10-15 October 2007 (Bulgaria)

10-15 October 2007 (Bulgaria)
Mark Twain
United States of America

Dear Mark,

As you know, on the 10th of October I embarked on my Balkan journey. I was picked up at my apartment at 5AM in St. Petersburg by Andrei, who was a friend of a friend and former actor who now drives to make ends meet. The people at the airport were amazingly friendly and helpful and I eventually made it to the bus which would take me to my plane awaiting on the runway in 2 degree Celsius temperatures. Then I saw her…the vehicle which would take me from the nearing frozen northlands to the balmy Balkans…and I thought “dear God, this thing is NEVER going to make it off the runway”…the décor wasn’t the only aspect of the plane from the 60s…if this plane had the same health quality of Russians of the same age, I knew that I was done for. But, after much wheezing and choking, it not only made it up, but down again in one piece. I have to say that dawn viewed from the plane window was amazing, fire like reds and oranges over the artic morning-beautiful…

But then there’s Moscow…as easy as St. Petersburg was, Moscow was a night mare. Firstly, I had to pick up my own luggage, hop on a bus for 40 minutes to the other terminal to catch my international flight to Sofia, which is not easy with a suitcase and three instruments on a crowded, unhappy bus full of unhappy Muscovites. At the new terminal, I was accosted at Customs and practically accused of trying to take instruments out of Russia that I not only needed to pay taxes on (because, I ‘obviously’ came to Russia to buy instruments) but also because of a new law that forces jail time for such items over 25 years old. I thought that I was going to be arrested and my instruments confiscated; even my official US registration form which everything is listed was scoffed at until a young deputy who spoke excellent English cleared up everything. The next hurdle was at check in where they insisted that my instruments were too heavy as carryon luggage. “Too heavy?” I argued. “I just flew here on a plane less than half the size (and twice the age!) of the plane that I am about to go on, what I had was perfectly acceptable. It’s a flute, for God’s sake; I’m not a little concerned about your air fleet if my flute will tip the balance between safety and utter destruction!” Strangely, they bought this argument and I was allowed to board.

Sofia. A charming and exciting city. My dream to visit Bulgaria has been realized. I landed at the airport and was picked up by my friend Geoffrey Dean, an American ex-patriot and wonderful fellow who in my opinion has single-handedly invigorated the Sofia classical/contemporary music scene. My first surprise was the tremendous amount of traffic in the city, in that it took 30 minutes to leave the airport parking area alone; the second surprise was the unbeknownst interview lined up for me with Bulgarian National Radio-it was fun, I even played a live improv, which was great-the interview was also in English and translated for the audience, which was very cool.

I must say that in all of my travels thus far, I have never met so many kind, accepting, and giving people as the Bulgarians. Having thrown off the yoke of Communism and just recently added to the European Union, there seems to be a love of life and optimism for the future, even though the scars of past wounds still bleed. I felt accepted and loved, and was happy to do what I could to help them and their musical endeavors for the short time that I was there.

And they had wonderful coffee! And real cheap too, but not at all cheap on quality. How I missed coffee in Russia…

My second day brought my lecture at the American University of Bulgaria in which I was set loose on unsuspecting business and social-studies students to show them how being an artist effects your brain and enriches your spirit. But…the best part of the day was coffee at the home Valeri Dimtrev, who is a tamboura player with whom I was to improv on my solo concert on Saturday. A wonderful, wonderful musician and sweet soul. We talked, drank coffee, played some, drank more coffee…then, his wife Desi came to join us; she is a traditional Bulgarian singer and she and Valeri performed a song for us…it was breathtaking; my heart felt torn out of it’s resting place…I’m not sure when it returned, but it was changed when it did. It was one of the most moving musical experiences I have had, there in their little apartment. I’m a better man because of it…I left changed.

Having some time Friday I was able to see some sights in Sofia. The Alexander Nevsky Cathedral was on my list. This is the largest church in the Balkans and is dedicated to the Russians for their assistance during Bulgarian Independence from the Ottoman Empire. I also visited St. Nicholas Russian Church. St. Nicholas was first-it was beautiful: walls were painted, not covered in gold, and it was dark with only a few candles to light it. Nevsky, with all of it’s size and grandeur on the outside was the same on the inside. I had mentioned St. Isaac’s in St. Petersburg earlier; this was the same general size, but with none of the opulence. It was pure. Maybe it’s become a tourist spot, but it had a strong feeling of spirituality. I spent quite a while meditating amongst the icons and candles. None of my anger or disgust with the Americanized Orthodox churches in the West emerged, only an overwhelming feeling of something that I had forgotten a long time ago. I must admit though it wasn’t all peaceful. An arrogant tourist (I believe speaking German, but I could be wrong-this would surprise me considering the knowledge and sense of spirituality of these people) was talking very loudly on a cell phone in the middle of the church. They were people here to pray and be with God, and this person was disturbing their right; mind you, a newly gained right very difficult to obtain under Communism. Having enough of this but always mindful of sacred ground, I stood up to my full height (size has it‘s advantages, especially since the object of my ire stood about 5-foot-nothing), walked slowly towards him (but not AT him) and stared, angrily, passed slowly by (still staring), and waited for him to put down his phone (now looking at me and away, not a little concerned by me). Then, I quietly left, my task completed.

The Saturday concert was fantastic. I played a program of American woman composers (Alex Shapiro, Molly Thompson, Denise Broadhurst, Natasha Bogojevich, and Carol Alban, in that order) and interspaced 3 of my Interludes (including the premier of my 3rd). Valeri and I also played a 15 minute improv in which we slipped between traditional and avant-garde, with everything in between. It was a full house, the concert was a great success, and in true Bulgarian fashion, the party began soon afterwards. After a fantastic dinner at a local restaurant, I went to a couple of jazz clubs and jammed on-stage until 4AM; great people, great experience.

The Sunday concert was also a success. We performed the Bulgarian premier of Terry Riley’s “In C”. We used only a sextet for the performance, which lasted over an hour-there were some sketchy points due to this smaller instrumentation (he suggests at least 12 players), but everyone was able to compensate and present a strong performance. The concert (and festival!) ended with an improv with myself, Valentin (a violist, also in the Riley) and Geoffrey in something resembling a Balkan melody.

The only unfortunate part of the trip was that I became quite ill after the concert at the post-reception meal. This was probably due to a combination of things: lack of sleep, something I ate, and the onset of a massive migrane (read: fast living…); so, I spent the end of the dinner lying down in the back, slept for 2-½ hours, and went to the airport for a very early flight to Belgrade. This was due to the fact that there is no direct flight from Sofia to Belgrade, even though they are just a few hundred kilometers apart. I actually had to go to Milan and transfer planes-it’s like traveling from NYC to Boston and having to go through Chicago. It actually would have been faster to drive! My only sorrow of the trip was that I didn’t get to say a proper goodbye to everyone, but I will return there for another festival in the Spring, and they are anxiously awaiting my return.

The next installment: Belgrade!

Until then,
Demetrius