[February 24th, Culture of Bulgaria] The Bulgarian Bus Conductor

Riding the bus in Bulgaria is one of the unique daily activities, which you will probably not have the chance to experience anywhere else in the world, except maybe in other Eastern European countries. I'm a fan of bus rides so I don't mind the ceaseless waiting for one. It's all part of the thrill I get from the chase and prowl. 

Buses being late is not an uncommon event, but Bulgarian bus drivers take it upon themselves to elevate lateness to an art form. If you take it upon yourselves to visit Bulgaria, you don't need to read a single time table, because even the bus drivers have no idea when they will arrive. 

Now once this is out of the way, I'll talk about the Bulgarian bus 'conductor'. When you think of a conductor, you picture an opera hall. However, in Bulgarian, a conductor is the person, who sells tickets in the bus. Now, in most countries to the West and I'm certain in some to the East, this job has long since been handed over to our future overlords, the machines. Here, not so much. 

The conductor is low-paid, has one of the most unappealing job descriptions in the world and conversations with them are rather dull. These grannies or aunties [yes, the most unappealing job positions in Bulgaria are all reserved for the ladies; feel special] have probably suffered quite a bit to end up on this end of the employment spectrum. I don't expect them to care that I don't know which stop is which [still happens to me] or that the bus has come half an hour late [while outside is -20 C], but the way these women look at you oozes accusation. 

It's as if every passenger is personally responsible for their predicament. They don't want you to talk to them and they don't want to talk to you. They frown, if you give them a bill larger than 5 BGN. They shout, if you ask them why the bus is late, and they never ever seem to know anything. So basically the bonuses of having live-human interaction with conductor are non-existent. 

What you do get out of the whole thing is a ticket and a mild case of emotional abuse.   

[January 20th, Culture of Bulgaria] How to Remove Hexes and the Evil Eye the Bulgarian Way

In the recent months, I’ve taken to Bulgarian folklore and old wives’ tales. One of the topics I adore deals with charms and ways to battle the ‘whammy’ otherwise known as the ‘evil eye’. If you don’t know, Bulgarians are extremely superstitious and living in a household, where all your dreams had to be looked into the dream dictionary, I’m a great deal superstitious myself and have never doubted the techniques my grandmother used, when my sister and I were still small and received a lot of attention.

The whammy or ‘evil eye’ is a hex, which is cast on newborns or small children, when family or friends cuddle, croon or devote too much attention. This whammy manifests as headaches, sudden crankiness or drowsiness. The child will grow uncomfortable and may even develop a mild fever. Sometimes adults are susceptible to whammies as well, especially, if they have been away from their loved ones. Naturally, I think that the whammy is the result of a child having to deal with too many people at a time, which can be exhausting even to an adult. Yet, I can’t deny that washing my face will get rid of the whammy. Perhaps it’s placebo, but even with placebo, it’s quite potent.

Water in one capacity or another always is incorporated in the rituals for removing whammies and their effects. My granny’s personal favorite is to fill a glass with cold tap water and bring to the front door’s handle. She would scoop a bit of water and pour it over the handle, making sure that the dribbles fall into the cup. This ‘washing’ of the handle would be done three times total so that the energy of the outsiders would be washed out of the handle and therefore our home. Then she would bring the glass to my forehead and wash my face three times.

The Turkish Eye or the Evil Eye Beads, whatever you prefer.

 Of course there are other ways to do this. Some people prefer to simple wash their child’s face at the sink, while others bring holy water from the church. Third, whisper words of power out of earshot to imbue the water with cleansing properties. There are literally hundred ways to do a proper hex removal, though we also have excellent preemptive techniques, which ensure no whammies will hit you in the first place. I remember vividly that my sister used to have a blue bead ties to her hand. Then, when she grew up a bit, she carried a bracelet with a Turkish eye for protection. Though I have not seen in it practice, I also know that a red string tied around your wrist will protect you from the evil eye.

And this has been a very short guide on how to remove and protect yourself from whammies?          

[January 18th, Weird Wednesday] "The Other Side" by Alfred Kubin

The opening story in “The Weird” is an excerpt from “The Other Side” by Alfred Kubin, first published in 1908. I have no knowledge of the traditions in European literature at the time of its publication and this is the first time I’ve encountered Alfred Kubin as a writer. I opted for an open interpretation of this text without any prior research, which might have helped me say something accurate as to the meaning of his work. The only text discussing “The Other Side” that I have read is Maureen Kincaid Speller’sexcellent take on the excerpt.

Weird Wednesday’s purpose as a feature is to allow the stories to speak to me and “The Other Side” has proven to be vocal. After the initial reading, I willingly accepted the reality that had befallen the city of Pearl, where an epidemic of sleep knocked out the city’s whole population for several days. However, the mysterious and highly contagious disease functions as a means to set the stage for an inevitable rebellion, instigated and flawlessly executed by all members of the animal kingdom.

