Yesterday was the kind of day I don’t plan on seeing again in a Bulgarian winter. From sunrise on the sky was crystal clear and a few clouds only added to the image. Normally on a January day like that I would expect to lose a finger to frostbite if I went around without gloves. The clearer the sky, the colder the weather and Bulgarians usually prefer a cloudy, snowy day to sunny weather in winter. However, yesterday I woke up in a room that was almost, but not quite, hot. I had left the heater on during the night as I’ve done every night in winter, and it was now working above and beyond the call of duty. I opened my windows to get air and the apartment didn’t get an immediate chill. The day was warm!
Although “warm” may be a stretch, I was able to walk around comfortably in a sweatshirt and coat without the usual scarf, hat, and gloves. Having slept-in, and realizing the day was already wasting away as a result, I quickly ate a breakfast of yogurt and apricot compote and hustled out the door. I’d already made plans to--at some point--walk a road leading out of town which I’d never had the opportunity to travel, and I made the twenty minute walk to the road's main intersection at the south end of town.
At first the road ran along Silistra’s industrial neighborhood. I passed a couple of small textile mills and car parts shops. After the factories, on the left, there was a good-sized field for roses. The field was grassed over for winter and I made a mental note to stop by again in spring or summer. On the right, an immense complex with one building of eight or nine floors and several with three or four rose out of a slowly developing forest. When I arrived within a hundred yards or so, I realized that the complex had never been finished.
The exterior walls were masses of exposed brick that would have been plastered over someday. The hundreds of windows were empty, without panes, and dark. The fence posts around the building had nothing running between them, and there were no signs anywhere. If I had to make a guess, I would say that the complex had been intended as a hospital, it had the general shape, especially at a distance, that I’ve come to associate with them. It was started either in 1989 or the mid-nineties and was stopped by either the fall of communism or Bulgaria’s devastating depression in 1997. I’m going to ask about it the first chance I get.
After the hospital, a forest of conifers began to build on either side of the road. At times, the trees on the left would become straight rows of birches, replanted after clear-cutting long ago. Straight rows of trees are common all over Bulgaria, most of the forests having been chopped down and re-grown. I doubt a single tree in the country is old growth, with the occasional forest fire finishing off the hilltop trees that survived the axes over the centuries. Apparently scared of this very thing, the local government has posted various signs prohibiting campfires. One or two could get the point across, but they're posted about every fifty feet. Some are small with "Fires Prohibited" written in block letters. However, some had dramatic drawings of forests in flames below the words "Don't Start Fires in the Forest." None looked old enough or forgotten enough to be communist, but they probably came from the early nineties.
Along the way, there were small pastures and at an intersection a man tending his cattle asked me for the time. He asked it in a strange way that caught me off guard, instantly giving me away as a foreigner. Interestingly, he looked surprised but understanding when I fumbled at the answer, as if the fact that I wasn't Bulgarian was right on the surface but he hadn't seen it. This probably means that my "hello" passes me off as a local these days. Earlier in the day, I had gotten into a conversation with a factory's security guard where it took him about five questions to get to "Where are you from?" I also took this as some kind of good sign on a day that I wouldn't call one of my better Bulgarian days. It gave me a bit of a hop in my step for the rest of the afternoon.
I noticed the sun beginning to set after I had walked four or five miles out of town. I had reached a good turning point: a lake that streched about a quarter of a mile down the left side of the road. At the south end of the lake, two people were herding sheep along the bottom of a grassy hill and around a small white house at the north end. I had never seen Silistra look so pastoral, and I paused to take a few photos of the tableau, though--because of the setting sun--I decided to move on before the shepherds got to the street.
On the way back home, I passed a road on the right that looked like it might connect to another road leading into town. I followed it until I realized it ended at a farm. Skirting the edge of the farm and walking over grassy fields and through a small orchard I reached the bottom of a 500 foot ridge that made it's way toward town. The ridge rose gently and the surface was the same firm and grassy incline the sheep had walked along earlier. I climbed to the top, got a great view of Silistra, and made my way along the ridge back toward the city center.
When I reached civilization after a mile of pasture, it was in the form of tiny houses connected by muddy roads. The houses all had vegetable gardens in the backyard (the Bulgarian standard) and many looked like the homes of beekeepers. From what I could see, there were no roads down the hill until I reached the city proper and a paved road connected a large cemetary with the industrial zone below. When I finally reached the center of town, it was getting late, so I went straight to the internet club, checked my e-mail and shuttled off the short missive you read yesterday. Although the walk hadn't been strenuous, it had been long (about 10 miles) and I wasn't really in the mood to type this entry on an empty stomach. The walk had been satisfying enough, and I gave myself the excuse of needing to think about it.
I had left home with the vague but impossible goal of reaching the airfield outside of town that has become quite the conversation point recently. There was a post over at Sofia Sideshow about the proposed U.S. base coming to Bulgaria in the near future. My students are absolutely psyched about it because, from what they've heard, it's coming here to Silistra. On Friday, I had dinner with Debbie, the volunteer working at the municipality here, and she told me that about a month ago she, with various important Bulgarians, had escorted a military delegation to the airfield and other relevant sites in Silistra. They, in the end, had decided to recommend Silistra as the site for the upcoming base.
This, of course, has made Silistrans very happy, but that happiness should probably be tempered a little. The recommendation still has to go through God knows how many committees in congress and nothing will be decided for certain until this November at the earliest. Nevertheless, if a base does come here, it will be far enough from town to satisfy Bulgarian NIMBYs, but close enough to make a big difference in the economy. It's one of the few things I could imagine making a huge difference in Silistra, and I'm glad things are looking positive for the moment.
At some point in spring, I'll get up early to take a really long walk down to the proposed base, and see more of what's along the way. I could get a ride with a friend, but the walk is really too nice to pass up. Winter has cut me a lot of slack so far here in Silistra, and I'm trying to take advantage of as many breaks in the cold as I can when spring comes around and things start blooming.
Posted by Rob at January 19, 2004 07:50 PM