A Bird's Eye View of Fashion, Food, Travel, Culture, Beverage and Curiosity

“Travels to a Different Time” : 4August1973; Dubrovnik: Youth Hostels as Ghettos: Walletmania

Woken up from a deep sleep by a militaristic bean shaven man, quite like his counterpart in the youth hostel in Sofia, Bulgaria. They must be from the same gene pool. He was shouting for everyone to get up but no one paid attention to him and rolled over back to sleep. But he was back 20 minutes later in a fury. Then the maid came in and started babbling and whining which was enough to rouse everyone and avoid her plaintive pleas. I went out after 10 to buy some grapes and reached for a wallet that was not there. It is bad enough misplacing your wallet at home but in a foreign country it is almost guaranteed to give you a panic attack. I roared back to the youth hostel and luckily it was there. Fatigue dullens you!

As for youth hostels I do not like being woken up and ejected for most part of the day. That’s not the way I have been travelling in Europe. Plus you are stuck with gringos of a certain age as opposed to a sprinkling of different ages. And most of the people saying there are bright eyed and bushy tailed rookie travellers clutching Europe on $5 and $10 dollars a day and their Eurail pass. A type of ghetto is what a youth hostel can be. A institutionalized prison no self respecting hippie would stay at. Well I headed back and bought a kilo of grapes, bread and sliced meat. I returned to the youth hostel and met an American guy and we went out bought supplies for our supper consisting of sparkling wine, meat, bread and green peppers. Had a good dinner conversation finishing off the wine and I went to the disco with my Norwegian friend. We met a Yugoslavian girl called Rada there and we were back at the hostel at 1 a.m.

“Travels to a Different Time”: 3August1973: Titograd, Kotor and Dubrovnik, Yugoslavia and a Trail of Blood: 34 Hours Without Sleep

What a nightmare bus trip some 7 hours from Skopje to Titograd. I had a hell of a seat at the back of the bus over a hot motor and I was banging to and fro like a ping pong ball. Finally sleep derived and famished I arrived in Titograd and stubbed my toe badly getting off the bus leaving a trail of blood with people staring at me. I bandaged it as good as I could. And I just missed the bus to Dubrovnik! No luck in finding a hotel in Titograd as it has an oceanfront and is a popular tourist destination. No luck just added to my fatigue and then the blood-soaked bandage started unravelling so I had to tape it up. It looked as if my toe was broken. I just recalled on our trip with Fritz on the Russian ship a man who mentioned Kotor was a beautiful spot so I booked a ticket and limped on the bus. At this point no sleep in more than 24 hours. In Kotor I managed to find an expensive room and at the price asked to see the room which was a hole in the wall. I limped out to the highway and snagged a lift to Dubrovnik with a French couple. Finally at Dubrovnik I reluctantly checked into a youth hostel. I went for a swim with a Norwegian dude and bought some food for a meal on the way home. I think I was in bed at 4. p.m. I must have been dead to the world after 34 hours of no sleep as there was a wild party in our room and I slept through it.

“Travels to a Different Time” : 2August1973: All Over Bulgaria and Yugoslavia: 30 Years in Bulgarian Prison For Smuggling Turkish Hashish

I hopefully have a few decades of travelling ahead of me but my 30 years sentence for smuggling Turkish hashish out of Bulgaria could make that wish a bit of problematic. I was up at 6 a.m.in Sofia taking the tram as close to the highway as I could go. Right tram wrong direction. What the hell might have continued south to Thessaloniki in Greece. But back on the tram in the right direction. With my back aching a long walk to the autoroute and snagged a lift with some Austrians to the Bulgarian border. Now parents and kids listen close. It is stupid trying to smuggle dope through any border particularly through the Bulgarian border. The Bulgarian border guard stamped my passport and I thought I had made it! But with an evil glint in his eye he stopped me and did a through pat down even checking my money pouch. He then looked at me in the eyes after he found the Italian stiletto in my back pocket and said, “Turkish Hashish?” Pardon my grammar but there were multiple “FUCKS” screaming in my head. Badly shaken I looked him in the eye and said, “NO TURKISH HASHISH”. He stared me down the idiot I was for not hiding my long hair in a ponytail and putting it under my collar. He waved me on to the Yugoslavian border. I walked quickly through the Yugoslav frontier. I walked into Yugoslavia shaking and felt like puking. I could have been easily planted with hash and carted away to prison for a very long time. I doubt that Bulgarian prisons are much to look forward to. I sat at the side of the road in the sun at a petrol station in a fog and a guy came up to me saying he was Canadian and saw a Canadian flag on my knapsack. I told him my story and he said I looked like I was badly shaken and that I needed a drink so we stopped for a lunch and the two beers were just what the doctor ordered. Was that border guard just having some fun? Was someone up there looking out for me? He left me off at Skopje and I booked a bus ticket to Titograd.

