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birds-n-bees bulgaria: Random unRelated obseRvations

Wednesday, October 7th, 2009

Biser, Bulgaria

A black cloud swoops across the sky and delicately separates into three different strands, each taking its own direction before rejoining into one shimmering mass of darkness again. It’s a flock of hundreds of birds, preparing for migration. We’ve never witnessed this before – is it because we do not live near such a number of migratory birds, or is it because we have not taken the time?

On the first of March everyone gives everyone plaited red-n-white martinitsa (think something that looks like a bracelet and corn husk dolls). They are kept somewhere safe. Waiting. On the first day the storks are seen returning, they are hung in the trees. Everyone does it. Connected to the seasons and the natural rhythms of life.

 

Mboy7 was intrigued at the holes in the rocks near Farmer Ivan’s orchard. Martin, our driver, was quick to inform him they are the “nests” of sandmartins. Two days later, when returning to the orchard, Teacher Martin gave an impromptu test: Who lives in those holes? It took half a second for Mboy7 to declare, “Sandmartins! That’s easy. I just remember it was Martin who told us and the rocks look sandy.”

Sandmartins, storks, swallows, crows, eagles, parrots, owls….(and would it be wrong to include bats? they do fly, you know)…..there’s no shortage of birdlife – or at least evidence of it – at this time of year.

So that’s the birds. How about the bees? Not all, but most inhabited houses in Biser have their own beehives. Just like these ones belonging to our “next door neighbour” just across the fence.

And nothing to do with either birds or bees….we were making the curry for dinner when Martin rang to see if we’d like to go to the pizza place for dinner. The curry will wait! The pizzas were as good as the other day, as good as Italian ones even.
And then we went to the annual fair, which has just opened in Harmanli.

Biser emBraces

Saturday, October 3rd, 2009

Biser, Bulgaria

We’ve been here a week and haven’t even walked through the village. Unheard of for us! But in some ways it didn’t matter where we were right now – just had to be off Schengen territory and preferably somewhere kids could hang out while we got the vans in tip-top shape. Biser (pronounced bisser) provided both, and more.
So this morning I head out of the gate and off for a walk with some of the kids….

…..and we are drawn into village life.
We stop to watch an old man lead his donkey and cart towards the road. When he reaches us he stops to connect and let the kids pat the donkey.

A little further up the road, a lady is sweeping the footpath and I snap a quick pic of her. When we reach her and say our “dobry den” (good day), she clasps my arm and quite literally pulls me in to view her gorgeous flower-filled garden. When I ask to take a photo, she removes her apron, smooths her hair and poses in front of the laden pear tree, calling for her daughter and grandson to come out and meet us (multi-generational living is not uncommon in Bulgaria).

Across the street, and right next door to the flowering oasis yards are disguised under high-growing weeds, houses falling to pieces. Actually, the greater part of the village is like that, but then there are pockets of beauty that spill right out past the courtyard walls to the street.

In a village that is mostly tumbledown, there is also an intriguing very-out-of-place tudor house.

 

A man called Dr Jenkins and his Bulgarian wife moved to England, where they had a son. Tragically the son was killed, and in their grief they returned to Biser to build a memorial for him. The house is uninhabited (the parents went back to England) and it is now a mixed memorial to the boy and to Biser history.
Actually, there’s a bit of death round here. We are intrigued at the number of houses with death announcements attached to the gate. In such a small village, you would not expect so much death.

Across the road from the tudor house, this Saturday morning two old ladies are deep in conversation, but when I glance with a smile in their direction they draw us in. It still amazes me how much you can converse with someone when you speak none of their language. And quickly you find yourself echoing words they understand. This would be a fantastic place to learn the language. People stand around in the streets chatting, and readily invite you into their conversations. Almost every house has a bench of some description (usually *decrepit* would be the right word, but I took a picture of the one nice arrangement of seats that we stumbled across) parked on the footpath, for the express dual purpose of watching the world go by and talking with neighbours.