In a grandiose and all-devouring display of dominance, the city of Pearl wakes to swarms and herds and prides and packs and flocks of beastly conquerors, who have overthrown humans. At his stage “The Other Side” reads as an environmentalist's wish fulfillment fantasy come to life, yet, reading this excerpt as nothing more than the literal would be insulting to the potency of the prose and its latter direction.  

The 'weird' in this tale has rooted itself within the nameless protagonist's delivery, who serves as a vessel for the reader’s senses. This man collects 'slices of life' encounters between the old and the new citizens of Pearl, neatly chaining one with the other complete with observations. What causes surprise here is not so much the abrupt uprising of the natural world, but the still, calm 'matter-of-fact' reception of these apocalyptic events by the population. It is this peculiar juxtaposition between the dangerous outside world, where one might become prey no matter the hiding place, and the pacified calmness displayed by the citizens, who insist on keeping up with appearances no matter what, that tilts the reader’s perception of how reality functions in the Dream Realm.

This tilted reality can be likened to the absurd logic, on which dreams run. In this direct sense, I'm reminded of Paul Jessup's stories in his collection “Glass Coffin Girls”, where our reality rots and transforms into a reflection from a carnival mirror. Certainly, the sickness that affects manmade objects supports the idea of how reality erodes. Perhaps the denizens of Pearl and the Dream Realm haven't woken from their slumber, but have only achieved consciousness in a never-ending shared dream.

The possibilities for interpretation are countless, because Kubin didn't intend to rationalize the bizarre fate to befall Pearl. However, the strongest association I make with everything that has transpired within the excerpt concerns themes in Bulgarian literature and models in behavior during the centuries of enslavement by the Turks and then decades under the communism. I’m rather surprised how well “The Other Side” is in dialogue with the peculiarities in works by a great number of revolutionary writers and poets as well as the psychological survival tactics the Bulgarian society had to adopt in order for its identity to withstand the occupation during those two periods.

For instance, the concept of sleep on a mass scale, such as Kubin’s sleep epidemic, has a rich history in Bulgarian literary traditions as willful surrender of the conscious mind. During the centuries under Ottoman rule, Bulgarian writers and poets used the 'sleep' to criticize society for their complacency and slave mentality, even though Kubin’s sleep epidemic doesn’t serve as such within the context in the excerpt. Further touching points between Bulgaria and Kubin can be found within the need to maintain normalcy under any and all conditions, even if that is impossible. This persistence to keep a semblance of what Pearl used to be while under the constant animal attacks and demolition can be compared to the same efforts Bulgarians had to make during the Ottoman occupation. The animals represent not only the fear of the citizens, but serves as masks that show the true nature of the human oppressors. For me this association is easy to make, because anthropomorphism has its place in our literary traditions and is still practiced today [even though we use it to bring diversity to our swear language]. Last on the list here is the narrator's psychological breakdown near the excerpt's end. It neatly embodies the inner discord of a person, who hopes and thinks and tries to resist a status quo, even if that desire is expressed through his heart's true intentions.

I will conclude by saying that “The Other Side” by Alfred Kubin is an extremely potent story, mainly because it's represented not in its entirety. There is no clear way to define the proper dimensions of this story, which I don’t mind, because it allows for the reader’s imagination to fill in the blanks. As an excerpt “The Other Side” remains limitless, irreal and opulent as a dream. In short, a fine way to open a compendium dedicated to the all-encompassing weird.       

[January 13th, Culture of Bulgaria] The Head Shake vs. The Head Nod

I’ve been thinking about a good topic for my cultural post, but I decided against tackling yet another religious holiday, even though January is one of the busiest months for name days. I’m picking body language, because it’s an interesting topic on its own and Bulgaria seems to be one of the few countries [I’m including Greece as well], where the head nod is inverted in meaning with the head shake. 

Who ordered the scizophrenic head shakes?

 Or so the rumor goes, but I’d like to talk about the myth’s basics.  

As you know, internationally, the ‘head nod’ signifies agreement, whereas the ‘head shake’ stands for the opposite. You see it in movies, you see it on the TV and if you’re a traveler, you have confirmed this for yourself. Now, in Bulgaria, it’s said that shaking your head actually means that you are saying yes, while nodding your head means that you are disagreeing with a statement or answering in the negative. I’m not sure where this rumor started, because where I live in Varna, I have yet to spot a person shake their head for a ‘yes’ and nod for a ‘no.’

I had to google to confirm that this rumor is alive and well. Tourists that have visited Bulgaria have experienced this conundrum, which further perplexes me. In my community and social environment [including Bulgarian television] there are no examples to confirm this, although there are accounts of this being a thing. The only gesture to come close to this idea is what I call the ‘reverse nod’.

