Gas Crisis in Bulgaria

These days on the news in Bulgaria you can hear about two main stories -- the gas crisis and the crisis in Gaza. Though the word play is kind of funny, the last thing we can do while watching the news is laugh.

Nevertheless, the news story that shook us directly was the first one.



On Thursday 21 schools were closed in the capital due to the low temperatures inside the class rooms. Classes were cancelled in other regions of the country. Students living in dormitories in Sofia had to either move in with friends to escape the coldness in their rooms, or study and shower by candlelight. Factories throughout the country faced big losses because they have been forced to shut down for four days now.

The low winter temperatures, Russian-Ukrainian gas conflict and Bulgaria's poor governmental response to the gas crisis resulted in bringing more misery and stress in the lives of ordinary people.

Never Again, AlItalia

You would think an air carrier has a limited number of screw-ups. For instance, they can lose your luggage once or cancel your flight, or not serve you lunch, or forget about the English translation of their on-board announcement. But, let me tell you, Italy’s AlItalia definitely breaks the record and wins first prize for most screw-ups.


On 27th August I arrived at St. Petersburg Pulkovo airport with only carry-on luggage and had to live for three days with the several clothing items I had in my backpack and lady’s purse. On 21st December I arrived at Sofia airport with these same belongings for 3 more days. Both times my red suitcase was wandering somewhere without me in the unknown company of AlItalia staff.

Of course, lost luggage is nothing new and, when eventually found and returned, makes for a good story. Cancellation of flights, however, is truly scary. When my friend residing in Italy called me the night before her flight to St. Petersburg to inform me that AlItalia had cancelled her domestic flight “with no alternatives available,” I thought she was joking. Less than 24 hours before her actual flight, she had received an email notification about these urgent travel changes. Apparently, it was “due to protests by Alitalia employees opposed to the carrier's takeover by Italian businessmen.” (www.fxstreet.com) Nearly 100 AlItalia flights were cancelled in November due to the same reason.

On 20th December when I was already standing in line for the security check at the St. Petersburg Pulkovo II airport, I looked up at the digital departures board only to see that my flight to Rome was cancelled. Panic. After a good amount of stress, I ended up flying to Rome though Milan where I had only half an hour to transfer. I hadn’t received any lunch or decent snack besides two thumb-size biscuits.
Having arrived in Bulgaria, exhausted, hungry and without my baggage, I sighed with relief, “Never again, Alitalia!”

A Goodbye That Really Counts

I have left a lot of places. I left Bulgaria for the U.S., I left the U.S. for Russia, and now I have to leave Russia for Bulgaria and the U.S. This is my hardest goodbye.



It is the night before my flight tomorrow afternoon—I am packing my luggage, listening to my “no title” music folder on iTunes and suppressing the lump in my throat. I get distracted and start going through my “Russia” pictures. Green picnics and careless walks in welcoming parks, orange, red and yellow seas of falling leafs, frozen lakes with sleeping ducks, unafraid of the snowflakes’ play. I go back to those same sceneries colored by the birds’ songs, the smell of freshly baked peanuts and the invigorating touch of the wind. And I cannot make myself leave this place.

All my other goodbyes were more or less easier. I used to prepare myself mentally for the next adventure and start making plans for my first food choices. But when my father called me 3 hours ago and asked me about my dinner preferences on Sunday, I just shrugged my shoulders and responded, “I don’t really care. Really.”

This goodbye is different because it might be my last goodbye to Pushkin’s motherland. Even if it isn’t, I will never again relive these same moments, that my 21-year-old naïve self experiences now. Naturally, this moment of realization holds true for every single place I visit. Although I leave a piece of my soul everywhere I go, I am now leaving most of it here, in the Soviet-time apartment buildings, in the shapeless Christmas light decorations, in the Neva river and in the hot borsht soup.