The Goat Milk festival 2009 - from a Norwegian point of view
“Hello Sofie. Would you like to join me and Anna Elise for a trip to Bulgaria in May?” I got this text message from my childhood friend, Brita, in the beginning of March. At that particular moment I was a bit stressed, looking for the lost family dog, so I answered mostly without thinking. “Absolutely. That would be cool.” Little by little I began to realize what I was going to partake in; a goat milk festival in the mountains of the north-western parts of Bulgaria. I had a lot of questions. Should I bring woollen socks? How is the temperature so far up in the mountains? Should I bring sunscreen? I burn so easily. Will the Bulgarian like the brown cheese? And how do I pronounce Bela Rechka? But also questions like; what do I really know about 1989 and the fall of the Iron Curtain? How can we young and sheltered Norwegians contribute to a festival dealing with issues of such a historical greatness? Not knowing these answers, three Norwegian girls landed on Sofia Airport the 21st of May 2009, armed with woollen socks, sunscreen and Norwegian goat cheese.
So it began. The trip that started with an e-mail from Diana, which again was a result of a numerous coincidences and similarities between Bela Rechka and our village, Undredal, was finally a fact. The similarities of which I speak are as follows: Undredal is a small village of only 80 inhabitants and circa 300 goats. The last weekend of July, we arrange a Goat cheese-festival, hoping to raise awareness about the importance of locally produced food, the use of unpasteurized milk, and of course - if people sees the value of all this - then maybe some of them will move back to Undredal, filling up the old, beautiful and empty houses. Sadly small villages are being abandoned in Norway. In Bulgaria as well, Diana told us on the drive from Sofia to Bela Rechka. So there we were, in a small Bulgarian village, surrounded by sun, and the smell of blossoming lilacs. I will not tempt to give a résumé of the festival and what we were doing, but rather try to express some of my impressions on paper.
I have read somewhere that the climate of a country is reflected by the warmth of its people. During our stay, I kept getting confirmations of this. The days we spent in Bulgaria were really warm in every aspect of that word. Coming from the far north, we found ourselves being confronted by our way of being. Norwegians are reluctant to talk to strangers. We don’t want to insult someone’s personal borders, or their right to solitude. We don’t initiate a conversation, in case the person might feel bothered. It’s silly, we know, but the silliness is invisible until we are mirrored by others. Bela Rechka was a great mirror, and it was a relief for us to be around such welcoming and heart-warming people. After a while, we even dared to loosen up a bit ourselves. The goat milk-festival-people are like Norwegians after a couple of beers on a Saturday night, we concluded. And we loved it!
Even tough (or maybe because of that) we knew little about 1898, this aspect of the festival was very appealing to me. Being raised in a drama-free country, with the two most traumatic happenings throughout history being the forced introduction of Christianity in the beginning of the 11th century, and the German occupation during World War II (both of them long before my lifetime), the Iron Curtain and communism in general, seems like this mythical and mystical part of the European history. To be sitting around the fire by the Rakia house, while listening to a conversation about the Turkish migration, was an experience I will treasure for life. Around us, the crickets were playing, and the fireflies (which we up to then didn’t actually believe in) were sparking. I found myself being embarrassed by the generalisation and the plain ignorance in Norwegian school literature and education system. It turns out that the world is bigger than Norway. Who knew?
One thing that really got to us was the level of volunteer work. During the festival as good as everything was free. Money appeared not to be of such great importance. Still, the festival does something for the village. Being the restoring of the Rakia house and the bell tower, or raising awareness about the conglomerate of happenings in, and around, the year of 1989. It is something touching and inspiring about seeing so many creative people from all over the world, working together and creating something as unique as the Goat milk-festival in Bela Rechka.
Sunday the 24th of May I returned to my home in Bergen, with a brand new experience, a couple of unworn woollen socks, and at least three different shades of red on my shoulders. All the different peoples with their different backgrounds, contagious optimism and relaxed way of being, have without any doubt made a huge impact on me and my two fellow travellers. We left after only three days, but it felt like a couple of weeks. If not more. It was not without a tad of sadness we drove away from the smell of lilacs, and bordered the plane bound for Norway.
For me, this was an important experience. I found in Bela Rechka something I thought I had thrown away for good; faith in what regular people can do if they work together, and never completely let go of their idealism. Because even though the world can’t be fixed by good thoughts and singing alone, it doesn’t mean we have to stop doing it all together. So I guess what I am trying to say is this: Thank you for an amazing festival, for all the smiles, all the cultural experiences, and all the interesting people. And thank you for showing us that not everything has to be done in a stressful, high pace. During the introduction around the bonfire our first day in Bela Rechka, several people warned us that the Goat milk-festival is addictive. I see that now, so unless I have learned to cope with the abstinences by the time of the next festival, I will be there. And I will bring more stiff Norwegians with me.
Sofie Klemetzen
