Trip to Sandanski, Bulgaria

Just a wee trip to the Bulgarian town of Sandanski , not far from the more famous Bansko winter resort. Though our  visit was not ski-related, we were going as meteorological refuigees - searching for cooler climes.  Bulgaria, being the EC's poorest country, is preparing to join the euro -zone in 2026, and every transaction of ours gave rise to the question : leva, euros or card ? 

Our hotel was easily accessed and looked onto modern guest houses with a large  Communist era semi-constructed/derelict  complex. 

                                                                

It lay on the edge of the beautiful 334-acre St Vrach Park . With lots of play areas for children and park benches so you can enjoy the view; this is very popular with locals and visitors alike. The name is said to derive from St Stephen, though I wasn't sure how that came about !

 

We  loved the bird life on the artificial lake - particularly the black swans who were surprisingly tame. And all around   you could hear the soothing sounds of the nearby  Bistritsa River.

      

A rather handsome statue we saw honoured the memory of Vasil Levski 1837- 1873. he fought to establish a free Bulgarian republic but for his pains he was hanged in Sophia by the Ottoman authorities.  He is greatly revered to this day and is known as 'The Apostle of Freedom'. 

 

After breakfast we went for long walks, just in shirt-sleeves without jackets even in the evening . And we had our daily swim - the hotel boasted indoor and outdoor pools - at times when the younger guests were eating or sleeping!

We enjoyed eating out, but discovered that some locals were not so  good at 'foreign' - our order for a green salad twice got translated as a Greek one! In fact, sometimes we managed to communicate in Greek! But we did enjoy our break with its breathof cool air. Back home, I'm trying to ignore the ironing chore ahead of me as temperatures in the shade nudge 40oC . :(

Poetry For Me

 Poetry For Me

 

    

In May I posted an article where I set down some thoughts on what poetry is for me. Way further back, over ten years ago, I included one of my poems in a post without any real comment on it. So now I redress that omission by describing the stages of thinking I went through and how eventually the poem crystallized into its current, more compressed form.

It relates to a fellow passenger on the local bus who intrigued me. She left a mark on me that was what prompted the poem to express or even exorcise that experience from my mind.

The opening of the poem is a bit back to front in that these were questions that beset me towards the end of the bus journey but are placed at the beginning as an introduction, to engage the reader, to express my responses, to provide an aspect of universality, as it were, to move away from the personal, the physical and emotional.

Initially the image presented is one of a cared for, attractive lady but there is also a sense of alienation – she doesn’t sit with us, she differs from us in her deliberate distancing and in her evident agitation. There is, however, a warmth of sharing in the activities she performs 

‘admitting her into an embracing sisterhood’

 that we also perform on a regular basis: groping for something in our handbags, applying  lipstick – to make ourselves more presentable.

In the penultimate verse, I begin to formulate some questions which are further developed in the opening verse. What has made her like this? Where is she going?

In the final verse, we feel almost a rejection on her part as she turns her back on us/the bus.

And with an apparently uncharacteristic strength of purpose - ‘then singularly resolute’ – she walks off to her destination – a destination that provided me with the answers I needed.

Poem : On the Vasilika Bus 23.3.13

Who or what caused her                      

To keel over, to tip beyond                                                                                                                            The point of no return?                                                                                                                                  What crisis reduced her life                                                                                                                            To the unimaginable, unbearable?

Head bent, eyes cowed, 

She sits on the steps of the bus.

Well-dressed against the morning chill in fleece jacket and hooded sweatshirt

Her grey hair warmed chestnut with golden highlights

Yet it seems she has no place

In our bus

In our society

In our world

Her hands express agitation

They put in place a floral headband only to yank it off

Then she dons cheap plastic sunglasses

She shrug-sheds her jacket

 Raises her hood then pushes it back

To entwine some strands of hair 

In an orange scrunchie

Suddenly she unzips her bag

Fingers blindly groping

Intent she searches and retrieves

A lipstick

Her rapid act of application

Is disarming and endearing

Enhancing herself and admitting herself

 Into an embracing sisterhood

Is her lipstick applied for a lost love

An anticipated meeting 

In response to a remnant of her sanity

Her fragmented femininity?

Again her fingers fumble

This time to ring the bell

To bring her lowly bus trip

To an end.

At Nea Raidestos she alights hesitantly

And crosses the road

Then singularly resolute 

She turns her back on us/the bus

And heads towards the cemetery.