part two of two related stories

december 2008, all photos in this post taken by st.

this particular 'na gosti' was certainly the most atypical of the experiences i have mentally filed away so far. it is a story that i feel is best expressed through photographs and, thanks to my good buddy st, there are quite a few photos to guide you through the experience.

a brief synopsis:

it was christmas eve around 3pm when st and i decided to explore his quiet village. the sun was shining, after all, and although there was snow on the ground, it was warm enough with the sun pouring down on us that we wandered out in spite of the snow.

st, as i have documented briefly, has taken to taking pictures and quite lovely ones, too. he was interested in introducing me to some of the future photo subjects he had dancing in his head-- gates and doorways and most notably, the adorable neighborhood children who had overcome any shyness towards being photographed in the time since we arrived.

we pointed ourselves towards the roma neighborhood in town and began, stepping between and beside potholes and trudging through mud as the houses passed us by and the neighborhood surely changed. before i knew it, two small girls caught our attention as they scurried up to the road to greet st, who has become a welcome wanderer in this part of town.

shy, yet curious inquiries about my identity out of the way, these two girls began normal banter with st, pulling out a few english words for the new audience (me) to show off a bit.

from behind me came a strong, yet friendly voice. a father? brother?

the voice of a friend who, we came to learn, almost was like family.

"come drink some homemade wine," the voice beckoned with an unmistakable come hither gesture.

the four of us turned and made our way towards the cluster of homes from which the voice emanated. as we trudged through the mud up towards the houses, through one of the barn areas, past a really old green truck and up on the side of the muddy/icy/slushy/snowy slope, we saw a large family grilling pig. we were welcomed with a glass jar of homemade wine, warm greetings, the strangely blended scent of grilled pig, smoke and cigarettes.

we all got to talking. slowly at first. and then they realized we could speak some of the language. gradually, the conversation fired up and we talked about holiday celebrations.

i mentioned that some families in the states eat turkey for christmas. i didn't know the word for pig, so this was a convenient detour around that dilemma. st asked about the particulars of roasting pigs on christmas eve and then turned to me to ask what i had said. he knew the word for pig, but not for turkey. through our puzzle-like vocabulary structuring, we discovered this family killed a pig for christmas eve and ate turkey on christmas day.

or, they were just pulling my leg about the turkey. i may never know.


this was how i spent my christmas eve, amongst a large, friendly, modest roma family that not only invited me to join in their pig roast and wine drinking, but brought st and i in for dinner... with more wine and warm rakia and a delicious meal.

it was humble. and kind. and enjoyable in a way that eludes me, even now. it felt comfortable and we had never met these people.

i do not recall how long we were there. hours, certainly. the brief walk and the chicken in st's house waiting to be cooked long since forgotten about. my feet and hands and nose completely frozen from standing in the cold mushy mud on the hill where the fire's smoke swirled away in the merciless wind.

yet, it was one of the warmest na gosti experiences i have had since i arrived here.

and one of the strangest/hardest/most incredible parts of it all- i was the only female who sat at the dinner table that evening.

i could not decide if it was an honor, a privilege, a lack of sufficient space elsewhere, a misunderstanding or otherwise. but, my gender-sensitive brain, ever the inquisitive machine, couldn't help but wonder...

perhaps another post for another time.

i'll let the pictures tell the rest...