And we walked. And it was good

Due to popular demand, here is the conclusion of our pohod into the Rila mountains...

So, we passed the seven lakes and with the seven lakes passed our last big uphill stretch. On the top of the last hill we climbed we found a large number of stone sculptures, created by piling many flat stones on top of each other. A good indicator that civilized, creative life has passed through the area. A few of us decided to leave a little sculpture behind as well, in order to assure ourselves that we were both civilized and creative. So we did. And it was good.

It was all downhill from there. Beyond the rock sculptures, I found a rock shaped like a rock. No, delete that...I would delete it manually, but I trust that my readers are civilized and creative, so I leave the act of deletion to you. It was a rock shaped like a heart. Ergin (the trip organizer) suggested that Rossi (the journalist documenting the journey) write a story titled, "Peace Corps Volunteer Finds Her Heart in the Rila Mountains". Needless to say, this story didn't make it in the daily paper. Must say that finding a spare heart is nicer than finding a spare esophagus or a spare intestine, though I can't speak from personal experience.

So, we got over finding a heart and we walked on. And Silvi (a sweet girl who works for the municipality and happened to be my bus companion) began to sing. And Ergin joined and Ani (a hilarious woman who works for the chetalishte with me and likes to tell jokes in her village dialect) joined and Rossi and I listened and clapped where appropriate. They began with Bulgarian folk songs. Then I sang Yesterday. Then, Ergin and Silvi sang Turkish songs that were so beautiful and so sad that it makes me want to cry just writing this. But, I shan't break down like a little baby right now. I shall instead continue to write, just as we continued to walk. And we walked. Downhill. And some ran, and some walked, and some almost crawled at parts where it was steep and scary. And we stopped by cold, fresh mountain streams to fill up our water bottles. And Rozhdi turned on his little radio and played opera. And we had accompaniment for our walking.

The mountain air was fresh and healing and some started to feel giddy and some mouths started chattering. At one point, Avni (a courteous gentleman who was always helping those who were on the tail end of our group) started talking about extra terrestrials and how he thought it was absurd to think that we're alone in the universe. From there, we jumped to the idea of reincarnation. Silvi said that she thinks she may have been in India in a past life 'cuz she really likes the clothing and the colors and the culture.

I said, "Maybe we knew each other when we were in India 'cuz I think I was there too. I love Indian philosophy."

And Ani said, "I remember when you two came over to my house in India and we ate good food and we sang and we danced. We also went to the Taj Mahal."

Of course, she was joking, but we kept going with it and we collectively created some nice scenes from the past life that we shared in India.

And thus, the time passed. The whole day was sunny and gorgeous and the fall colors were inspiring. We walked for hours and hours...by the time we hit 6 hours of walking, most of us were ready to be done. The feet were hurting, the knees were complaining, the bottoms wanted to kiss the ground. Then, we hit the last stretch. By stretch, I mean two-hours worth of walkin' stretch. Not your track stretch of 100 meters! It was a shaded forest path and it was completely covered with leaves. In the steeper parts, it became a sheer slide. So, we slipped and we slid, and we bumped into each other and we held hands at parts and some fell.

As we walked, there were times when it felt like we would never get there. The only thing we could see were miles and miles of trees and leaves and woods. Some claimed to see the monastery on the bottom of the path at times, others claimed this was merely an illusion formed by wishful thinking, like an oasis in the desert. Somehow, these last two hours of the trip passed and we piled, one by one, two by three, six by five, and so on, into the Rila monastery. Some limped, some leaped, some kissed the ground, some (i won't say any names here) wanted to crawl, but restrained themselves, as this would not be socially acceptable behavior in a monastery.

After admiring the beautiful icons, lighting a few candles, looking at the souvenirs, drinking tea, and relieving ourselves of natural burdens, we piled onto the bus to make the 10 minute trip to the grave of Ivan Rila, the monastery saint of sorts. We lined up to go through a little cave-like hole that, according to legend, only those who have no sins can pass through. Luckily, all who tried, succeeded. We all came out clear...we chose not to question the verdict of the hole. It may be a hole with an idealism complex as far as sinlessness goes...yet, it's all relative...it may be that it's not that the hole is too idealistic but the people who go through it are too hard on themselves and choose to question the hole's verdict. What we ultimately learned was to: trust the hole! This was something that Ivan Rila never learned to do. In his last letter to his students, he writes that he's the world's biggest sinner who has not been able to accomplish a single good deed on this Earth. Maybe the hole wasn't around at that time to show him how wrong he was ;P

After meeting the hole, we piled onto the bus again. This time, for good, and good it was, for everyone was drained from the massive amount of walking we had just done. So, we sat on the bus, and some talked, and some ate, and some slept, and some drooled, and we finally made it home, and it was good.

Disclaimer: Some may say that my atrocious lack of grammar and commas in the right places is a terrible sin but the hole says i have no sins and as a whole i choose to trust the hole because it's a holy hole. case closed.