It's only so long before the unfamiliar becomes habit, the new becomes routine and life in a strange place is suddenly not so alien anymore. But then every now and then you come across something new, something you haven't tasted yet and that uncharted feeling of the near past comes beckoning. Today was one of those days. As you may have read in previous postings that Bulgarians by large burn wood for heating. And so is not the exception in my village incidentally.
Summer is a busy time for many in the villages because winter is not so kind in the Balkan. There's work to be done. Just to mention a few - conserving fruits and vegetables (because they are scarce and expensive in winter) and subsequently canning them, harvesting potatoes and beans, bringing logs from the forest so they can be chopped down for firewood and many more but I'll spare you the rest. As interesting as all these are to me, it is sheer hard work - or if I may suggest, life at peace with its rightful authenticity. Over coffee everyone chats about current issues, now being hauling wood from up in the mountain. So I decided I would help Basri and his family, friends in the village, carry wood from the forest to his home. When I offered to help, they warned me that it is a real "teshka rabota", meaning heavy work. His wife duly added that only men can get this job done. Well, I didn't quite anticipate anything for the ride up in the mountain was the scariest and equally most hilarious that I can ever remember. I had to board on an all-steel body truck made in then east-Germany. So glorifying is its hide, that even the dashboard is constructed of steel. Practically a tank! As we took quick turns around corners on the bumpy, usually unpaved road up the mountain, the driver would often fly off his seat and nudge towards the window. But to my surprise he kept at his pace. Well, anyway the work began we reached the destination. Basically, Basri's sons, his father and a couple of men and I helped fill the truck with logs that were sometimes over 2 feet in diameter. And then when we reached Basri's house, we unloaded them. But I didn't sweat as much as those guys, perhaps because I committed to the lighter logs. In the end I got a little taste of preparing for the cold winter that grips everyone, every year. Now it would be prudent to wait for my regiment to arrive.
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