Tripe soup and the Bulgarian eating dress...

Val is struggling. There was much Mastika the previous night at the metal bar.

Not familiar with Mastika? Your life is probably better off if you remain ignorant to it.

Now I'm going to make your life a little worse. Mastika is basically ethanol... flavored with the resin of the mastic tree.

Sounds terrible, right?

Well, I'm going to make it worse. In Bulgaria, it is typically 47% or more alcohol, and flavored with anise or fennel. In essence, it's black licorice that wants to kill you, and desecrate your corpse.

If you like black licorice, you'll probably enjoy it. If you're like me and detest black licorice... this shit is vile. Give me plum rakija any day. At least it has the decency to be it what it is. It doesn't try to hide the fact that it's poison flavored with the world's worst candy.

Val is Bulgarian. Not simply descended from Bulgarians who enjoys the usual stereotypical diaspora cultural stuff. He's a Bulgarian from Sofia who emigrated to the US in his late 20s after the USSR pulled economic support from the country, and the President forced about 300,000 Bulgarian Turks to either take on Slavic surnames, or be deported to Turkey, a place most of them had never visited. They were Bulgarians with Turkish DNA and names. It was a bad situation. Really bad. So bad that a young man of 27 would leave his life there and move to the grunge capital not speaking a word of the local language to start anew.

There are a lot of parallels to the shit show we are experiencing today in the US.

Anyway!

Val is gravely hungover. I've known Val for a long time. This is a person who can handle his liquor. Rarely loses control. He enjoys, nay savors, his alcoholic beverages.

Last night? Not so much. Copious Mastika was consumed from shot glasses. With fans and friends. Listening to metal on the jukebox. It sounded gloriously decadent and rock star-ish. I am sooooooooooooo glad I didn't go. I probably would have gotten too drunk and wound up in jail. Definitely was not in the headspace for heavy drinking.

"I need chicken soup," he pleads before abruptly standing up and heading out the door. He knows exactly where he wants to go to remedy this hangover.

Val, Nika, and I walk a couple of blocks to the Bulgarian/Chinese fusion restaurant just down the hill from the Iochev compound. Val orders more coffee. We all do. It's what you do when you're in Southern Europe. Val scans the menu. He's in luck. They have a suitable hangover soup for him.This is my first real day of experiencing Bulgaria, so I ask Val what I should order. After almost three weeks in Bosnia, Serbia, Croatia, and Slovenia, I could order off a menu like an expert there, but now we're in Bulgaria. Sure, there are a lot of similarities to the cuisine, but we're further south, closer to Turkey and Greece. There are marked differences, and I want to try them. "The tarator. Cold cucumber and yogurt soup. You'll love it."

Again, we've known each other for a long time, and we like to give each other a lot of shit over the most petty things, but when it comes to coffee, booze, and food, I will unquestioningly take his advice.

Val gets his tripe soup. Nika got one of the two vegetarian options on the menu. I got the tarator and a sopska salad. Tarator is fantastic. It's basically Tzatziki soup with a lot more garlic. On a sunny, warm day, it's perfection in a bowl. Cucumber, yogurt, garlic, dill. What's not to like?

Val recounts the gory details of the night before. There haven't been many balkanalian nights on this tour. Mostar was a lot of good late night fun with lots of rakija. Zadar had one hangover inducing night. Zrenjanin was crazy, though not necessarily because of the booze.

Sozopol did a number on Val. So glad I had a boring night watching cartoons and doing laundry.

The tour is coming to a close. I've made a point to pick up some nice things along the way for Kasia. A nice necklace, and pair of earrings in Modena. Some knick knacks here and there. With the end of the tour a mere two days away, Val panics that he hasn't gotten anything for his wife, and daughters.

I recount the various shops I'd seen. They'd be perfect for some nice, thoughtful familial gifts even if very last minute.

"I'm going to shower last night off of me. Let's meet back at the apartment in a half hour, and head to the shops," Val proposes.

