==BULGARIA==

It was still early spring. I could feel how it was coming to embrace the land, and entice and infatuate it in the magic of love. The spring would conceive new life; the land would give birth to it. And I was stuck here, a whole five hundred kilometers away from the girl that I loved. I couldn't believe that I had peregrinated this far, in order to realize it.
And here I am, hitch-hiking on a road near the sea, sitting on a big black stone waiting to pick a lift. I really wanted desperately to go back to her and kiss her. But I grew more and more angry because I had spent a whole four hours lifting my finger, trying to thumb my way, but none of the drivers wanted to stop his car and take me. I didn't know what was wrong with them, but there are some days when everything goes wrong. I even did some of my most powerful magic for catching ears (every hitchhiker has his own, and they are secret), but none worked. The cars were coming and going: some with monotonous, inevitable movement, unwilling to give me a ride; others were darting in a wild and frenetic race past me, dashing in a dazzling speed to the horizon.
Soon, I realized that my situation was getting more serious, when I noticed that night was setting in. I saw that the dusk and the crepuscule were getting darker. I went to my rucksack, took out a sandwich and then went back and sat on the stone.
I was in the middle of nowhere. Behind me was the sea, ravenously biting the shore. In front was the white line of the road and across it, stretched the endless, innu- merable rows of the vineyards. Above was the dark sky and in my heart was beating my love.
So, I was there sitting on the stone, eating my sandwich, tired from the waiting and angry at the drivers. Above all, I felt the first heavy drops of a spring rain. But this rain was not an unexpected sudden outpouring when the water spouts and gushes from everywhere; when there are gales and thunders; when the skies open their repositories of water and engulf the world beneath and chutes of water are falling from the empyrean as if it was not a rain, but a real deluge. No, this was not this kind of rain. The rain that began was calm and steady. The sky grew gray and sullen. A vague, sickly light like yellow tinfoil was slanting through the veil of the clouds. The day was dying slowly, while I was sitting there by this one-horse-road lost and desperate, and the rain made my situation even more miserable. I was scuppered.
Suddenly, I heard a strange sound, something like the jingling of tinklers. I turned in the direction where the sound came from and saw a gypsy caravan advancing. I could- n't believe my eyes. It appeared like a magic vehicle from the fairy tales, coming from another world and a different time. I still couldn't believe my eyes when it stopped in front of me. The cart was driven by an old gypsy in shabby, worn-out clothes, with countless patches on them.
"Hello you madcap, are you goin' to join us, or you prefer to stay here on da stone?"
Since this was the best proposal for the day, I didn't ruminate over it a lot; simply took my rucksack and jumped beside the gypsy. And we went on.
We remained silent for a while, but then the talk slowly started to ripple and soon merged with the dropping of the rain. He acquainted me with his wife and his six chil- dren. His name was Osman, or Uncle Osman as I called him. He told me that he had three more children, but that they were all married and were away. The cart was a small one, and soon I realized that there was hardly enough on it for the eight of them. That's why I asked him why he had invited me.
"Because you are like us," he said, " because of this adventurous spirit, that lights your eyes. I like to help. We must love our folks. Do you know what the man is - a small cloud. The wind of life throws him wherever it likes. Alone, the small cloud cannot resist the wind. But one day this cloud meets another, as I had met my wife. These two clouds conflate together, fuse and become one. Together they form a bigger cloud that could resist some of the strongest and most severe winds. With my wife, we have added nine more clouds, our children, and now we can stand through and resist gales and tempests. And if you ask what is this thing that binds us and makes us stay together, I'll tell you - it is love."
I was surprised by what Uncle Osman said. We continued to talk. His wife gave us two tumblers of rakia. It was a good one. We drank it off at a draught and the conversa- tion floated even more smoothly than before. The rain was pelting on the canopy. We were talking and talking, while the night was advancing. The sea was a distant participant in our conversation.
But I still thought of Uncle Osman's words on love. They really amazed me with their simplicity and universality. I was sorry that I hadn't heard them before, when I still held in my arms the beautiful sylph, that scared me with her pure love. If I knew them then I wouldn't have had run away this far in order to realize that it is not bad to feel love, to be in love, to want to give love.
The wind had cleared the sky. Stars shone bright in the black well of the night. Fresh air gently combed my hair.

The distant silhouette of a cart was moving under the full orb of the moon, carry- ing Wisdom and Love under its canopy.