A Winter Day

ZAVET – It is often said that nothing happens during the winter months in Bulgaria. Life almost comes to a stand still. Bulgarians only leave their homes for work or quick trips to the store. They stay indoors next to their woodstoves, drink a lot of wine and rakiya and wait for spring.

I was forced to do the same late last week when a big storm blew in and literally stopped everything. A nasty blizzard covered the region with about a foot of snow, knocking out power and making the roads unsafe for travel. School was cancelled. Cell phones didn’t work. All buses were cancelled in roughly a 200-mile radius from Ruse on the Danube River to Varna on the Black Sea, which meant that I couldn’t attend my friend’s surprise birthday party up near Romania.

 I was prepared for a dull, quiet weekend in my apartment sitting close to my heater. Instead, it turned out to be more than I expected, which seems to be a common theme while living in Bulgaria.

I arose at 8:30 Sunday morning, which is extraordinarily early for me since I don’t teach until the afternoon. But I had been invited to attend a Protestant church service that morning. Protestantism is rare in Bulgaria and especially in small towns like Zavet. In Bulgaria, around 85 percent of the population is Orthodox. There’s a small sect of Catholics and the rest are Muslim.

We walked across town under a crystal clear blue sky. The air was so cold and dry that my nose hairs froze each time I inhaled. The church was in the house of a girl I know. The room was the size of a one-car garage. A small stove was in the middle and there were benches and chairs placed around it. The service consisted of 18 people, mostly older men and women. No one was dressed up and everyone kept their jackets on. Some old women wore their stocking caps too.

We stood and sang three songs, all of which had that heavy, Slavic melody that you often here in films involving Russia. There were no pre-planned songs. People would offer suggestions like, “Page 32 in the little song book” and everybody would turn to it. Then everyone prayed. Some clasped their hands together or put them over their face. Others reached for the sky. Everybody whispered. The sound was kind of strange.

The preacher, a bald man in his 60’s who had a thick white mustache and soft blue eyes, gave a sermon for about 25 minutes. I understood a little, but it was difficult at times. We sang a little more and then it was over. The service was much different than any church I had been to, but there were some striking similarities. The older people listened intently while some of the younger people looked bored and tired. The two little girls (the only children) twice got up to go to the bathroom and made lots of noise chewing their gum. All of this was ignored by the congregation, of course.

Caroline, the other volunteer, and I were invited for lunch afterward at a friend’s house. We ate mushroom soup and spicy beef. We had a Turkish dish of cabbage leaves filled with rice and a little meat called surmi. We had homemade wine and some cakes as well. Of course, the meal lasted around three hours with a lot talking and picking at food.

Then at 4:30 p.m. I went to the baptism of a doctor’s new office. He built it in the apartment building across from me and he wanted it blessed by the preacher. The doctor and his family are from Moldova. Many Bulgarians fled to Moldova a long time ago, and many have recently returned. Again, the preacher gave a little sermon, but others also gave some type of message. It was more like a discussion about religion. I didn’t really understand. Then they brought out sweet breads and cookies and soda.

I then decided to go to my friend’s house and see how she was doing. We talked and watched television with her mom. This might not sound interesting, but they both don’t speak English and both are Turkish. They always have interesting questions and I learn new words in Turkish. We watched a Jackie Chan film, which coincidently took place in Istanbul.

I left for home around 11 p.m. On my walk through the darkened streets (the street lights don’t work during the winter) the sky was filled with stars. Suddenly I got a text message from my friends saying to come to the restaurant. So, I began to jog that way. As I got closer to the restaurant some yelled at me. It came from the shadows on a side street. It scared me, but I kept running. I figured the man was drunk. He followed me into the restaurant. He was drunk and apparently he thought I had done something bad. When he heard me not speaking Bulgarian to my friends, he thought I was a Turk. Sometimes in small towns, there is ethnic tension and this was a perfect example. He didn’t like me speaking Turkish (which I wasn’t) and assumed I was up to no good. The owner explained who I was and everything was fine. He bought us a pork dish and left us alone for the most part.

I returned home around 1 a.m. wondering where the day had gone. It seemed as though only a few hours ago I had awakened. I had met so many people and had seen so many different things in just one day.

And it all happened on a sleepy February day.