A Mother's Heart

Who am I to even begin to understand, let alone describe the complexity of a mother’s heart?! Like a vast ocean, rich with beautiful, colorful loving little emotions, flickering in the light blue waters, and yet, a bottomless pit, where unknown monsters lurk in the darkness, in all the currents, storms and mystery.

Sami’s had a fever of 102-104.5 F, (39-41 C) for the past 24 hours. Both of us know it’s most likely because both his top front teeth are brutally trying to penetrate the tender velvety gums, like a couple of razors, slowly sinking in…so slowly, that the constant pressure drives his little body crazy.

He’s been pretty careless about his fever and the pain. Alex gave him a metal pot to play with today, and the deafening sound of it on the cement, as well as all the toys, dangling with their array of sounds in it, so he’s on seventh heaven, but it hurts me to see how much she struggles with her feelings and emotions. After a sleepless night, they both passed out for an afternoon nap, while I’m writing this. My own heart is finally at peace, when I watch them relaxed. And yet, I’m anxiously awaiting for them to wake up, so I can torture Sami with the thermometer once again (he hates it…hates them all – the one, pressed in his ear, the other one on his forehead, the third – on which he has to suck)…we’re not doing the one in the butt – it will only piss him off more.

His room had a funky smell of a Mediterranean salad this morning. Alex heard from a friend, that if she put diced onions in his socks and a cloth, soaked with diluted vinegar on his head, it would help. Well, it helped the fact, that I don’t want to bite his stinky feet now, not to mention kiss his head, so at least he’s spared of that torture.

I know this too shall pass and I can’t wait to see his teeth, but, oh, my! I hope Alex makes it without a heart attack once he starts walking and falling all over the place. Be strong, my dear! Before you know it, he’ll be all grown and will have no idea, or even the slightest appreciation of what we’ve gone through. Just like you and I never understood our parents, who told us how much we mean to them.

I think I finally get it!

What Doesn't Kill Us...

A few months ago, in a moment of deep despair, entangled in the “veins of life” I asked myself: “How hard can it really get?”. My personal life had become a mess. Sami had brought a wild uncontrollable uproar to our daily lives; our own stupidity had left us crushed under the ruins of our devastated plans; the future of going back to Bulgaria seemed (and it still does) gloomy, scary and paradoxical and the fire escape was nowhere to be found. But I was not dead yet. The catastrophe hadn’t killed me. I still felt the soft feeling of comfort in my gut and for some reason it was softer than ever. I let that feeling linger in my mind for a moment till I could touch it, smell it and play with it. And then it dawned on me...

I had never understood the true meaning of “What doesn’t kill me – only makes me stronger!”, but I did that night.

It was one of those Sunday nights, just before the new week starts. Alex had gone to bed and I was finishing the bottle of wine by myself. The despair – slowly sinking in with every sip. And then – catharsis.

I have been the happiest in the hardest of times in my life!

That was when I really, truly lived, experienced life with all its beauty and complexity. That’s when I struggled the most and kept my mind open and clear. I fought! I lived! I got stronger! The hardest times were the purest moments in my life.

When Alex and I were apart, I felt like the world had ended. I wanted nothing to do with that stranger, called “life”. I wanted OUT! But the thing that made me live, beyond all the pain was the pure, unconditional, all-encompassing, ocean of love that I felt. Without this, I would never have known what true LOVE meant! And now I savor it with every breath!

When we moved to the US and the money we came with was all gone, we had lost our jobs – both in the same day – and fear had settled in our hearts, I KNEW that somehow everything was going to work out just fine. And it did. We never even got to the point of eating potato chips with ketchup for breakfast, lunch and dinner. We held hands tight and jumped right in the fire of life together. And we made it – stronger than ever.

That Sunday night I realized, just as clearly as I do now that we are going to make it pass this new mine field just fine. Because now is the time we’re actually LIVING! We have taken the roll of film out of fate’s hands and grabbed it in our own. We no longer sit and wait for life to happen. No angels, nor Christ, nor your god will help us, but the LOVE in our hearts.

Aaaah.......the good times…they make the hard times so much better!

My Own Conspiracy Theory

Driving around Vegas today I couldn’t help but notice all the emptied shopping plazas. The skeletons of the old businesses, on which the economy feasted, were looking at me gloomy and nostalgic. The parking lot, where hundreds of vehicles and excited average Joes with shopping carts were making their way, closer to the entrance of the store, was now empty, dirty and useless. For where a bigger business closed down, it dragged behind all the little fish that were feeding off its waste shoppers. And thus, until the only thriving place left was the thrift store.

The wheel has turned once again. The system is restarted and ready for the next lap of the bone-braking, mind-crunching, life-squeezing rat race! Behold!

The emerging of the human rights mentality devastated the poor rich white people, who owned slaves back in the time and got their wealth through cruelty and abuse. Slavery was kaput and the bosses had to start working again. Work really sucks though, unless you are already conditioned to be a slave and then you’re happy to do it. But the lazy fat-asses, with political and financial power had to come up with something else. There had to be another way to get their slaves back. And so, after a few years, the new realization emerged. Forcing someone into slavery is against human rights! People need to WANT to be slaves. And with a keen eye, someone noticed that people most easily fall prey to their own gluttony. An endless hunger for money and comfort. There it was!

“Give them money and give them comfort, and let them kill themselves or each other for it.” So, as the mind evolved, the keen eye became even sharper and the new idea came out.

Have you looked at people in buffets? I look at them and muse at the fact how they overload plate after plate, full to the top with a mix of potatoes, pasta, gravy, shrimp and ranch dressing on top. I, as a Bulgarian kid was always taught to finish my plate, or I may not have a second. We did NOT throw food away! Period! So, looking at those people helped me notice what the way of thinking here was. Get as much as you can, no matter if you need it or not. Same with every other material object people here put their hands on.

“Let them take anything they ever wanted! Let them buy every gadget, fashion and piece of crap they can put their hands on. Feed them TV, feed them ads, TELL them what they need. Give them credit cards as soon as they can walk, so they’ll be young and stupid enough to entangle themselves in debt before they can drive and far before they will be reasonable enough to drink. They will be our kids in a toy shop and they’ll have to pay for nothing! Or so we’ll tell them. Then, get them a job. Childhood’s overrated! Who cares about running on the streets carefree, as soon as they turn twelve, they need a job! McDonalds will do. They have some credit cards to pay. As soon as they realize what they’ve done, they’ll be so deep in debt, that just the interest alone will keep them our slaves for decades. But assume that they start swimming towards the surface again. We don’t want that. So, we give them two new options: if you want to go to school – get a student loan. If not – get a house and a car, and later, they alone will want a bigger house and a faster car. We got them! Now they’ll turn the wheel for at least the next twenty years…

Oh, no! What just happened? Prices of the houses are soaring? Some of our rats are starting to get well off and comfortable with their money. Their debts are getting paid off, their houses cost them less. They are going on vacations, working less and paying cash??? Before you know it, they are gonna want to know what happens with the politics of their country. Of our country. They will ask us what we’re doing here and might see that we’re doing nothing but drinking margaritas and whipping our slaves! This must end at once!

Crisis!

Take everything they have! Take the roof from over their heads Kick them out on the street!! Take their houses, their cars, their jobs! Rob them of their absolute necessity! Make them start from “GO!” again. We take all the interest they’ve paid so far, we get their houses for free; we look like the god guys, who got robbed by them of all our money, now we have what they need the most. When they’re ready, we’ll sell it all back to them for twice the price.”

