I dont think anyone even noticed...
15.02.2013 - 22.02.2013 -2 °C
So Iain and I are currently cooking breakfasts and dinners for 20 people in Samokov, Bulgaria.
Twenty British tourists that seem to be completely unaware that they are in Bulgaria, not a Hilton Hotel in London. If I wasn’t essentially working for them they would be nice, bubbly fun people however because I am ‘trying to please you master’ with an Igor hunchback and limp, they are a little special. And not the good kind of, 2 for 1 deal, 99 cents special at the Warehouse on Boxing day special. Like, look-at-yourself-in-the-mirror, what-is-wrong-with-you type special.
I will restrict myself to one rant about their parenting. People with kids are always so precious about people without kids judging their parenting techniques, however in this case it is completely necessary. Whilst cooking a three course meal with 2 options for each course, I was informed by one of the mothers that her son could not eat any of the 6 options on the menu as he will not eat any wet food. Yes you heard me, no wet food. WET FOOD.
Whilst explaining this to our boss here, he said…
‘Oh yep I get it, no wheat that makes sense.’
‘No not wheat’, I replied,
I then spelt it out to him, W… E… T…
He then repeated, ‘Yeah wheat I get it.’
(Hmmm… I would like to blame the kiwi accent on this one, however it is not justified when you spell the three letter word as well).
Anyway, back to the child of the dries. I looked at him with a face that tried to hide the distain, horror and hilarity of this comment, and said ‘so, you eat cornflakes?’ His mother did not seem to be amused by my apparent confusion. Saying that, as the week has gone on, she does not seem to show amusement for anything.
I’m sorry but who spends 13 years of their life empowering their child to make decisions like that? Crikey, if I pulled that growing up, I would have been laughed all the way to my room with no dinner. Then probably woken up to soup being poured down my throat. The whole family has one issue, after another with food, one wouldn’t have scrambled eggs, cause they couldn’t see the yolk separated from the white, one had to leave the room gagging because the steamed trout was served with a head and tail and dry food boy has eaten plain pasta and grated cheese all week. I wanted to tell him that I could make the pasta extra dry and not cook it at all, but his mother seems to be one eating phobia away from schiz-ing out and throwing the food across the table.
Since we have been here, it has been pretty big days, as there is such a big group in, once mid terms are over it should be a little quieter, however in the mean time we serve a cooked breakfast and three course dinner every night. Every second day we tend to go up the hill and ride, but these clients are pretty tiring so we will look at getting out more when we are not so physically exhausted. I don’t feel like we are missing much unlike other places we have been to. During the rest of our travels a day-off (or chill out day) have been few and far between, there are just too many things to do and see. However, Bulgaria has been an exception. It is an interesting place, one that is worth a visit, but long term? I don’t know; get back to me in a month. We have been here for seven days and I have seen the sun once, I even took a photo of it. I think the greyness is God’s judgement on the former communist regime. It is dreary and grey, as are the people. Iain and I went to the supermarket the other day and some kid came up to us begging. Iain turned to me and said, ‘Do we really look like tourists?’ My reply was yes, and you know why? Because we were the only ones wearing colours.
The only time it has really been ‘pretty’ outside was when it snowed on the ground in Samokov. It covered all of the mud, rubbish and kept the people and guard dogs inside. We have a gypsy camp down the road, which we have to drive through to get home. One of the first days we were here we drove through, and there was three men standing around an open bonfire with a whole lot of dogs standing around them. I wish I had my camera, because it is a sight that is now etched only in my memory. The only way I can describe it is if you imagine a scene somewhere between a nuclear holocaust wasteland, a Zombie apocalypse and an edgy music video.
Through all of this, it’s a pretty sweet gig. We have the days to go off and ride a hill that costs us the equivalent of $24 NZD for the afternoon. Its not massive, but its fun to play around and generally sits above the perpetual greyness. Definitely enough to refine the skills and because most people stay on-piste, its great for fresh lines. The other great thing is, most people come for package 1 week holidays, so it is a pretty consistent crowd all taking lessons everyday (because it is so cheap), that they will never get to the black slopes, only red’s closer to the end of the week.
Bulgaria seems to be the first place where I have felt united with Australians. Previous to this country, Ozzies have been the bane of my existence, we are constantly mistaken for them, they often set a bad example for other southern hemisphere countries, and they are just so gosh darn loud. However, for the first time, in a really long time, I heard a ‘Straylian accent and was drawn to it. It may have been the free drinks they were offering, but none the less, in a place like Bulgaria it is nice to meet fellow ANZAC’s going through a similar experience.
(Even if we had to pay for our drinks 6 giant beers might cost $10 Lev ($6NZD) you could get one pint at the Occiental for that.) Anyway…we talked about Hamish and Andy, Ghost chips and British tourist experiences. We introduced them to ‘Safer communities together’ and ‘Food in a Nek Minit’ and they enlightened us to hilarious Australian drunk drivers being interrogated by the police. It was a very pleasant evening, until I lost my gloves, broke my snowboard helmet (again) and had to run to the bus. Standard Kayleigh. 18 months on the road, and nothings changed. Hold on, I guess it has… I didn’t break myself...yet.