Is this What the Bulgarian Border Guard Thought?

“Travels to a Different Time” : 31July1973: Slanchev Byrag and Sofia, Bulgaria: Naked Long Hair in Bulgarian Bathhouse: Woken up by Bean Shaved Bulgarian Drill Sargant: Is Greasy Goulash in My Future? : My Brilliant Career as a Black Marketeer

Time to split from the pathetic Black Sea back to Sofia so up at 6 a.m. and started with a lift from a Bulgarian guy in a blue car who also picked up two girl hitchhikers. He dropped us off at Tarnovo and bought us a pastry. I let the girls go ahead so it would be easier for 2 as opposed to three to get a lift. Got picked up by a father and son and they were going all the way to Sofia. Again such generous people buying me lunch on the way and refusing payment for it. Upon arrival they gave me direction to the youth hostel filled with good communist youth. A Zealie girl overheard me asking about shower facilities of which there were none. You must be joking. Not even a bloody cold shower. Are we to live like pigs? Zealie said you must go to a public bath house. Check in, strip down, get a towel and be the object of stares like some caveman with long hair. Being grubbed out I had no choice but it was a bit embarrassing. Perhaps being naked wasn’t such a bad idea as with this long hair and a covering I might have been easily mistaken for a girl. What a great cleanse and I felt like a human being after days without a hot shower. Returned to the youth hostel hungry and full of energy and went out to buy dinner which was bread, green pepper, cucumber and peach nectar. Told an Austrian guy about the bath house. He looked a bit shocked as I suppose I was.

1August1973: Sofia: Woken Up Militaristic Fashion! Meeting Mr. Black Market Again

The Austrian guy and I headed out to discover Sofia after being woken at 8 a.m. up by a shaven bean head military character barking commands like we were at Marine training camp at Parris Island in North Carolina really pissing off all of us. Apparently while youth hostels are cheap they kick you out at some point so they can clean and only let you re-enter in the late afternoon. Remind me not to stay in this type of place again if possible. I am not in the military. I am surprised they don’t have us doing calisthenics to military music while saluting their president. Sofia is a tremendous city to walk in although a bit crumbly. Again, hundreds of people staring at us some with their mouths open. The girls like to giggle at us. Should I marry a buxom Bulgarian maiden and take her home as my wife? After walking around like maniacs I ran into the greasy money changer guy again and sold him two pairs of old jeans. I could have made a bigger profit but carrying them around any longer was not worth the effort. So who has become a black marketeer? The Austrian guy and I had a late lunch of chicken and a beer for under $2. Hungry again by 8 so had some salami and bread Russian sprats, apple juice and a green pepper. Joked around with my roommates and off to bed early. Heading to Dubrovnik in Yugoslavia for sun and surf and probably greasy goulash.

“Travels to a Different Time” : 27/28 July 1973: Sofia, Plodiv, Slanchev Bryag Bulgaria: Bulgarians in Track Suits: Bulgarian Black Sea Coast a Dud!

Up early and after a meagre breakfast and took a tram as far as I could towards the main highway but I still had a 3 km walk to make it there. Why is everyone staring at me? Have I forgot to zip up my fly? Perhaps I should join the local circus as a freak in a side show? Luckily I got a lift from an Hungarian to the outskirts of Plodiv where I found a camping ground. I set up my tent easily. There are many Bulgarian families here and almost all the men are wearing track suits. Are they all gym teachers? Being exhausted from all the walking I walked into a nearby town and had a big meal for 95 cents. Bulgaria is very cheap. I managed to find some New Zealanders to talk to. Western tourists are rare sights here.

