Whirlwind

As much as I would love to detail all 7 months of my visit in Bulgaria I'm afraid there are more adventures between now and then that deserve their proper due. Also, in the ensuing 4 years my memory goes hazy with details and I'm tired of trolling Facebook for pictures.

Last we left off my group was on an over night train to Istanbul.  

Words cannot describe the meld of cultures that reside there.  Yes, you see minarets. The call to prayer is heard daily and women are rare sight unless they're tourists.  All point to a dominant Muslim culture.  Granted it is. Just the same way the USA has predominant Christian overtones. (no mail delivered Sunday, beach nudity frowned on, ect.) OOPS yeah I just mentioned religion and a tiny bit of politics on a travel/adventure blog. Deal with it.  (or stop reading, no worries here! Free speech baby!)

My point is that there are strong Christian and Jewish sentiments in Istanbul as well.  From the history of the Hagia Sophia to the multicultural protestant church we visited on the Eastern side of the Bosporus we experience a mixture. Granted, I also experienced (a possible) near abduction as well.

At the church it was Father's Day and they celebrated by handing roses to the Father's and also giving roses out to "future fathers".  Interesting....possibly more a fact that there was a surplus or encouraging them to "be fruitful".  The church had a cat that lived there....I may have spent the better part of the service trying to get its attention and play!  The service itself was beautiful combination of liturgies taken from Synagogues, Mosques, and Lutherans placed in a very Presbyterian format. There was chanting, sacraments, spoken prayer, ect. The lyrical chanting was a baring of the soul to the Almighty.  The pastor met with us afterwards and had lunch with us, answering questions about the church, its members, and life in Istanbul as a Protestant Christian.

Before we took the ferry back across to the Western side of the Bosporus we also visited with the imam of a local mosque, friend of the pastor.  He answered our questions and shared how he became the local imam and explained the differences between Shi'a and Sunni (yes, there are several other denominations sadly 2 hours doesn't lend itself that type of discussion).  I can honestly say that visit was rather vanilla.  Interesting and informative but very basic.

The earlier trip to the Bazaar was more....exciting?


Lets rewind to the night train, transferring to the bus past the Turkish border.  It was my first experience on a public bus with it own TOILET. Like a jet without wings taxing its way down to the capital.  My friends called it "the Turkish torture bus".  When one part of your body is blasted with hot air and the other is turned into arctic wasteland one tends not to sleep.   Since some of us (ahem..ME) slept a total of 30 min in their fold out train bunk, this was not the best combination when we arrived at the bus station roughly around 6am.




We got to our hostel by an above ground metro and watched the sunlight paint the sleeping city awake.  The Paris Hotel Hostel wasn't 4 stars, but it was amazing.

The girls had almost the entire 3rd floor to ourselves with a balcony overlooking the harbor. After checking in an unloading we mostly decided to get coffee, shower and nap. Honestly, I can't remember in what order.

Some decided to sight see and later everyone crashed. Except for a friend and I. She had been before and we decided she would show me around the bazaar.  (for those with taste you can visualize it by watching the opening scene from "Skyfall" featuring Daniel Craig)

The bazaar is overwhelming in so many ways. The colors, people, smells, yelling, bartering, shopkeepers.....oh the shopkeepers.  There was everything.  Imagine a crowded mall in an ancient maze of a building that had grown up around itself. Then fill it with shops like at a flea market as well as those mall kiosks.  At some point every person has walked through an American mall and been approached by a kiosk person, maybe even mildly harassed. Or chased three stores down by a hair kiosk guy calling, "COME BACK RAPUNZEL!!"  OK MAYBE NOT EVERYONE.
But imagine a small village of that type of salesperson inside a maze like cavern of shops.  That is the Bazaar.

The fun part is haggling.  The not so fun part is standing out as a blonde American tourist and becoming an easy target.

Burn Alert

We interrupt your chronological perusal of a trip made over 3 years ago to bring up an account from this past weekend...

