One Man in Bulgaria

Wherever I wondered during the previous week brightly coloured stalls could be found selling all manner of Martenitsi.  The one thing they have in common is a thread of red and white. Some have beads some are the more traditional 'Pizho and Penda' as seen here.  These tokens are given to loved ones, friends and family on Baba Marta day, the 1st of March. The tradition is celebrated throughout Bulgaria and according to some sources believed to be the oldest Pagan festival in Europe.  Baba Marta - Grandma March Day celebrates the end of winter and the coming of spring. She is supposed to be a very bad tempered old lady who's mood swings determine the weather, the sun comes out when she smiles. Some say she doing the spring clean, the feathers from the shaken duvet fall to earth as the last snow of winter. Others that the marteniti are to please her into shortening the winter. The tokens which are given and must never be bought for oneself are worn on the clothing or aroun...

Emerging from the museum the crowds have gathered. Parents help their children into their costumes, fathers carry the heavy masks for their sons but all around the tension builds as the various youth groups line up and wait their turn to parade down the avenue to the central stage where the judges wait. Groups have arrived from towns and villages around Pernik and from afar to attend this prestigious event. Costumes and dances reflect the local traditions of these villages but all follow the themes of the mummers traditions. From Morris dancing in England to the mountains of Switzerland these pagan traditions win through to the modern age. The battle for survival during the long dark winter months and the hope for new life in Spring are reflected in the dances, the offering of bread, the hobby horse, the bear and the devil.

Friday morning dawned, not clear and fine but, as you can see, cold and foggy.  My spectacular view across the city to the surrounding mountains was not to be revealed today. Sophia had been shrouded in fog when we arrived yesterday. As we passed the airport on the way into the city my fellow passenger explained to me that the Germans had used the fog as a means of hiding the airfield which they constructed at the time of WWII.  It has only been in recent years that one could turn up as a passenger expecting to fly out on Monday morning but not leave until two days later.

Ever since I arrived here the locals have told go by bus it is faster and better. Well here we are at Varna bus station boarding the 10:00 bus to Sofia.  You may recall that my guide at the Sofia Ethnological Museum mentioned a festival which took place in her village.  On returning to Varna I did some research on the internet to establish dates and places.  Most villages have celebrations around 12th night or the 14th, Michaelmas. Mumers dressed in various costumes continue the traditions established in pagan times. Amongst many listed I discovered the festival at Pernik so off we go.  I am told that it is a six hour journey.

Although the snow had cleared it is still bitterly cold here in Varna I say had because, as I write this it is snowing again.  Just because it is more difficult to travel in the winter, partly due to me getting older and not so keen to suffer for my art, doesn't mean that I hibernate in front of the English language programs on the TV.  Already getting dark Friday evening found me walking down the street, cold but a crispness in the air. The number 14 bus would drop me outside the Tourist Information Office a short walk to the theatre cafe.  Hot coffee and a slice of gateaux before another short walk to the Opera House.

Those of you with Facebook will have seen the first photographs prompted by a look out of the window yesterday afternoon. Although I had seen a few snowflakes around 10:00 hours I had not noticed that it had continued all morning, the flakes were so fine to be almost invisible. The temperature was about -8 degrees C so I had not ventured out but, thinking about food, I looked out of the window at about 15:00 hours to be greeted with this sight. A white Christmas had arrived slightly late and an early dinner was called for!

09:30 hours on Friday morning. As I entered my taxi snowflakes gently fell, my first of the winter. Haw frost or snow it was difficult to tell as the taxi sped towards Sofia railway station but the city had taken on a magical property. I thought to myself that it was a shame that I was leaving it was not to last.  Arriving at the station in plenty of time for my 10:30 departure to Varna, time enough to take some photographs and have breakfast. The Christmas tree in the foyer a touch of colour in this colossal construction.