Today it has been my birthday, again! Today has been a bit extra special though as it has been my first ever birthday as a resident of the Republic of Bulgaria, though I was here on holiday for my birthday last year. Reaching this particular birthday means that I have survived several things. Read on and all will be revealed.
I have survived my first summer in Bulgaria. A very hot and very dry period of time during which I lost five kilograms in weight by being gnawed at by the myriad of insects that saw me as an item from a summer barbeque and in which I gained six kilograms in weight due to the simple fact that cutting down on exercise and drinking enormous volumes of cold wine or beer are the only sure way to keep cool in that scorching sun of the Republic of Bulgaria.
I have survived the move from a home three thousand kilometres away on an island in Western Europe to a new home right here where I am sitting now in South Eastern Europe. For me it was easy but for my personal effects it was much more of an adventure. They went the long way round in a shipping container on a shipping container ship from Harwich in the Far East of England, through the Strait of Gibraltar, most of the Mediterranean Sea, the Dardanelles and the Bosphorus, a bit of the Black Sea to Burgas and then back in a westerly direction of all things along the road to my humble abode in Malki Chiflik. My journey here was a three-hour EasyJet flight from Manchester to Sofia but my collection of antiques and crap went on quite a nice little cruise … and they never even sent me a postcard! They arrived here about a month after me and, because there were dusty goings on of a workmen nature in my house, it took another month for me to unpack them, to do a bit of Feng Shui (with a portion of egg fried rice and prawn crackers) and to welcome them to my, by then, beloved Republic of Bulgaria. Every last item that I packed up back there in Devizes survived the journey unscathed and I fully intend to one day reward the removal company with a bottle of the finest rakia and a large flat sausage, both of which are commonplace in the cuisine of the Republic of Bulgaria.
Did I ever tell you about one of my dear old lady former customers who once went on a holiday to Istanbul? She told me that during her stay she befriended a young Turkish gentleman. He was very kind and polite and went to a great deal of trouble to show here all the interesting sights of that magnificent city. And apparently one night during dinner he even offered to take her up the Bosphorus.
Arriving relatively unscathed at another birthday obviously means I have survived another year on this planet. How my life has changed in the last twelve months. From time to time I look in my diary to see what I was doing a year ago and, even though back then I had started to wind up my business, my life was still burdened with ten hours per day of slicing away at hyperkeratotic lesions on foetid fungal feet (but if you’re a former client reading this I’d like you to know that it was an absolute joy). The same applies to the previous eleven years. I know this without even having to look in old business diaries, all of which are now stored in a loft in North East London to protect the innocent. By my reckoning, in twelve years as a professional and fully qualified foot hacker I must have cut 480,000 toenails, perhaps slightly less to allow for the odd avulsion or amputation. If I had kept them all I would have enough material to construct a full-scale model of the ship Captain 1st Rank Dimitar Dobrev of the proud Navy of the Republic of Bulgaria.
The next part of my plan is to survive my first hard winter of the Republic of Bulgaria. The months from December to February, I am told, will be extremely cold. I’ve become rather accustomed to sitting out in my garden well into the evening with a glass of rakia and a flat sausage, even as late in the year as a couple of weeks ago. To ensure that I can continue to do this through the frost and snow I have constructed a fire pit in part of the now partially tamed wild bit of my garden. I lit the first fire there tonight, as it was my birthday. Although my back was cold the flames made my face glow and placing my hands on the rocks around the fire kept them warm. I sat there for a couple of hours into the night listening to the sound of the cows’ tinkling bells as they were ushered home from pasture along the lane at the front of my house, the last couple of hardy cicadas chirping in the trees around me, the sad cries of the jackals in the forest beyond, and Turkish music softly drifting down the hill from my Pomatsi neighbours’ terrace. The exquisite smells of Balkan food cooking in nearby houses and of the wood smoke from my fire permeated my nostrils as I looked up at a quarter moon and a million stars in the clear night sky of my rural setting. I felt as though I was a million miles and a hundred years away from what I had previously been accustomed to, but I felt totally at ease with my surroundings, probably for the first time in decades. The peace and serenity of the simple ways of the Bulgarian countryside are what I have spent most of my life yearning for and striving towards, even though I didn’t know it was here until eighteen months ago.
I took my hands from the warm rocks around the fire, poured myself a glass of rakia and drank to my own survival and to the Republic of Bulgaria, a country that has made me feel very welcome since my arrival four and a bit months ago, a country in which surviving hasn’t been at all difficult and a country in which every day has seemed like a birthday while I have been living here.
I hope someday you’ll join me, and the world will be as one.
The fire pit of the Republic of Bulgaria.