Adventures in the Bulgarian Mountains

It came upon a midnight clear that they all decided to make for the mountains and head into the mysterious land called Vershawhadun, for so they thought, but that was not the case, for actually it was the land held overseas that was nye to be the one to see. How could they tell; how could they make it out? But what strange spells had they cast over all the land. Benito knew not, but that he had to find a way out. A way out of this place. Could it be through Paris or Istanbul, he knew not. What was clear at any rate was that Benito was suffering from sleep poisoning, but that's another story. At the moment, he was just glad to be alive, although he really needed some coffee right about now (the funk-so brotha).

Now was the appointed time to go into that dark realm. For the night air was quickly smattering and not all was well in the neighborhood? But what could they do. They had to pitch camp somewhere. But where? There were no places to plant their stakes, just mole hills in the distance and tree all around. That was the place of no return. The place of Notchylvania! That hallowed land where none dost stir but the mice and even then but cruelly. So come one, come all and gather round the gypsy's fire for to hear more stories of that cruel, dark land that some have heard tell from their grandfather's grandfather before them, and yet others know these tales as past down through song. The bard's tale, as it is known in these days and for which part I do take up my part, and for which part, I would not go but subtly. Subtly, yea subtly into that good night. Rage! But soft, who goes there?

And so they all went together, and so they all went. For to find a nitch in the grave, for to find that cantakerous place that some call 'Neverland', and others call "Vitosha". yea, even to that place where few dare go after sundown... but the brave, the few, the proud. Yes, even Shaun the Proud, the prideful knight of the duke's court, Duke di Milan. And Sir Tom the Cruel, of course, Sir Tom. But also Bruce the Brave, and so the three of them went together to the mountain to see what they could see. Bruce started up singing a song, but was put down harshly by Tom, who thought that the wind was more in keeping with this song. This hallowed ground, this nocturnal fire that will soon see us all in hiding, yea verily. And so they went all together, for together they all were going, up the mountain side, for to see what they could see, for they were going for that very reason: to see what they could see. And so they went; and so they went. And they stopped by the river, or creek rather, for there were bridges whereat one may cross across and that was very nice, very nice indeed. A gazebo there was and a bridge from the Turkish times. Ooh, how wonderful? That place was so wonderful, and Bruce sat down to record the place in epic verse. But Tom, Sir tom, Sir Tom the Cruel he was, bade Bruce gird up his loins and follow suit. How can one do what one canst when one canst not see? But enough! For the day grows on apace and the day will have its mare. Or not so. But never enough, but what time suits it always to be what one cannot see, but what one can feel with one's hands. For that is how Bruce tends to feel when he cannot go a'wandering. He feels lost without his medication, but luckily enough for him, he found a holy well. no, not Holywell, but yea verily, a well that is holy. And so with that well was all made well, for he could drink and so be nourished thereby. And this was all well and good, yea well and good.

Bruce wanted to leave his coat behind for it was dragging him down, but Sir Tom would have none of it and urged him to stuff it in his rucksack, and thereby they would be able to flourish. For the day was growing on apace, and they had not yet reached the wood. The wood, where heart doth hop and where they were all set to go.. But no, they did not go, but hopped over the land, very prettily and Shaun was with them, and so he hopped along beside the others. But no, not so proudly this time, but with an elegant gait, so that all could see that he was not really so proud after all, but rather certainly of a fine disposition. And so to make amends, and so to make amends. Now how did they go? They went by hopping. And how did they hop? They hopped most serendipidously, and so there's an end. Then they reached the fields. Yea, this open ground whereat one could look back and see the whole spread and outlay of the land from this here mountain side. And all praised the very sight. But no less distance away from them could be seen the Turkish hoard, making its way across the valley. yea, there they are! The Turks! Those Ottoman slaves! What have they with them but no less than three armies, and all conveyed most splendidly across the river as a giant wave upon wave. Look at those banners flying high and those spear points like a forest of them, wow! How can one think to do battle with such a force?! No one could stand the impact, no less now, no less here at this mountain pass. But stay, for perhaps the Thracians will arrive and will commit to more troops in this epic struggle. Yea, verily, that is our only hope, thought Tom, but more to come from his stream of consciousness writing. more to come, verily!

