Bulgaria - Pernik’s “Surva”
Masquerade Festival Written by Betsy Potash
Photographed by Betsy Potash and Linda Alexandriyska
You know about Mardi Gras in New Orleans, Carnival in Venice,
and maybe even the Edinburgh Fringe Festival. You’ve joined
throngs at film showcases, sculpted snow at winter fests, and
tasted it all at culinary fairs. What’s left for you? Where
can you still find a celebration relatively untrammeled by tourism?
In Pernik, Bulgaria, where about 5,000 dancers gather every January.
Since 1966, performers – known as Survakari and Kukeri
- have taken to Pernik’s streets each winter sporting bright
headdresses and costumes. The dancers welcome the New Year and
bless it with their presence and their movement. As they dance,
they ring giant cowbells to scare away the bad spirits of the
old year, awaken nature from its winter sleep, and induce a strong
harvest. On Saturday night troupes dance along the main road,
carrying over-sized masks decked with thousands of feathers, finally
arriving in the main square where they perform a prepared group
routine as part of an overall contest. On Sunday the parades continue,
the judging finished.
You can easily join the throng of mainly Bulgarian spectators
to watch the parade. Fly into Sofia and find your way to Pernik
just 30 kilometers from the city, and soon you’ll be munching
sticky cotton candy and hot crinkled sausages, sporting glow-in-the-dark
horns or a spiky multi-colored fluorescent wig like everyone else.
The crowds fill every pore of the town plaza, balancing on piles
of snow-ice, climbing rocks for a better view, and melting together
along the edges of the street.
Whether viewed from the precarious top of a pile of snow-ice
or over a child's fluffy winter hat, the festival is quite a spectacle
for the senses. It's like a combination of a Halloween carnival,
a fraternity party, a circus, and a bell choir concert. Children
sit on their parents’ shoulders or weave through the packed
audience to the front. Friends gather under makeshift tents to
barbecue and have a drink, enjoying the moment. As dusk falls,
strings of blue and white lights snap on overhead, as the sounds
of thousands of bells – in a range of sizes and tones –
continue to echo through the town. Camera flashes sparkle through
the night.
Perhaps the most surprising thing about the festival is its relative
anonymity. Large signs show the way from the highway into the
old square, but traffic is nonexistent. Until I was almost nose-to-nose
with a giant ringing dancing masquerader, I could hardly tell
there was anything going on in Pernik, and I didn’t hear
a single conversation in English except for my own.
To see more of the festival take a look at their website.
Betsy Potash
lives and works in Sofia, Bulgaria. When not writing or teaching
literature at The American College of Sofia, she currently
spends her time learning to cook with Bulgarian ingredients
and testing out every major European airline with her husband,
Brett.
