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Brits moving permanently to Bulgaria
It has been reported that many Brits are falling for Bulgaria 's charms with a growing number choosing to move there permanently. In recent years investment has been the main driving force behind the number of Brits buying property in the country but many have decided to buy and live outside the Sunny Beach area and a few miles inland as well as other village areas around the country.
There are a number of factors for those choosing to move but the low cost of living and the seemingly peaceful surrounds are the most likely reasons so many Brits are making the move. Many have also been able to rent out there properties back in the UK , and live very comfortably off the rental income in Bulgaria .
As more companies relocate to Bulgaria to take advantage of the low wages and to strategically place themselves for the countries' expected accession to the EU in 2007, many British employees are expected to relocate with their employers. Tourist areas have seen recent year-on-year growth of between 25% up to as much as 100% however those opting to live in to move permanently prefer to be based inland.
Many Brits are buying around the Veliko Turnovo region with home prices starting as low as GBP 10,000. There are still cheaper homes available however many will require additional funds to provide for renovations. The move is been made by both retirees who find they can make their pension stretch a lot further and younger people looking for new business opportunities and finding it difficult to get on the property ladder in the UK.
EU Final word on Bulgaria to be known soon
Oli Rehn, European Enlargement Commissioner is soon expected to present his report on Bulgaria Romania's accession to the EU in January 2007. It is generally believed that the planned memberships will go ahead however the accession treaty does contain a safeguard clause allowing membership to be postponed by one year if further reforms in each country are deemed necessary.
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Pubic hair shaving is done for many reasons. If you are a woman, it is done because you might want to feel sexier for yourself and for your partner. Pubic hair shaving might also be done for practical reasons. This holds true especially if you don't want any embarrassing moments when you have your bikini on!
Lets not count men out. These days more and more men have begun shaving their pubic hairs too. Maybe they want to make their penis look larger and more attractive. Some do it because they feel that it is only fair to return a clean cut penis for their partners to enjoy, just like their partners have been doing it all this time for them. What ever the reasons may be, whether you are a woman or a man, one thing is clear, pubic hair shaving has certainly become the norm!
Like anything in life, shaving pubic hairs has it's pros and cons too. Don't let the cons scare you. When precautions are taken, alot of the negative effects of shaving your pubic hairs can be avoided.
Pros of shaving your haven: Everything down there feels so much more sensitive, in a nice way. It is much easier to keep your playground clean and fresh! Sweaty and musky ordors are kept to a minimal. Can be quite entising for your partner.
Cons of shaving your haven: If you cut yourself it could get pretty bloody. Yuk, not nice. Painful too! When it grows back, it feels thicker. Don't worry, your pubic hairs will go back to normal again once they reach their original size. Shaving your pubic hairs the wrong way can lead to ingrown hairs. Believe me, you don't want this to happen. Can be quite painful. Men, if you have shaved around your penis and on your penis, the stubble can hurt your partner when you are having intercourse. Rub your hands on your face stubble and see what I mean.
I think that what makes a difference between a good shave and a bad shave lies in technique and the tools of the trade. Take the time to first do a little reading on the subject before you get trigger happy with your shaver.
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22 March, l968
As it turned out, Johnny would visit Jill’s room off and on during the following weeks. And that strange woman that left the Belmont’s room brought along another woman, and on occasion, he’d catch her on her way down the steps and invite her into his room, although she’d had preferred ‘Jill,’ so she said.
Tasma was not aware of most of this, but a little. Also, she had received at this time several letters from home by her parents, in particular her father, but she did not respond back. She was not certain what to say, she loved them, and Jill assured them she was fine, but it was too stressful for her to talk or write them. She did have a profound desire to please her father, and wishful thinking to please her mother, but it seemed she needed to learn how to please herself first, and to Jill, she did not blame them for anything, not anymore anyway. And had she started a communicational dialogue, they may have persuaded her to return, the one thing she did not want at this time.
