I decided in my resounding unilateral stupidity to, rather than relax and stretch out this weekend in Greece, to instead follow my documentary subject to Bulgaria. It was in the A.M. of yesterday that I hopped on a bus with a group of dancers whose language I do not speak, and traveled over the course of nearly twelve hours to the town of Pravets, all the while thinking to myself “what the hell am I doing”. The journey to our destination was about as uneventful as a bus ride could be expected. I sat and recorded with my camera as discreetly as I could, while the dancers, born performers that they are, would put on a smirk and wave when they noticed me pointed their way. Surprisingly, the Serbian border was passed without issue, within half an hour in fact. It was the Bulgarian border which was to be our heel. We sat there for perhaps 2 hours, a consequence which unfortunately could not be attributed to the lines. One of the dancers said to me in jest “Hey, you wanna trade?” whilst indicating the passports we were both holding, mine Canadian, his Kosovar.
When we arrived in Pravets, I left the group at their much nicer, much more expensive hotel to head to the b&b down the road I had booked previously. The following day was one of exploring the surrounding town and countryside, as their were no time slots for the company to rehearse. I walked across country roads and through fields to reach the town proper, a place which I could describe in one word as being ‘cozy’. A landscape of schools, playgrounds, parks, and small neighborhoods surrounded me. Nothing was present which could in be described as being made for a Tourist such as myself. In a way it was almost comforting, to be in a place where no one spoke fluent english, and all of the signs were in Cyrillic. I look much like a foreigner, with my scruffy beard, my large backpack, the camera always at my side, I espouse myself as being in wholly unfamiliar territory.
After lunch I visited the resort where the company stayed, I sat by the stage where they will perform tomorrow evening and worked on some homework (you’re welcome Meredith) while sipping on my third or fourth coffee of the day. I then began to walk back to my own hotel, a short 2.5km journey. On the way I came across an abandoned factory, which I had seen previously from a distance across the fields. I passed alongside it on the road and, given my aforementioned resounding and unilateral stupidity, decided to approach. Coming upon the entrance and dilapidated guard station, I suddenly heard a series of snarls and barks to my flank. A wild dog I did not notice previously in my unobservant intent, was standing across from me in the overgrown inlet of the factories entrance. So what is my first reaction? Take a picture of course! I snapped some pictures from my hip in the animals general direction before backing up towards the road, the dog meanwhile approaching me, still barking with great intensity. I bolted down the road, only briefly looking behind myself to see the dog calmly ambling its way back towards the factory, its sacred ground successfully protected from intruders. Even now as I sit in my hotel room writing this, I occasionally hear the sound of wild dogs along the countryside.