At ground zero: “Dude, I’m so relieved! I got out of that expensive house! I rent now. It’s so much cheaper. Now I’m only gonna concentrate on working. Thank God the government and the bank were so helpful! They just took my house back and relieved me from my burden of having my own home. Some day, when I’m comfortable enough, I’ll buy a new house and go from there. Now it’s so cool to start anew! Everyone else does it!”

“Oh, and by the way, as they return to work, we’ll need more money to pay them. Where does that come from? Let’s just make it! Done! Good deal. If anyone sees through our plan, we’ll call them communists. Good job, everyone! Now let’s get back to the hammocks. The ice is melting and the drinks are watering down…the whips are ready to crack again. We’ll “pay” someone to fan us with a palm tree leaves."

What's best about us is that we are good Christians. We are ready to turn the other cheek!

Vegas, Baby!

What I L O V E about Vegas:


• The breathtaking sunsets – you WILL be amazed how the desert projects all the colors of the rainbow onto the bluest skies!

• The Bellagio fountains! I am forever enticed. The moment I saw them 6 years ago, I knew if nothing else about this place ever comforts me, the magical dance of the water, forever will.

• Everything is open 24 hours. It totally satisfies my midnight hunger for pizza, a very urgent purchase of a bathing suit or a glass of champagne at 5 in the morning on the highest roof top of any casino.

• Blue Man Group. You just have to see it.

• The gazillions of pine trees. And pine cones. With a little imagination, you can totally ignore the fact that you are in the middle of the desert. The artificial lakes by our house support that illusion as well.

• Our tiny little house! I absolutely love my nest. It has two bedrooms for Samuil, and none for us. And yet, it is OUR refuge from everything.

• Marche Bacchus. Our ultimate never-boring romantic getaway; a tiny French restaurant with a wine cellar, a magnificent location on a lake, Riedel wine glasses and a cheesy live music on “Wine Mondays”.

• The wide streets. Perfect for crazy, unstable drivers like me. Did I mention how clean everything is? The streets too. Walk barefoot and jump right in your crispy white sheets, no problem!

• Nurse Peggy. The awesome nurse at the best hospital, where Sami was born. I will forever keep her genuine laughter(when she took me peeing) and her EVERYTHING-WILL-BE-OK look with me.

• The carrot-avocado cream soup at the all organic, vegan, vegetarian and raw “Go raw” café, 9 minutes walking distance from our house. Yummmmmmm! Their desserts? The m’s in Yummm won’t do them any justice.

• The warm winter. Perfect for everything: endless walks, skinny dipping in the Jacuzzi and lying on the floor in front of the fireplace.

• The Library. I am still amazed how with 2 clicks, I can order a book and it will patiently be waiting for me, well put and with my name on it.

• …and It is not Bulgaria.


What I H A T E about Vegas:

• It is NOT Bulgaria!

…and the fucking heat, of course!

alkA.

Date Nights - The Art of Making Time

My super OCD, extremely organized and overly protective wife is almost impossible to convince, that when there is a babysitter in the house, we can freely have a date-night once a week.

Thank God, Sami sleeps like a baby through the night, and all the nanny has to do is just BE there. Of course, the fact that we can hardly ever afford a nanny, makes us unattractive to any babysitter, because we hardly ever can give anyone any business, so that’s why, for the most part, we are becoming serious candidates either for the “cheap wine sommelier” , or the AA.

When we do have a babysitter, though, we make sure we make the most of our dates. Be it a Rancid concert, be it a nice dinner in one of our favorite restaurants, or going to the movies.

As time goes by, we get more and more experienced to stretch the minutes and make the most of our two – three hours away from the Master. “When the cat sleeps, the mice are partying.” – as the expression says and it couldn’t be more true.

The art is to be very quick at everything, and if you have a chance – move a lot. As you can guess, Alex normally has us lined up, all dressed and dandy at the door, so that as soon as the sitter walks in, we can drive off. It’s a pleasurable game and makes us both appreciate our time so much more. Craftiness like that makes you think, “oh my god, what were we doing with all the spare time we had before? And the answer is easy – we wasted most of it. Well, now wasting time means wasting not just money, but also a chance to remember who we were together – as a couple, not as a treesome.

So…

That’s how last week we went to not just one, but two restaurants in three hours: appetizers in a cool modern bar, that’s rumored to be Andre Agassi’s, and later – entrees in my favorite Chinese place. The fried shrimp was awesome! Ate them with the heads and all. Yum! The important part is that we have the agreement not to talk of the Master during our little rendezvous. So we refer to him as “the one, whom we don’t speak of”. But if we don’t snap out of parenting on the dime, it lingers in our brains and keeps us restless and ineffective in the getting-to-know-each-other. Generally we have proven to be great conversationalists. When the two of us are together, we never stop. For eleven years we must have spoken enough words to build a latter with from here to Pluto, but we still keep going. And it’s awesome! No, no, let me make this even more romantic – when we do not talk, it’s not awkward – our minds are still in touch. Awwwww, you’d say, and of course – you’d be right.

Tonight we dared to go to the movies for the first time ever. Our neighbor and friend offered to watch Sami and we took full advantage of her, making her sit on the couch at home for three hours, while we ventured to see “Inglorious Basterds”. Nothing that special, really, about the movie, although Tarantino is pretty awesome and hilariously naïve, but the feeling of looking at Alex’s face in the dark – our eyes meet and share the joy of freedom for a moment – is worth sacrificing our night for catching up. I had missed this. Fortunately or not, we are far past the phase where all you do in the theatre is make out and we can now actually see what we paid to see, but the contact that you keep, checking to see if she laughs at the same things you do, is more than invigorating. It’s inspiring!

So, back to the MasterCard commercials:
A babysitter - $20 (or free if you got cool friends)
A movie or a cheap date - $20
A reconnection – priceless!

See you in a week, alkA.

КiЛЛАFOPNИЯ - част IV - Напикаването

След закуска, Джеспер – собственикът на хотела, с когото станахме големи приятели след почти две бутилки вино, ни обясни как да минем по най-живописния път, за да стигнем до Монтерей, даде ни още по-голяма отстъпка на стаята, от което Бай ви Стою пикна и потеглихме.

Въодушевлението леко намаляваше с всяка минута на грозни комбайни, обработваеми площи и безбожни ограничения на скоростта. (На средата на едно поле имаше поточна линия. Конвейр, който хората товареха с реколтата. Не знам какво се случваше там, но ми се стори доста находчиво. Може би след няколко хиляди години и в Бг ще си имаме такава ефективност и улесненост на труда.) И все пак, ние сме си българчета, свикнали на черни пътища между свинекомбинати и кравеферми дори и по най-главния български път между Варна и София, та това не беше в състояние да ни спече истински. А и Сами...такова ангелче! Спеше си или си кротуваше, как не му се чу гласчето, просто акълът ми не го побира. Само дето ни липсваше океанът. Това си беше и целта да не хващаме магистралата, а да се забутаме в черните пътища по западният бряг на Америка. Липсваше ми и ди-джействането на Алекс, която на отсечката Лас Вегас-Санта Барбара ме беше обсипала с умело подбрани хитове, разлистващи отдавна затворените томове на спомени и емоции.

Но нали знаете, че по някакъв начин, каквото и да правите, колкото и нелепо да изглежда всичко, винаги идва моментът, в който си казвате „неведоми са пътищата Божии”.

Така бе и този път!