The ‘reverse nod’ is a means to communicate disagreement. Basically, you tilt your head back so the chin lifts, rather than dips as is the situation with a normal nod. In my family, we like to add a very clear ‘tsk’ noise to emphasize just how much we’re not on board with an idea or as is the case with my mother, how much something is SO not happening. Naturally, when you repeat this movement in a quick succession, it seems as though you’re nodding, but you’re not. I myself have been perplexed by the movement, especially when the person in front of me does not provide the much needed ‘tsk’ noise.

I haven’t seen the head-shake-yes in action and considering that I’m born, raised and located in Bulgaria, it’s saying something about the validity of this myth. However, I can’t dismiss the veracity of this myth based solely on my own personal experience as I believe two factors to be heavily present. Americanization and body language dialect.

Bulgaria’s on the fast track, when it comes to adopting Western values and mannerisms that have no root in our own culture. In the process, each new generation sheds something inherent from Bulgarian culture, which is no longer functional. This is the reason why Bulgarian kids are more adept at expressing themselves better in English than in Bulgarian. The same can be said about body language as I personally have grown up with American TV and have picked up all my visual cues from sitcoms. Bad stares, grumpy stances and the rolling of the eyes, all have come from US shows and to some degree Latin American soap operas [our channels had a lot of those]. It’s not unlikely for the new generations to pick up and implement something as fundamental as the head shake and nod. Perhaps ten to twenty years ago, more people said yes with a head shake and no with a head nod, but now with the internationalization of culture this practice is slowly being forgotten.

The second factor I mentioned deals with the dialect of body language. Bulgaria might be of a diminutive size, but each province has its own dialect. It might be slight changes to how one letter is pronounced. It might be connected with how a certain word is used and it might be a very jarring sentence construction, but each province has its differences as is normal. That is why I don’t think it out of the question to assume that some provinces would have kept on the inverted head shake/nod, while others like mine have discarded it. My only fault here is that I have not travelled extensively within my own country to be able to confirm this.

Basically, what I’m trying to say is to take all the information you read in travel guides with a bit of salt. If you do come to Bulgaria and feel that you’re unsure how to proceed in regards to the head shake vs. the head nod, it’s best to rely on the verbal ‘da’ for yes and ‘ne’ for no.     

[January 6th, Culture of Bulgaria] St. Jordan’s Day, Epiphany, Men’s Water Day

All the names in the title of this post signify the same day, January 6^th, which for us Christians is a big holiday. But before I head into the details as to why that is, let me welcome you back to Culture of Bulgaria feature, where I will do my best to introduce you to some of the holiday traditions and beliefs we have accumulated. I intended to begin with New Year’s Eve oddities during celebration of the biggest, international holiday, but right now I’ve the perfect chance to talk about another holiday rooted in Christianity.

I've been thinking about the purpose of all religious holidays in the context of Bulgaria's state and I've made some interesting conclusions, which could be false, but I like to believe that not a single element of one's culture remains fixed and timeless. Every ritual changes and there is nothing more evident than the changes to long lasting religious holidays, which still have their appeal to our society. 

 

The actual baptism of Christ

As you might have guessed, religious holidays are all about religion. Today is St. Jordan’s Day, though I've to say that this translation is wrong as the name of the holiday is taken from the name of the river Jordan, where Christ has been baptised by John the Baptist. Factually, we're not honoring a saint as we're remembering Christ’s baptism, thus making it the third most important Christian holiday in our calendar. Nevetheless, people with the names Yordan [Bulgarian spelling and pronunciation of Jordan], Yordana, Dana, Dancho, Boyan, Bogdan and Bogdana celebrate. The last three are tied to the aspect of the Epiphany.

The Epiphany aspect deals with the part of the script, where the heavens open during Christ's baptism and the spirit of God appears as a white dove. There is a voice that recognizes Christ as God's true son. This is the true religious importance of the holiday, the power of the act and recognition of the ritual as one sanctioned and approved by God. This moment is the serves as the basis for the belief that on the night before the 6^th of January the sky opens directly to the heavens above, where God can hear you. Make a wish and God will grant it to you.

With the fall of strong religious belief, this aspect has fallen into the background. You won't talk with your family about watching the sky at night and the wishes that you made to God. In a certain sense, Bulgarian society has moved on towards unspecified belief and reliance on the multitude of superstitions rather than strict explanations from the Bible. The best example is the ritual to mark the holiday.

The cross has been caught and then passed on the youngest participant, which this year is a nine year old boy.

