edensgarden's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Rememberances of the past Thanks for coming today. Leave me a note in the guestbook. ======================================== I've been reflecting a lot this morning. I don't know why. I think it was because I smelled diesel exhaust on the way into work. Diesel Exhaust always reminds me of Bulgaria, because it always hung thick in the air there. I miss Bulgaria today for some reason. I mean I really miss it, Like I want to empty out my savings account and leave tonight! When I was there, I lived in Plovdiv one of the oldest cities in Europe. Every morning I would wake up to the sound of the train whistling by, and the warm sun trickling through the white lace curtains that hung over my window. The little Babichki would be out front sweeping and talking. Their conversations were filled with talk of government corruption, the old days, grandchildren, the price of bread and the weather. Their stooped over, sweater clad bodies had all seen better days, and had been robbed of countless years by Communist malnutrition. Somehow though, these ladies always seemed to survive any crisis they were faced with. My apartment in Plovdiv was drab and non-descript, not unlike all of the other apartments in the neighborhood. We always used to say, "If you've been in one apartment, you've been in them all." It was down by the River Maritza and needless to say, there was always a host of mosquitos, and other assorted bugs flying around, feasting on my flesh. Despite this, I always had the windows of my apartment open. It let the ever-present breeze blow in and out of my three-roomed castle. Out on the street near my apartment was a small market. Every day I would go and weave through the kiosks and displays. There are two people that I will always remember in this market. One is the Flower Man the other Valentina the shopkeeper. The Flower Man was a somber fellow with a dark brown beard and sullen brown puppy-dog like eyes, at one time he had been an engineer, but when Communisim fell, so did his job security. He only would smile when I came to visit. One day I made him some brownies. In my innocence I assumed that everyone knew what brownies were. I was wrong. I had to explain to him that it was alright to eat them and that they wouldn't kill him. The next day when I came through the market he was telling every one about the Amazing chocolate squares from the American girl. He gave me a Gerbera Daisy as a thank you gift. After that day, he always smiled. My other friend in the market was Valentina. Valentina looked like Madonna circa 1983. Well, at least she tried to look like Madonna circa 1983. Communism robbed her of the chance to catch the Material Girl craze of the 1980s, in the 80s. So there she was in her little tin-shed store, dressed in lacy gloves without fingers, bangel bracelets, ratted hair and jeans. She always sold the strawberry jam I liked. When I first met her she was harsh and cruel. I would just smile and tell her to take care. As the days and months past she let down her guard, and we became friends. She had a 12 year old daughter, her husband had left them years before and the revenue from her "store" didn't cover their expenses. She was just trying to live her life and make a better life for her child. She would ask me about life in America, and was shocked when I told her that we didn't all live like the Ewings on Dallas--sad but true. I always made my purchases with her. I figured I had a lot to give and I always bought more than I needed. The day I told her I was moving to Sofia she cried, so did I. I didn't know if I'd ever see her again, she didn't know who she was going to talk to everyday. Oh-I miss Valentina and the Flower Man. Hristo Botev, a Bulgarian poet said, "Our feelings have made of us brothers and our hidden thoughts have same set, I do not believe there's one thing on this earth we shall come to regret". Mnogo mi lipctvate mili priyateli~~govizhdane, go ckopo! Do ympo ili koga...Eden 11:46 a.m. - September 07, 2001 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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