On Tuesday I spent some more time in Blagoevgrad and saw a little more of the town. All I really did was wander around a bit and occasionally sit down, have some juice and read Carlos Castaneda’s Teachings of Don Juan. Perfect.
I didn’t feel like walking around with my backpack in the sun (at the risk of melting!), so around three o’ clock I took a taxi to the bus station so I could catch a bus to Strumica. I walked into an office of the station and asked about tickets. They sent me to an office across the street from the station. This office sent me to a bus station next to the one where I was. It took quite a while to figure out where I had to take the bus exactly and I wasn’t really sure until I was actually on it. At ten past five, I was on my way to Strumica in a bus full of Bulgarians and Macedonians.
As we came closer to Sandanski, I recognized a particular road and I remembered it so clearly that I was a bit startled. It immediately recalled some more memories of the last time I travelled down that road – on my way to and from the Balkan Youth Festival last year.
After spending about 1.5 hour at the border, I arrived in Strumica at 9 o’ clock and was picked up by my friend Mite (also referred to as Mitko). He took me to his home and explained that he was going to be having another guest for the next 10 days due to his work for a local NGO. So one or two hours later an American girl named Issabella arrived who’d been in the Balkan region for a few weeks. We chatted for a while and after midnight Issabella went to bed and Mite and I went into the city. I was very curious to see what the town was like.
The town was swarming with young people. Apparently young people go outside every evening in the summer and hang out in one of the many bars, in the park, on the street in the center or at squares. I wish people in Holland would live a little bit more ‘outside’, but I guess it’s not in our culture.
We had a drink with some of Mite’s friends and I was introduced to a Macedonian drink called “mastika”. It’s a lot like the Greek ouzo, but there’s a clear difference. The taste of mastika is not as sweet and a lot more subtle. I heard a lot of stories about Macedonian history, Macedonia and the EU, Bulgaria, etc. Rather popular topics among intelligent young people in the Balkans. I’ve rarely discussed Dutch history or the EU with friends in Holland, only recently, because of my studies related to the EU.
Later Mite and I got some beers and sat at the central square in Strumica and chilled out a bit. Talked about everything. Around 4 in the morning we planted our asses in our respective beds and dozed off for a 4 hour nap.
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