Bulgarian Pipedream

A Bulgarian Pipedream

Ever since I first heard it, I have been a little obsessed with a song Spanish Pipedream by John Prine. The chorus goes like this, “Blow up your t.v. throw away your paper, go to the country, build you a home, plant a little garden, eat a lot of peaches, try to find Jesus on your own.” It is a grin prompting tune about a man who meets a dancer who tells him the secret to a happy life. This concept that writers, religions, and philosophers have riddled themselves with for thousands of years, and she somehow has it figured out: less is more.

My time in Bulgaria reminded me of this song. I was staying with an English couple Stel and Gail. They had two sweet children, Amelie and Zachary. They hailed from London, but sought out a simpler life in the Bulgarian country side. I am not sure they knew that this simpler life was built on the foundation of ostrich farming, but can you blame them? Throughout the course of their 8 or 9 years there they have accumulated quite the multitude of animals on their quaint hill top farm outside of Varna. So many so that when the rains start to fall the house resembles something more akin to Noah’s Ark than a farm. They are a power couple that have the biggest hearts and even bigger brains. From dissecting socio-political problems of the world to inventing a surgery to mend a protruding ostrich bum hole, they have you covered, trust me. They promote and educate others on a more green friendly lifestyle, as well as open their farm to Bulgarian schools for a field trip. Stel even has a pretty illuminating ted talk!

View from the porch, sunsets for days

My time here was extremely pleasant. Right from the get go it had a down-home type of feel. I had a crazy layover in the capital of Bulgaria that lasted through the night, then I flew into Varna where I rushed into a taxi because I saw he could speak a little English. I asked if he knew where the town of Konstantinovo was, and he obliged. We had some really good chats during my 30 minute taxi ride even though his English was limited. I was exhausted but it was off to a good start. My directions to the farm were fairly vague, something about drive on the main road of the village, drive to the top of the hill and we are the farm. In my head I didn’t think to question it because I mean, how the heck can you miss an ostrich farm. The taxi is closing in, and I just start guessing the turns with my only justification being going uphill. Eventually the road turns into a bumpy gravel traverse, and I knew I was in the right spot. I told the driver thanks and hopped out with the intention to walking the rest. It is around 8am, and I arrive at the gates and see no one around. I knock on some doors, search around for ostriches, and shout out my host’s name. Once I saw some ostriches below I knew I was where I needed to be. Eventually my host arrives and we do the meet and greet before I get tossed into the days work. My head is still spinning from staying up all night at the airport, and now I’m carrying ostriches every which way, totting feed sacks, and feel the heat of the Bulgarian sun. You would think that was quite the first day. HAHAHA! It is only 10am, and the husband pulls up and starts going on about how someone has stole his ostriches. Luckily it wasn’t a sheep farm, because I counted his flock of 120ish ostriches a baker’s dozen times. (I guarantee if he reads this he will comment on the actual number there were haha.) Eventually we came to the conclusion that someone had miscounted on a different day, and that there was a highly unlikely chance that someone actually swindled him of 20 chicks. I feel like this story is turning into an infomercial because, BUT WAIT, THERE’S MORE! So I learned after the days work that they don’t actually stay on the farm every night, they have a place in the city. Here I am, first day on the farm, they peace out around 7pm, and of course I don’t want to look like a sissy. So I’m like yeah yeah go ahead, I’m a big boy I’ll be fine! Around 11pm I’m laying down in my caravan (think like a trailer with only one room and the room is a bed) ready to go to sleep. I am nearing my doze off when I see some headlights. This is strange because we are on the top of the hill and there aren’t any other houses around, not even close. I thought in my head, “the swindlers, they’re back!!” I get the make of the vehicle just as it drives by. I text Stel, and he tells me to go check on the chicks. BAHAHA yeah right. I stay in recon mode. Hours go by, I’m peering into the night with the moon high above. I don’t see anything and my eyes get more and more heavy. Finally I fall into a slumber only the likes of those who have been KO’d by Mike Tyson will know. I awake to what feels like an earthquake. Trying to go from KO’d to alert is not an easy task, but I realize that something is shaking the caravan. I don’t mean like a slight wobble, I mean this thing feels like a ride at the fair. That county fair that multiple people get hurt at each year but some how has never been shut down. I just start yelling, and then I hear the ferocious dogs of the farm start barking, and then whatever was shaking the caravan ran away. Laughing to myself in that nervous type of laugh that is likely the bodies natural response to an overdose of anxiety, I finally went back to sleep. Day one, COMPLETE.

That was by far the toughest day on the farm, but in all honesty it became a fond memory in a short amount of time. From that day on the rhythm of ostrich tending became second nature, and fairly casual. In the days to come more volunteers arrived, and we became a really tight nit group. Hard work during the day, I’d catch a run on some of the most amazing dirt roads my feet have ever felt on our lunch break, then we’d close up the farm and prepare a meal together. There was me, Evelyn (a Scottish girl), Emma (an American girl), and Luke (an American guy). Emma and I became as tight as brother and sister, we even played a prank on Luke that we were brother and sister, that ended up lasting some weeks haha. Every night Emma and I would cook a culinary masterpiece. She would be like, I’m boiling some potatoes. Then I’d be like what if we make a sauce to go with them, and she’d be like I’m already dicing the tomatoes, and we’d slowly add more and more dishes to the meal; always complimenting the other’s idea. Then Luke would tell us stories about his times with the sled dogs in Alaska. Evelyn wouldn’t eat a bite of what we made unless it was pasta or potato chips. We even ended up going to a Halloween party together in the city where we discovered upon meeting our host at the door that it was more of a children’s party haha. We looked awesome regardless.

Halloween

There were undoubtedly some days on the farm that broke the mould: the day we had to perform a bum hole surgery, the two moving days (one of which involved me and Stel stuck in the back of a van with 7 full grown and angry ostriches), the day one of the dogs got into some chocolate cake, and the infamous bonfire melt down day. The saddest of days though was when I had to leave. Sure, work on the farm was tough, dirty, and stressful but it was something you could take ownership of. You could say I built that fence, I saved that ostrich, I repaired that gate, and as they got bigger and bigger I facilitated that happening. Stel and Gail invited me to swing back through when I was leaving Romania to have Christmas dinner with them, and stay a few days. It was an incredibly tempting offer but I don’t think I could have said goodbye twice. I’ll never forget playing tag with Am and Zach on the porch, Oscar’s cuddles (the dog), Gail’s super tasty soup, Stel’s humbling conversations, and the farm’s serenity.

May the Bulgarian Pipedream ring true,

Josh Moor