—Jill was in the kitchen—the ironing board was pulled out from an inner-cabinet built into the wall, a wall-unite if you will, it was kept snugly in, in which there was a door attached to it; Jill was ironing Tommy and Johnny’s cloths, another lover circle had stared. Both were arranged in separate piles. Mrs. Belmont was sitting at the table talking seriously to her; it was most unusual thought Tasma, for seldom did she see Mrs. Belmont other than at the bar talking to Jill. As Tasma neared them to join them, the subject—whatever it was—changed, and what appeared on Mrs. Belmont’s face was an un-cheerful smile, not unusual, but quite sudden, and it was apparent. Consequently, feeling a little awkward she left the kitchen to work on her diary-novel (some poems), in the living room in her usual spot; in effect, she could overhear bits and pieces now of their conversation. It didn’t occur to her to get up and leave, rather the opposite; she actually pretended to be busy writing and was simply drawing a picture undiscernibly.
“It’s been going on for a while mom, I didn’t think it was, I mean it would end up like this.”
“Get rid of him, or all of them.”
“No, no, I don’t think Johnny will go so easy. He likes me, and thinks he can have me, and he has me of course.”
“What about Tommy?”
“I like him, I like him a lot, but that’s the problem, I don’t love him, I just like him.”
“He’s what you need though. He’s more anchored.”
[With scorn] “What the hell does anchored mean!” said Jill.
“Ok, ok, I could have used a better term, Tommy likes to work and go to school, he’ll be somebody someday.”
“Tommy doesn’t pay you a dime; Johnny does and Johnny works hard.”
“Yes, he works hard all right, hard at drinking, screwing you and god knows who else—smoking that weed.”
“So Tommy was screwing me and working.”
“You’re going to lose him to that cousin of yours if you don’t hang on to him.”
“Tasma,” she looked at Tasma reading, “you got to be kidding, she’s as naïve as a sparrow.”
“So you say: does a pineapple come from a pine tree?”
“No,” said Jill apprehensive, “now what does that mean?”
“She’s not the little girl she was three, four months ago, or is it five or more? She has a good shape, and pretty face, and if Tommy can’t see it, I can. And so can a lot of men at the bar. Anyhow, Tasma is not the issue, Johnny and Tommy are.”
(A long pause came, then with a cracking voice, and an almost whisper, she leaned over to her mother, and Tasma leaned over the arm of her chair): “I think I’m pregnant…”
“Ay caramba,” she said in a sigh that slurred all the way to Tasma’s ears, “…now what?”
“It’s Johnny’s, not Tommy’s, Tommy uses a rubber, and Johnny thinks it is not manly to do so.” It was momentarily hard for Jill to look her mother in the face; she was at this time, pacing the floor in a small circle as her mother followed her with her eyes.
“Listen Jill, Johnny’s drinking with all the gang members at the bar, and he’s gambling, it’s just a matter of time before he gets in trouble with them.” (Some of the gang members had motorcycles, others cars, it was somewhat an unofficial bunch of criminals, in that they were but twenty of them that hung out at a number of bars).
23 Shan’t be a Minute
Tasma found herself walking upstairs to her room, it was quieter in the kitchen, and figured, she had heard enough, a voice said, “Where are you going?” it was Jill, polite but to the point.
“Shan’t be a moment,” was her answer. She wanted to tuck away her diary-novel, she had written some exposing things in it. And so she tucked away, under her pillow, as if it was safe, and her place was off limits to others, which in presumption it seemed to be. For the most part, she did not want to leave it laying about for someone to pick up accidentally.
Life had seemed uncomplicated she thought, and now with Jill’s mother it seemed somewhat speculative, if not downright disjointed. It had now crossed her mind Tommy would find out the secret, the secret being Johnny’s behavior and her being pregnant, or so she said she was, and ‘I know about it,’ she felt as if she was a betrayer, be it to Jill or Tommy, or even Johnny. Down the stairway, into the living room she went. She looked outside through the bay-window and there was Mrs. Alice Whitehead getting into the car, she looked at Tasma, Tasma waved at her, she was a nice old lady, and it always seemed to her she had concern on her face for her.
