“Drinking beer and eating meatballs is not culture”

Before going on this trip we were asked to pack a suitcase. The first thing we put on the packing list was an open mind. That is what I have been trying to use these past few days. I know what it is like to enter into a situation with preconceived notions of what it all means. I used to interview artists for a blog, and in listening to my interviews again (which I very professionally carried out and saved on my smashed and battered little smartphone) I could hear the compact art theory erupting from my mouth. It made entertaining listening, but upon reflection I was aware of my profound lack of interview etiquette. I interrupted the artists with the hyper-intellectual gargon that had been drilled into me from my art market class. I may have generated a very poignant discussion, but the pretentiousness of it all makes me cringe. I should have taken a step back, and let the artist tell their story. I hope I have learned my lesson. My modus operandi for Plovdiv 2019 is to take a step back – to let things come to me. Without digging for it, without forcing the words from people’s mouths, I have already come across some true gems. This blog post will describe some of what I think are the most striking statements made by the people we have met so far.  

1. 1.  “Never underestimate the joy in a complaint” - Niko 

Thisstatement has become somewhat of an inside joke within our group. So acclimatized to the wind and rain of Amsterdam, we’re not used to the humidity and heat here in Plovdiv. We complain about sweating, and then turn to each other with a cheeky grin, lifting our finger in feigned wisdom: “Ah, but never underestimate the joy in a complaint”. We may chuckle about it, but Niko’s words have a meaning beyond the humour extracted from them. What Niko was referring to was the freedom that lies behind the ability to complain. Bulgaria’s Communist past is one similar to its surrounding post-Soviet states- a past marked by the meticulous scrutiny and control enforced by a system that forced complacency. The act of complaining in modern Bulgaria is testament to the freedom of speech and self-expression that, despite the many difficulties, is enjoyed today. 

2. 2. “Every night is party night in Bulgaria. It distracts us from the shit situation.” - Paco (Pronounced Pazzo) 

We met Paco at our hostel on our first night in Plovdiv. He was doing his first shift, and instantly struck up a conversation with us as we came in giggling. I was feeling sleepy from a long day of travel, and so zoned out momentarily, but when my mind arrived back to the present, Paco was already showing the group photos of his back and bathing in nostalgia of his weightlifting past. He was excited to meet us, and invited us out to a bar that same night. We were exhausted, and so we declined, yet we made promises to go out another night. We asked him what nights were the best party nights here in Plovdiv, to which he responded: “Every night is party night in Bulgaria”. We laughed, but he followed the statement with a more sinister tone. He explained that dancing, specifically to Chalga music, was what most young people did to escape from the everyday stresses, anxieties, and general “shittiness” of everyday life. He did not elaborate on the exact nature of these anxieties, yet from what I take from our prior AUC discussions, I believe it to be a product of the high youth unemployment and lack of opportunities for younger, poorer communities. Nightlife therefore seems to be a type of coping mechanism, a form of escapism and retreat from an uncertain future. 

3. 3. “Why are you here? There is nothing to do apart from walking up that hill” - Roma school girl 

Walking past the craft school during our tour with Nikola Venkov we encountered a cluster of smoking school children. It was a dynamic that I recognized from my own high school, and one that is no doubt universally shared. The cool kids smoke. Heavily made up girls wearing clothes that leave little to the imagination walked arm in arm with one another, laughing and dancing to the tinny sound of lewd Spanish reggaeton coming from their phones. Our comparatively modest summer atire made us stand out, and the school kids instantly recognized us as tourists. One girl had a fierce confidence to her, and called out to us in English, seemingly excited to show off her language skills in front of her friends. This girl was the quintessential stereotype of a bored teenager, her skin already covered in tattoos. She was the obvious leader of her group. There was a genuine curiosity to her questions however, and her friends all gathered round to listen to our unfolding conversation. We stood on opposite sides of the street, our position of passive listeners instantly interrupted as we were thrust into a direct interaction. She was surprised that Plovdiv was a city young people would come to. “There’s nothing to do here”, she made a gesture towards the hills behind her, “Apart from going up that hill”. When we told her about the ECoC she mentioned a Coca Cola concert taking place this Friday, and asked us if we were going. We hadn’t heard about the concert, yet it was apparent that it was perhaps the only event from the program that had reached and attracted these teenagers. Our dean asked the girl whether she felt like the ECoC was meant for them. I can’t remember her exact response, but it implied that her and her friends did not feel fully engaged or pulled towards the program. I could speculate that her lack of inclusion highlights a class, age, as well as racial divide. Nikola told us that her school is regarded as a lower level institution meant for students without academic ambitions and primarily of minority Roma and Turkish ethnicity. Was the girl’s exclusion from Plovdiv’19 a result of her education, young age, or minority status? I will keep this question in mind as I continue to explore the cultural agenda. 

1. 4. “Culture is not entertainment. It is an intellectual challenge” - Svetlana Kuyumdhieva 

So the past statements hold insights into the Bulgarian every day. They are statements that hold anthropological worth. The youths we have come across so far have shown a keen enthusiasm for nightlife, music, and celebration. Perhaps this particular enthusiasm is part of an ice-breaking mechanism that is universal in nature. Young people overcome differences through an assumed love of music, dancing, and letting go, all made easier through alcohol. This particular version of having a good time is shared in most modern cultures.  

Svetlana, Plovdiv 2019’s artistic director, is adamant to change this however, and this is where the concept of culture shows its various interpretations. To the anthropologist, culture refers to the everyday, to all that is accumulated within a distinct way of living. Yet for Svetlana, culture is more than that. “It is an intellectual challenge”. Of course, this divide in opinion between the Plovdivian inhabitants on what is and what isn’t culture carries ist own anthropological worth, as the diverse attitudes highlight the age, class, and ethnic divides within this society.  

 Culture can therefore be seen both as an umbrella term for everything happening within a particular society, as well as a specific type of engagement within it. Svetlana has an idea of culture that runs parallel to John Stuart Mill’s description of higher pleasures, where the higher pleasures differ from lower pleasures in their difficulty, delayed gratification and preparation. Svetlana sees culture as a challenge, as something one obtains through patience and dilligence. “Drinking beer and eating meatballs is not culture” is another quirky and memorable quote that sums up her attitudes towards the conventional interpretation of culture, and unmasks her own hierarchical perception of the term. With this definition, however, and within the context of the financial and racial inequality within Bulgarian society, I wonder how inclusive Svetlana and the rest of the Plovdiv’19 team intend this year to be.