The toasties are pretty large and filling, but at 10am, it';s already pretty hot so some food, a coffee and some nice cold water are very welcome. We sit here for ages, chilling out, maxing and acting all cool - we didn't get round to shooting some B-Ball outside of the school.
Before long it's back to the poolside. No one seems to know the plan for the day - least of all Obi Wan. I have descerned that the Ceremony is at 4pm, but other than that, it doesn't really feel like the day of a wedding. We continue to act like nutter, splashing chasing, jumping in the water etc. Eventually the bride arives and tells us the plan. We will get take to the wedding at around 3.30pm from the hotel.
It's now about lunch time, and we've managed to do nothing for the whole morning. No one is around. But I'm pretty sure that once I'm in my kilt, it could bne a while till we eat again. I take Obi wan and the dutch guy down to the beach so that we can fill our bellies. There's a little cafe by the beach, and Obi wan does the talking in order to get us some chips, shopska salda and some burgers. I have a refreshing beer, and lhe orders himself a fanta. He then heads off to the swings while we wait. Before long the food is there and we shout him over. He's a little pissed off. He ordered a fanta, and they have brought him some cheap equivalent. What follows has me in stitches.....
A 7 yr old in a pair of speedos goes up to the bar and shouts in Bulgarian that he ordered a fanta. She tells him it's the same thing and then he tells her it's not, goes behind the bar and starts opening there fridge and looking through it. The bar girls think this is hilarious. when he discovers theres no fanta in the fridge, he tells him that they shouldn't say they have fanta when they don't. He comes back to the table and tells us how ridiculous it is. He's his mother's son!!!
By the time we've had food, it's time to get back up to the hotel. It was good to get the waiting out of the way, but now I have to get into my kilt, which includes so many footery things that I needed to give myself time.
Having carted the kilt all the way from Amsterdam, and having it staring at me from the wardrobe, I was really looking forward to getting togged up. I've decided to go for a bit of a Summer casual kilt look. This is for several reasons; I don't have the full jacket style kilt, Its extremely hot in the middle of August, and I'm pretty sure, that no one will notice if it's not that traditional. So my getup for the evening includes:
Family Crest Kilt Pin(One in picture is the wrong crest)
Kilt Belt with Celtic style buckle:
Sgian Dubh:
Kilt socks:(Wooly and itchy)
Ghillie Shirt:
Pair of big Heavy boots:
and a Sporran:
Once I am kilted and ready to go I come out of my room. The Hotel staff are over the moon, and flock around me. It's hilarious what a bit of national dress will bring out in people. I'm now not sure when I am getting picked up and there seems to be no one around, so I knock what I think is the door of the Spanish-Bulgarian couple in preperation of acertaining a time of departure by murdering a few phrases in Spanish or Bulgarian. I knock the wrong door, and a girl of about 14 comes to the door. She says hello in Bulgarian, so I assume she can't speak english and pull out one of my Bulgarian phrases:
"Ahs Sham ot Schotlandya"
"I am Scottish" It was more useful than "Can I have a Salad please", but probably less useful than "Do you speak english". It turns out she is English-Bulgarian living in England, so fluent in both. She retorts with " That sir, is perfectly obvious". I step outside to see if I can see anyone who knows what's happening.
It is Roasting!!!! I am walking extremly slowly in order to not drip with sweat. Scotland's finest sheep wool layer a number of times around your body is not the best way to enjoy August heat on the Black Sea.
Eventually. People start to trickle out, and for want of something better to do, I head off into the centre with the Video Camera crew. It's good, cos they speak good english. We get to the church:
St. Nikolai Church, Varna:
In the process of parking, the girl driving reverses without looking and crashes into a car behind her. She waves at the driver and he waves back - problem solved. I can't help think that in Glasgow there would have a been a few more gestures, words, insurance details, fists and explitives exchanged.
People have started to congregate outside of the church. I know quite a few of them from Amsterdam, and they are pretty pleased to see me in the kilt. Theres also several locals, ask me to pose with them for a photo, and ask various questions. What's in your sporran? What's under the kilt? Where are you from?(This is a very strange on). I'm pretty glad I came out early cos they have time to get used to the big hairy scotsman before I steal the limelight from the bride.
Eventually, we make our way into the church. The "Pop"(Bulgarian paster) just looks me up and down. I'm really not sure what he thinks of having a savage in his little church. At least he seems to appreciatte that whatever he says to me in Bulgarian, I probably wouldn't understand. I do my best to walk in looking subdued and inoffensive.
The chruch is beautiful. It's got all the old Bulgarian ikons on the walls and this kind of stuff, but this is a working church, so they aren't as touristy and clean as else where. Everyone else is taking photos, so I get a few while everyone is congregating,
One thing which I immediattly find strange is that the congregation all stand. There are no seats. The 30 or so guests stand around the alter as the Pop, brid and groom stay at the door. The pop says a few words to start the proceedings. It's in the same style as a latin benadiction; monotone "ooey ahey eey ooey ee ah o" this is then repeated by a choir who had been hiding in the rafters. I looked up and still couldn't see them, but they do an answer and call thing for the whole ceremony which is strange, but given the beautiful surroundings is quite lovely. I don't understand any of the words, so as far as I know they could be saying "Who is the hairy transvestite in the skirt? Why is he in my church", but I'm sure it's closer to what it would be if it was in English.