As with all holy days, Bulgarians have numerous ways to mark the occasion, the most popular still being the “Throwing of the Cross”, which is an all male activity. On this day, after church service, the priest and village [village sounding more authentic] men gather at a large, natural body of water. Then the priest proceeds to throw the cross in the cold water. This is the signal for all the men to jump in and retrieve the cross. The man to retrieve the cross is said to have a happy and healthy year, because he has been blessed. As St. Jordan’s is still widely practiced, the “Throwing of the Cross” is a news-worthy event every year and today was no exception. It’s here that St. Jordan’s day adopts the [horrendous] Men’s Water Day title, which official Bulgarian sites dedicated to our culture has translated it as. Of course every region has its own versions of how the ritual should go.

During breakfast and lunch I followed the news channel’s special segments dedicated to how each city celebrated the holiday, who caught the cross [in Varna, it’s a peer of mine from my university] where and also announcing curious trivia about the holiday. From what I've seen and read, the news are centering on the act of catching the cross as the reason for receiving an astounding health through the whole year. Less emphasis is placed on God's role for making all the bodies of water holy, even though the notion is still present.

Even so the importance of water is great and therefore features in all of the celebrations and rituals. On this day, all natural bodies of water become sacred and their waters obtain healing properties. Sick people bathe in the cold waters to wash away illness, churches change their holy water with fresh one from the closest river or lake for the coming year and families bottle this holy water and keep it in their homes to use, when someone falls ill on bed. And while the churches still follow these rules, individuals are less inclined to bring healing water to their ill family member. My grandmother, who is a practicing Christian, has abandoned this notion as she knows that medicine has covered our bases, when it comes to illness.

The Dancing Chain

This leaves me with the third aspect of the holiday, getting drunk. Before I can proceed with a bit of credibility, I have to bring you to the city of Kalofer. The men dress in old, traditional, period clothes to perform their own version of honoring the day. They form a chain and dance in the freezing water for well over half an hour. The river Tunja explodes in manly laughter and shouts, loud music and merriment, which more or less is an antiquated equivalent of pool parties, if I have ever seen one. This brings me to my point. In order for the men to last in the ice cold waters they have to drink the night before and some of the participants haven't slept a wink in order to pass.

Given how dissatisfied we are as a nation and society with our lot [check European studies, we rank quite high] it's no surprise that we find ways to involve alcoholism in our rituals and holidays as a means to look forward to some fun. What do you think happens, when Yordan comes home from work? Wine happens. That's what.

Anyway, I hope that this was not the 'too long, didn't read' variety of a post. Tell me what you think? Do you have any interesting traditions, where you come from, too?

[November 26th] A Night Among the Bulgarian Cultural Elite

Yesterday was the official book launch of Angel Angelov’s “The Act of Walking on Water”, a pleasant affair, though a bit lengthy, highlighting the release of a slim collection of shorts. I randomly learned about the event thanks to a newsletter from my favorite bookshop in Varna “Shakespeare & Friends”, which organized the event, provided wine and a buffet to boot. The event, given the capacity of the bookstore, was successful with over twenty people attending, which is a full house in my book. 

Unlike most readings/launches I have been to [my experience is limited to this year’s Fantasy Con] the emphasis fell down on dialogue between the author and the guests, rather than any of the stories. Angelov didn’t read his works, nor did he discuss his collection. I felt no attempt of a sales pitch either, which I found so very different from what I’m observing in the West as behavior during such events. 

From what I gathered, Angelov is a well-established niche author, one of the difficult ones to read, so there is no appeal for him to generate any hype. His built-in audience, no matter how small will track his works and to me it seemed that this audience consists of other intellectuals rather than mainstream readers, although that may not be true. If it is true, then that confirms my belief that the Bulgarian literary community is close-circuited as evidenced by the number of creators in attendance [literary critics, painters and theater folk]. 

The downside of this particular book launch was that it was more about the author rather than the book or the potential readers. I understand that with friends and personal acquaintances as the majority of the audience, there would be no incentive to ‘sell’ the collection, but at some point the event became as a sort of gathering to venerate Angelov and his strengths, which I considered to be tasteless, albeit good-natured and probably well-deserved. What I also didn’t find all that enjoyable was the tactless use of the space, where the author seemed to overstay his welcome in the bookstore. Obviously, from my conversations with the bookstore owners, there were no negotiated terms on how long the event should have lasted. 

Even with these small imperfections, I had a good evening, which turned me into more of an active participant in the event as I had to translate in real time, from English to Bulgarian and from Bulgarian to English, as the bookstore owners are both English speakers. Also, I was the night’s oddity, being the only person under thirty [even under forty] interested enough to stay and have a few chats. Business cards were exchanged, photos were made. All in all, a great evening for meeting the Bulgarian cultural elite. 

Your turn. Tell me what event you were recently? Did you like it?

May 6th: Saint George, Martyr & Dragon Slayer

May 6th is an important day for Bulgaria as today we celebrate Saint George, who in Bulgaria is referred to as the Dragon Slayer or the Victorious (though literally from Bulgarian that one should be Victory Bringer). Saint George is the patron of farmers and shepherds. By default, all the people having names that remotely resemble George have a Name’s Day and celebrate: these include Georgy (Bulgarian version of said name ), Gergana, Gergina, Gloria, Gancho, Ginka, Ganka, Gabriella, Genady, Gosho, Genovena and many more.