This past weekend Sam and I took the girls on the second annual Hunting Island Beach Trip.  A trip where my sister and her best friend are taught how to set up a camp site, and leave no trace after 2 nights of surviving with AC in a tent.   Last  year was pretty uneventful other than LOTS of bugs, mud slinging, and licking the foam. (I told them it was dead mermaids, but it didn't stop them)

This year the girls didn't eat the sea foam (thank goodness) but there was mild mud throwing and ALOT of splashing.  This trip was more sedate, our campsite has a view of the waves, and we met more people.

Instead of driving down after work and setting up camp in the dark, I had the sense to take the day off.  We pitched the tent pretty quickly.  My husband didn't even have to help out of instruct! Downside- it meant I was putting the pegs in the ground and I ended up breaking the metal stake completely.  So after some Hulk jokes the tent was secured and we were able to sit around with the citronella candles burning on the corners of the table.

With my hair up in a pony tail, I leaned back as we were talking and started smelling some terrible.  REALLY TERRIBLE, the kinda of smell that makes you gag. I turned my head and saw the flames licking up the side of my pony tail and promptly flipped out. Grabbing my hair I yelled (ok, yes there was cussing involved...) and attempted to pat out the fire. The girls were laughing their heads off as I did my fire dance and my husband belatedly tried to cover it to put out the flames.   All I can say is that never wearing hairspray came out in my favor!  Ironically though, I had just gone to the salon the day before!

I moaned over my frazzled ends and the smell..but in the end the fire only got an inch and half off one side of my hair. Almost as bad were the looks I got from the parents at the campsite next to us.  I can't remember what I was yelling...but apparently they didn't appreciate panic over someone's incinerated head.  Whoops...

Thankfully, for the rest of the trip we stuck to burn wood, hotdogs, and only one or 2 marshmallows.  That is, unless you count sunburn!

Last year's beach trip saw some red cheeks of both kinds.  Reapplication was not really practiced.  Sunscreen never really found its way to our backsides either.  Needless to say after driving 4 hours home on toasty buns last year, we not only applied but reapplied multiple times this year.  50 sph  is a marvelous invention, even if it meant it I came home with hardly a shadow of tan on my face.

The burn victims this past trip included legs, and the part of the back that doesn't not get coverage when reapplying sunscreen to one's self!  My sister's bestie ended up buying aloe at the park store.  Can we say $10?? Yes, $10.  ALWAYS pack your own aloe for beach trips. A) You will most definitely need some no matter how strong your reapplication game is! B) The beach stores KNOW how desperate you are for immediate relief and will overcharge. We got the pain killing version and a bag of ice to stick it in to chill.  Which felt AMAZING afterwards! Note: all aloe should be chilled, make sense, no?

So, while I've left out the attack of jellyfish, theft of sunglasses by waves, and an epic gathering for volleyball I feel I've left some rather good life lessons in this article.

1) Be aware of your surroundings- don't dip your ponytail into citronella candles!

2) If you cuss at family campsites expect to be the pariah.

3) When in doubt - ask/beg friends to hit your back with sunscreen that 3rd to 5th time after you've been doing handstands in the ocean. 

4) You can never drink too much water at the beach. (you can always go pee in the ocean- gives you a chance to stretch your legs and cool off from all your sunbathing!)

5)  PACK YOUR ALOE FROM HOME...and pack it in the cooler with your icepacks. (maybe this should have been lesson number 1?)

The final lesson I learned days after being back at work.

Apparently the jelly fish I ran into (top part) was benign! Those clear round jellies are harmless and don't really have a sting according to my friend at work who has a dive instructor's license.   They are called "cabbage head Jellyfish". You can pick them up and play with them.  I suppose I owe the ones I ran from screaming an apology - they just wanted to be friends!
Cabbage/Cannonball Jellies

Now go reserve your tent site on Hunting Island and pack your bug spray...you're gonna need it!

Beach Camp Reservation Site

En Route

Note to readers, this will be as chronological a blog as I can make it, despite it reaching back to 2012!

This means the next installment will be on Plovdiv and Istanbul.  For those who aren't familiar with the former city, its located in Bulgaria roughly 41 min from Pazardzhik.

