the new year's becca survived

So there I was...in Razlog (Meggi's town) with her and my two host cousins, Villi and Gulchie.

We had heard Razlog has, um, *unique* New Year's celebrations, so we were excited to witness them. We knew there'd be Kukeri, which are men dressed in the hair of goats who dance and scare away evil spirits. Sounds cool, no?

Shortly after I wrote the Dec. 31 entry on this very blog, one of Meggi's Bulgarian friends, Katya, came to have some dinner. That roast beef was the last thing I experienced that bore any resemblance to the rest of my life...

About fifteen minutes before midnight we headed towards the town center with a bottle of cheap Bulgarian champagne and a few plastic cups. When we arrived the center was more or less dead, but soon floods of people started arriving.

The floods of people brought with them firecrackers...Some were like Roman Candles, some were just torches of fire, and others did nothing but scurry around, explode, and burn your ankles. They burned your ankles because people were throwing them INTO the crowd...The police stood by with beers in their hands.

As midnight neared, the popping and exploding and burning increased. Villi and Gulchie began fighting over the bottle of champagne while trying to open it, thus spilling it all over the ground. As soon as midnight struck a firecracker of some sort whizzed between Meggi and I, and we both kinda flipped out (dude, I felt the heat and pinch of it on my ear!) So we promptly abandoned the arguing teenagers and Katya, who was dancing around and singing in the midst of the explosions, and hightailed it into a nearby cafe. There we stood, behind glass, until the girls found us and drew us out to toast the New Year.

The champagne I toasted 2006 with had a piece of firecracker in it and smelled of sulfur. I toasted it under a tree, fearing for the safety of my limbs, watching drunken Bulgarians horo around little white explosions and discarded champagne bottles.

Shortly after that we returned home to recover from what will go down in Becca's Book of Life as the most terrifying stroke-of-midnight in my 23 years.

The next day, however, was amazing in a non-scary way. At around 10 we all wandered into the town center again, and it should be noted a thin layer of sulfur still hung in the air mixed with woodsmoke and typical Razlog fog.

For the next several hours, each neighborhood (or Mahala) in the town showed off men and boys in Kukeri outfits, other folks in traditional Bulgarian and Macedonian dress (Razlog is close to the border), and still others in outfits we Americans associate with Halloween. Young men dressed like old Babas (grandmothers), and some did a startling good job of it. The center walkway was blocked off, so long lines of people horo-ed behind those dressed up. (May it be noted that I joined two different lines to dance...) There were drums, guidas (like Bulgarian bagpipes), tractors made-up like floats, and all kinds of partying.

In all of the madness, I enjoyed the Kukeri the most. They wear these huge bells in their costumes and throw their arms and legs around to make them ring. It looks like these huge men (and small boys) in these goat-hair bodysuits are having seizures while walking down the street. One group had at least 20 Kukeri dancing down the street in unison, and the sound of the bells was deafening. Totally cool, man.

The party moved to the individual neighborhoods around 3 p.m. and we went to Katya's for some homemade sausage and rice. After that we went home to contemplate what we had just witnessed...

So, I am out of steam. Just know that it was really cool, and I wish I could post some of my video clips as they encapsulate the scene much better than photos...