Водопад. В мъжката тоалетна?! Влизаш да се изпикаеш, а там не някакви си гърнета или писуари(любима дума), а по американски...пикаеш във водопад! Майтапя се? Ами отидете и вижте сами. Но ако не сте мъж, сори, защото жените не са обзаведени с подобен лукс в хотел „Мадонна Инн”. Най-интересното в този хотел, който спецално отбихме да видим, беше, че всяка стая е обзаведена на различна тематка. Една – като пещера, друга – като на африканско сафари! Нямаше начин да отседнем в това шантаво място, макар че тоалетната си заслужи званието „единствената мъжка тоалетна, в която съм правил снимки”.



Доближихме се до океана и така подушихме есенцията на това, за което бяхме дошли. Като картини. Като снимки от най-любимите ми – панорамните. Какви гледки, какви Калифорнийски дървета, какви огромни жълти полета, облачното време увеличаваше мистичността и красотата на пейзажа. От зяпане доведох Алекс до пет полу-инфаркта, седем потрепервания и петнайсет забивания на нокти в седалки, врати, дръжки и...ръката ми. Но аз съм си позаблеян шофьор и гледката на среден пръст, развяващ се от околните коли е вече част от пейзажа за мен.


Когато бях малък бях толкова зашеметен от всички животни, че зоологическите градини бяха най-вълшебното място на света. Събирах пластмасови животни с цели торби, а майка ми и баща ми облепиха цялата стена в стаята ми с плакати на животни! Обожавах ги! Но те бяха някак недостъпни. Не ми бяха интересни мечки, зайци и лисици защото бяха като врабчетата по улицата. Имаше нещо така енигматично и недостъпно в животните, които не се срещаха в България, че гледах на тях като на мистични същества от друго измерение.

Когато стигнахме до плажа с „морските слонове” изпитах същата детска тръпка на вълнение, защото видях на живо стотици тюлени с хоботи, които бях виждал само по Енимъл Планет. Както в Коста Рика, така и тук ме обзе чувството на почит към природата и чудатите същества, които създава, и които не живеят само на малкия екран, а по места, до които съм порастнал достатъчно, за да видя с очите си.



Навсякъде неизбежно виждам следи от човешка цивилизация покрай себе си. Магистрали, мостове, лодки, къщи, димящи кумини, кибритчета, фасове, коли, огради и означения. Винаги, ама винаги ме сграбчва за гърлото една мисъл и ме души до умопомрачение. Искам да съм тук, но в друго време. Преди човекът, преди този вирус, глист и разрушител, преди великите цивилизации, убийства, замърсения и унищожения. Искам да видя това място девствено, да видя животните на воля, без прегради, дърветата – неизсечени и не подредени в идеална линия покрай брега! Плащам си с каквото потрябва! С компютри, коли, легла, обувки и печки. Не искам хора, не искам цивилизация, искам хиляди километри непокътнати плажове, гори и океани без да зърна и един човек, и един гвоздей, и една бутилка от Кока Кола! Искам да вдишам от оня въздух, да ям от онези плодове, да плувам в онези морета, пък ако ще и да ме издат дивите зверове накрая. Уви...

* * *

Радвах се на емоциите на Сами, който стоеше в ръцете ми и се провикваше. Забеляза морските слонове и ги загледа как реват, как хвърлят пясък върху себе си и се блъскат един в друг. Беше прекрасен момент. Силните емоции накараха малкото момченце да крещи от радост и да се напъва до степен, до която въпреки мощния вятър, успях да подуша творението на напъните му. Нямаше как да оставим подарък на тюлените, нито на десетките катерички, които се мотаеха в краката ни. Все пак, това не е България, където нормалният човек изпива бирата си и мята шишето в морето, за да може първото детенце, тичащо от радост да поплува да си нареже хубаво крачето. Не е мястото, където плажът е бунище. Не е и място, където все ще се намери някой тарикат, който ей така от мерак да отиде с една пушка и да натръшка цялата популация на морските слонове. Това е Америка. Да е страната на свободните? Не, не е, защото тук нямаш свободата да натръшкаш стадо тюлени. Но това може и пък да е за добро, за да може Сами да се наака от кеф!

И така, потеглихме с канцерогенния памперс в краката на Алекс, ароматизиращ цялата ни кола за секунди и автоматично трансформиращ я в движеща се бомба, в която пътниците се задушавахме с всеки дъх от парфюмът „Кендзо” (да живее „Улицата”).
Въпреки, че завоите и свинефермите от по-рано не ни се бяха отразили добре, нищо не можеше да се сравни с този чаромат, придружен от още завои, пътища високо, високо по брега, тесни като магистралата Варна – София и гигантската пропаст от лявата ни страна, деляща ни на едно грешно движение на волана от безмоторен полет към Тихия океан. И все пак – красота! Предимно за тези, които успяха да я видят, защото аз вече не можех да си позволя да откъсвам поглед от пътя, освен ако не исках рибите отдолу да ми показват среден пръст, а това си е грозна гледка.

Спасение! Свлачище! Срутване на камъни върху пътя. Намери се начин през близо двучасовия престой, да погледам и аз дивността на този път. Имахме вода, храна, разбира се всичко необходимо за Сами, колата ни се превръща на легло, имахме лап топ, музика, дрехи, бяхме подготвени да пренощуваме насред пътя докато хеликоптерите разчистваха и поставяха мрежи по скалите, но не ни се наложи. И макар и да ни писна от тая красота и от сърце да желаехме просто да си бяхме хванали магистралата, в това безвремие насред пътя имаше глътка въздух за всички ни.


Колко ме е яд когато не оценявам хубавите моменти, а ги преминавам полуосъзнато и критично, с циничен поглед и припряност. Колко ми се ще да бях си дал сметка какъв прекрасен момент беше това задръстване, как можахме да се разходим около колата, по ръба на пропастта, на сто метра над океана, да се вгледаме в хоризонта, в ниските облаци, в прелитащите птици, да потърсим с очи делфини, китове. Често реалната оценка за събитията узрява в мен твърде късно. Едва сега поглеждам от страни и виждам прекрасното си семейство, седнало край пътя, оглеждащо се и бъбриво. Вероятно тези моменти оставят подсъзнателен отпечатък в мен и изплуват единствено ако ги преизживея чрез разказите си.


* * *

Разгеле, стигнахме! Най-после Монтерей! Грозните мотели се редяха един след друг пред прозореца на колата, в а-романтична верига. Рибарското градче придобиваше реалните си скучни щамповани очертания и ни посрещна с един от най-неприветливите хотели, в които сме спали някога.

След като вратата на хладилника падна, когато се опитахме да приберем в него замразената храна на Сами, след като отместихме вмирисаната покривка на леглото, станах свидетел на една от най-трагикомичните сцени, които съм наблюдавал: Алекс метна Сами на леглото и го съблече, за да му смени памперса, изпълнен с още един огромен и благоуханен подарък в рамките на няколко часа. Следващите сцени се случиха със светкавична скорост, затова ще забавя кадъра, за да успеете да видите добре детайлите на картината. Бебешка ръчичка се твурва към отворения памперс, право в центъра на тъмно-кафявата купчинка, сграбчва, и се засилва към възглавницата ми. Алекс я овладява за момент и битката на титаните придобива чудовищни размери, но все-пак залагаме парите си на Алекс заради нейното физическо превъзходство, но...! Напрежението се покачва и докато бащата гледа втрещен и безучастен тези живи картини, а през главата му се въртят мислите: „О, не! Това е моята страна на леглото и моята възглавница”, психическото надмощие на по-хитрият от участниците проличава! Сами изкарва тайното оръжие! Знам си аз, че не е добър знак когато тайното му оръжие е щръкнало, но в бързината и суматохата покрай пълната шепа забравям да погледна...и...е твърде късно! Струята хвръква с мощен тласък, започва да напоява чаршафът ми, Алекс в суматохата пуска ръката, държаща специалните награди...и възглавницата ми, както и чаршафът около нея поддават геройски, докато аз безплодно тичам към банята за хавлиени кърпи.