Our left after the week long clinic was over and met up with another part of our team in Plovdiv, Bulgaria.  It blew my mind that so many ancient ruins were open to the public!  I;m used to being told to "KEEP OFF" and "DON"T TOUCH".  But in Plovdiv I got to go down into the hippodrome and do pretty much whatever.  It was like a public park!  They still hold performances in the ancient theater.  (I know, shame on me for not having better pictures to share) We walked all over, and did some light shopping.  The shop we went to was not you typical tourist trap, it was more of a antique shop slash museum.  Not being able to afford much or lug anything around, I bought 2 Ottoman medallions.  The shop owner even explained the dates and wording for me.  Don't ask me what Sultan they memorialized, I've forgotten somewhere along the past 4 years.

There were street stalls as well, but they were located nearer the city center.  Plovdiv has gorgeous architecture!  If you love Charleston's Rainbow Row in South Carolina, beware.  The main streets of Plovdiv would put it to shame.  The main streets are for foot traffic only - so wear your best walking shoes and be prepared to be entertained!

During the summer in Plovdiv, performance artists are in no short supply.  If you've seen "Spy" with Melissa McCarthy, recall the scene where Rayna Boyanov compares Susan Cooper to her mother.  Bulgarian clowns are, in fact, a very common in the warmer months.  They are very talented and creative! My teammates and I got looped into an improve piece one evening and had a blast!  Plovdiv did not lack for scenery, architecture, history, food, or entertainment.  Also, its one of the less expensive European cities to stay in.  Very accessible by bus from the capital, I made a day trip out there by myself more than once while living in Bulgaria.

That evening we left from Plovdiv on an overnight train to Istanbul.  Best way to travel to Turkey EVER!  Honestly I don't think I really slept at all.  Mostly I stood outside in the corridor watching the countryside pass by with the windows open. Fields with bright red poppies, some with aging, rusted machinery, everything fascinated me.

About 3?am the train reached the border and we all disembarked, digging our passports out of our bags.  Since most of the toilets on the train had been backed up we hit the restrooms at the checkpoint after being processed.  I can't remember much other than waiting in line and getting a stamp. Not a ink pad deal, an ACTUAL lick-the-back paper stamp. My clearest memory was that there were clean, functioning bathrooms. On the other side of the check-point (think of the visitor centers next to the interstate) we boarded a bus to take us the rest of the way to Istanbul.

The Beginning....Its a good place to start

My husband and I met in college. After month of "running into" each other at the local bagel and coffee joint I pretty much was convinced I was falling "in love." (and no, I was not excited) Up to that point, my life had been relationship-free zone - guys were buddies and nothing more.  I hadn't ever dreamed of marriage, in fact I thought of romance as a pesky distraction.

Sam was by far the best distraction of my life.  Both of us history majors, we graduated within a year of each other.  Instead of getting married right out the door, we had time to travel, work, and prep for the road ahead.  I decided to take an internship abroad with MTW.  Sam stayed at his job and was able to visit me in Bulgaria for my birthday.

That wasn't the first adventure of our 3 years of dating, but it was our first completely uncharted, overseas adventure.  By the time he and his mother visited me, I'd lived in Sofia for roughly 3 and a half months.  By no means was I fluent in Bulgarian, but I'd traveled around Bulgaria enough to be able to be a semi-effective tour guide.

When I'd landed in Sophia that June, our group was immediately taken to drop off the bulk of our luggage (enough for 7 months and 3 seasons!) before driving south to Pazardzhik for a week long medical missions clinic.  It was my first experience staying in a hostel overseas, but not the first time I had shared living quarters with a mouse.

During that week, sans medical training/experience, I and a few others partnered with other non-medical volunteers from the local church to help in a neighboring village.  The name escapes me at the moment, which causes more than a little shame since the mayor hosted us himself our last day there.