 

They sit, chat and then move up the street to another bench, another friend. Two old men invite us to sit with them. As I understand it, I have done the spiel about having eight children and coming from New Zealand and no I don’t speak Bulgarian, but I have agreed that yes I speak English and so one man ambles off to find someone who can also speak English. We wait. And wait. I don’t understand a word of what the remaining man says – his lack of teeth and almost-permanently-closed mouth do not exactly make for clear speech. I start doubting. Maybe he didn’t say to wait. Maybe he’s gone home for lunch. Maybe I kicked him off his bench. And then Elena arrives. She does, indeed, speak English and before long we are all invited for coffee tomorrow at five.


(this is not Elena and she does not speak a word of English either – she
stops to talk while we are waiting and waiting and waiting)

We continue our walk, passing normal Saturday morning activities – old ladies are out shopping, men stack firewood, children play in the sandy footpaths, one family sits outside plucking and gutting half a dozen chickens, a handful of cars pass us, and just as many horses-or-donkeys-and carts too. We walk through the town square, a large open deserted area. Off to the side is the school, empty today, but in use during the week. It’s a big grey forboding falling-apart communist era building. The Bulgarian orthodox church, survived communism, but only just.

 

Now we have much more of a feel for the place we have planted ourselves in for a couple of weeks. We are amazed at how welcome we feel.

it’s all greek to me

Thursday, September 10th, 2009
Beach Number 1, Greece

 

Being able to recite the Greek alphabet, a feat learned almost three decades ago and for some reason retained ever since, is of little help when your feet touch Greek ... [Continue reading this entry]

a warwick, a warwick!!

Wednesday, July 22nd, 2009
by a tired, too-lazy-to-write Rach (a picture is worth a thousand words, so here's a few million!) Stratford-Upon-Avon, England It’s the Disneyland of British Castles and Just As Much Fun. We were there when the portcullis was raised in the morning and ... [Continue reading this entry]

another day, another (unexpected) castle

Tuesday, July 21st, 2009
by Rach back at the couchsurfer’s lane in Stratford-Upon-Avon, England You wake up almost at today’s destination coz you travelled so much further than planned yesterday. All the same, there are a few miles to cover and just for a change, ... [Continue reading this entry]

learning in pictures

Tuesday, July 14th, 2009
by Mama/Writer/Educator on a quiet country lane near Aydon, sheep bleating in the field beside us, England A day at Corbridge Roman Town, excavated in the last hundred years, having fallen into disuse 1600 or so years ago, provided possibilities to ... [Continue reading this entry]

Hadrian’s Quiz

Sunday, July 12th, 2009
by Rachael Birdoswald Fort, Hadrian’s Wall, England True or false?
  1. Hadrian built the wall.
  2. It took seven years to build most of the wall.
  3. Hadrian’s wall was over 6,000km long.
  4. Roman soldiers patrolled and maintained the wall for almost 600 years.
  5. The wall was built to ... [Continue reading this entry]

yes-n-no

Saturday, July 11th, 2009
by Rachael somewhere between Corbridge and Hexham, England A blog reader (hi Sharon!) writes: Hubby says "They must be getting sick of castles and ruins". I say "NO WAY!!" So, what's the answer? You’re both right! (diplomatic of me, huh?!) Today was a castle-less day, and ... [Continue reading this entry]

strawberry fields forever

Thursday, July 9th, 2009
by Rach Somewhere between Helmsley and Scarborough, after Beadlam, not exactly sure where, England Strawberry picking just before dinner. No-one complained about that unplanned stop! But it was hardly the highlight of the day. (Actually, just as an aside, this week I ... [Continue reading this entry]

a journey through time

Sunday, July 5th, 2009
by Rachael Telford, England We start in the year MDCCLXXIX. How long does it take you to work it out? We know our Roman numerals, but they don’t slip off the tongue quite so readily as 1779! We are at Telford and ... [Continue reading this entry]