lack of connection I experience. I start feeling claustrophobic and restless. In a weird way I suddenly stop fitting in. And sadly, every time I come back, I get a report from my friends with a shade darker than the previous one. The hope of my generation for times of prosperity is dwindling.

Don’t be fooled by the fancy storefronts, the expensive cars, the huge box stores mushrooming in the suburbs and the bright colors on some of the old tired facades. True, some are doing well but many are barely making it. The country is aching for integrity in politics, lack of corruption and bureaucracy. My friend Eva summed up the current situation perfectly: Some countries have mafia, in Bulgaria the mafia has a country. As a result the young people are not given the opportunities they deserve, bright ideas are shelved and mediocrity, stupidity and personal interests still rule most spheres of life. Real culture is in the back seat and popular culture with its cheap luster is the queen. Children are being raised on a modern diet of electronic games and cell phones that our generation didn’t have access to. Games outside are replaced by ticking on the iPads, having has become more important than experiencing and most of the smart and intelligent people that I have the pleasure of knowing have lost their desire to fight but instead are full of resentment.

I know that my impressions might be off as my time home is fleeting. I am here for three weeks, just enough to recharge and take off. But I feel I have the perspective to see deeper here than any place in the world. I also have the perspective of the traveler, returning from one of the poorest places out there. Compared to Europe we Bulgarians might feel like loosers, but compared to many other countries we are rich and have an enviable standard of living. After India I see Bulgaria as a country that has amazing roads, empty landscapes, public transport, free education for all, maternity pay and leave, green spaces, clean water, sidewalks and social help. But even though Bulgaria will never experience the poverty that tore my heart in Asia, this beautiful county of mine is leading its own battles. And what I see makes me feel sadness and happiness at the same time.

Here comes my sadness from seeing the young of this country still fleeing away in search for a better future. I know how heavy the burden of being an immigrant is both for the person leaving and for the country loosing one of its brightest.

The happiness is from all the good and beautiful I gather in my heart every time I visit.

~ M