As she turned around looking towards the kitchen she noticed Mrs. Belmont sorting out bills: ‘I suppose she’s done talking to Jill now,’ was her thinking.
“I talked to your mother a few days ago Tasma, she’s doing well and I told her likewise, you were doing well.” Tasma simply made a polite gesture, no verbal adjectives.
“I want to do something today, a surprise, come with me,” asked Tasma, for some odd reason something had popped into her head.
“What, may I ask, is on that devious mind of yours?” laughed Jill.
—Tasma and Jill were gone for several hours, and arrived back home at about 6:00 PM. Johnny and Tommy were sitting in the living room watching TV. As they both walked into the house, both the boys were somewhat taken back a bit at Tasma’s appearance—if not down right, star-struck. Her long reddish hair was cut to where it reached only the nape of her neck. And she was wearing more makeup than she had before, the result: she looked a little fresher and less school-girlish, than before. Thought Tommy, ‘…before she seemed more delicate and fragile..,’ as he glanced at the poise she displayed as she smiled and stood in the middle of the room awaiting the verdict of the two young throbbing hearts, the heart breakers themselves. Johnny noticed her slender bones, and her nicely shaped neck was more defined (front and back). Tommy for some reason noticed her neatly-set breasts, small as they were—just above her small waist they were a hand full no more. Yet her slyness somewhat removed, still left her with a harmless effect. Her nervousness was repressed for the most part.
Along with all that, with all the money she had saved up, she also purchased some bath salts, talcum powder and a small mirror, which she duplicated for Jill as a gift for allowing her to stay. She had spent her $100-dollars she had saved.
For some odd reason, Tasma had glanced back into the kitchen, expecting to see Mrs. Belmont, but of course was not surprised when she was not there, she usually would go to the bar around this time, either she had missed her, or she was in her room preparing to go. The boys looked at one another in jest, and laughed.
Said Johnny with his normal side joking way, “So now you’ve grown up, welcome to the real world kid, looks like you’re willing to join us.”
Tasma knew Johnny’s ways and knew that was better left alone.
“It makes you feel good,” commented Jill; meaning spending money on oneself for preservation purposes, or simply for a change in one’s life. But there was concern in Jill’s unseen eyes, in her cerebellum. She was no psychologist, like Skinner or Pavlov with his salivating dogs (who worked on association), but the boys were kind of salivating, restlessly slobbering might be a better way of putting it, if not downright uneasy, with this new Tasma look.
Everyone had gone to bed now, it was Jill’s turn to sit downstairs in the sofa-chair for once, wondering, thinking, not sure of her next move. ‘I just don’t get it,’ she asked herself, ‘why am I so attracted to Johnny, and going with Tommy? Tasma wouldn’t have the answer even if I asked her, nor mom, facts are facts, feelings are feelings, I don’t sense they are neither right or wrong, they just are. Johnny makes love as if he was a mad man and seems almost barbaric, and I think of him when I make love to Tommy—it’s just unthinkable. I wonder how Tommy’s new book will turn out. Can you love two people at once, at one time? A good question; I think I do, or maybe it is lust, how do I know, I’m just…(pause) will be nineteen in a month. Mom said: love is a choice. I say love is a feeling. I wonder what Tasma would say. I know Tommy feels love through his penis, like Johnny, all men do, kind of, sort of—most of the time; but Tommy is more willing to be dedicated, I think. I have learned men are attracted by looking, but I like touch.’
On her way to her bedroom, she stopped at Tasma’s room, knocked lightly, “Can I come in just for a moment?” she asked.
“Why sure you can,” answered Tasma with a thoughtful voice.
“I had a great day with you today, and thanks again for the things you bought me (this was a good lead-in she thought to bait her for a question to be soon asked), but I have a question, somehow I think you’re going to oversimplify the answer but I’ll ask it anyhow. How do you know if you’re in love with a person?”
Surprisingly, Tasma answered Jill with foreknowledge, “You mean you are having a hard time trying to figure who you want, Tommy or Johnny?”
