Wine and Love: Impressions

***Those interested in photos of the trip should check my Flickr album at this link for photos.

I wanted to write a post specifically about the late afternoon/evening of February 14.  After breaking for the day at CEGA, the U.S. group had free time to nap or explore. I used the time to write the previous blog post, but I also decided to buy a juice drink from a small shop near the hotel.

February 14 has a double meaning in Bulgaria. Bulgarians participate in Valentine's Day in a way that is familiar to those from the U.S., with flowers and dates and sweets and all things pink and red. However in Bulgaria, it is also the national holiday to celebrate wine, and specifically the country ritual of the first trimmings of grape vines. It is known as the saint day of St. Trifon Zarezan or Wine Day.

Over the course of the day as our group traversed Sofia on foot, we saw many couples and families out wearing red, carrying balloons and flowers, and in general having a pleasant time. Street vendors sold U.S. style Valentine's toys and gifts. Children rode their bicycles and some even rode miniature motorcycles (this was boulevard Vitosha after all, the main shopping district designed more for those with money). Love was everywhere (and there is a lot of wine).

Yet if you looked carefully it was not hard to see the Bulgaria that labors hard and experiences poverty. As someone who is not Bulgarian, it is a little complicated to interpret what one sees, but here, for example, is what I saw at the juice shop.

The front of the shop was covered in posters with photos of fruit and lists of different prices for drinks, all in Bulgarian. It had a sliding door that was open and I could see a pale-skinned older woman waiting for customers at the tall green counter. The entry had one step and I stepped up and into the shop. The price list at the side of the counter caught my eye; while I cannot read Cyrillic (much as I wished I did), I was able to point to the picture of a mango and a price of 3.50 leva. The woman came around the counter, looked at the mango thing, and nodded. She went around behind the counter and began feeding fresh mangos through a juicer.

While the juicer roared loudly, a second woman, much darker and unsmiling, came in carrying a box of grapefruit. She ignored me, placed the box on a shelf, and left. A co-worker? A farm worker making a delivery? Who knows. The first woman loaded my juice into a bottle and returned to the counter to ring it up and add in two bottles of water I also asked for.

As she bagged the items, I saw that her hands were very heavily callused, and her fingers had very deep scars from being cut. These scars were so deep flesh was actually missing from her fingers. They were unlike the hands of anyone I know, but resembled the hands of migrant farm workers in the U.S. They were clearly not the hands of someone with an easy life. She looked up, and I gave her my leva. She provided the change. I murmured "blagodaryuh" (thank you in Bulgarian) and she smiled. Probably just polite, but because I tend to want people to like me, it was a small pleasure.  The juice was delicious.

As a person curious about people, I wondered about her name, her family, where she lived. What does something like Wine Day mean to her? What does she think of her customers? What does she think of Bulgaria?

After I returned to the hotel, I worked on this blog and later met the rest of my group to walk to dinner at a restaurant called Before & After. Emil had arranged a long dinner table for our group, complete with wine, of course. To the side was a dance floor which over the course of the night was populated with tango dancers, several of whom were very skilled. Some of our new Bulgarian friends went out on the dance floor, which we applauded.  The room was beautiful with a fountain in the middle and a Valentine's decoration hung from the ceiling. Kristen and I had a terrific time getting to know our group better. At the end of the evening it was easy to say: Bulgaria is a wonderful place and Bulgarians are lovely people.

And yet the same starry Balkan night hung over our party, that hung over the homes of the women in the juice shop. As in every country many realities exist at once and we see first one, and then the other. Sometimes they mask each other, but they are held together by time and place. Wine and love.