Our project that week was to clear the churchyard of that small village, the pastor of which was upwards of 90 years old and walked precariously with 2 canes. The church was beautiful, historical, and small by American standards, but had a beautiful sounding piano which we played on our water breaks (much to the delight of a local boy who decided to help out).  We filled the street outside the courtyard with brush, wood, and weeds planning to haul it off in gradual loads.  Instead, local Roma came and took most of the wood for poles and the brush for kindling.

Here's comes the ironic(?) part of the trip.  According to my friend who had been living in Bulgaria for many years, is a licensed doctor in the United States, and speaks fluent Bulgarian, poison ivy has not been introduced to his adopted country.  I have a LONG list of things I'm allergic to, but worst of all is my reaction to poison ivy.  So far, the last 3 times I've had a reaction its spread so rapidly (despite basic precautions) I had to seek medical assistance.  No, I don't roll in it, and yes, I know what it looks like and am on the constant lookout.

So, there I am, in a country that supposedly is berefit of my personal kryptonite.  Fast forward to halfway thru the week.  An itchy spot on my arm in the morning, another spot on my forearm  in the afternoon, spreading....growing..So much for no poison ivy huh?  When I showed my arm and explained what I suspected and why the medical team gave me that condescending look/smirk only all-knowing medical professionals have.  When the spots continued to spread sans scratching and after washing, ointments AND oral antihistamines they finally deigned to offer what oral medication they had on hand.

Do I think got poison ivy in a country where it doesn't grow? Of course not! My theory is that some thing the church courtyard caused a similar severe allergic reaction.  I would also like to say that my friends in the medical profession are extremely knowledgeable and compassionate, despite my descriptive words above. Admit it, you've been there too, possibly on the other side of the medical profession, watching people self diagnose and coming to ridiculous conclusions.  In this case, I was blessed to have medical professionals on hand in a foreign country where I would continue to have limited access to medical assistance.

The Mayor's office

At the end of our week in  Pazardzhik , the medical team had helped many people.  My team had completely cleared the courtyard and fixed the walkway so that it was passable.  The mayor of village hosted us at his offices, I wish I could remember the food better.  Sadly, the only thing I remember with certainty was that cold bottles of Coke was served and the conversation was thorough!  The mayor was very proud of his village and asked about the cities we were from.  I felt so bad when I couldn't answer his questions about Greenville's population or how many malls we had.  Disclaimer: I still have no clue.  I could just Google it and pretend that my knowledge is endless, but I'm just gonna honest here.

Overall, that first week was OVERWHELMING. I missed my boyfriend so much.  The language was different, the money was different, I was with a group of complete strangers I had never met before in my life, save for a conference phone call.  During the time, I didn't FEEL overwhelmed because I was so busy.  All the interns had their days completely planned out, even those of us who were still struggling with the time change (forget language barriers).  This was helpful, it gave me no time to be vulnerable, no time for tears or "what have I gotten myself into?"  I enjoyed every minute of it.  The sweltering sun, working with new friends with whom I had to use parts of 3 different languages to communicate with, enjoying my first cold beer, changing money in 2 different currencies, ect.

There are so many other side stories from my first week in Bulgaria. Like using a Turkish toilet for the first time.  There's nothing like needing to go REALLY bad, asking where the bathroom is, and no one tells you its just a porcelain pad, place for you feet and a 5 inch hole.  That's right people -  5 inches. Squatting.  Heaven forbid you have to poo. Eh, you get used to it real quick, thankfully the next week I went back to bathrooms with the throne in them.  (I could go on a tangent about how they were different too, but I won't- comment if you want the story)

Another side story would be about the mouse in our room, or shoe shopping for sandals in size 10.  You could also hear about how hot it was, how good the (melted) chocolate was, the bizarre sodas we saw, the two lane roads driven like 4 lane highways.  It didn't seem like it at the time, but everything was a whirlwind, and my head is just spinning thinking of everything we did and experienced. The poppy flowers beside the train tracks, learning the Cyrillic alphabet,  passing gelato carts on every corner, trying different flavors every night when we walked around after dinner.

The poppy flowers you will hear more of in following posts, especially the next one about the overnight train to Istanbul.