Maria Genova - Communism, Sex and Lies

In the winter, I would always go cross-country skiing with my parents. I loved it, but my heart would beat faster when I saw someone skiing. I wanted to do that also and I hoped that I wasn’t too old to learn at 16. I rented a pair of skis, checked out the young gods who whizzed past and tried to copy them. Unfortunately, I spent more time on my backside than standing on the skis. When I had once again made a spectacular fall, a man came to me and asked if I needed any help.

He gave me private lessons and my skiing improved. Vassil took part in competition skiing and asked me to join his team. I couldn’t believe it: I almost fell at every turn and he was asking me to take part in competitions!

‘You’re talented,’ Vassil claimed.

‘Yes, I can see that myself,’ I groaned after I had once again crashed into the deep snow. ‘If you want me to learn faster then you’ll need to help me up. Otherwise I’ll still be trying into the evening.’

After practicing for another skiing season I was ready: I never fell and I loved skiing so much that I didn’t want to go to school in the winter. My parents tolerated me skipping class on the condition that I got the highest grade for each subject. One of our best family friends was a paediatrician and arranged fake prescriptions and evidence, which I showed my teachers. I had no idea what he had written, but I suspect I had the most diverse diseases. Luckily the teachers could not decipher the Latin names and that his handwriting was illegible.

We mainly trained in Pamporovo, a ski resort that attracted a lot of foreigners. We admired their colourful snowsuits and gloves. You could only buy these in Bulgaria in a few dollar stores, where they cost a fortune. I wasn’t greedy, but it was wry when I saw a clumsy foreigner in a flashy snowsuit.

When I was seventeen my parents allowed me to travel alone to my niece in Sofia. I phoned enquiries to ask about the departure times of the trains. The woman mumbled a few times at a rapid pace and hung up. I had only managed to write down the first time, an express train at six thirty in the morning. I didn’t like getting up early, but I had no choice. I was afraid that if I called back to enquire again she would shout at me.

My cousin Julia was a few years older than me, gorgeous and very shy. I left for Sofia with the aim of finding her a boyfriend, without asking myself where I would find one. I would have the most success in the disco of course, but it was not my style to pick up drunk men. In the moonlight, many men looked attractive, but you had better not wake up next to them in the morning.

There was snow on the Vitosha mountains, that could be reached by public transport from Julia’s apartment. I rented skis and went on a man hunt. Usually it was easy to find a date for someone, but this time it was more complicated. I had to arrange not one, but two dates, because my shy cousin would never go out without me and three’s a crowd.

After a while I saw two boys that fitted my criteria. They couldn’t ski very well. I followed them unobtrusively down the slope and when one of them fell I offered my help. I gave him some tips to improve his technique and he didn’t want to let me go. An hour later I told his friend that I had a gorgeous, but very shy cousin and that I wanted to arrange a blind date for her. He was keen and we arranged to go on a double date the same evening. Of course, I first had to ‘sell’ the blind date to Julia.

‘You did what?’ my cousin’s voice sounded both surprised and angry.

‘It’s just a date with no strings attached. If you don’t like him, then you can walk away. And I’ll come with you, I promise.’

Julia let it sink in. Her curiosity won and an hour later we went to get ready for the blind date. I could finally wear make-up without fear of my mother over-reacting. She felt that young girls should not wear make-up and that mother nature had given me enough good looks. I knew it was useless to argue with my mother. I always stopped at the first car to make myself up in front of the outside mirror, even if that mean bending my knees and putting my head on the car door. All my girlfriends used make-up and I didn’t want to be left behind. When I came home I would remove all the make-up by the front door, but sometimes my mother would find traces of make-up. She would be angry, but powerless. Grounding me wouldn’t make any difference. It’s actually quite sad how little influence mothers have on their teenage daughters. They can prohibit everything, but they can’t prevent it from happening.

My mother had no idea what an adventurous life I lead, that I drank alcohol from an early age and that even the combination of wine, rum and cognac didn’t bother my strong stomach. Until she caught me one time in a smoky bar. Her reaction was a mix of surprise and anger, but then multiplied. She pulled me outside by me ear. I was lucky I didn’t smoke, because my parents were avid anti-smokers. She believed it was hereditary, because no one in the family smoked. I didn’t see the heredity link. But I didn’t smoke, even though it was so trendy at school that you more or less had to smoke to belong to the in-crowd. Luckily the group of popular girls tolerated me as the only non-smoker, because I didn’t find it attractive. I thought cigarettes stank and I didn’t want to get yellow teeth.

My father was still worried that I couldn’t resist temptation and decided to do something about it. He offered me a cigarette. I looked at him surprised. Surely it was a joke?

‘You must be curious what a cigarette tastes like?’

‘I’m not sure I am. Some girls at school smoke, but I’ve never felt the urge to try one.’

‘This is your chance and you don’t even have to hide it from your parents,’ my father smiled.

‘But why are you doing this?’ I protested.

‘I know you’ll light up a cigarette sooner or later. I’m giving you the chance to find out that it’s not as nice as your friends claim.’

My lips gripped the cigarette like a vice and I took a draw. I nearly choked. My father beamed.

‘Try it again. Perhaps it went wrong the first time.’

‘No, I don’t want to.’

‘Come on. Then you’ll know for sure.’

I took another draw. It felt like it was coming out of my nose. I didn’t need any further proof. My father’s unorthodox strategy had worked: I never touched another cigarette. Luckily the group of popular girls continued to tolerate me, despite my abstention.

Julia was enamoured with the boy I had arranged for her bind date. The next few days they were inseparable. I almost thought I had done a good job as a matchmaker, but it turned out differently. At the end of the week Julia got into a fight with him and made an impulsive decision. She was going to marry someone else. I was completely surprised, because she hadn’t even told me that she had a boyfriend.

‘Do you know him well enough?’ I asked.

Julia nodded. ‘We’ve been dating for about six months. He’s really sweet and nearly as she as I am. A few days ago, he got down on his knees and proposed. I didn’t give him an answer straight away, because I wanted to get to know your ‘blind date’ better. But now I know who my true love is.

The more Julia told me about her fiancé the more I was shocked. My cousin was marrying a farmer! Her parents were furious. In their minds, they could already see their pretty daughter walking among the chickens and picking beans. I felt sorry for them, because I also thought she was making a mistake. When I met him, I already knew my prejudices were right. He had a ridiculously old-fashioned haircut and he wore brown trousers and a checked shirt, that could have belonged to my grandfather. As if that wasn’t enough, he was even more shy than Julia and only said a few words during the entire conversation.