Traveling To and Fro in the Earth

I’ll be home for Christmas…Ivan and I are driving to Wisconsin right now. I am so looking forward to seeing my family! In the meantime, I want to share a letter my email buddy Marlene sent me recently, a letter I enjoyed so much I asked if I could share it on my blog. She has also been doing some traveling: to a place that is like home to her–Bulgaria–as well as a new place–Ukraine. Read what she has to say.

Airports are amazing. Think of it – you swish calmly into a building with your suitcase, and sit around for a bit, then walk down the concourse and into your seat. You relax there, and chew gum, and read, and drink free coffee, and maybe nap…and after awhile you get discharged Totally Someplace Else. It is amazing. 

So yes, I went to my Bulgaria home. Ahh. 

But this was a two-in-one trip, and after I had been in Tsalapitsa for half a week, I climbed back on a plane and zipped off to Ukraine. I mean, why not? Good friends, good food, good fellowship. I recommend such treks. 

It was short, but it was good. North to Kyiv on Monday, south to Sofia on Friday. That left three days – but we crammed them full. The main purpose of the trip was getting together with the head editor and main designer of Earthen Vessels, who both live in the Ukraine, for what we lovingly styled a “Board Meeting”. This term entails visions of red pumps, expensive suits, and bulging briefcases…and I admit I had a lot of fun, while still in Canada, announcing that I was Going To Europe On A Business Trip. 

Reality was a three-day tea party and gab festival, and involved more hilarious midnights than you might guess when you look at these staid women. 

Suffice it to say we blitzed through topic after topic, occasionally interrupting ourselves for more tea, cuddling babies, and cooking big pots of soup. Those three days also involved a youth choir practice at Kyiv, a prayer meeting at Krivoshientsi, a prayer meeting at Horoskye, helping in the Lamp and Light office for a few hours, visiting school in Krivoshientsi, and shopping together at a huge market in Bila Tserkva. You can see we were not often idle. 

And so much good food – my friends knew that I wanted to try as much yummy traditional food as I could, and they stuffed me on shawarma, red beet borsch, blini, Russian mushroom soup, pelmeni, and more. 

On my end, the week also involved lots of comparisons. I’ll be the first to say what you’re thinking – anyone who only lived in Bulgaria for 6 months, and who only visited in Ukraine for 3 days, has no business playing anthropologist because she doesn’t understand either culture. True, true oh king. But that didn’t stop me. 😊 

I was endlessly intrigued by how similar the countries were, how alike the villages felt, and how different they looked. Ukraine has much more wood in the architecture, and I didn’t spy a roof tile anywhere. 

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And then it was suddenly over, and I slogged back on the airplane and flew home to Bulgaria. And that was good too. 

My time in Tsalapitsa included chatting with lots of old friends, visiting old haunts, marketing, visiting school, a delightful tea party at Jordan’s, meals at Justus’ and Johns, babysitting for Randal’s while they were in language school, cleaning church, cuddling lots of babies, and singing in Bulgarian once more. It included much marveling at God’s faithfulness, and how He has led in the past four years. 

And food, of course. Some of it was delicious and nostalgic, (kebapche! kashkoval! banitsa!) some of it was, ah, adventurous. Four years ago I had hesitated over traditional tripe soup but made the mistake of smelling it first. This time Randal made sure I got another chance, and I knew that if I was going to down it, I had to dive in sans smelling or thinking. I’m here to pronounce it better than I had feared, and I’m glad I got it stroked off my bucket list, but I don’t think I’ll develop a craving for it. Let’s just say it takes a lot of guts to eat tripe soup. Wink. 

And then it was time to leave again. I hate leaving friends: 

Nothing makes the earth seem so spacious as to have friends at a distance; they make the latitudes and longitudes. Henry David Thoreau 

But on the other hand, as even the Bear of Little Brain knew, we are so blessed to share a friendship that makes it hard to say goodbye. 

So my friend Jan and I hoisted our suitcases and went off to the airport…and the adventures began. Our flight from Sofia was a three quarter hour late leaving, and we missed our connection in Frankfurt. I could make a Long Growly Story about this, because it was entirely Their fault – did they actually need to shut down the entire security department for fifteen minutes? We were surrounded by livid people. 

I’ll just say that we missed our flight, and were Much Frustrated by the general unhelpfulness and inefficiency of the staff, as they sent us chasing from one desk to another, from one wing of the airport to another, trying to rebook. Twice we arrived to where we thought we should be, only to be told that that desk was closing now. I made some rash firm vows about boycotting Frankfurt and flying KLM from henceforth and forevermore. 

But eventually we found a helpful lady, and got it sorted out, and they acknowledged their transgression (after Jan gave them a straight talking-to) and gave us a free hotel room for overnight. Including free shuttle service to and fro, and two free meals. After we’d found our room, gotten a good supper, and had a shower and a bonus night of sleep I wasn’t counting on, the world looked brighter. And I’m Mennonite – I like free things. So maybe I will risk Frankfurt again someday. 

Plus, I was in Germany. Not just in the airport – international airports are countries unto themselves. No, I was in Germany. I have passport stamps to prove it. 

Not that I saw anything of it, even with a 15 minute shuttle ride through the city, since it was pitch dark both evening and morning. But I saw the exit signs pointing to Berlin and Düsseldorf and Hannover and Strasbourg. And the hotel receptionist that checked us in was a Graff, and the one who checked us out was a Frey. So I am sure I was in Germany. 

Plus, Jan and I confused a few people with our names and features that looked like we should be local but weren’t. Both the hotel receptionist and the customs officer took one glance at my name and began a rapid conversation in German. And when I pled for English instead, both of them looked like the world didn’t make sense anymore when Brubachers and Rohrers don’t speak Deutch.

So eventually I got home. The trip had taken 45 hours instead of the usual 36, and that is simply a long journey. I’m still trying to beat the jetlag, which can be a lagging process. But at the risk of sounding a giddy fourteen, let me pronounce it a fabulous trip, an epic trip, and so, so worth it. 

I still think airports are amazing. 

Just not Frankfurt. 

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Marlene R Brubacher is a baker, cleaner, writer, and home-care worker who lives among the pines and mines of northwestern ON. Several years ago she had spent six months, in two separate three-month terms, at a mission in Bulgaria, and this post recounts a recent visit there. In her spare time, Marlene helps to edit Earthen Vessels, a free monthly e-zine for supporting and connecting Anabaptist missionary women. If you are interested in hearing more about this ministry, you may contact her at truthandwrite88@gmail.com