Saint George’s Day is a big deal in Bulgaria for several reasons. For starters, Saint George is a saint of significance in the Christian pantheon. Because of his brilliant military career, Saint George’s Day also coincides with Day of Bravery and the Bulgarian Army. The tradition is alive and well as even this morning, all the news stations provided live feed from the army’s parade in the capitol as soldiers marched to Alexandr Nevski’s Church. The ritual I noted was the blessing of the battle flags, though specific attention was paid to the Navy and their battle ships. I suppose that this specificity has to do with the legend that a healing water gushed after a church in the saint’s name was raised on the sight, where he killed the dragon.

It’s because of that particular feat why Saint George is one of the most recognizable saints in the Eastern-Orthodox mythology. In itself the legend doesn’t shock at all as it’s pretty straight to the point. In a true Greek fashion, we have a city located near a lake, which in turn was the home for this dragon. The dragon was a fierce poison breathing monster, whose breath could kill a person even from a solid distance. As a means to keep the beast away from the city, which had become the dragon’s go-to location for meals, the city ruler decided that each day a child would be left at the lake’s shore, inventing the first take-out delivery service for dragons anywhere (in Christian mythology).

Improper jokes aside, it was the city ruler’s young daughter to be eaten by the dragon, when Saint George appeared on a white horse and slew the dragon as it emerged from the waters in the name of God. This act – no one could previously kill the beast – was meant as a miracle so that God could convert the whole city into his followers. I suspect this particular myth served as the foundations for the knight on a white horse, who slays dragons and saves princesses.

Saint George is honored as a martyr. You remember the bit about his military career? Well, in fact, George served as a Roman soldier under the Emperor Diocletian. George proved himself to be a brave and honorable soldier, but that didn’t meant much, when Diocletian decided to clean his army from Christians. Initially, George was picked to head the team that would be in charge of finding and killing Christians, when he himself revealed his love for God.

Diocletian tried to convert his best soldier to Roman beliefs, but when no offering convinced George to abandon Christ, tortures and decapitation followed. It was during these torture sessions that George performed countless miracles. He survived inhuman lashings, spending three days in a quicklime pit, poison and even swords grating his whole body. During his trial an angel appeared in order to heal George and in the end, at the command of the Emperor, he even resurrected a dead man.

As a closing for this post, I’ve supplied a video for a popular song sung at this day in honor of this great Christian saint. Enjoy and in the second part, I will talk about the holiday itself.

____
1. For the sake of being accurate, one must know that the “g” in all the names is not the “dʒ” sound like in the English George, but the normal “g” as in ‘guy’

Monday 25th: Easter Bunny versus Lame Donkey; a Bulgarian Easter

It’s Easter or was Easter, if we have to abide the calendar, but we’re still riding on the Easter high. In Bulgaria [as well as in all Eastern Orthodox countries] Easter ranks second in the list of holidays. In Greece people take one week off from work before Easter and one week after Easter. I love Easter, because it used to get me days off from school, hard boiled eggs and the sweet Easter bread with the consistency of cotton and taste of heaven.

Growing up, however, I felt quite conflicted about Easter traditions. My family was one of the first to have cable TV – hence my introduction to the wonderful world of Cartoon Network – which led to learning about the Easter Bunny, the egg hunt and the chocolate eggs. This all happened after communism fell, so Bulgaria could now smuggle in Easter Bunny stickers. Let me tell you that they only deepened my confusion as I certainly asked about the Bunny and I was told by my grandparents that we didn’t have one.

No, what we had was the Lame Donkey. The Lame Donkey is a magical donkey – I think it’s the donkey that Jesus rode on as he entered Jerusalem – that enters the homes of sleeping kids on Saturday night and leaves a hardboiled egg [painted red to symbolize Christ’s blood] next or under the pillow of said sleeping child. I used to be terrified, because I don’t think donkeys are nice or adorable and limping animals freaked me out – mainly because I can’t stare at any sort of deformation or abnormality.

I remember enjoying the hardboiled egg though, so the very least I was rewarded for having the patience with this story. Now, nobody knows about the Lame Donkey. It’s so obscure I’m not even sure I didn’t make this up [grandparents confirmed I’m typing the truth]. Funny, yet creepy crossover is that I remember Eeyore carrying a basket full of Easter eggs. To me this was yet again confusing, cause Eeyore is a rather drowsy type with a falling tail.

I have the evidence to prove this, even though the Internet is quiet about it.