(A tight look went over Jill’s face.) “Yes, yes, that is where I’m coming from; I didn’t know it was so obvious.”
“It’s becoming obvious Jill, it was the first day Johnny came through the door, and it has progressively taken a greater shape to it. But in regards to your answer, I’ve never been in love so I might be the wrong person to ask, but I do know this, as simple as it may be: if I wanted to go out with Johnny, I couldn’t be in love with Tommy—that much. I mean, I’d think whoever you were in love with—you’d not want to go out with anyone else; you’d kind of want to stop shopping around for another person, or so I believe. If I was to get married, I’d not want to go out with anyone else: and if I did, I’d know that I was not ready for marriage, to him or anyone, if that makes any sense.”
But to Jill it made all the sense in the world. She was sleeping with Tommy at night, and wanted to be with Johnny.
“What do you think I should do?” asked Jill.
“I think you already know; I don’t think I need to say anymore. My heart is with you, no matter what the outcome is.” Then Tasma hugged her tightly.
24 Reset
As the next two weeks passed a kind of silence took over the house, people talked less to one another, I suppose you could say, Jill was the life of the house, and now she was deep in thought. Everyone tried to keep busy and pretend things were normal, but they of course knew they were not. The Belmont’s kept their normal schedule, and the pretense lingered.
Tasma had finished up with Tommy’s book on San Francisco, and had explained to him how she liked the ending of ‘Bustling,’ by his fake name Colleen Grant; she commented to Tommy: “The younger woman fell in love with the older man, but she had psychological issues, and she was too fragile for him to care for her emotional illness, and he was too sick biologically for her to care for him. It was a sad ending I thought, but had they married: love would not have been enough, as they wished, they’d both had ruined the life of the other. Yet they remained friends as they parted, matter of fact they remained friends until he died at the age of eighty-years old, and her, at eighty-two.” She then read a poem she was working on for him: “I haven’t put it in my book or diary yet, but here it is I’ll read it to you from the paper (Tommy sat inquisitively on the edge of her bed):
The Maiden from Seattle
When she walked into the light The door to life, grew black as
Night, And her earth began to swell
(This youthful beauty of Seattle);
At first glance— Fell this youth from high Aching to touch the morning sky.
Who dare take this maiden’s hand? To help her though this silent land! Ah! From hair, to heart, to breast:
Like faded flowers in the ground Fleshless alms, could not be found, And so she remains—bound!
Said Tommy in surprise, “I like it, I think a little or maybe a lot of you is in the poem; I think you’re going to be a Mrs. Plath, or Dickinson some day.”
—The following day Tommy had come into Tasma’s room unexpectantly, “Are you still writing your story?” he asked.
She looked at Tommy, “Just some poems, and dairy notes, really haven’t gotten into the plot or theme of anything in particular yet; not sure how to get it going.”
“Let me see, maybe I can help you” he said. Yet Tasma was still bewildered of his rudeness to just kind of enter at will; she liked him and didn’t want to scare him away, on the other hand, she was not going to join any love-circle.
She leaped quickly to her pillow, then it dawned on her, she had much information in it about Johnny, Jill, Tommy and, none other but the: The Lady in Black, as she referred to her in the diary. But had she not jumped, she thought afterwards, had she not jumped she’d had not given away her hiding place, although it was no vault for sure—I mean, a mouse could have found it had it looked for it.
“I, I have too many personal things in it, private things, I’d rather you not see,” said Tasma as she currently held the book in the middle of her chest; as she got off the bed with her one knee, fully turning about now, she tripped on her shoe and the book fell, Tommy quickly grabbed it and opened it. Tasma saw him reading it, and needed to do something quick, she grabbed it out of his hands and jumped on the bed, her dress flying above her waist showing her underwear and all.
Somehow Tommy found the child in him, and jumped on her bed trying to grab the diary from her as they rolled around in the bed; now Tommy hovering over her, his legs between hers.
“What are you two up to?” questioned a voice in the background, it was Jill: she had heard the ruckus.
