Maria Genova - Communism, Sex and Lies

My sister and I slept in the car, which had been taken apart. Our parents found two old chairs in the work place, surrounded by dirt, grease, rusty bolts, worn tyres and unreliable looking spare parts. No one slept in this strange environment. When we reached the Black Sea the next day, we were all just as hot and bothered as the engine of our Russian car.

I was looking forward to a carefree holiday, but after waiting so long for a car, it seemed my father had forgotten what he had learned during his driving lessons. On the second day, it happened. He reversed in a narrow street and rammed into a metal trash can. There was no time recover from the shock, because when he tried to avoid the trash can on his second attempt, he rammed into the communist party building. The façade had no damage at all, but the bumper of our brand-new car lay on the ground and both headlights were broken. Luckily, we did not have to spend the night in the garage this time round.

A holiday at sea is a culture shock time and time again. The beaches were invaded by a colourful mixture of Western tourists without any morals: Swedish women with bare breasts, Dutch men with long hair, French with tattoos and German machos with earrings in both ears. We were amazed at all this immorality and were surprised that this was allowed in all these countries. On the other hand, we were jealous of their cars and clothes.

The Neckermann catalogue was passed from hand-to-hand in Bulgaria as proof of the existence of a world of pretty and strange fashion. The catalogue had become greasy and dirty from the hundreds of fingers that had turned the pages to discover clothes and appliances that we could only dream of. When a group of Germans told me that this thick book filled with desirable articles was distributed free-of-charge in the West, my mouth dropped open in surprise.

The same Germans claimed that there was a special vinegar store in the town we were staying in. I didn’t believe it, but they insisted and we finally went to visit it together. I already saw from the outside that they were wrong: it was a state-run store for groceries. Once inside most of the shelves were empty. Everything had gone, except the vinegar and the salespeople displayed that on as many shelves as possible.

I was ashamed of our party’s failing planned economy. The Germans beamed.

‘You see, you didn’t even know they had special stores for vinegar in your country.’

‘No, I didn’t know,’ was the only thing I could say.

Almost every day I walked past the fence of a holiday camp on the beach. Most of my friends spent their summers in camps in the mountains or at sea, which mostly cost nothing, because they were subsidised by the communist party. I was never allowed to go, because my parents were afraid that I would come into contact with sex, smoking and alcohol. I couldn’t suppress my jealousy: my peers were free to do what they wanted, while I had to do my parents’ bidding.

Of course, my perception of the holiday camps was strongly romanticised. My peers weren’t that free. They had to play a cat and mouse game if they wanted to escape the constant supervision of the comrades. They were woken early each day with the sounds of a fanfare and every day they had to raise the national flag and sing patriotic songs.

My parents at least let me do as I pleased during the day, as long as I stayed close. My two-year younger sister was told to keep an eye on me. Actually, I was the one keeping an eye on her because she thought every sweet boy was her true love. I never fell in love and if I did, I didn’t even dare to admit it to myself. A strong woman had to keep her feelings under control. That became more difficult when I met Bojan. I met him in a disco, where he unashamedly stared at me.

‘Can I help you?’ I asked

‘I wish!’ he replied.

It made me laugh. The ice was broken and it clicked sooner between us than it had ever between myself a stranger. I don’t know if things would have gone differently if he had said something else. I was so fed up with men coming up to me with stupid questions like: ‘Haven’t we met before?’ or otherwise with exaggerated compliments: ‘I think you’re the real reason behind global warming; you’re so hot’. The remark ‘I wish!’ was simple, charming and I hadn’t heard it before. Bojan was also so handsome that he earned a living as a model alongside his studies. He had a deep dimple in his chin and radiated endless energy. I was almost 18 years old and I had become fed up waiting for a knight in shining armour. Bojan was the perfect person to lose my virginity to, because he did not live in my town and if it didn’t work out, then we didn’t have to see each other again. After the holiday, I was bold and visited him in Sofia under the pretext that I wanted to visit my niece again. Bojan was delighted when he heard the news and rented a suite in one of the nicest hotels in the capital. When he closed the door behind me I felt my knees go weak. I was almost certain that it was going to happen and was mostly afraid of the unknown.

Bojan took a box of matches out of his pocket. ‘We’re going to play a game.’

He grabbed the box and ticked his index finger against the side. It tipped over and fell on the flat side. ‘The flat side means that I can ask you a question,’ he explained. ‘You have to give an honest answer. We’ll take turns. If it falls on the narrow side, then the other person has to carry out a request here and now.’ Bojan shoved the matchbox towards me. I ticked it and it fell on the flat side. A question.

‘How many girls have you slept with?’

‘About ten. Now it’s my turn. The flat side again. Do you enjoy your nipples being sucked?’

‘Only when it’s done tenderly. Now it’s my turn again. Flat side. What are your erogenous zones?’

‘You’ll have to find out for yourself.’

Now it was my turn. The narrow side, I was allowed to make a wish. That was harder than I thought. If I wished something erotic, then the game would probably end pretty quickly, and I was just starting to enjoy it. The box of matches gave you an insight into someone’s past, desires and secrets. I couldn’t think of a better wish thank asking Bojan to top up my wine glass.

‘Gosh, that’s original,’ Bojan sighed and topped up my glass. He ticked the box of matches and how he could also make a wish. His face was so close by that I could count the brown flecks in his green eyes. ‘Take off an item of clothing of your own choosing.’

I didn’t want to expose myself yet, even though the hotel room was sweltering hot. I could never figure out the system of district heating. All the hotels and apartments in the large cities were connected to large plants that heated up the water, but neither the hotel rooms nor the houses had their own thermostat. If you were too warm in the winter, you had to open the windows. Efficiency was not part of communism. Better hot than cold, the party leaders must have thought. The people didn’t care, because it didn’t affect their wallets. Not only were the prices of the most important groceries mostly symbolic, neither did water, heating or rent make a large dent in the family budget.

Every time I visited friends in apartments, I felt like I was visiting a sauna. I felt the same in this luxury hotel, but Bojan hadn’t deserved a striptease yet. Of course, I had to take something off, because he had made a wish. I wore black pantyhose underneath my skirt. I pulled my skirt up, pulled off the pantyhose and demonstratively pulled my skirt down again.

‘We’re not getting far, are we?’ I laughed happy at the thought that it could take a long time at this rate before I had taken all my clothes off. I hadn’t considered the fact that he could also have asked me to take all my clothes off at once. I grabbed the magic box. It fell on the flat side.