pet

I am currently sat playing cards with Sam and two Bulgarian girls. It’s not what you might think. It’s a bit like rummy kub, a game which my grandad taught me how to play many years ago. His expert training has not helped as much as I would have hoped, as we are getting our ass kicked

The two girls, Kristina and Simona, stay at the flat we are renting in Sevlievo every Saturday as they come to study English at a house across the road. Apart from beating me at cards, they also smoke like chimneys, eat a lot of sunflower seeds and neck gallons of sugary squash drink. In their spare time they also teach me swearing in bulgarski… mamcamoo… see. They have also taken to cooking a range of Bulgarian national dishes for us which, to date, we have managed to fight our way through in order to keep the british end up. It’s fair to say that what they have cooked for us has been edible, unlike the tripe soup, chicken hearts with liver and gizzard surprise which appear on almost every restaurant menu. It has also been easier to digest than some of the food provided to us by our friendly neighbours in Burya… my favourite being stewed pumpkin in rice pudding, mmmm mmm.

Have you ever seen a Bulgarian restaurant anywhere except bulgaria? Well what does that tell you? Don’t get me wrong, I like salty cheese, pizza and barbequed minced pork sausages, but not every meal. It’s safe to say Bulgarian cuisine is never going to make it into my top five (currently Thai, Indian, Italian, French, British) and I certainly have no plans to come back to England to set up a bulgarian restaurant. Gordon Ramsay would be pleased to know that vegetarianism may have been outlawed here and I have a feeling that if Sam is caught, she may well end up as a kiofte (mince pork balls).

We accidentally found ourselves in possibly the only Chinese restaurant in Bulgaria recently… had we known it existed six hours earlier, we could have been fortunate enough to pre-order the “fish that look like squirrel” which in hindsight may be worth subjecting ourselves to a further visit. Although the thought of another msg filled ‘chicken in Chinese sauce’ does not fill me with excitement.

The market in Sevlievo is becoming a regular hang out for us. They have a few small huts selling fags, booze and kebabs, a fish and chip shop (well, deep fried whitebait and French fries), and a butchers full of various animal heads. There is also a brilliant fruit and veg market which is only limited by the fact that they can only sell seasonal produce. On a Friday the market grows from 10 stalls to 30 stalls all selling the same 5 items, which at the moment is salad, spring onions, courgette, tomato and cucumber; all of which are deliciously fresh, with the exception of the cucumber which is the spawn of the devil, except when skinned, chopped and added to live yogurt, which is a Bulgarian speciality.

You will see, being the smart arse that I am, that I am now numbering my posts in bulgarski: pet, or five, is easy to remember as it is the same as in welsh, yet another language in which I am nearly fluent… hedlou. This is not the only similarity between Bulgaria and Wales however, Bulgarians also have the same fascination with shepherding, mountains, his and hers tracksuits and unemployment. Haven’t seen any male voice choirs yet, but will keep my eyes peeled.

Its also been graduation weekend in the last week, which is celebrated by closing the town centre and parading hundreds of 18 year olds dressed in their dads suits through the town, counting to 14 in unison (presumably to prove they should be allowed to graduate). I can’t imagine them closing down the centre of Bristol, or Daventry for that matter, to honour the towns’ youth once a year… it was great.

House Update

They say that a mud house needs a good hat and good shoes. We are finding this out the hard way at present. Apparently Bulgaria has suffered the driest and mildest winter since records began, which has been bad for the snow lovers but is probably one reason why we still have a house standing? However, having had the roof removed in preparation for our new and improved stone lid, Bulgaria has proceeded to have some of the biggest and unfortunately, wettest storms I have ever seen. Good for our garden (more of which another time) but bad for our mud; mud which covers every wall of the interior; mud, which is holding all of the stone work together forming the structure of the building; mud which provides 50% of the insulation for the building; basically, the most important mud I have ever known. Mud so important that we spent a day attaching a pvc sheet to the top of the house… twice… which has got to be up there on the 5 stupidest things to do in an electric storm. Sorry mum. That said the pvc seems to be helping, as the plaster work inside seems to have stopped sliding off the walls, which has got to be a good sign.

Our water has also now been connected and the man with the tash is installing our meter tomorrow! Woo hoo.

We are also negotiating with the cake man and his mate to see if they can help us with some digging.

Our roofers.

Ciao Ciao, and lek den.