OFF SEASON

Once again I'm feeling a bit restless and have travelled to Bulgaria, to close my holiday apartment for the winter. To those who say I travel a lot, I can only say, not really - I'm simply moving in a triangle between my three homes, in Oslo, in southern France and on the Bulgarian Black Sea coast.

If I believed I was coming to a warmer place now, I was wrong. One day of bleak sunshine, then steel grey skies and icy winds. On arriving late Saturday night I was dismayed to find that the management here at the resort had practically closed my apartment already - the electricity was turned off, the water in the taps totally absent. No one there to help. The whole place a ghost town, deserted, abandoned. The mythological Norse Fimbulwinter, the world as we know in the hours before it is obliterated. I was the last person alive. Nothing but darkness. BUT - lo and behold! - I am the actual candlelight girl! There is always an abundance of candles within my reach, whether I am in any of my homes or cabins, even in a hotel room you'll find me lighting a small candle that I have stacked away somewhere in my luggage. The only place I haven't lit a candle, I think, is on an airplane. This candle lighting is a way to obtain that incomparable atmosphere that we Nordic persons call COSY! A candle - or twenty - is in fact necessary for us to feel WHOLE. 

(A small digression: The outdoor bar here at my Bulgarian summer resort Marina Cape is called "The Candle Bar." For several summer seasons I brought my own candle down to the bar, then offered the staff some candles that didn't work because they were blown out by the evening breeze, then finally they provided their own small lanterns to place on every table. Whenever they see me approaching they bring a lit lantern to my table, and even when I sit at the bar one is placed in front of me, smack, before I have a chance to order my drink. Okay, my Candle Bar friends - POINT TAKEN!)

The following day I got help from the two men who work in the security booth at the entrance. No English for them, no Bulgarian for me (that last one IS embarrassing!), but sign language is underestimated. An elderly woman balancing precariously between hysteria and violent tears can also be quite effective. So can publishing it all on Facebook. In less than five minutes everything was working again, and I'd also received numerous offers of help by message. 

The above is a street in Sunny Beach. The sea is a few metres off to the left. For two months of the year - July and August - it's packed with holiday makers, segways, taxis and horse carts. The stalls are filled with clothes, shoes, jewellery, swimming gear, towels, inflatable plastic toys and souvenirs. The whole street smells of pizza, sugar spin, ice cream, hamburgers and french fries. There are fish spas, tattoo parlours, hairdressers, beauty salons, snake exhibitions. And the noise! Yes, the noise! The colours! The frenzy of northern Europeans craving a few weeks of oblivion in a sunny seaside town.

What brings on some sadness for me is just this: Only two months? Because that's really all there is here - two months of crazy partying, wild eating and drinking, reckless sunbathing. The season should be longer - April, June and September are beautiful months here, even October! And yes, there are a few tourists around, but not nearly enough to sustain the shops, restaurants and taxi drivers. There should be a golf course here to extend the season, there should be conferences at the hotels, there should be life.

But it's oh, so quiet.

Beautiful autumn colours that mirror the buildings

Having said all this, I would never want to miss out on staying here "off season." The feeling of having it all to myself, of being part of an everyday life that is not really meant for me and does not include me - almost like prying into people's lives. Because this is what happens - the ordinary life surfaces, for good and for bad. The deep poverty in places here, mostly camouflaged by the tourist invasion in the summer months, becomes more visible. The young gypsy mother I saw yesterday, on the outskirts of my own town of Aheloy, rummaging through a rubbish bin, her excited little girl waiting for something interesting to appear. The numerous unemployed men and women, many of the younger ones leaving the Black Sea Coast to go abroad in order to find jobs during winter. Oh, and the stray cats and dogs scavenging for food! They are much lazier in summer! The traffic - oh, yes - quite another story now. I still drive like a Bulgarian when I'm here - and that's not a good thing - but at least now I drive like a less stressed Bulgarian.

Walking through the nearby city of Burgas this afternoon, again I get my overpowering feeling, that sudden deep understanding, of how our everyday lives bond us as human beings. Isn't this what we all want - a peaceful existence, with family and friends, a roof over our heads, food on our table, our basic needs covered, a meaningful working day. Laughter and sorrow, ups and downs - walking hand in hand. This is what I observed: People going about their business, saying hello to acquaintances (yes, Burgas is no bigger than that), having a cup of coffee or a beer in a café, fetching their children from school. I saw chimney smoke from wood fires.

I was humble and grateful for being able to peer quietly for a few precious moments into Bulgarian lives.

Instead of visiting the beautiful Sea Garden in Burgas today, as I had planned, I decided on a steaming vegetable soup and a Shopska salad in the Rosé Restaurant. A good choice!  

When I returned to my apartment this evening in the unrelenting grey weather, an orange sunset appeared - all of a sudden - out of nowhere! I didn't see it coming! For a little while everything was glowing, the sky was on fire! The buildings were bathed in golden light!

Then darkness descended, like a veil. On proud, unpredictable, beautiful Bulgaria.