“My fault, I was trying to get her diary from her, I started to read something quite interesting,” he looked at Jill halfheartedly. Had he gone back any farther, thought Tasma: The Lady in Black was there.
Jill looked at Tasma in an indefatigably way, “I see I wasn’t invited to the party—”and slipped off to her bedroom where she just looked out the window aimlessly. In a way it didn’t bother her about what she’d seen, but on the other hand, she was jealous. When Tommy left the bedroom to join Jill he didn’t know whose child it was; he had only read up to ‘I overheard her say to her mother she was pregnant today by….” He could not ask Tasma to betray Jill, it would be too much to ask, if anything, Jill might be betraying him, it was indicative of her.
—In the following days, Tasma noticed Tommy and Jill fought quite a lot; and Tommy was not a person to be irritated easily, it must be that she was leading Tommy to believe it could be his child, Tasma thought. Then one evening she noticed Tommy sleeping on the coach, and Johnny still remaining in his bedroom.
During this interval, Johnny entertained himself in his bedroom, hoping Tommy and Jill would sort things out—thus he remained in kind of a queue, waiting for Jill’s signal to return, somehow he had come to that conclusion she would. He found himself pacing the floor at night, saying, ‘I wish, whatsitsname, would…’ and never ended the sentence.
—I must make this awkward at this point, his mind broke off the subject of Jill and Tommy after the first week, his insides became external. He looked at himself, pretending he was not feeling this serge; he had not guessed at this until it engulfed him, there was stern on his face—and, toil in his hand. A cold shower might work he thought, but it was too far away. He felt he was on a fast run; he hardened his body like a weightlifter, a boxer ready to take a punch.
This lasted two weeks, finally an agreement came about, Jill would sleep with Johnny, and Tommy would sleep in Johnny’s room, and in due time Tommy would have to leave, approximately in a few months, considering once she started to show it would only provoke issues within the household, or so she felt. The real problem was that Johnny did not have the heart to tell Jill he liked the way things were, and he really liked Lorie to a higher degree. He wanted his sex, but could find it elsewhere if need be, now he’d have to resort to living in her bedroom, and his alone time would be altered. In addition, Lorie was somewhat out of the picture for he had not seen her in weeks as he waited for this all to settle, but he’d see her again is what he was planning. Again, everything seemed in the air now. But to resist the plan would be too premature at the moment he deliberated out.
In spite of the tension, things appeared to move about on a regular base for a few more weeks. However, Johnny was starting to hang out with the gang more often now, with their motorcycles, and customized old cars. He was doing a lot more drinking and gambling with the gang members. They had even stopped on a few occasions at Jill’s house looking for Johnny, taking pains to find him, going out of their way it would seem. It came to her attention; Johnny owed them money, how much it wasn’t said (but it was close to $6,000-dollars). They’d not go to his work; it was one thing the groups forbid: that being, to endanger a man’s livelihood was not being a man at all. They could do almost anything else, even kill you, but not jeopardize your job: that was considered a low blow.
Out of nervousness, Tasma started to keep her distance from the group at the bar, if she could, she would have vanished into thin air.
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The caves at Trois Freres in France hold some fascinating images. This is a brief discussion around those paintings. What was their significance?
Cave paintings hold a powerful fascination. They are one of our most direct ways of touching our ancestors. Those men and women who lived by primitive means would have been more aware of the world around them than we are. The nature of their lives would have caused them to be more in touch with seasons and the patterns of life. Life and death depended upon their knowledge of food supplies and seasonal variations Was this the reason for the cave paintings?
Deep into the Trois Freres ( Three Brothers ) Caves in France the visitor can see vague ancient images of figures and animals. One of these figures in particular has attracted international attention. Many believe it to be one of the first depictions of a shaman.
When I first saw the images from these caves in France I was stunned by their graphic nature. The pictures of cattle and other beasts that surround the central figure high up on the cave roof are vague now but skilfully drawn.