Чудесната репродукция на картина на Пикасо беше създадена за секунди...но на красотата й вероятно се дивят и днешните гости на мотела.

* * *

Във Вегаската пустиня полудяваме без море. Има изкуствени езера тук таме и сме избрали да живеем близо до едно такова. Но не е същото. Няма я цацата с картофки и бира! За това като видим ресторант край морето, сме първите там. Така направихме и в Монтерей. Нищо друго нямаше значение! Само да хапнем на брега. Намерихме ресторант с евтини оферти и се шмугнахме. Казахме си наздраве с по чаша вино за дългия път и за красивото произведение на Сами. Той продължаваше да се държи ангелски, макар пак да беше закопчан и цял ден да не се беше движил. Усмихваше се на китайците от съседната маса и издаваше въодушевени звуци. Толкова е търпелив по някога, че не мога да разбера на кого прилича.

За награда го разходихме по крайбрежната улица на градчето, видяхме ресторанта на „Бъба Гъмп Шримп” от филма Форест Гъмп и се убедихме, че това беше най-голямата забележителност в това смотано място.



Няма да описвам горещата стая в която се прибрахме, със засъхналите недоизпрани чаршафи и няма да спомена за това как климатикът работеше на ТОПЛО посред лято и нямаше как да бъде изключен! Наложи ми се да отида до рецепцията по гащи, за да попитам как по дяволите да си охладим стаята. Индийката (с малките пръстчета) ми обясни поредица от ритуали, молитви и пируети, които трябваше да извърша, за да омилостивя бога на хладината да посети нашата стая...на сутринта бяхме измръзнали. Абе, никога не отсядайте в Монтерей!

Решихме рано рано да се омитаме, но аз, любопитен както винаги, исках да видя какво толкова било така привлекателно на това място и убедих Алекс да се спуснем по 17 мили от завои, да платим петнадесет долара, за да минем през този резерват Кармел и да ни се завие свят.


Да, но този път не от завоите, а от нечовешката красота! Неописуеми гледки! Вълшебни панорами, където морето се разбива в стотици накъсани скали, черно надвиснало небе, красиви, спретнати не-натруфени къщички, пръснати покрай брега самотни дървета, чакълест пясък и пълен покой. Като затишие пред ранно-сутришна лятна буря!



Силно соленият студен въздух събуждаше изморените ни очи и успокояваше напрегнатите ни души. Ето защо било толкова известно това място. Само да го бяхме знаели по-рано.
Когато стигнахме до малкото градче на края на пътя бяхме от първите посетители на местното кафене. Къщичките наоколо бяха като бисквитени. Малки, спретнати къщурки с борове отпред. Може би идеалното място за пенсиониране на отвратен от цивилизацията писател. Не и за пътешественици като нас.

Obeying Idiots - part II

At first it was exciting, new, full of possibilities, untamed and unlimited. There were all the flags, flapping overhead, keeping me sheltered and safe. I had the right to live and to pursue happiness. (my American friends, don’t be offended by this question: Who in the world does NOT have the right to pursue happiness?)

It took me a month to jump in the matrix. The dumbed empty faces, the scared quiet talks, the well weighed words of the people, looking at you in the eyes, sending you non-verbal messages of hatred, discrimination and contempt, but at the same time complimenting you, smiling at you, welcoming you to their country, afraid you might sue them if they told you what they really meant. You could not hate the president, and hope that someone will…take him off his throne, even though W was the biggest idiot I’ve ever had to obey! You could not openly express your opinion about the other cultures, no matter how obvious your observations might be. There were words you couldn’t use in the land of the free. The TV was obviously censured to the bone, the movies were cleared of “disturbing” images, or rated “R” if you saw a woman’s chest, the news was not about the wars, the famine, the ecological disasters, but about the neighbor’s cat, stuck on a tree.
With the new freedoms, came the new jobs. My four jobs in America. All four as a waiter, as a server, as a servant.

Slowly, but deliberately I was stripped off of my opinions, my freedoms, my character. The more I became a faceless machine, the more people liked me. The better tips I got. The more I smiled, when my heart was being squeezed through the juicer of hypocrisy, the more approval I got from my managers. And soon I stopped wearing my earrings, getting crazy haircuts, or expressing my opinion. At work my mind was falling asleep. In the beginning my mouth would tell people off before my mind could censure my bare thoughts and I suffered the consequences. With time I learned to keep my mouth shut, to ignore my impulses and keep my head low – bowing.

For six years already my deep bow has saved me from the head-severance, and become the new shape of my body. I will lick your shoes, wash your feet and drink the water. I am now a changed man. I live in the matrix, wear a happy mask, have a quickly depreciating house in suburbia, a wife, a kid, a dog, an eco-friendly mini-minivan, all the episodes of “Friends”, a big screen TV and I pay my taxes. All of my taxes! (The money ones and the mind ones). I live in constant fear, which is good – keeps me occupied. I don’t know if I’ll break some law, which I don’t know of; I don’t know if I may insult someone by looking at them differently; I’m afraid to touch someone, because here everybody hates to be touched; I’m afraid to end up in a bad neighborhood; afraid of the swine flu, of the heat-waves, of the flash-floods, of the monthly bills…

Ever since I became a proud “homeowner” (of course, I don’t own shit – the bank owns it), I had even more freedoms: not to walk my dog without a leash; not to have more than one dog, and the one I do have may not be taller than 18 inches; not to skateboard, because in my community skateboarding is strictly prohibited, and the fact that my bulldog likes to skateboard makes me sad every time she begs me to let her jump on it; not to have a bamboo fence on the inside of my yard; not to have a beer at the pool; not to have a Bulgarian flag on my house; not have a party – any kind of party!; not to park next to my house; not to have an extra window on the side of my house, so some fucking light can actually get through; not to keep the stinking trash can, full of shitty baby diapers outside of the house; not to be boisterous at the pool; not to have any electrical units by the pool; not to have a mister on my patio; not to have a gas barbeque.

You may want to know some more about my job freedoms - whom and what I obey there…but I shalt bite not the hand that feeds me.

The story ends here. The mouth is sealed, the hand freezes, the heart stops…the body keeps walking.

I now know what my daddy meant!

the Nameday

It was Samuil’s name-day today (August 20th)!
For the ignorant ones, not familiar with the deeply rooted Bulgarian traditions, let me clarify, that this is a celebration of the saint, after whom you are named. My history teacher from eight grade, who generally taught us a little history and a bunch of BS, including US presidential conspiracy theories, and who got kicked off the school for talking dirty to the girls, said one day that everybody is named after some kind of saint, and whether they can trace their name back to its origins is their problem.
The feeling on your name-day is similar to the way you feel on the birthday of your name. Just kidding, I know if you’re not Bulgarian, right now you are like “ooo’kaaaye”. But it’s like a mini-birthday.