28July1973: Up early to get to my Black Sea destination. No destination in mind just get me to the Black Sea. First ride with a Bulgarian in an old Renault that had a top speed of 30 kms an hour. The next lift was a van full of workers who found my long hair hilarious in a respectful way. The next ride was in the sidecar of a motorcycle with me holding on to my knapsack for dear life. I was only a bit terrified. I have never seen a motorcycle with a sidecar except in WW 2 movies and the Germans riding them usually get shot and crash! I arrived at the town of Stara Zarogoa and changed some money. I picked up bits here and there for a lunch and had lunch sitting in a beautiful park. I had to walk out of the town and after a WC break behind a tree was on the road with my thumb out. Picked up by a young maniac driver. We stopped at his friend’s house and had a nice lunch. That was very nice of them. They had many questions about the West and no they don’t hate rather they admire it thinking everyone there is rich. Reluctant communists. We continued our journey and I am lucky to be alive as we missed three collisions No joke. They let me off at a campground in Slanchev Bryag. I set up my tent being watched by the track suited crowd. I went for a swim in the Black Sea. The sand was like cement, the water cold and full of jellyfish. I had a freezing cold shower on the beach went home and had cucumbers, bread and Russian canned sprats for dinner then off to bed. Well my objective of seeing the Bulgarian Black Sea has been obtained and it is a dismal place at least the beach was. The town of Slanchev Bryag is quaint but the beach pathetic in comparison to those in Yugoslavia. More important than a beach are the people I have encountered. They may be Communists but are friendly and very curious. They have never seen a man with long hair. I spent a couple of days here but I just can’t warm up to the beach and ocean It is as about as depressing as Bulgarian communism. I do like Slanchev Bryag and it has potential for a tourist destination for people who have no idea of the superiority of Yugoslav and Greek beaches.

RKS Poetry: “Rasputin Putin”

“Rasputin Putin”

As you recall Rasputin the mystic
attached himself like a parasite to Mother Russia
attempted to seize Tsardom
isolated and lost in mystic haze
graze on the oligarchs thievery masked in the international banking haze
devoid of reality after locking his wife in a monastery
to dilly dally with a ballerina who ended up in
floating heads in a marina
Poor Ballerina
focus on building back the empire
of holy mother Russia
pardon me a la style of Prussia
we are waiting for you in a war crimes trial
unless you continue to poison opposition members with plutonium in a vial
enjoy your cuppa Supreme leader a la Stalin
you desperate vermin

Robert K. Stephen

RKS Film: “Audible”: Time for Some Personal Reckoning?

When you watch “Audible” which is nominated for best Documentary Short in the upcoming Academy Awards you may take a sympathetic view of a deaf football team along the lines of feeling sorry for them and hoping they win the upcoming homecoming game after losing to another deaf school football team from Texas after a 42-game win streak. I might have taken that view but after watching a few indie films and “The Sound of Metal” my sympathy I feel is misdirected and ignorant. This deaf football team and deaf people don’t want our sympathy. I think they want our respect. This road of respect may take you some time to travel but on the other hand you could be spinning your wheels in the mud of sympathy.

I could write on and give you a summary of the film but I feel I have made my point which is as much as a film critic can ask for.

Enough said other than respect the deaf as they have much to teach “us” who lack the attributes the deaf have. They are no lesser human being than “us”. Ditch your sympathy. It is not appreciated. The deaf are “us”.

You can see the trailer here https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G5htMIBhdGk

The film is available on Netflix.

Directed by Matt Ogens.

RKS film rating 94/100.

“Travels to a Different Time” : 26July1973: Sofia, Bulgaria: Dodging the Haircut Police and the Unknown Green Soft Drink

Today was my first full day in Sofia so I took the tram into the city centre and had breakfast of a slab of bread and some strange green soft drink without a label. The green Blob Juice seems to be the only soft drink in Bulgaria. The architecture in the city centre was beautiful as opposed to the drab and ugly high rises that predominate in the suburbs. I went to a supermarket to get some milk but it tasted sour and I could only drink half of it. Hopefully the other soft drinks were going to be better. While walking to the tram stop I ran into some greasy type looking guy that wanted to change western money with me giving me a song and dance how his mother was ill and needed Western money to buy medicine. No thank you. I said I would meet him later tomorrow at 6 for the deal but was just saying that to get him off my back. I realized after that I actually have no western money but American Express Traveller’s cheques.