The other great misconception I had about Easter was that I would go on an Easter egg hunt, like kids in US movies had. No such thing. No chocolate eggs either. The egg tradition in my country is rather different. For one we use real hardboiled eggs, which we ritualistically paint on either Thursday or Saturday. In the old days the color always was red – Christ’s blood – but now we can go rainbow on the eggs. The real fun starts on Sunday, when all of the family gathers and starts ‘battling’. Basically we crack egg top against egg top and then egg bottom against egg bottom to determine the champion egg. The champion egg should have won all the battles and has to be preserved for the whole year in order to bring health and prosperity.

Psychedelic egg action.

In summary, my childhood Easter had aggression and limping livestock, while my cousins in the US had Mr.Fluffykins and chocolate. Honestly, I think I’m special because I have a very different folklore icon [making me a cultural hipster] and I like hardboiled egg salad, so I’m not very cheated.

Personification of Spring in Bulgarian Culture

It's March, the most bipolar month in Bulgaria [to be honest December surpassed it with days, I had to walk with short sleeves OUTSIDE]. It's the month that catches the death of winter and the birth of spring, so from a meteorological standpoint, March can be as cold as January, as rainy as February and as mildly tempered as April.

Baba Marta in her sunny mood

Of course, such erratic weather patterns panicked did a lot to panic Bulgarians back in the time, to the point that we personified March as Baba Marta [or Grandma March for the curious ones] and March is a time, when we honor Baba Marta in hopes for good weather. In olden times, shepherds would freeze up in the mountains with their flocks, because the sunny weather would easily turn to a snowstorm and the people along with the animals would be trapped there. Naturally, no one had the desire to lose their loved ones as well as their livestock to bad weather and this naturally led to the conception of Baba Marta and the month-long series of rituals that are performed in her name. Baba Marta is not only the embodiment of March, but also the very personification of spring, which for Bulgaria is a tough and unpredictable season. Often cold and with rain showers while it's sunny outside.

In this post, I will touch upon the mythological reasoning as to why Baba Marta suffers from her violent mood swings. The most popular belief is that Baba Marta has two brothers: January and February [they are named Golyam Sechko and Maluk Sechko, which I fail to translate], who have anger management issue, hence why it's cold during these months. Basically, both brothers always do something to displease their sister, either drink all the wine or leave their house in an utter mess. This angers Baba Marta, who as their sister is depicted as an old crone with a cane, and snow covers the land. Otherwise, when not provoked, Baba Marta is happy and loving, thus prompting the sun to shine.

Baba Marta during a fit

Sometimes, Baba Marta's said to be the brothers' bride [yes, there's polygamy at work here] and I actually know some inappropriate jokes about why she is always throwing fits. They involve cold feet and ill-endowed spouses.

It's interesting to note that while nowadays March and spring are female in Bulgarian folklore, once Baba Marta was actually a man, who had two wives. One was loving and beautiful, while the other is described as always scowling and cold. When March looked at the first, the sun shone and the weather cleared. When he looked at the other, winter would creep back in. However, it's a rather unpopular version.

The patriarchal structure of Bulgarian society reinforced the idea that March is a female and that her mood swings are unrelated to anything. Today, the tale of Baba Marta and her brothers or spouses, while known, is not central as to why Baba Marta angers as easily as she does. It's just accepted that she is as easy to laugh as she is to cry. Anything can anger her. If she sees old men on the streets, she might anger. Seeing children and young women might better her mood.

With this ends the mythological roots of Baba Marta and a very brief 'psychological' profile of her emotional instability. Next week I will try to translate [key word is try, of course] some short fairy tales about Baba Marta.

Saint Filoteya, the Wise and Chaste

Today’s post, while still following the established trend to focus on saints, will focus on one of the few female saints of Bulgaria, Saint Reverend Filoteya. Considering how Christianity is patriarchal its nature, there is no surprise that the male saints outnumber the female ones and I have to add that the women in Christianity do not shine with daring tales. Saint George slew a dragon. Saint Haralambi chained diseases. Saint Filoteya relayed the wisdom of God, which, although not miraculous in the direct, reality-altering sense, is nonetheless an inspiring feat.

The post will be very short, because there are no real traditions surrounding her Name’s Day, the 7th of December, as Saint Filoteya plays a small role in the Bulgarian Eastern Orthodox cannon. What is known about her is that Reverend Filoteya was born in the Byzantine city of Polivot in southern Thrace. Filoteya is a child given to childless parents after lengthy prayers, establishing that Filoteya is a miracle herself.

As a miracle, Filoteya leads a life that transcends her human heritage. Her parents made sure she received proper education, which at the time [and for a woman as well] was prestigious. Even married, Filoteya remained a virgin, preserving her purity and emanating the incorporeal existence of angels. After her husband’s death, Filoteya built a cell deep in the lake’s island near her home city. There she devoted herself to a heavy post, constant prayer, night-long vigils, tears and silence.