So, now that we finally cleared the name-day thing out, let’s get back to the story. On St. Samuil’s day, early, early in the morning, we went to the Encore hotel for breakfast – to celebrate.
We simply sat at the café, which is a casual restaurant. First of all, even the atmosphere was far more than casual. Wonderful chandeliers, intricate curtains, colorful bouquets of flowers, elegant servers.
Normally, being as messed up as I am by my profession, I hardly have a meal where I’m not constantly on the lookout for mistakes, impoliteness and lack of attentiveness. I totally expected bad service there, where lots of Europeans-who-don’t-tip-enough-but-have-high-demands dine, especially after they heard us speaking Bulgarian. But to our surprise, we were greeted by friendly faces with big smiles on. This fact alone helped us shift gears completely and transform us (me) from the classic morning grumpster, into a positive family. I thought for a moment how contagious good mood could be and how strongly we get affected by positive (or by the same token by negative) people.

So, if you end up in Encore and eat at the Café, I suggest you try the mashed peas with carrots and onions, and then have the mashed mango for dessert, accompanied of course, by 4oz. of formula. Oops, no, no, that’s if you’re nine months! Your mom should probably have brought that for you already. YOU, should try the granola with organic yogurt and berries. Mmm, it’s yum and good for you!
After a wonderful breakfast and many coffee refills, we went shopping for the name-day boy, of course, but it seemed like at the Paul Frank store, only the clothes for adults were on sale, so we decided, that while he’s that young, it’s us who should get the presents.
And there you go! Restaurant and presents for mom!
Yeey, already can’t wait for his birthday!

КiЛЛАFOPNИЯ - част III

Следващите моменти из градчето и оживената му главна улица бяха почти вълшебни. Оттеглихме се от моите работни кахъри, от жегите на Вегас, от скуката и безперспективността, потънахме в пазарчето, което местните организират всеки вторник. Ягоди, малини, къпини, орхидеи, сирена, рози и мед...музиканти, гимнастици и странни типове. Всичко това на петстотин метра по главната улица!




Има един вълшебен момент през късния следобед, когато всяка снимка става като картичка. А ако я правиш на брега на Тихия океан, по тясната алейка до плажа, където всички местни карат колело, скейт, или просто тичат, пречкаш се – спрял насред оживената безмоторна магистрала, заблян в някоя палма, пеликан или калифорнийка, щракащ с фотоапарата – динамиката на момента изглежда още по-пленителна. Това е един от моментите, в които животът около теб кипи, а ти си се оттеглил някак встрани и само наблюдаваш. Безвремие...


Приспиването на Сами по непоклатимо правило е в 19ч. В 19:10 вече стъпвахме на пръсти и обмисляхме защо ли не сме си взели нищо за вечеря...
Имам един прекрасен детски спомен. Как една вечер по тъмно, наш’те ме пратиха до „СДС-то” за хамбургери. СДС-то беше първото място във Варна, където можеше да си купиш сандвич със зеле, салам, майонеза, кетчуп и горчица и да го наречеш „хамбургер”. Родителите ми не го харесваха, но аз го обожавах. И за това, в моя чест една вечер ме пратиха да купя за вечеря. За мен това беше един енигматичен свят на хора по ризки и тениски, изпълнили главната улица на Варна в омайната лятна прохлада. Толкова много народ! А аз за първи път разбирах как животът кипва щом горещото слънце се е скрило. Беше знаменито чувство!
В Санта Барбара е същото. Изкарай светлината и цветовете от картината на живота и той се разбуява още по-силно! Хора, пътища и автомобили хукват към ресторанти, клубове и дискотеки. А бяхме млади и бездетни, щукахме и ние от реге парти на парти от 80те. Ядяхме пица и се разхождахме по плажа посред нощ. И то до преди няколко месеца! Но за радост, сега имахме ново призвание и виждахме нещата под нова светлина.
Дни наред не се сетих как се казваше актрисата, която видях по улицата. Нито в кой филм участва. Но в крайна сметка я открихме по интернет.( Maggie Gyllenhaal – знам, че никога не сте я чували, но като я видите ще се сетите) Без охрани, папараци и претенции си вървеше под ръка за някакъв мъж, на който не обърнах внимание. А ако е бил съпругът й, значи съм видял двама известни актьори, ама нали съм си прост и не се заглеждам по мъже!
Свещи, вино, мексикански такота и вегетарианска салатка...дългият ден приключи късно късно за родителите – към 22ч.
Виното...не само прекрасен символ на мъдростта и глупоста вкупом, но и вълшебен елексир за заболели от ежедневие мозъци; виагра за душата; лаксатив за езика!
На следващата вечер, след обичайният ден на безкрайно вървене измежду ресторантчета, магазинчета и кафененца, купихме ефтина бутилка с прекрасно вино от Чили. (Идеален пример за експлоатация на ефтиното от западния свят!) Десет години в бутилката! Натрупало мъдрост и опит, виното отпускаше езиците ни докато гледахме приспаният Сами на камерата и си говорихме със собственика на хотелчето, бучвайки си от калифорнийските сиренца и маслинки.
Нали ви казах, че на седмото посещение вече си със специален статус и пиеш с шефа! А и май с удоволствие жертвам един чифт панталонки, и предпочитам да взема камерата, за да гледам как Сами спокойно си спи, докато нищя култура, политика и спомени.

Obeying Idiots - part I

It’s fascinating how kids perceive life through a prism so different than adults. There are things in a kid’s experience that just stick and never leave the memories, sometimes shaping their entire personality as grown-ups.
I have distinct memories and flashbacks from childhood, that have changed my life forever, even though they were only some petty little remarks, made by the people around me, or some of those “you’ll know what I mean when you grow up” things. That was one of the reasons why I wanted to grow up – just so I’d know what the hell all the old ones were talking about.
So, tiny little remarks, made by my father still play a big role in my life to this day. I remember distinctly not only what he said to me, but where we were, who else was in the room and even the look on his face. I looked up to my dad so much! Everything he said meant so much to me. Many of the things, that I may even find wrong now, became laws in my mind. He hated soccer (football), I hated it too. He hated grammar in school, where you have to name the noun, the verb, the adjective in the sentence and I got to hate it so much that I had an even harder time learning English, because of that. Not to mention, I spread my hatred as far as hating literature all together. But it didn’t matter. My dad loves math. To him even today it gives a person survival patterns of thinking. So, I loved it and until my teacher made me hate it to death, I was awesome at it. May be it did help me organize my mind better and taught me to be a master at problem solving today. When my water polo trainer was giving me hard time, my dad said: “Don’t listen to him. They are usually proud when they return from a competition and none of the team has drowned. You’re probably better off with skateboarding.” I quit water polo immediately. And I still skateboard to this day…
One of the most amazing things he said to me while scolding me for being defiant, was that one day I’d go to the army and then, only then will I learn what obedience means. How it breaks the heart to have an idiot with no education tell you what to do, even though he is completely wrong, and you not only have to follow his orders quietly, but show him the utmost respect!
This shuttered me! It left such a big hole in my heart that I got scared of going to the army forever. It’s not the physical torment, nor the insane two years of what can only be called “jail time for adolescents” that scared me. It was the cringing of the soul of being bossed around and laughed at by idiots who have no idea about anything in the world, but their little boxed up minds, given the power of judgment! It makes me want to scream with pain and disgust when I think about it even today.
The effect was so gross, that my little game had changed forever.
I always used to play the game: “If you could chose – what creature would you rather be born as?” Generally my thoughts were those – not an animal, because they live in constant fear. Other animals, or worse – humans will sooner or later get to them. I didn’t want to be a woman, because they have to give birth, and I’ve heard from my mom, that those are the worst pains one can endure. So up until then, I was always happy and proud to be a boy. You have your own instrument, that makes you proud and is fun to play with, and you don’t have to give birth, or get eaten.
And then dad told me about the army and turned my world upside down. Now I had nothing left to choose. I didn’t want to be a man either.
The mandatory army years diminished with the gradual departure of the communism train. When I was in high-school, they were down to one year. After I graduated, you could go to college, and after college you only had to do eight or even six months. After I was done, and moved to the US, as soon as I turned 26, they didn’t want me there anymore. I was already too old.
So, I was happy! I had beaten the system, I had won at the game “what you want to be born as” and the answer was still “a man”.
But I was fooling myself.
“It’s the army that will make you a man! It’s them that will teach you to hold your tongue behind your teeth, be mentally strong and obey.” My dad had said, envisioning what a strong man I would be some day.
I’ve always felt the biggest disdain against the old Bulgarian saying “A bowing head does not get severed.” I fucking hate it! Only the smallest, most broken, chewed up, cut down, mashed against the pavement, kicked in the face, spit upon spirit, having been branded under Turkish yolk for 500 years can ever come up with a defeatist saying like that! But today, the heroes aren’t the ones that bowed down. The ones, for whom the sirens wail on the national holidays aren’t the ones who licked the shoes that kicked them in the face!
Obedience made me sick! I was hardcore! I was against the system and the world! I had a band, I wrote songs, I could say whatever I wanted, do whatever I decided and be the king of the world! Don’t forget it – thought I was so different!
The boy scouts hated my long hair. I was only 14 and my hair was down to the middle of my back. They wanted it gone. It wasn’t part of the image they wanted for themselves. So, they told me I had to cut it, so I could go to a Boy Scout camp in the glorious America (after communism, America was paradise – the dreamland, that no one has ever seen, or been to. The haven where you can afford to buy anything you can think of.)! I told them I wasn’t going. My parents supported me! I love them for that! Their friends told them that they’d brought up a kid with a strong character. I was a hero! I had given up a trip to the USA, to keep my hair. Even the scout leaders looked at me differently. They made me a troop leader and sent me to the camp on the next year not for one, but for three months! I had totally won this one. I proved the system wrong! I held my ground.
And just when I thought I had escaped my “army service”, we moved to the States.