The happy couple enter the church and walk up to the alter with candles in their hand. Theres then lots of talking, praying, and kissing of crosses. They then put on a crown each and there's more kissing of crosses and then they are married and make their way outside. Everyone follows them out, and despite them being out first, I try to distribute rice to everyone. The photos and congratulations then start, and it's a really nice feeling, to be part of this happiness, wearing a kilt, on a beautiful day, in an exotic country.
I meet up with the Bulgarian's I know from Amsterdam, who I hadn't seen until the day of the wedding, and we head off in a Taxi back to our hotel, where the reception will be.
Obi Wan Kenobev and his dutch school friend have now realised that I have a dagger in my sock. They take it in turns to marvel at it. They think this is really cool, but seem to be a little confused as to why I have a skirt on. We wait around for a while while the Married couple head off and get some photos. I even get time to dip my tired feet in the pool:
Before long, the newly weds arrive and the party ensues. Each table has bootles, of beer, water and Rakiya:
Let the games begin!!!
The wedding reception starts with a few traditions. The grooms mother cooks bread for the bride and feeds her some bread. This is then brought round and fed to the guests. Incidently, if Mrs Groom is reading, the bread was very Dobri!
There is then something about tasting wine, and whether the wine is sour or not. I didn't really understand this one, but it caused quite a lot of hilarity among the people in the know.
The dancing then starts with Nothing Else Matters by Metallica. I can't help finding it bizarre watching the parents of the bride and the groom slow dancing to Metallica. Maybe you have to knwo who Metallica are to find that so bizarre, or maybe I'd got to the giggley stage of a Rakia drunk.
Eventually the food arrives, it's perfect fingerfood for drinkiing dancing and having fun to, and quite tasty. I overdose on the starters of peppers and deep fried pieces of feta, so by the time the meat arrives, I'm adjusting the belt on my kilt.
My basic rule with rakia is to avoid it at all costs. It doesn't get me as drunk as other spirits, but it leaves me with a splitting ehad in the morning. I always try to take whatever else is on offer. In this case beer. Although they've given us a plentiful supply of beers, they have neglected to provide us with a bottle opener, so my Sgian Dubh is taking care of bottle opening.
So far, I've not hit the dance floor, as it seems cringe worthy, but eventuaally, I realise that it's bound to happen sooner or later. "walk this way" comes on and I know its time for the kilted warrior to hit the dancefloor. It is of course a resounding success, helped along by the fact that the best man is nearly as crazy as I am:
I have broken the seal. Now I'm up for any song I like, and the other guest's are less astounded that the man in the skirt dances. I head into the toilet and all the girls working there request their photo with me. I get a good one of all of us showing our legs, but I forgot to get it with my camera. Hopefully it will remain on the wall of a bar in Varna long after our trip, and they can remember when the scotsman was in town. I get a similar photo with the bride:
I recall at some point dancing to "No one knows" by Queens of the Stone age and "Teen spirit" by Nirvana, making this not bad wedding music:
Eventually, we get some more culture(Well stuff thats not in music collection), we are asked to dance a traditional Bulgarian dance. I'm well up for this, so join into a line of people holding hands. We then dance quite a simple step and move around the pool, so that we are dancing in a circle and weaving in and out of the venue repeatedly. Tradional dancing is what kilts were made for, and I give the full bounce and vigor to every step:
What my dance instructer(A Bulgarian girl I knwo from Amsterdam) failed to tell me is that not only does the dance get faster as it progresses, it lasts for about 45 minutes! Now it's night time and a little cooler, but I'm wearing wool!, I assumed it was a three minute traditional folk song, not a 45 minute tantric dance session. I should clearly have paced myself like everyone else and not bounced to the beat. After about 20 minutes, I decide that I am so knackered that dancing around a swimming pool was going to result in me pulling a line of dancing people in after me. I decline to join those that are left on the dance florr where the dance seems to get a little more complicated. Luckily I'm not the only one, so take a well earned rest and beer with my pride intact.
Theres another few boogying songs, and before long the inevitable happens. It's a warm night, drink has been taken, people are merry, it's time to jump in the pool with your good clothes on:
Now I'm not stupid, I nip off and get some swimming shorts, as I don't want to miss the revellry. Even though I've been drinking rakia, jumping into a swimming pool wearing a very old wollen skirt seems like a bad idea!!
Rekilted, i return to my table. Many guests have fallen by the way side and headed home. The dance floor is much quieter and the music reflects this, some slower songs and generally things are tailling off. It's now a quiet seat, some good conversation and a slow rakia to while away the night.
The time stamp on my last photo is around 2am, so I can only assume that that's when I finally decided that I was the only person not understanding bulgarian at my table and that I should head off to bed. I knew that a wedding in Bulgaria was going to be an experience, but I had no idea how. I'm quite impressed by the results.....
.....Onto more adventures tomorrow, but its unlikely I'll have a day in Bulgaria which tops today.......
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