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The time comes for goodbyes

Aug 02 2001 15:00 CET by Guest Columnist Victor Janoff 1 comment

The "cousin delegations" started arriving at my Sofia apartment a few weeks ago. My father's second cousin Lydia, a chemist in Sofia, read an article about me in Trud and came for tea with her nephew Mihail.

The time comes for goodbyes

Aug 02 2001 15:00 CET by Guest Columnist Victor Janoff

The "cousin delegations" started arriving at my Sofia apartment a few weeks ago. My father's second cousin Lydia, a chemist in Sofia, read an article about me in Trud and came for tea with her nephew Mihail.

A tearful reunion of sorts

Jul 26 2001 15:00 CET by Guest Columnist Victor Janoff

Last month, I grabbed the chance to stay in Lom with my friend Nicky and his family, who adopted me as their Canadian son for the weekend. I was looking for the house of my grandmother, who was sent to Canada to marry my Bulgarian grandfather in 1925. But I had no idea I would also end up in my grandfather's village that same weekend.

A supernatural homecoming

Jul 19 2001 15:00 CET by Victor Janoff

Now the adventure begins, I thought, as our train to Lom pulled out of Sofia's Central Station. Nicky, a friend who works as a translator, was going home to vote and had invited me to stay with his family. I came in search of my Bulgarian relatives twenty years after the last member of the Canadian branch had come to visit.

A supernatural homecoming

Jul 19 2001 15:00 CET by Victor Janoff

Now the adventure begins, I thought, as our train to Lom pulled out of Sofia's Central Station. Nicky, a friend who works as a translator, was going home to vote and had invited me to stay with his family. I came in search of my Bulgarian relatives twenty years after the last member of the Canadian branch had come to visit.

Beginning the voyage home

Jul 12 2001 15:00 CET by Guest Columnist Victor Janoff

The rain pelted down on Rakovski Street, as I jumped out of the cab and ducked into Don Tomato - the only restaurant that I knew had an English menu. I had been in Sofia a few days working as a consultant for a Canadian Non Governmental Organization, and my previous attempts to order in Bulgarian had failed miserably.

Beginning the voyage home

Jul 12 2001 15:00 CET by Guest Columnist Victor Janoff

The rain pelted down on Rakovski Street, as I jumped out of the cab and ducked into Don Tomato - the only restaurant that I knew had an English menu. I had been in Sofia a few days working as a consultant for a Canadian Non Governmental Organization, and my previous attempts to order in Bulgarian had failed miserably.

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