КiЛЛАFOPNИЯ - част II

Оо, как ухае хладината на океана, как гали кожата ти влажността на въздуха, лека, нежна топлина се разлива в атмосферата на Санта Барбара и насища тялото ти с елфове на радостта!
В хотелчето, където винаги отсядаме вече се отнасят с нас, както във Вегас глезят милионерите. Стаята ни е най-голямата. Цял апартамент! Цената – най-ниската. Можем да се нанесем часове преди официалното приемане на гостите, което в Щатите е 15:00, на леглото ни има оставени шоколадови бонбони, на шкафчето вода и ядки (за сравнение, ако във Вегас дори преместиш нещо от претрупаните хладилници в хотелите, без да го консумираш, хладилникът сам ти надчислява ценичката на докоснатото богатство), а тук всичко това е приятна глезотийка.


Наместихме багажите на Сами, камерата, леглото, което му носим навсякъде, специалния часовник за шум; сложихме храните му, нежно и загрижено приготвени от мама Али, във фризера, хвърлихме единствения наш сак на земята, ударихме си по един хладен душ и се изстреляхме да обядваме. Не подбирахме! Умирахме от глад. Както казва Алекс в подобна ситуация „Дефицитът унищожава правото на избор”. Ето защо, за наше щастите посмяхме да седнем на непознато заведение. Първото, което ни се стори приветливо. И за наша огромна изненада попаднахме на джакпот. (джакпот е най-доброто съчетание от условията ни за добро заведение – 4 от 4: да е ефтино, вкусно, с приятна обстановка и здравословно, а ако питате Алекс, условията са точно в обратния ред по важност). Докато се облизвахме пред изстиващите вкусотии, малкият бабаит облизваше лъжичката си от пюре от манго. Когато се нахрани цар Самуил, дойде ред и на нас – обслужващият персонал, да облажим стомасите си с това, което до този момент очите и носовете ни бяха погълнали многократно.



Но на царя вече не му се стоеше в количката. И с право. Шест часа си беше кротувал в столчето си на задната седалка на колата. Беше му време да се поразкърши. И тъй-като мама до сега го беше хранила, беше ред на тати, да натъпче още една голяма хапка в устата, да отпие от биричката и да вземе Сами на колянце.

Беше влажно, но не толкова влажно. Беше топло, но не толкова топло. Просяците по пейките точно до ресторантчето миришеха, но не чак толкова лошо. Това, което течеше по коляното и крака ми НЕ беше пот!
Ето как, за първи път бях посран публично!
Последва тиха суматоха. Панталоните ми, прясно изпрани, подготвени за 8 дневен трип...”чааакай, чакай! Осем-дневен трииип? Трябва да си си взел поне 5-6 чифта! Какво се паникьосваш!”
„Ами не съм.” – викам – „Не ми разрешиха да си взема к’вото си искам, че да има място за бебешки багаж! Имам само още един чифт, също така само два чифта обувки, което е НЕЧУВАНО за мен!!! Аз и на палатка си вземам по четири!”
...подготвени за 8 дневен трип, няма къде да ги изпера!
Актьорите излизат:
Следващ кадър – Стоян в кенефа, припнал на един крак върху мивката, мие другия крак и пере панталон. Влиза калифорниец. Не му пука. На Стоян може да му е неудбно да си мие краката в ресторантската тоалетна, но пък калифорниецът не е помирисвал Самешко ако, та да си трае и да си пикае!
Някъде по същото време – събитията се смесват в момент на паника и не се знае кое след кое е – Алекс е пльоснала Сами на сепаре, точно зад гърба на нищо неподозираща майка с две момиченца и разгръща тюрбанът за дупе, свива благоуханната субстанция на пакетче и спокойно се оттегля, ни ако яла, ни ако мирисала, оставяща невинните жертви от съседната маса с отвратително впечатление от вентилацията на ресторанта.

No Blog Time. Sami Time!

I gave my blog time to Sami today. We played for so long, that I got him overly excited now and he has a hard time falling asleep for the afternoon nap. (daddy's fault again - ruining the routine) He is more comprehending and playful than ever. It's a lot of fun to watch him imitate and explore! I almost want him to stay at this age, because I'm afraid we might miss this precious charm he has now, as he grows.

...still banging on the crib and not sleeping...
Oops, I'm out of here. Off to work I go!

I admit I was one of Those...but just this one time. I promise.

Parental jealousy, or “zealousimus – parentarimus” in Latin is a common seen phenomenon, characterized with feelings of envy, that a parent feels when other parents’ kids can do things your kid still can’t or exactly the way I felt today.
A new feeling every day!
Never have I thought that I’d be one of those “my kid’s better than your kid”, but today, when the Russians told us that their daughter has “all her teeth” (baby Sami is from the one-toothed breed or better said - ½ toothed) and almost walks, and after I saw her standing pretty stable on the ground, I gotta admit – I felt a bit jealous, well quite jealous. I already pictured myself guessing how many books will the boy next door have read during summer vacation and who scored better on the Math Olympiads. Sami, I promise not to compare you with anyone anymore.

