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Hello and welcome to Saint Yordanov Day here in Bulgaria. (We posted pictures of this day also, so check them out!) The day is celebrated all over Bulgaria, but we witnessed it here in Silistra. Back in August, when we first visited this city, Kate’s counterpart, Anelia, told us that there is a holiday in January when some crazy people jump into the cold waters of the Danube for a wooden cross. As we sat watching the setting sun, in our summer clothes, I imagined how the Danube River would look like in the middle of winter and wondered why anyone would want to jump into this river even in the summer. So I told Anelia that I for sure wanted to see this holiday.

This morning we met at the Church at 10am and there were hundreds of people going in and out of the Church. We went in for a while and I stayed in, watching the worship service the longest. It was pretty hard to stay in there with everyone packed, shoulder-to-shoulder, and constantly coming and going. Elbowing your neighbor isn’t considered rude here in Bulgaria, it’s a necessity for survival. So after getting smooshed, pushed, and breathed on, Kate decided to wait outside with everyone else. People were holding their prayer candles in their hands, squeezing through the crowd to one of the four candelabras in the church. There, people leave their candles to burn down as a symbol of their continuing prayers. But today, the candelabras resembled small bonfires, and I kept thinking that one elbow into one of those candelabras could send this wooden church up into a fire in seconds. That’s so safety-oriented-American of me. As usual, there was no incident with the candles, and the priests continued the liturgy, chanting with the choir responding from the balcony in the back of the sanctuary. Then the priest motioned to one of the church ladies to bring a table into the center of the sanctuary. She and her friend picked up the table and the crowd split like the Red Sea, respectfully obeying the wishes of the priest. This only made the whole sanctuary become incredibly more packed, and I could have easily stopped supporting my weight and the people around me could have held me up. The priests came out into the center of the worship space and gathered around the table, now adorned with a tablecloth and buckets of water. Of course, the priests had plenty of room and the people were just as conscious of keeping a small buffer space around the priest as they were of fighting for their well-earned place next to the priest. I had a pretty good spot – not too far from the priests and a little distance away from the candelabras. I was wondering if I was going to be splattered with water, but I didn’t ever find out because I was soon motioned by Robin to get out of the church and start heading down to the river. It’s amazing how one can squeeze through a seemingly impenetrable sea of people . . .

We walked down to the river, ahead of the parade and before the worship service was over. When we arrived at the river, the shore was already packed and it seemed there was no room for us to see the ceremony in the river. There were probably 1500 people packed along the river’s edge. We were all a little disappointed, but soon after the procession came. Led by cross bearer, the procession included a band and, of course, the priests, liturgists, and mayor. We all had to wait for a little while for some unknown reason, as it always seems to be at large crowd events, for the main attraction to happen. Eventually, the swimmers in their Speedos got onto the dock (I elbowed my way to a place where I could see) and the priest awkwardly made his way out on to the river on a speedboat, wearing his liturgical finest. After saying a few things that it seemed no one was interested in but him, he threw a wooden cross into the river and the seven or eight men jumped in after it. In a matter of seconds, one of the swimmers grabbed it. He was so excited and they all immediately swam to shore. It was a bit anticlimactic because it happened so fast, but I think it’s human nature to sometimes love the preparation rather than the actual even itself.

After the celebration, we were invited for a visit with Kate’s tutor’s family to celebrate the day with a meal. The father of Kate’s tutor is named Yordanov and we were celebrating his name day. They prepared quite a feast for the day and we were lucky enough to take part in it. We gathered in their garage/dining room, just recently outfitted with a fireplace. After about a half an hour, the room was warm enough to take our coats off. Soon thereafter came all the drinks (homemade rakiya, of course and homemade wine) with salad and the main course followed soon after. When I asked what the meat was that we were eating, the grandfather replied “gooska!” Oh, goose. Then he pointed to behind the garage, where about six other geese were waddling around. I said hello to the deceased’s family after dinner . . . not too friendly, but certainly delicious. In typical Bulgarian style, we drank, ate, and sat for nearly five hours, enjoying the afternoon away. Kate and I eventually said goodbye around 5:30pm and we were sort of getting hungry for dinner at that point . . . if we would have mentioned that, they would have made us sit down for another three hours for dinner.

That was our first Saint Yordanov Day here in Bulgaria and I’ll be looking forward to the next. Bulgaria can be a fairly bleak place in the winter (especially up here on the river where it’s foggy almost everyday!) and the Bulgarians know how to make it through the winter – holidays like today and long visits with friends.

-Josh