ЧЕСТИТА БАБА МАРТА! MARTENITSA!

March 1 st

Another occasion to remind the lovely and millenary Bulgarian tradition of Martenitsa...

На всички, които носят българския дух в сърцето си, където и да е по света - здраве и късмет !

¿Por qué es difícil escribir un blog sincero en estos tiempos?

Quizás porque esta mañana, al abrir el periódico, busqué sin éxito al menos una noticia positiva y no he podido encontrar nada…Porque me parece una falta de respeto escribir sobre mis pocas horas de felicidad, cuando sé que miles y millones de personas sufren las graves consecuencias de la guerra, el destierro y el hambre. Porque la Europa por la cual lucharon mis padres y mis abuelos se está desmoronando frente a la avaricia, el egoísmo y la hipocresía. Porque… todavía  me acuerdo de aquella historia de la Segunda Guerra Mundial contada por mi abuela, que en paz descanse. De aquella chica judía, que la joven señorita conoció en las fiestas de sociedad búlgara…Y que llevaba la estrella de David encima de su elegante vestido. Y de la respuesta que mi ingenua abuela recibió, al expresarle su preocupación por lo incómodo que era llevar aquella señal infame. Una respuesta corta y contundente – “Mejor esto, que mandarnos a Polonia”. Así, mi abuela supo que existían los campos de concentración.  Porque al parecer nadie sabía nada. Al parecer… Y eso, en el único país (Bulgaria), junto con Dinamarca, que salvó, en la medida que pudo, su población judía de las cámaras de gas.  ¿Y los demás? En toda aquella Europa, ¿nadie veía lo que pasaba a las puertas de sus casas? Y porque hoy en día, hay gente que niega el Holocausto… Hasta tal punto, que los mismos alemanes tienen que confirmarlo.

Porque es más fácil cerrar los ojos, mirar lo bien que vivimos y no aceptar nuestra responsabilidad individual y como sociedad… Aferrarnos a las ambiciones propias y presentarlas como algo que hacemos por los demás. Porque sabemos que las voces de la conciencia no llegan a los que venden armas y seres humanos, centrados en su particular Juego de Tronos. Yo, personalmente, no sé cómo duermen tranquilos por las noches, como suben a sus aviones privados, como miran a sus hijos o nietos pequeños.  Y no piensan  en las atrocidades cometidas con sus armas por sus mercenarios como tampoco ven en los ojos de sus hijos los ojos de otros niños – hambrientos huérfanos, violados y mutilados, viviendo el infierno en la tierra.  No entiendo esta gente. No entiendo su afán de mostrarse buenos, su perverso interés por el protagonismo caritativo, su derroche opulento, cuando, en realidad, son los vilanos de la película. Quizás teman el Karma y piensan que así podrían comprar su benevolencia… como compran todo lo demás.

Por esto, últimamente me es muy difícil escribir de la belleza del mundo, aunque la hay, por cierto, y muchísimo.

Porque a mí, que no tengo nada que vender, y vivo de mi trabajo y de lo de mi familia, me pesa esta irresponsabilidad social que se extiende como una lacra alrededor. Esta busca de lo morboso y lo atroz, sin medios para cambiarlos. El torcido uso de la democracia, o su desuso, mejor dicho, para servir a los intereses particulares de unos pocos. Me choca no sólo la falta de ideas, sino de ideologías. En una escala, donde la integridad y la solidez de las creencias son raras piezas de museo, y que…desgraciadamente se quedarán allí, porque no ayudan a la supervivencia política y social.

Decidí escribir estas líneas a raíz de los últimos ataques a mi blog, que, francamente, me parecen estúpidos e inexplicables…

Ahora, los que les interesa destruir el pensamiento  libre, por lo menos, tendrán alguna razón….

Note

Recently, this blog has been hacked various times without any reason. Though the content is absolutely harmless, some information has been erased and members discarded. As long as these attacks continue, my intention is to keep the old entries and go on publishing. 