Her devotion to God and abstinence from all earthly delights earned her God’s favor and as a gift God granted her with the miraculous grace of prayer and wisdom to teach. Through her prayers she could heal anything from physical deformations to serious illnesses. Many of the clergy and villagers visited her in order to hear her godly advice and receive healing in her prayers.

However, the excessive abstinence weakened Filoteya and she foresaw her death, December the 7th, though records miss any information as to the century during which she lived or her age. Her holy relics proved to be incorruptible and performed many miracles.

I’d want to add my own analysis as to why Saint Filoteya. While her faith had been used as a divine weapon in dramatic moments, Saint Filoteya possessed integrity, the will and the faith to stray away from corruption. She enlightened her mind, refused to play a subservient role as a wife and child bearer, kept her body pure from earthly nutrition. Filoteya was more divine than she was human as she even channeled God’s power to heal. She suffered for her faith, but not as a tortured martyr. It was her selflessness that allowed her to transcend.

Before St. Valentine's Day, there was Trifon Zarezan

Yes, my culture post is late. I had to miss the deadline so that I could get it out of my system. Buckle up, this will be a long one. February the 14th is slotted for love, but before Cupid had a date, we celebrated [still do] Saint Trifon Zarezan, the saint of wine.

From a historical point of view, we did need a saint of wine and patron of wine makers, since viticulture and winemaking developed in the Bulgarian lands since the time of the ancient Thracians. Feasts with wine of the Thracian Kings Sitalk and Sevt impressed ancient Greek writers such as Aristophanes, Xenophon and Demosthenes. In time Ancient Thrace earned the title “Land of good wine.”

Before Christianity, however, we had a Thracian god of wine and fertility Sabazios, who also doubled as Dionysus and was the forerunner of the Christian patron saint of winegrowers St. Trifon. There are ancient myths revolving around Dionysus. Once upon a time, the Thracian king Lycurgus drove away the Dionysus’ merry retinue and the god sent madness the king’s way. The king killed his son, while hallucinating that he was cutting grapevines.

St. Trifon

There’s a less dramatic but similar Christian legend about a saint Trifon. He was punished for mocking the Virgin Mary by having his nose cut off with pruning knives. Therefore, there’s a popular nickname for the saint - Trifon the Chippy one. But regardless of tradition, St. Trifon remains a honored figure.

It’s believed that through his help and blessings vineyards become fertile. Therefore growers ritually seek him and ask him to come in their vineyards, when they gather at the feast of St. Trifon. Then they utter incantations so that so many grapes grow that they litter and hide the saint from the people’s eyes.

St. Trifon is considered the patron of the vineyards and people feast in his honor. The ones who celebrate aren’t only growers, but gardeners and tavern-keepers. Early in the morning, the women knead bread. Moreover, they cook chicken, which is traditionally filled with rice or groats. They boil the chicken whole and then grill it over a burning fire.

The ritualistic bread.

Later, bread, chicken and a wooden vessel of wine are put in a woolen bag. With these bags on their shoulders the men go into the vineyard. They cross themselves, take pruning knives and cuts three sticks from three hubs each. They cross themselves again and then sprinkle the whole vineyard with the fetched vine. This ritual is called “cutting”. Then all come together and choose a “king of the vineyards”. Only then can the feast begin. The king is decked with garlands of vine, one as a crown on his head and one wreath around his shoulders.

The coronation of the king, though I could not find the cart.

He is sat on a cart, which is then pulled by the men and under the sounds of bagpipes, drums and rebecs everyone heads back to the village or town. There, the procession stops at each and every house. The hostess of the house brings out a white cauldron with wine and gives the king to drink first and then allows the other to drink as well.

The remaining wine is thrown on the king, who utters the blessing: “Let the harvest be good! Let it overflow from thresholds!” The king meets the blessing with “Amen.” Once he arrives at his home, the king changes into new clothes and decorated with wreaths, he sits at a along table to meet people from the village.

Celebration is in full swing with men and women dressed in traditional Bulgarian clothing.

I want to note here that in different villages, the rituals’ specifics vary. The “cutting” ritual in particular has different incarnations as to how many sticks from the grapevines are cut, where they are cut from and in what order they are cut from. In some villages, there are races to see who can cut most vines in a given time interval. In some villages, the vine sticks are sprinkled with wine and then given to villagers, when the procession starts. It’s unheard of all men to wear the ritual wreaths, which then are kept throughout the year. Everything done here is to ensure a healthy and plentiful harvest as well as to officially open the new season.

The next two days, known in folklore “trifuntsi”, are venerated for protection from wolves, because February’s the coldest and harshest of months. Women aren’t allowed to use scissors in order to not open the wolf’s mouth. Forbidden are also knitting, spinning and sewing. The ritualistic bread comes once more into play. Women bake and distribute it among neighbors, who put morsels of it in animal milk as protection of livestock and people from wolves.