Deal. As Val and Nika head out to get prepped for the day, I wander some more. Stick close to the apartment. Head into the newer part of town. Very touristy. Reminds me of Santa Cruz down by the Boardwalk.

More coffee. Another basket of berries from the farmer's market. Head back to the apartment.

Val and Nika are outside waiting for me. Smoking. Staring at their phones. Val looks human again. Nika, as always, appears Elven.

We head out to the old town market.

I'm the guide this time. I spend nearly four hours wandering around, and definitely had the lay of the land. It's approaching midday so the market area is packed with tourists. The entire old town smells like coffee, berries, fresh vegetables, flowers, bread and pastry, and the occasional whiff of urine. All of this enveloped in the relaxing sound of the nearby Black Sea with the tiniest hint of salt in the air. As my brother would say, "That's a good story."

I make a beeline to the dress shop.

"You weren't kidding. Kasia would love any one of those dresses," Val concurs.

"Right? I'm leaning toward the top right, and the one in the middle. Thoughts?" I inquire.

Val and Nika simultaneously, "The one in the middle."

I ask the shopkeep for the one in the middle. She grabs it right off of the mannequin, stuffs it in a bag, I hand over some Lev. Transaction done. Good boyfriend status achieved. Now to shave a couple points off that score.

I take a photo of the wall with the bare mannequin prominently displayed smack in the center of the photo. I've auto connected to a WiFi hot spot I'd connected to earlier, and send the photo to Kasia with the following text..

"The one in the middle is yours."

It would be a few hours before I got a reply since I sent that text at 3am PST. The response was classic...

"You're an asshole!" smiley face emoticon.

My shopping is done, but Val is still on the hunt for presents. As we wander, we are dumbfounded by a sight.

For some reason, in this small beach side town on the Black Sea in Bulgaria, there is a man dressed up in full stereotypical Native American garb, complete with over the top headdress. We stop for a moment. Contemplate this. In the more enlightened portions of the US, this is EXTREMELY offensive. Here, it's not so much offensive as it is just deeply, deeply confusing. Are Bulgarians really into old timey US Cowboy and Indian movies and literature? Val doesn't recall any such fascination with the American wild west.

We stare for a moment more before deciding to move along before our heads exploded from the confusion.

We hit some more shops. Val finds some nice stuff. It's about 2pm. The sun is high in the sky. Not a cloud in sight. Time for a snack, some more coffee, maybe a glass of wine, or a beer.

We find a nice kafana... that's bar or cafe that serves light snacks to the uninitiated. This is one of the things I love the most of Europe. The relaxed outdoor seating areas. Some nice chairs. A table. The compulsory ash tray. It's a great place to enjoy an espresso, wine, cocktail, and a snack. Have a smoke. Discuss whatever the fuck is on your mind, and generally have a convivial time. Places like this are rare in the US. We have bars. We have cafes. Rarely do they collide in the glory of something like a kafana.

We drink. We smoke. We snack. Catch up with the rest of the band and figure out the rest of the day and evening.

We have all access passes to the Spirit of Burgas festival since Kultur Shock is one of the performers tomorrow. It's decided that a cadre of us were going to drive into Burgas tonight to see some performers. I'm most interested in Skunk Anansie and SUICIDAL TENDENCIES! I'm going to exploit my pass and meet Mike Fucking Muir! Val will finally get to see his brother, Oggi.

Our merry band of three decide to dissipate to take care of personal errands, etc. before heading into Burgas for the night. I haven't seen Suicidal Tendencies in decades, so I'm very excited! I head back to my room. Take a nice, hot shower. Do some pre-packing as this will be our last night in Sozopol, turn on the TV, and take a nice, long, therapeutic nap.

Around 5pm, I get up. Brush my teeth. Tidy up and head down to the Iochev compound to meet up with my merry band of companions for the evening and hop in the van.

Next stop... Spirit of Burgas!