The central figure is about 2 and ½ feet or 70 cm tall. His appearance is strange, part animal part human. On his head are deer's antlers, probably reindeer, his mask has owl eyes below this there appears to be a long beard. His hands are hidden inside lion or bear paws. The back is shaped like that of an animal, is he wearing an animal sin? The tail is that of a fox covering his erect penis.
My copy of the Animal Master is at www.mask-and-more-masks.com/The-Shaman-of-Trois-Freres.html
Around this figure there are many comments and speculations as to its true nature. It is general accepted that he is a figure in a mask and animal disguise. That he has some spiritual / magical significance to the animals surrounding him makes sense. It is also widely thought that he is a shaman.
Below the shaman there is a plethora of animals drawn over the top of each other. Almost like a sketch pad. I know at times I draw in this manner. I try forms and shapes sometimes they flow from the pencil at other times it seems much harder to achieve the effect that I want. As I scribble the page becomes full of overlapping images too busy to cope with. Ideas and notation. A place to be returned to in the future for a captured image to be reworked.
But that's me and perhaps many other modern day artists. What of the artist in the dark of those caves? These images created, was it 14,000 years ago, or longer? Who really knows?
Can we assume that these artist of the paleolithic period were not of the same mind set as now? Art for us is a process of recording, expression, a reflection of our inner nature and sometimes of the divine. What were these artist expressing or communicating?
Lets accept one thing before I continue in this vein. It would seem that some natural talent was used by the artist in these times as the quality of painting and use of line shows to us. Often the figures were enhanced by colour sprayed through a tube, the paint blown from the mouth. Were these artists part of the magical process or were they paid in some way? Did they come from within the tribe or from elsewhere? Was it the Shaman who created the art for his own rituals?
Most of these questions are impossible to answer. What is possible is to use the knowledge that we have of tribal peoples and their traditions.
The shaman or healer or priest / holy man / woman is a figure still in existence today in some cultures. In fact the shamanic knowledge is being handed on to certain members of Western cultures. Shamanic practices have been well documented by anthropologists over the last 150 years.
The shamanic practices through out the world have several features in common. The shaman is a link to the spirit world. By going into a trance the shaman enters the other world and communicates with the spirits of animals or ancestors. These spirit guides help the shaman to resolve problems for individuals or whole groups. The spirit world is divided into three sections
Middle Earth where we live
The Underworld land of spirits and the dead
The Upperworld the place of Gods and Guardians
To reach a state of trance the shaman has several methods, dance, meditation and drugs being the main ones. When he enters the other world the shaman seeks his spirit guide to help him resolve his quest.
In these early times as in more recent recorded events the shaman would communicate with the spirits of the animals who, would be or had been killed. Keeping a balance to the order of nature was necessary. At times of shortage he would communicate with the spirits to help him bring food to his people. At times of drought he would sing for rain.
This still does not answer the question as to why these pictures are there hidden deep in a dark cave away from prying eyes. As the shaman enters trance he begins the journey into the underworld the cave could well represent that journey. The pictures on the walls are the images seen on the journey. This could simply be a way of recording a spirit journey. A way to hold the images. It could even be used as a teaching device for new initiates. Perhaps this is why there so many overlapping animals.
Can you imagine the impact of such paintings on the uninitiated visiting the cave. In the dim light the images would have been clearer and brighter than today. The shaman could well have been dressed as the picture. The drum would be beating. Incense could well be burning. Certainly a great setting in which to induce hallucinatory experiences, or if you prefer, induce the beginning of a journey into the spirit world.
There are many other depictions of what have been called Animal Masters in caves around Europe and Asia. They link with the antlered and horned figures of Nordic mythology and Pan in Greek mythology. Whatever the true explaination is you can allow your imagination to run over the possibilities and no doubt add to my speculation.
Biblography
Van James Spirit and Art: Paleo-shamanic Iconography See www.theosophical.org/questmagazine/janfeb04/james
George Frazer The golden Bough
Nevill Drury The Shaman and The Magician
Michael Harner The Way of the Shaman
©Ian Bracegirdle 2005 http://www.mask-and-more-masks.com
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