Simple

2 days and a half

Sofia, Bulgaria, a Saturday at the end of April, 9 a.m…. Here I am, seated in the hairdresser’s, overlooking the Porter's-Lodge of the smart condos where my highly successful sister lives…Why, damn on, I have been dragged from my bed at 8 a.m., after some 12 hours of a trip and then just 4 hours sleep, in order to have my hair toned and my make-up and manicure done, as if I was going to the Oscars? Probably, because, the first phrase, apart from the welcoming trivialities that my mom pronounced at the airport after I landed from Rome, was: “How you dare walking around with this dreadful look? You should pass by the hairdressers before showing up at my neighborhood….” Not that it was such a surprise that my beloved mother didn’t have a better idea for a conversation after almost one year she hadn’t seen me in person…Or that she didn’t care that, apparently, I am already 40, married with two kids, flying from Madrid just to be with my family for 48 hours, or… that by some chance I just had had a lunch with a young American version of Keanu Reeves, who didn’t find me so repugnant… In vain…Actually, her words sounded quite familiar, even refreshing ...a blast from the past, a renewal of the never-ending, over-demanding perfectionism, which as a red line survives trough the times within the women of my family.

So, the journey started there, with the controversial character of my mother… After 35 years of professional life, most of it teaching chemistry, she retired with 250!!! Euro monthly, “with the compliments” from the unhuman Bulgarian pension system... an amount that actually would’ve not allowed her to live decently, if she doesn’t have other sources of income. However, this does not prevent her to support financially a whole army of beggars, socially excluded individuals and even several gypsy families…Her tactics are quite curious, like regularly buying counterfeits like this hilarious copy of Dolce&Gabbana,

or renting one of her flats at a funny rate or even for free, “in order to help”…. At the same time, she could complain “the service is bad” in a five star hotel and tell she has nothing to put on, looking at her overloaded closet….

It would’ve sounded funny, if actually, during those two days I didn’t have the constant feeling that I was 15 again and my late father would open the door and bring peace and reason among us.

It would’ve been sad to feel so changed, if my visit to the cemetery with the graves of my paternal grandparents didn’t hit me in the face, lost somewhere during the years of studies, travels and numerous attempts to reinvent myself. It was such a shock to realize that I still belong to a place, to a nation, to a community. And as it is true that there are Bulgarians sleeping on the benches of El Parque del Oeste in Madrid, as Mario Vargas LLosa wrote in one of his last essays, it is also true that the most famous museum in the world, the French Louvre, shows exactly these months the treasures of the ancient Bulgarian kingdoms. This land is old, as old as the Greeks and the Romans are. And there is nothing to be ashamed of….On the contrary…Our blood is strong, since we have accepted any foreigner to stay…Our spirit is healthy, because we keep our faith alive and our understanding that there is no bad job, as long as it helps us to survive….

On that day, when I was buying beautiful flowers to my dead ancestors, I realized how lucky I was to belong to a family of honest men and women, who left my karma clean and my head high.

Finally, as if to complete that particular journey to my roots,  I met a 94 years old gentleman, once a famous lawyer, who had served as an army officer during the WWII in Karlovo, the native town of my maternal grandfather. He explained me that before each battle he used to take his soldiers to the Monument of Vasil Levski, the Bulgarian hero, the icon of our freedom and identity, who was born in that small historical town. Then, the old gentleman added – “You should be proud and lucky to bear his blood! Levski protects us wherever we go. During the war we knew some of us would be shot, others would survive, but he…will remain forever. As long as we keep him in our hearts, Bulgaria will be alive! And this is the most important!”

In the modern cynical world, cold and almost robotic, when human dramas are just business issue in the news headlines, these words were like a punch in my stomach. The almost physical feeling, the sensation that at least I was alive accompanied me during the lunch with a view to the Vitosha Mountain, during my flight back to the West and even the first day in Madrid, at a conference on the Global Governance…Ironic? Or a sign of the destiny? I don’t know…The only thing I know is that I’d wish that pain in my stomach to remain as long as it could…For my good…

Peter Lindbergh - Portofino o como hacer arte de una pulicidad

Si todavía nos permitimos soñar, mejor hacerlo con algo bonito...

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OSoIQUzhESA

1 Март - Baba Marta

ЧЕСТИТА БАБА МАРТА !

С пожелание за здраве и късмет !

След като накичихме и дърветата в Ню Йорк, значи има надежда да открием, че българското си го носим навсякъде по света....Та дори заразява и другите......

Last year, a Danish friend of mine sent me a photo of Martenitza on a tree in the Central Park, New York ! It seems our lovely Bulgarian tradition is becoming more and more popular, if not world spread !