I believe in no prophets or superstitions beyond me. I only trust the call of my heart.

Vienna…

The very thought of getting in touch with this city is so intoxicating that hardly have I got off the bus after the tiring twenty-hour trip, I rush into Mariahilfer eagerly melting into the colorful flow of people. I’m alive and breathing…

I love to deeply breathe in this city. I can tell, even in my sleep, the whole palette of its smells. I know every square bathed in sunshine as well as every shadow. When I’m away I dream of walking winding paths, staying at unknown hotels, crossing bridges, gazing into rivers and every time I get to Vienna… I travel awake and asleep, dreams and reality become one. I’m alive. I can feel the power of the moment. I always sign the postcards I send from Vienna with “Neli, the traveler”. Let everyone interpret it the way they like. My journey to myself started here, in Vienna.

When I received the OEAD scholarship for the second time in order to continue my research for a dissertation, which gave me another chance to live in Vienna for five months, everybody was dumb-struck. They said it was a “miracle”. I didn’t, though. But how can other people read my mind? 

During the year I spent in Bulgaria between the two scholarships I never managed to return home. Meanwhile I travelled to Vienna four times. “What’s the matter?” asked my relatives looking worried, nervous and scared… I was called “immature”, “stuck with the crisis of the 30s”, “adventurous”, “irresponsible” and “dreamer”. I was told off for having changed and everybody desperately called on Providence to bring back the one who had already gone… “What’s wrong, lazy girl? Pull yourself together! You were taught to be tough, remember?” I was trying to convince myself at the beginning. Then it hit me: I didn’t want to be tough anymore. Vienna took off my armour and taught me to be the woman I am: bold and vulnerable, happy and violently sad, rebellious and meek. “Leave me alone,” I told them. “Stop bothering me. I’m taking a journey, can’t you see? A journey to myself”.

I walk the streets quietly taking in the rich history of the city; I melt into the city bustle and then suddenly change my direction. I can feel the rhythm of the place; I can feel its pulse. I smile. I smile for no real reason. I smile because I know my feeling is shared. What feeling? A mutual feeling of love: I love Vienna and Vienna loves me.

Vienna is my conscious choice to love.

I am free here and I see no borders. Damn, I’m going to fly over them a hundred times more like in that sad and dignified Bulgarian folklore song and I’m going to prove that there are no borders capable of shutting me off from the world. There are no borders that can’t be crossed. There’s only fear and weakness and spiritual idleness. Borders eat me away.

I like crossing borders. I’ve been doing it since I knew I could cope.

While walking I often slow down and stop and turn my face up to stare at the blazing sun. I keep staring until tears start down my cheeks. I love the sun in Vienna. Here I saw it the way I’d never seen it before: bright yellow and shining as if freshly bathed in the Danube. Clean and white like a beautiful Bulgarian fire dancer.

I’ve seen Vienna during the four seasons of the year. My thoughts swirled into the golden foliage of its autumn when I arrived in October and felt like jumping with joy. It felt as if I was the queen of autumn. Here I grabbed the first handful of snow last winter and the winter before. I was sitting behind the window of an Indian restaurant eagerly watching the snowflakes’ dance. “Swirl, dance, quicker, one more pirouette… And then a bow…” I breathed in the spring aroma of May last year when, setting off for the meeting of Goethe’s literary society in Weimar, I insisted on travelling to Vienna by bus and then taking a train to Weimar. “Where actually are you going?” – asked me my friends from Vienna, “I’m going to be crossing borders,” I answered back. I’m going to cover inch by inch until I get dead tired. I want to perceive them with every sense and wipe out the pain.

I leaf through my passport: … I’ve had 121 seals for the past two years. It’s hard and sometimes even humiliating to get to Vienna though I’ve heard people say that the Balkans start from here… Why wonder? I myself always say that this place feels like home to me. I found myself here. Here I feel I’m the master of my own life and this feeling fills me up.

Now I’m about to leave and the words struggle to come out. They get to the tip of my tongue and then roll back to the throat… They taste salty … My heart’s weeping…

I walk about the places I love to say goodbye. Vienna says goodbye, too. See you soon…          

Neli Peycheva

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