Harleigh nods and turns back to face the way we’re walking. “You and me both. People suck at times, huh?”
I nod. “They do. I’m guessing you have a story to tell too?”
She nods sombrely. “I do. I think we all do. I tell my pupils and authors that everyone has a story to tell.”
I don’t want to push her. If she wants to tell me her life story, she will in her own time. I don’t plan on going anywhere.
“Oh, wow.” She looks over at an old shop attached to someone’s house. A black Labrador is sitting outside with his owner. “Are all the shops like this here?”
“Pretty much. Bulgaria is an old town. Old blood. People live to a ripe old age here. Looking at it you’d think people were living in the dark ages, but it works for them. Would you like to have a look inside?”
“Do we have time?”
“Absolutely.”
I lead the way into the shop. We acknowledge the owner sitting at the door. He remains sitting in the sun.
“Do they make everything themselves?”
“Some people do. Pottery and lace are high amongst the things people make here.”
She picks up a large, what I would call, casserole bowl. It’s brightly painted in orange and browns.
“Do you mind if I buy a few things?” she asks.
“No, go ahead. The hotel isn’t far from here if we need to make a stop off to take things back.”
The bright smile on Harleigh’s face is infectious. Watching her pick up some trinkets should be boring, but I find everything about her intriguing. I offer to take her items to allow her to browse at her leisure. I don’t mind shopping; besides, the inside of these small shops are cooler than outside. It’s no hardship being here with a beautifully kind woman.
“My mum will love these dishes.” She picks up a smaller casserole dish at the front of the store where the owner is sitting. She hands him everything and he calculates the cost in his head.
“Eighty-three lev.”
Harleigh hands over the cash and I take her bag from the owner.
“Keep the change.” She waves at the old guy.
Seven lev isn’t a lot to us, but to Bulgarians who rely on tourists, it is.
“I could get used to this place. Everyone is so extremely kind.”
I take her hand and we walk along the side street slowly.
“You won’t come across many unpleasant Bulgarians. They live for the summer season and enjoy meeting the tourists. This is Michael’s Eco-bar,” I point to my right where a small shack is situated. There are already some people queueing up for it opening at twelve o’clock.
“Wow! It looks very… pokey.” She smiles.
“It is. But it’s magical inside. Just you wait until you see it. People come from all over Bulgaria just to capture it. People queue up all day to get in.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever been this excited to see a bar before.” She giggles infectiously.
The door opens to the bar and the people in front of us head inside. I take Harleigh’s hand and lead her down the small, narrow steps. It’s like Aladdin’s cave inside. I can’t wait to see her expression.
“Good afternoon,” says a young girl as she allows us to enter and hands us a drinks menu.
“Oh. My. God.”
I look over my shoulder and catch Harleigh’s expression as she gazes around the small cave. I take her out back, up a few stairs and over a little bridge to a booth where we can still catch some sun, watch the turtles, and enjoy a drink.
