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Never had the thought crossed my mind that one day I might have the privilege of riding across the Bulgaria/Greece border in a car with three Bulgarian gals to a beach in Northern Greece. Never.
The day started like most. We woke up in the small house we stayed in in Sandanski, Bulgaria to sunny weather and warmed flaky bread. Ushered into the kitchen for some coffee, we watched Bulgarian pop music on the TV while slippers were lovingly, yet forcefully put on my feet and sat down to eat hand crafted bread with the family.
Two women we had met in the small town who knew my friend’s family had given us notice that morning that they wanted to go to the beach in Greece for the day. We, of course, wanted to tag along.
They picked us up and off we went across Southern Bulgarian mountains and farm land. The terrain is green and pleasant. The air was warm enough to ride windows down and hair blowing in the wind.
We crossed the border, through two control stops, and drove into Northern Greece. They call it the “bread basket” of Greece because it is the only space large enough to grow what it takes to feed the isles and southerly parts of the country. Farms are all that is in sight UNTIL…
The sea! It is sparkling blue against the mountains. Light bounces of a solid white monastery as we make our way into a town on the beach. There are few streets and the feel is like any small local beach. The palm trees, people walking around and a tiki bar right off of the sand. The water is completely see through and smells of salt.
We laid on the beach for an hour or two. Although everyone knew some English within the group, the majority of the time Bulgarian was spoken. I learned some just being around it and after learning the alphabet was able to recall words. However, my time was spent very silently and in my own head while traveling through.
This can be a dangerous place to be, but it also gives you time to take in what is around you. I felt alone, and then, I would see how easily accepted I was by the people and the likenesses that make us all connect on certain levels. Witnessing something from a place of silence taught me to listen and watch.
I know coming back to the States that I’ve slid right back into my usual talkative self. At the same time, I see myself stepping back more or thinking through thoughts before speaking (an ever so slight amount). I’m more aware of myself and others in situations now.
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