So, we went to that baby gym (I know, they even have things like that – crazy!) this morning and I thought Sami was going to be the smallest baby in the gym. The rest of the kids – running around, going crazy, playing with balls and screaming, our little Sami – bound to the ground, crawling a bit here and there, just to play with the ball and lazily to check the other midgets out. But after the Russian couple, with whom we somehow always mysteriously end up in the same places (the dog park, a couple of years ago, where they also walked their bulldog, then the pre-baby class in the hospital, now – both families with kids – at the baby gym) brought their 8 ½ month-old daughter Diana, he had some company. Well, I already told you about the weird way I found myself feeling, but I’m sure Sami couldn’t care less. They played a little and it was very cute how he was getting excited and had fun doing new things and interacting.
The best of all was to hear him laugh so hard, when we stepped together on the bouncing trampoline and jumped up and down.
The new emotions must have taken it out of him. He fell asleep as soon as we put him in the car. Now you’ll know where to find us on Tuesday and Friday mornings.

Legacy

I read this a few days ago...the conclusions I leave up to you.

Chief Seattle wrote a marvelous letter in reply to the US Government’s inquiry to buy their tribal land:
"The President in Washington sends word that he wishes to buy our land. But how can you buy or sell the sky? The land? The idea is strange to us. If we do not own the freshness of the air and the sparkle of the water. how can you buy them?
"Every part of this earth is sacred to my people. Every shining pine needle, every sandy shore, every mist in the dark woods, every meadow, every humming insect. All are holy in the memory and experience of my people.
"We know the sap which courses through the trees as we know the blood that courses through our veins. We are part of the earth and it is part of us. The perfumed flowers are our sisters. The bear, the deer, the great eagle, these are our brothers. The rocky crests, the juices in the meadow, the body heat of the pony, and man, all belong to the same family.
"The shining water that moves in the streams and rivers is not just water, but the blood of our ancestors. If we sell you our land, you must remember that it is sacred. Each ghostly reflection in the clear waters of the lakes tells of events and memories in the life of my people. The water's murmur is the voice of my father's father.
"The rivers are our brothers. They quench our thirst. They carry our canoes and feed our children. So you must give to the rivers the kindness you would give any brother.
"If we sell you our land, remember that the air is precious to us, that the air shares its spirit with all the life it supports. The wind that gave our grandfather his first breath also receives his last sigh. The wind also gives our children the spirit of life. So if we sell you our land, you must keep it apart and sacred, as a place where man can go to taste the wind that is sweetened by the meadow flowers.
"Will you teach your children what we have taught our children? That the earth is our mother? What befalls the earth befalls all the sons of the earth.
"This we know: the earth does not belong to man, man belongs to the earth. All things are connected like the blood that unites us all. Man did not weave the web of life, he is merely a strand in it. Whatever he does to the web, he does to himself.
"One thing we know: our god is also your god. The earth is precious to him and to harm the earth is to heap contempt on its creator.
"Your destiny is a mystery to us. What will happen when the buffalo are all slaughtered? The wild horses tamed? What will happen when the secret corners of the forest are heavy with the scent of many men and the view of the ripe hills is blotted by talking wires? Where will the thicket be? Gone! Where will the eagle be? Gone! And what is it to say goodbye to the swift pony and the hunt? The end of living and the beginning of survival.
"When the last Red Man has vanished with his wilderness and his memory is only the shadow of a cloud moving across the prairie, will these shores and forests still be here? Will there be any of the spirit of my people left?
"We love this earth as a newborn loves its mother's heartbeat. So, if we sell you our land, love it as we have loved it. Care for it as we have cared for it. Hold in your mind the memory of the land as it is when you receive it. Preserve the land for all children and love it, as God loves us all.
“As we are part of the land, you too are part of the land. This earth is precious to us. It is also precious to you. One thing we know: there is only one God. No man, be he Red Man or White Man, can be apart. We are brothers after all."

A Damaged Mind

Do we even realize how utterly conditioned we are by society, parents and upbringing, to never actually be able to relax?
Every time I spend a day with no running errands (which I officially hate), without going to work, walking, hiking, shopping, cooking, cleaning…I just feel terrible!!! Why can’t I just relax, enjoy, meditate and absorb my life? What kind of a mess and vicious circle did humanity get itself into? Why am I so miserable and depressed to spend the entire day at home?
I am lost. I really don’t know where the key hides, to the true relaxation. My modernized iPod, iRobot mind, can’t grasp the meaning of relaxation and living for the sake of pure mental-spiritual experience.
As anyone can probably guess from such a prelude, I spent the entire day off without going out of the house. I was just watching the hours go by and had no inspiration as for what to do. I tried so hard to grasp the moments with my son and wife – together as a family – but I couldn’t fight the depression of the lack of activities and fulfilled “goals”. I don’t understand myself. I don’t get how my mind works and how it is programmed so as it’s almost impossible for me to rest and appreciate.
Two moments:
One – Alex couldn’t take it anymore. I was so fucking irritable and irritating, that she just went out till I could find composure.
So I stood there – Sami in my hands, arms, feet and all over the place – for a moment, trying to collect my thoughts. Music! I decided. Let’s listen to some music. Me and my son – alone together. Let’s show him once more what my “other” world is all about. So we played a music DVD of one of my favorite bands – Mastodon – and he just got glued to the screen! I felt so great! There we were – father and a son – watching and moving with the music together. I even picked him up and danced with him in the rhythm. (I feel that it’s really important that I teach him rhythm from a young age, because I feel that the sensation of the motions of music can really enrich our life.) There we were – dancing, hugging, smiling. He was really amused! I was thrilled by the connection I felt with him.
Two – after the daily baby bath and bed, Alex came back with three bottles of wine. It’s been so long, since we’ve just sat down to talk to each other without the constant distraction of a little boy or a movie. May be it’s because I said to myself that I am turning into an alcoholic, and decided not to drink for a month, that it was just so sweet to get drunk on tequila and wine. Breaking the rules is one of the sweetest sins, isn’t it?
So much to talk about! After 11 years together, constant conversation, constant presence and complete knowledge for one another we spoke endlessly for hours. Feelings, thoughts, fears, …till “Jon & Kate plus 8” started. Then I had to step back. I understand. But I can’t believe how much I still love my wife after all these years.
Now that she’s asleep, here I am, writing again. My new alter ego coming through. Still active. There’s no salvation from the plague of modern society – always on the run, forgetting to read between the lines.

KИLLAФОRНiA - част I

Червеното вино става по-добро когато отлежи. Спомените също. Когато отминат емоциите от преживяното, цветовете се посмесят в по-неутрални гами, а ежедневието ни погребе отново в палитрата си от различни нюанси на сивото, започваме да гледаме с по-добро око дори и на най-трудните моменти от живота си. Миговете, които сме възприемали като негативни започват да ни изглеждат весели. Често съм прилагал в стратегиите си за справяне с трудностите клишето: „Като мине време, ще гледаме на проблемите с насмешка.” Така и става. Както с виното. Времето минава, кафевината по ръба на чашата се увеличава и при всяка глътка отпиваш спомени на мъдрост. Красиво е! Времето придава вълшебство на спомените и богатство на виното.
Ето защо, откривам пътеписа си за екскурзията ни из Калифорния с повече от месец отлежаване. Защото иначе следните думи биха звучли друго яче:
До сега не съм можел да се похваля, че съм бил оповръщан, опикаван, и наакван, а вече, благодарение на Сами имам свидетелства по дрехите си за целия този нов и вълнуващ репертоар от изживявания.
Наакването:
След обичайните стресове, усмивки, премесени с мини-скандали, преминахме границата между Невада и Калифорния с дива скорост. Алекс ме предупреди, че няма усещане, че ще ни спрат ченгетата, така че мога да нарушавам колкото си искам.
Разликата между двата щата се усеща мигновено. Гладкият, черен асфалт, постлан в шест ленти с парите на милионите нещастници, фалирали по ротативките на Вегас, се превръща в грапав, светло-сив чакълест път, стеснен до четири ленти, без претенции.
Като се замисля, сякаш това е добра основа за съпоставка между двата свята.
(Главната редакторка каза, че не се разбира идеята на снимките. Да поясня: това е една и съща пустиня, от двете страни на границата между Невада и Калифорния. Горната снимка е голф игрище насред пустинята в Невада - наглост, колкото щете. Долната си е класическата, скромна пустиня на Калифорния.)