Besides bread and stuffed chicken on the feast of St. Trifon's Day you could offer roasted nuts from walnuts, hazelnuts, peanuts or dried fruit. Nuts can also be candied. To do so, add a little sugar over them and bake them at moderate heat. Dried fruit come sprinkled with powdered sugar and rum. Wine is mandatory.

Usually in small towns and villages the wine’s stored in a cellar or basement. It’s better to remove it before your guests come and sit at the table. “The drink of the gods” is served with a main dish, but you can also serve it with a dessert. People also say that the wine served on this day will be also the wine that the vines will produce this year. Therefore, one must always bring out the best wine for one’s guests.

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I hope that you found this enjoyable. Come Friday, I will talk about a female saint as per the request of one Margo Lanagan. Let’s see if I can deliver on time.

Saint Haralampi, patron of Plague and Beekeepers

Hello and welcome to the first post on my cultural exploration of Bulgaria. As with all good ideas I came up with this on Twitter, sharing about my Names Day that was on Feb 10th. I’m in no way expert in Bulgarian folklore and cultural history and every fairy tale, legend, myth or ritual has its nuances among the different regions of the country. What I’m attempting to do is record as much as I can about Bulgaria in a sort-of database that could be useful should any one feels curious about my culture. So, if you are interested tune in every Friday.

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Saint Haralampi [sometimes referred to as Haralambos or Haralampii]

This Friday I want to tackle my Names Day, St. Haralampi. First, let me explain the concept of the Names Days. I’m not aware if any other Eastern Orthodox Christian countries celebrate these, but the concept is simple. Bulgaria has a vast religious calendar that hosts all holidays, many of which are Names Days. I’m having hard time keeping this formal, because it looks as if I’m dumbing it down.

Yesterday was St. Haralampi, during which all the people who have this name or a variation of it celebrate. I’m Haralambi, so I celebrate, but so far haven’t heard of a female version of my name, because Haralambi is essentially a Greek name [because I’m ¼ Greek]. Mandatory for all Names Days is to wish the ‘name bearer’ [I invented this term, because I don’t want to type up ‘people who celebrate their Names Day’ all the time] health and prosperity. I don’t get many, because my Names Day is obscure. Not many are named after the saint, due to his Greek origin.

Now that I’ve covered the basics, I want to talk more about my saint. Saint Haralambi isn’t a well known historical figure. What is known about his life is that he died defending his faith, which automatically listed him as a martyr and thereafter as a saint. Legends say that he was a Miracle Worker and a great healer. Because of his healing, he was named a patron of diseases [icons portray him chaining all personifications of diseases and in particular, the plague itself] and beekeepers [because of honey’s healing properties].

As legends go, on February 10th Saint Haralampi captured the Plague [an ugly, old woman] and chained her. Celebrations during this day are meant to keep the plague outside the house. To protect themselves from this terrible disease, people fenced houses with hawthorn and briers [if my translation is correct], sewed garlic cloves to the headscarf for women and shirts for men. Some even dressed with special “pestilential shirts” sewn of nine widows.

The ritual bread.

Women are forbidden to work on this day, lest the plague enters their home. What they do is to bake a special bread [shown above]. Here the facts become rather meshed up. One source says that women coat the bread with blessed honey from the church and nuts. Then they cut it into four pieces that correspond with the four directions of the world. One is kept at home and the other three are given to neighbors and relatives as a token of health. But before any of this goes down, the house must be scrubbed clean.

There is another custom. Only the “pure” women [no idea whether by “pure” the text refers to virgins or healthy women] to bake bread and bring it outside the village at the crossroads to appease the plague. Alternatives to this suggest to leave food and water on the ceiling or to hang bread wrapped in cloth on an abandoned wall along with a wooden vessel of wine. To be on the safe side and drive away the plague, it’s called diminutive names: "sweet and honey", "good", "aunt". I’d go for a bit more mystical and call her “honeyed one.”

The most interesting custom so far has to do with the use of twins. The whole village has to be ritualistically plowed by two twin brothers. They have to do so using a plow made from a twin tree [or twin wood, I’m not sure about the translation here] and twin oxen.

If St. Haralampi’s Day is not celebrated, he will grow furious and will release the plague and other terrible diseases from their chains down on the ungrateful ones. Yes, my saint is not as benevolent as you thought. No wonder people commit to so many customs and rituals in his honor.

How honey is consecrated.

Also, on this day consecrated honey is believed to have especially strong healing properties as it can cure rashes, measles, wounds on the body. If you smear it on children’s foreheads, they remain healthy.

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With this I conclude my first post. I do hope that you have found this interesting. Personally, I have inspirations for about three stories, so I know I enjoyed writing and researching it. I’m certain that there is more to be said and if you have questions I’ll be more than happy to look into them.