| Dear Family and Friends, There are certain sights, sounds, smells, and feelings that will always remind me of Bulgaria . . . even when I am old and gray, sitting in a little rocking chair as I talk to my plants and sow pink and blue sweaters for all of my 52 cats. �Now, Sylvester, (sniff sniff) do you smell THAT?! (sniff sniff) I think it must be a bathtub full of rakiya . . . or maybe it�s just a sweaty armpit, ripe from the afternoon sun!� Yes, that MUST be it!!! When I am 83, hobbling down the street with my little wooden cane, and I hear a goat bleating madly to get my attention, I�ll be instantly transported to a smelly Bulgarian road in a �galaxy far far away� . . . wait a minute, I won�t see too many goats running around on America streets, now will I?!!? My senses have spun completely out of control since I set foot on Bulgarian soil, and I don�t think they�ll ever be the same again . . . After this past weekend, my repertoire of smells was pleasantly increased. Bulgaria celebrated the �holiday of the roses,� more commonly known as �yet another excuse to have a holiday in Bulgaria and get drunk on rakiya and other foul alcoholic beverages.� So, in honor of the holiday, I packed up my bags and headed to Kazanlak, the charming city nestled in the magnificent �valley of the roses.� Shakespeare was right when he said, �a rose by any other name would smell as sweet�, for, truly, there is nothing like a rose to make your senses positively come ALIVE . . . The grand festival of the roses began with a coronation ceremony in honor of this year�s rose queen. I cursed myself for taking that last bite of pizza during dinner, as I struggled to see above massive heads and frizzy hairdos. Sometimes I think I am too short for my own good! A decorative stage came alive with Bulgarian as well as ballet dances, a celebration of an amazing flower that Bulgarians cherish when they make oils, perfumes, rakiyas, wines, and much more. I stretched as high as I could muster on my tippy-toes, trying to catch a glimpse of the action until another large head blocked my view. I sought windows in the masses of bodies, occasionally finding an opening in which to peer through like a hungry lion. My camera snapped furiously, from high above my head, below my kneecaps, behind my back, under my armpit, etc. I looked very much like one of the ballerinas on stage as I jumped, frolicked, twirled, and leaped in order to see above the gigantic craniums that everyone in front of me seemed to have. On Saturday, we were met with festivities galore, even a small carnival. My friend Jake bought me one of the balloons I had been eyeing, I shared a humongous Bulgarian cotton candy with Chris (the cotton candy in Bulgaria is definitely on steroids!), and I basked in the beauty of the carnival like a little kid. Our large group of Peace Corps volunteers was absolutely pathetic when we approached that small carnival. You would think that none of us have ever been to a carnival in our lives! �Oooh . . . awwww . . . eeeeeee . . . . uhhhhh . . .� we breathed as we approached the small, rickety structures called carnival rides. You know you�ve been in Bulgaria too long when you get so excited about a little Bulgarian carnival! I rode one of those gondola things that swings back and forth first, along with five others. I swore that I was going to fall right out of that thing as, every time my side of the gondola flew up into the air, the �safety bar� shifted manically and my bottom flew off of the seat. I screamed like a chimpanzee getting a tooth pulled, grasping the bar until my knuckles turned white, as my stomach shifted from my feet to my throat with each rapid swing. Awww, what fun it was!!! After I got off the ride, fell to my wobbly knees, and kissed the dirt several hundred times, it was on to . . . BUMPER CARS!!! Our one chance at driving as Peace Corps Volunteers in Bulgaria and we were maniacs as we slammed into one another at full speed. I enjoyed slamming into my fellow volunteers . . . until my precious balloon got completely twisted around my blasted steering wheel! YIKES!!! The last day of the rose festival was, by far, the best. We all loaded up in two vans for a trip to the rose fields. Once we reached the fields and I set foot outside of the van, I knew in an instant that, from that moment on, the sweet smell of a rose would one day take me back to the rose fields of Bulgaria. It was amazing. The strong scent of roses filled the air vibrantly, tickling my senses and soothing my soul with its magical touch. The soft aroma kissed my skin gently, massaged and quieted my overactive mind, and cradled me in its comforting arms. The fields were alive with children and adults alike, dressed in traditional Bulgarian outfits and adorned in roses galore, as they sang and danced amidst the beauty and the splendor. I immediately picked roses from the bushes and brushed the soft petals against my skin, I sought out one of the adorned Bulgarians in order to obtain a lei of the pink roses to put around my neck, and I engaged in dancing the traditional Bulgarian Horo in the middle of the rose fields with a few PCVs and several Bulgarian children, all the while breathing deeply as I wrapped myself in the sights, sounds, and, of course, the smells. By the end of the day, as I sipped my first rose rakiya and rode through the fields on a little rickety horse cart with my two best Peace Corps friends by my side, my senses exploded before my eyes and I absolutely delighted in a little flower called THE ROSE, a modest flower which has added so eloquently to my amazing experiences in Bulgaria. The pleasant aroma embedded itself in me, ensuring that the festival of the roses would always be cherished, remembered, and enjoyed for years to come . . . even by an old lady sitting in rocking chair as she talks to her plants and sows sweaters for all of her 52 cats. �What (sniff sniff) is that pleasant smell, Sylvester?! It smells just like a sweet rose . . . I remember a time long ago (in a galaxy far far away), when I was frolicking through these little rose fields in a tiny country called Bulgaria . . .� Love From the Valley of the Roses, Chantel the Rose Queen P.S. I took LOTS of pictures of the festival . . . hopefully I�ll have them online very soon! I�ll let you all know as soon as they�re up! |
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