#AShotofAdrenaline: The Abandoned Buzludzha Monument
While typing at a steady pace, the melody of Stan Kolev's Intervention Divine reached my ears, inspiring me to share a memory about an experience that carved a solid mark into my soul. An experience that unlocked a side of me that I’d completely neglected; an experience which reminded me that our ‘past’ is what make us who we are today; that it should never be forgotten but instead employed as the reference point against which the present should be judged, against which our current selves should be assessed.
We’d already spent quite some time in the car. The winding road obstructed me from driving fast and, frankly, I couldn’t care less. The scenic view was so breathtaking that all I wanted was to capture each and every fragment of it. The soothing background music F. had prepared for the trip was reason enough to keep my mouth shut and let my eyes thirstily gulp the all-encompassing beauty of the nested clouds and picturesque woodlands revealed from the top of the mountain. Though I consider myself ‘a cosmopolitan’ for which I’ve often been mocked and unfairly judged, my incessant crave to explore the hidden secrets of my motherland never got crushed. I guess my hippie parents’ attitude towards life has also added to my ‘wanderlust’, teaching me to notice and appreciate the beauty of the places I visit, inspiring me to be 'in the making' of experiences that take your breath away.
When I turned off the engine, a dense fog had already spread its tentacles over the mountain hills, completely obscuring Buzludzha Peak. A gigantic monument depicting two fists, holding lit torches, was the sign that we’d finally reached our destination. We stared at each other’s eyes all hyped up to be minutes away from the top of the hill. Rather than peacefully walking, we impatiently rushed through the forest completely oblivious to what we were about to experience.
Chills of excitement ran through my veins and I couldn’t wait to uncover what was hidden behind the concrete walls. Was I hoping to wake up the spirits of the past…spirits that evoke memories of a handicapped nation - disabled to voice its opinions and views, exposed solely to censured word; memories of times when ‘individualism’ was considered a 'sin' and having dreams that went beyond the borders of the country was not even an option. Or was I simply pursuing 'danger', hoping to get a shot of adrenaline which would finally satisfy my hunger for unique life experiences at least for a while?
The central entrance of the building was locked and a Polish girl remarked that there was no way in. On the right side of the monument a part of a window was left unbolted; a hole, small enough to make you question your very desire to get into the building.
F. went first. Despite his height he managed to squeeze his body in, with my eyes closed tight, waiting for him to announce that he’s smoothly gotten in. Rather than following his steps, I chose to stay outside, far away from the crawling rats. My heart rate quickly accelerated and suddenly I found myself staring ahead in disbelief. We’d gone such a long way and yet I refused to stay fully present, letting someone else take photos with my camera instead of doing that myself. The sky was crying for some time and I noticed that my clothes were already soaking wet... The water dripping down my face finally managed to wake me up. I couldn't wait any longer. My body mindlessly climbed up the few wobbly stones, arranged under the hole by a thoughtful previous visitor, so that I could reach it. I shut my thoughts and let my body in. My heart was just about to explode - was it the adrenaline rush? Was it the relief that I didn’t fall straight onto the rats that were playing in the basement? Was it the fact that I'd finally had the guts to do something out of my comfort zone? The raindrops were coming right through the ceiling and I was rushing towards the Central Hall of the building hoping to find F. there. And there he was, snapping photos right from the middle. I was so amused to notice him changing a his facial expressions for less than a second - first the disbelief and shock that I was in, then the genuine smile of relief.
credit for the photo above
Jacket: Forever 2; Alternative: AEO Slouchy Hoodie
Shorts: Pull & Bear; Alternative: AEO Crocheted Hem Shortie
Trainers: Independent Boutique; Alternative: Converse
Bangles: Forever 21
Top: Rush Boutique
Wandering around the dim chambers I was doing my best to visualise what the interior used to look like. Today the slow demolition of the building serves as a reminder of the collapse of a regime that had obstructed many from fulfilling their dreams. From travelling. From exploring the world outside the borders of Bulgaria. And in the process of seeking adventure within our motherland, F. and I were reminded of how lucky we actually are to be born right after the grand political changes. How lucky we are to be actually able to call each other ‘cosmopolitans’, no longer confined within any physical boundaries but only by the ones that our minds create (more on the topic - here).
Our minds you wonder? Yes! Weirdly, though advocating our ability to alter the course of the way one's life unfolds and achieve all that we've dreamt of, I've actually forgotten to mention how important it is to remember the past and learn from it. My experience in Buzludzha, the adrenaline rush I got when climbing and walking along the frames of the windows reminded me that 'freedom' is the most precious gift. My parents and their friends were rebelling against the system, listening to Pink Floyd and the Doors, letting their hair grow longer than allowed... and most importantly 'exploiting' the only freedom they felt truly entitled for - love. Yes, they sought it in its purest form defined not by social expectations or superficial materialism, but by all that couldn't be touched, but only experienced and truly felt...
Today, we don't have to be rebels to feel 'free', we don't have to listen to anything specific to oppose any Party at all. I don't have to hide from anyone to draft this text and then share it with you through 'Letters to Antoinette'. So in the course of mulling over the past, the rebellious hippie generation reminded me of one simple thing...
Wake up. Stay fully present. Take mental snapshots. Cook the best memories that you possibly could. Spice them up so that no one's willing to steal them away from you.
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