Калифорния е някак по-семпла. Дори и в именията в Холивуд има по-голяма семплота от неистовите крясъци и наглостта на казината на Вегас. В Калифорния хората се обличат по-семпло, но с вкус. В Невада, се труфят като коледни елхи с последните модели на френските дизайнери, като разчитат, че щом носят по себе си няколко хиляди долара, няма да им се наложи да мислят за това, че приличат на чучала. (Това за мен е любим феномен, между другото. Хората купуват скъпи дрехи, разчитайки, че това, което им е продиктувано от последните модни съветници, несъмнено е добро, без значение колко гротескно може да изглеждат щом го нахлузят.)
За няколко неусетни часа щяхме да сме в Санта Барбара, ако вниманието на навигаторката ми не бе вече наполовина заето от малкото навигаторче. Спокойно тук можем да заменим израза „птиче ти е изпило мозъка”, с „бебе ти е изпило навигаторските умения”. В резултат: скандал! Аз съм си бил виновен, да съм си гледал сам картите! Започна се едно вълшебно въртене из любимите ми, както ги наричам „щамповани градчета”. Там всичко винаги е еднакво. Едрият рогат бизнес е изпил кръвчицата на магазина на мама и тати и сега те презареждат щандовете из Уол-Март, Уол-Грийнс и Кей-Март и всичките кей-та и март-ита, пържат пилешки бутчета, бургери и картофки за МакДоналдс и Уендис и сменят маслата на колите в Терибълс! Това се случва във ВСИЧКИ малки американски градчета. Това са гледките, рекламите, ориентирите и професиите на местните. А на всичкото отгоре, колкото са по-забити, толкова по-черен път следва от тях към крайната цел на пътуването ти.
Когато спряхме да сменим на Сами наакания памперс, с най-нов аромат на свежест от последната серия на привиден крем за бръснене „Каро”...а всъщност - това, което се излющва отдолу – лепило „Рила”, зад нас намали едно ченге, огледа ни и подмина. Сърцето ми отиде в гащите и обратно (все пак не пропускаме да си дадем десятъкът на Арнолд Шварценегер – Калифорнийският гавърнър-всеки път), но си отдъхнах. Реших, че е видял аварийните и ни е оставил намира. Не знаех дали съм отбил на подобаващо обозначена отбивка от пътя или съм нарушил, паркирайки до един храсталак. Пет минути по-късно ченгето се върна и паркира зад нас.
Излезе от колата. Ръка на кръста, готова да сграбчи патлака...
„Проблем ли имате?”
„Не точно, само сменяме на бебето памперса, обещаваме повече никога да не правим така, моля, чичко милиционер, не ни глобявайте!”
„Няма, бе, помислих, че сте закъсали. Преди малко ви видях, но един ме подмина, та отскочих да напиша една бърза глобичка и се връщам да ви помогна. Много хора закъсват из тези пущинаци и няма кой да им помогне, та реших да видя как сте.”
Ченге с душа! Странна работа. (Нека ми простят: дядо Стоян, Паша и Камен. Вие си знаете, че сте изключения!)

Just a Thought...

It may not be the most original thought and you have probably noticed it many times in your life.

The less money you have, the more inventive you are about how to have a great quality time. Be it walks, rather than shopping, be it a picnic, rather than a restaurant, be it playing board games, rather than going out.

I see rich people in Vegas, bored beyond their mind. No communication between the married couples, no appreciation of the little things...no appreciation of the big things.

Alex, Sami and I, on the other hand, have had the best of times lately.

May be there is a way to avoid the money trap after all.

The simple life - behold!

Memories

A snake coiled in my gut. A cold and sleazy feeling.
A beast grabbed me by the throat.
Memories – rushing down my spine, penetrating me with their relentless honesty.
A boy, running through the small streets of my hometown. Friends around me. Playing hide and seek, riding bikes and skateboards. Playing with fire, playing with fireworks. Getting in trouble. Burned that kid’s arm – a piece of the fireworks fell in his sleeve. We ran off. They rushed him to the hospital.
The Black Sea. The Sea we took for granted all those years. We jumped of the pier to sober up after a long afternoon drinking picnic. Freedom! Real freedom! No rules, no regulations, no age limit, no “drunks not allowed in public places”!
The endless walks and dates on the beach; the cheap bars, clubs and going to the movies for 25cents.
A beer was a lev, a pizza was two.
The sea park, the endless walks with my forever and ever friend Ray, the smell of the sea, the cold, the hot, the foliage, the spring.

My school. Who even likes their school? I loved mine! I had the coolest friends! The funnest and the toughest teachers.
I remember Varna. And for the first time in six years, in SIX YEARS! For the first time I miss it!
Nostalgia. It’s such a beautiful feeling! If you haven’t felt it, you are missing lovely minor tones in a rhapsody. The dark colors in the drama, the ghosts in the attic.




I met the love of my life there. In the twisted labyrinths of fate. I spent sleepless nights imagining my life in the future. All that really matters has come true! Everything else is vanity!
All we need is love, all we need is simplicity, all we need is freedom, but not the prosaic freedom of the place I’m at right now. Freedom of the soul!
I’m waking up. The memories are fading. The snake’s still there.
Remember where you came from?

The Positive Effects of Climate Change

8 am! Went to bed at 3!
The whole family all over my head, waking daddy up once more after what seemed like a blink, rather than a good night’s sleep. Except, this time it was awesome! I needed them, I loved them being all over my head, shaking me, drooling on my face and talking or growling.

“Let’s go for a walk to the coffee shop!”

I haven’t heard this expression since like the end of May and it rang in my ears with a beautiful chime-like melody!

Those idiots at the Brutal International Government Commission Of Climate Control (BIG COCC) had taken a day off, or just forgotten to turn the heat knob for Vegas to Ridiculously Excruciating Dry Heat and Offensive Temperature (RED HOT) and had left it at 82˚F (28˚C)!

So, out we went, for a nice long walk. Buddah finally had a chance to walk, since she had almost forgotten what it feels like, enjoy a full bowl of ice in the coffee house and Sami got to get tickled all along the way back home!





Perfect family time!



If only they hadn’t messed up in the cloning laboratory and had managed to clone me, it could have been a perfect night as well, because I really wanted to surprise my beloved wife and take her to the No Doubt concert (I know! Not Hardcore, but I would have enjoyed watching her have fun.), while my other me is at work tonight. Unfortunately, my DNA is too unique and could not be duplicated, which leaves me no choice, but to use this tribune as a chance to say a BIG “I AM SORRY I SCREWED THIS ONE, MY DEAR!”…I’ll have to make it up to her.

Now it’s time for some lobster ravioli with vodka cream sauce and then quality time and possibly even Sami’s first pool party!

I love my life!