
Studena, Bulgaria. June 17 to 19.
"Bulgaria is like the Middle East, only with pork and alcohol."
That was the description Hannah from Netherlands gave of the country she now calls home. We first met in Erbil, where she was a colleague of my host Teresa (see chapter 12). Hannah was then just finishing her contract in Iraq in the humanitarian aid field, so already we had spoken of her hosting me once I had crossed Turkey. In the little town of Studena, east of Svilengrad by the Turkish border, I stayed with Hannah and her dog Nox for three nights.
The humanitarian aid sector seems to attract and breed certain types of characters. The gruesome sights of brutality, suffering and death are not for the faint of heart, and the urgent nature of the jobs mean that lasting, healthy relationships are hard to build. It was obvious from the start that Hannah was as hard-boiled as they come, belonging to the group of women that eat badass for breakfast and go bigger from there. Even so, she was nurturing and fed me of said pork that I hadn't had in a long while, and perhaps a beer or two while we were at it.
In the Balkans, there are still great deals to be made in real estate. Brits, Germans and other westerners are starting to buy remote places in countries such as Bulgaria. Hannah fell in love with the place when traveling through while hitchhiking, and after a few visits she decided to buy a house. For 8,000 euros she got the house and a good portion of land connected to it. Little money can buy big life quality in Southeast Europe.
One reason of the low price is that the urbanisation process is still strong, and Studena that once housed over 3,000 people is now home to only a few hundred, and still it is considered a large village in the area. The locals are almost exclusively old, as young people and families are moving to the cities. From the looks I got, the aging population seemed not to be in the best health, as there were no longer young people to look after them or take them to hospital after living a hard life.

Bulgaria has the densest minority of Romani people in Europe. Hanna have had her fair share of dealings with that culture. While she was still working in Iraq, her house was broken into with theft and damage as a result. The local police are usually more than happy to get a reason to use violence on the Romanis, and it was ironic to hear the humanitarian workers joking about how they discreetly would ask the cops to do their thing in order to get the stuff back. But obviously not all Romanis live outside the law. The carpenter that now helped Hannah rebuild after the break in was also of Romani origin, with strong English skills, a curious mind and an open heart.
The rescue dog Nox had traumas from the past and was now anxious about males in particular. As probably the tallest man she had ever seen, Nox was not a fan of me in the beginning, skittishly watching my every move. But while she never admitted it to me by approaching directly, she did grow more comfortable with my presence as time went. On the third day, when she thought we wouldn't notice, she even lay in my bed. I took it as a compliment that my smell gave calmness and safety to a nervous soul.
The peak temperatures in the days reached the mid to high 30s Celsius, and the heat wouldn't release its grip until well after sunset. It was as if not just the people but all nature took a sigh of relief and came alive again after being kept in check by the burning sun. We drove to a small lake close to the village to refresh ourselves. I typically enjoy a dip and happily swim a bit, but I quickly get bored of the water and go up. But Hannah stayed in, floating on her back with eyes closed. Like me, she had torn up her roots that made home to travel the world. But unlike me, she had successfully made a new home. Nothing was more evident of the peace that she could sense than watching her surrender to the water in that lake.

Driving back, when speaking about her car, Hannah referred to it as "her", which is common to do. Still, I found it intriguing how we apply gender to things, and so I challenged her. How did she know the car is female?
"She is strong, reliable, doesn't complain... She must be a woman."
"I see that you attribute those positive qualities to women, then. What positive qualities would you attribute to men?"'
"You got me there."
This is much in line with how the talk goes in the West these days. I think many would answer similar, listing many qualities in women but not being used of thinking of the male gender in positive terms. But one thing, of many, that I really appreciate with Hannah is that she, in a typically Dutch way, does strive for directness and blunt truth. After a while, she continued.
"Now that I think of it, most of the people that I keep around me are men. There must be some things I appreciate, some reasons why that is so."
Well-rested and with a full heart from good talks, easy laughs, hearty meals, and a few rounds of games in the evenings, I left Studena with a new direction, the first major change to how I originally imagined my route for going from Babylon by bike.