I ran into 3 European guys from the west and their mouths dropped when they saw me, They asked how I entered the country with such long hair. They had come in by train and were told get your haircut here and now if you want to come into the country. Not only that the police could stop you in the street and pull you into a barber shop. So I quickly pony tailed up and tucked it under my collar. Having to dodge the haircut police is a new game for me. Talk about hippie hate! So I made it home and had some pear nectar I bought. It was just like the Fructal pear nectar in Yugoslavia. I went down to the cafeteria and had a salami sandwich for dinner. I walked around the ugly suburb getting many stares and I should change my name to Mr. Martian. It is very cold here at night. I came back to my dormitory and read until the power went out so there be nothing to do I went to bed. Being an uncultured beach bum it is off to the Black Sea beach scene to check it out.

RKS Wine: Tapiz Alta Collection 2018 Cabernet Sauvignon

If you are on auto pilot and hear “Mendoza” your mind will go bing bing and it will text you “Argentinian Malbec”. But there are some good Cabernet Sauvignons and Cabernet Francs there as well. The generous James Suckling gave this one a 95 and if history serves me correctly this usually means I’ll give it a 92 or 93. But history does not always repeat itself. On the nose it portrays itself as a serious and firm wine. It gives out a big blast of blueberry and blueberry jam in true warm weather Cabernet Sauvignon fashion. Lesser notes of raspberry and cherry with an undeniable creaminess.

On the palate there are some serious tannins. Hefty notes of blueberry, strawberry jam and a twist of charcoal and dark chocolate. The finish is tough and firm suggesting given the barrage of fruit on the nose it needs to age a couple of years before opening. It seems that it would be happy with grilled sausages, beef and lamb. It would be difficult to pair with a vegetarian dish but it just might suit a Mushroom Wellington if decanted an hour prior to pouring. Essentially for those with a cellar and time on their hands. The wine has been in oak for 10 months however the oak is not readily apparent.

Oh history is accurate vis a vis James Suckling as I give it a 93.

(Tapiz Alta Collection 2018 Cabernet Sauvignon, San Pablo Vineyard Uco Valley, Mendoza, Tapiz Winery, San Pablo, Mendoza, Argentina, $19.95, Liquor Control Board of Ontario # 403345, 750 mL, 14.2%, Robert K. Stephen A Little Birdie Told Me Rating 93/100).

“Travels to a Different Time” : 25July73: Two Plane Crashes Augments Anxiety: Taking My Chances with Balkan Airways: I am a Martian Who has Landed in Bulgaria

Today is a big travelling day with Bulgarian airline Balkan Airways flying from Athens to Sofia in Bulgaria. Two very recent crashes are in the news. One a Pan Am crash and the other an Ozark Airlines crash in St. Louis. Woke up at 8 a.m. and could have slept in but that would have meant missing breakfast. Had a good hot shower wondering what the hot water situation in Bulgaria will be. I carefully put my ponytail behind my collar and put on the most decent clothes I brought. Cold toast and some cake for breakfast and I managed to get some more cake from an English couple who were not eating it. Taxi to airport and the flight was delayed for two hours so passengers got a voucher for a free beverage. After a two hour delay we boarded the plane full of seedy looking men in poor quality suits. On a Russian TU-134 which looks like a DC-9. The interior of the lane was a dull gray and the tables a slab of grey metal. The seats were small and the stewardesses very dour. Take-off was smooth and I must admit I was nervous given the two plane crashes. Lunch was amusing; a salami sandwich and a thick plastic cup they filled with mineral water. They didn’t announce the landing so when the engines suddenly switched power I thought this is it! But we landed on a bumpy tarmac. Everything is so green here like Canada. Customs was a breeze and they, unlike the paranoid East Germans didn’t bother to look at the luggage. I felt like a Martian with so many people staring at me and my long shoulder length hair liberated from its ponytail. I took an 84 bus into Sofia and then a number 10 tram. I managed to find a state tourist office which had a poster for a student dormitory and in the rain caught a #14 tram out in the suburbs. Loads of Iraqis and Turks around. Holding my money tight. I shared my room with an Italian student and popped out went to bed after listening to some opera as that was the only clear station the radio could pick up.