What could he say? What could he do? He had no choice but to follow. And so Bruce the Brave did what any sensible man in his position would do. He took up his father's stick. And that was all well and good. For the Turks were fast approaching and Tom motioned for them to hurry up into the snow-capped hills and so grow fearsome in the effort. And that was all well and good, for they were fast approaching across the mountain's side, the whole army, fit as steel and mean, or that is how it looked from a distance. They carried an air of auspicious degree and could not help but portray themselves as such, such a solemn solemnity that was transfixed by the crescent moon high above and their moon was its moon and its moon was their moon, and the two in configuration were all one, but not with which it came. For they rode on the wind, and crossed themselves in such manner as one would think they were Christian, but no, they were simply brandishing their swords. and so they were, and so they were. But what can one say about this turn of affairs. What can one say about these ranks upon ranks accept that they were an invincible force, for which not one or two or three could do much about, save what they had stored up for themselves in days past. And so that was the way the cookie crumbled here in the Bulgarian mountains. What can one say but that they were all sick at heart, for not one of them had anything to eat, save for some coarse food. And they were all certainly to be made into mince-meat at the first encounter with the Ottomans. So they bade their time and made the best of it, eating the yellow snow.

Bruce had a rough time of it as he was not used to hiking in these mountains, so Tom and Shaun went on ahead, breaking the track for Bruce to follow and all were satisfied by this transaction. Who could blame them? Who could say what was right and what was wrong? The Turks knew neither right from wrong, so who is to say? But no, that was not how it turned out, for the Sultan is merciful and allows those to live who deserve such care. And that is how it went, without another word. And that is how it went. For soon Bruce the Brave found himself at a Monastery in the mountains, he had been running for quite some time, slipping in the snow, but now he found there to be a maid sitting by the water and she had dark hair and dark eyes. She did not speak, but simply gestured toward the edifice, with a nod and a slight smile. She observed, but nothing more. Then she got up, and left that place. Bruce, on the other hand, went nimbly through the gate and got to his destination, which was the Monastery at Rila.



Bruce entered those gates, that hallowed ground, and as he did so, he felt a rush as though many spirits had just passed through his body and he shuttered in awe and ecstasy. Such is the same when one is experiencing the 'Pranayama' exercises, as Tom has demonstrated many times. Such was the case here. And there were many sights to behold. Bruce felt that he needed to use the restroom, so he found his way there after drinking from the holy waters (which somebody pee'd in, as we all know! Haha.), and then proceeded to enter the sacred space, covered with a kind of religious iconography or "Jesus tattoo". There he lit five candles: two for his parents, two for his hosts, Tom and Shaun, and one for his host yet to come! Would the day soon come. But now he was in that place, that dark space where few have been. And he felt a rush, then a flush, and finally a brush, as he went to take a pee once more, but not before the priest had given him his blessing, although he spoke only Bulgarian. Thusly, there was nothing to fear but fear itself and Bruce continued to reception where he found a nice middle-aged priest who conducted him to follow the sacred ceremony into admission to that hallowed ground. And so he spent the night very peacefully, going to bed at sundown, and staying there until all was said and done, then he made his way to the water source, or rather one of the fountains, for the Sultan had passed an ordinance that the Rila Monastery should be protected. And so that is how the Bulgarian cookie crumbled! And that is how all was said and done. For the priest bade Bruce drink from the magic fountain, and he received all strength and resourcefulness in this way, for it was indeed holy water, rich in nutrients. And that was good. So he bade the priest a fond farewell and went to bed, but not before inspecting the bell tower which was the only original part since the burning of that place by the Ottomans. for they had been tolerant, yet had burned it to the ground. It was something of an idiomatic expression, but nonetheless they were satisfied with the ordinance from on high, that is to say, the Sultan's official decree that Rila Monastery be a place of worship for all bulgars.

And so did that time of St. Ioan pass into legend, for he himself had lived as a hermit in that place for some time, surviving on PUmpkin Seeds that he found in the forest, growing naturally. And he knew by instinct which were poisonous and which were good to eat. And so he did what was asked of him and did not apologize, but kept his place among the saints well preserved and did not ask questions, but had a little holy water and his seeds, and on this did he survive and on this he thrived.

So Bruce went that morning to meditate by the riverside and watched the creek as it flowed under that large fir tree. It was quite the spot and people passed by, but Bruce paid them little heed, for he was one brave soul. And that was how the bulgar cookie crumbled, and that is how the Slavs came into that land. So that was how it went. And they passed all his time there, buying an icon as well as some other things, and that was all well and good. And there he was given a new name, which shall be related in all differing accounts, but none more so than that of the other day, which shall be related in time passing, but not until that day of rapture when all the saints together in God's kingdom shall inherit the earth and a plague shall cover the land and Pharaoh will sing of Egypt's land and all shall be well, and all shall be well.