I read yesterday that a lot of the old buses servicing the Bulgarian public transport were being decommissioned. A warm wave of memories, a sad nostalgic note crept in the room.  As a kid, it was quite uncommon to get a ride to school from your dad, especially in the winter, due to a multitude of reasons, one the more prominent ones being that his car was usually a good ten years older than yourself, therefore starting it at 06:00 AM at -15 degrees was an utopia for the most part. My dad, a typical Bulgarian man, expert in fixing everything from the kitchen sink to a NASA space shuttle wrapped up his sleeves and prepared the usual morning maintenance routine: Hot water, motor oil and me and my mom as raw physical power to push when everything else inevitably failed.  Now I do have to say that there was an educational aspect to it, as most of my swear word vocabulary was attained namely in those freezing mornings when my dad used to bless his car, his job, his boss, the ...

 As I've reached an age where it's common for folks in this part of the world to say, "Yep, I'm a grown up now, finished school, have a job, a family and a social status which generally nobody cares about, but proud of it anyway" I came to sort of a sad realization... I was lucky enough to be born in the great country of Bulgaria - proud and poor, have seen so many things (including my grandfather naked, multiple times), ran with chickens, chased by goats, lived, loved, drank and performed other physiological needs that drinking excessive amounts of alcohol lead to. Needless to say in Bulgaria, if you've managed to survive your teenage years then you're generally considered a combat veteran and overall if you're anywhere above 30 years you're referred to as old, or with the gentle local epitome "дърт". Going with the flow and the normal evolution of life, and back to the subject of this confession, I realized that for all the beautiful an...