'The Hike' - Chapter Thirteen - Survival Mode
Chapter 13:
Night 9:
Day 10:
Ideally, hikers who want to finish this adventure get up around 5 or 6 and start moving by 7. Me, on the other hand—although I survived a lot—I had no rushed business and could take my time with everything. I quit my job, or should I say I had no choice but to quit it. The damn pandemic made my boss think I could survive in the Bulgarian economy with half my salary for twice the work. And just before the pandemic, there were talks about my promotion, for which I worked like crazy. I felt betrayed and hurt that the firm could get rid of me so easily after all the nerves I spent trying to meet the never-ending deadlines, which were getting shorter and shorter to fight the competition and attract customers, regardless of the dip in quality. Have you heard about the triangle of Cost, Time, and Quality? And on top of that, what absolutely killed my motivation and respect for those bastards was realizing how little they paid me compared to how much others around me were making. I was stupid. I still am. I’m usually a team player, but when it’s time to go, it’s time to go. The stupidity of me didn’t want to survive two more months in that risky condition, so I did it my way—more riskily. If I had only stayed two more months, I would have been entitled to full unemployment benefits, which were nothing but decent—considering you don’t work and are looking for a job. Meanwhile, I screwed myself and didn’t find anyone to hire me for two months, which led to the minimum benefits—170 BGN (about 85 euros) per month.
I couldn’t stay in Bulgaria anymore after that fatal kick in the nuts. I left my tiny, ugly-ass Barbie house apartment to be rented out for double what I was paying, which was completely insane. I mean, yeah, it was near the subway station, but it was something to be ashamed of when inviting people over. You should have seen this tiny apartment—it was made from two attic rooms in a huge 13-floor building, turned into an almost exact replica of a dollhouse with these hideous tiny pieces of furniture. I mean, what the hell was I thinking renting that hole? Back then, when I needed a place, I really saw the charm in it, and I moved in with almost no money, living on the cheapest products until I got on my feet.
Survival mode in the city is much more dehumanizing than survival mode in the mountains. But after the pandemic months, losing my job, and the guy who visited my small apartment deciding to ghost me because I wanted too much from him and had become this whining shadow of a person who just wants and wants and gives nothing... and then my grandma’s death—who, despite all her problems, has my love forever—I knew a change was coming.
It was 8 when I woke up, lit a cigarette outside, ordered some breakfast, and made another fat line disappear into my nose before my first coffee arrived. With the amount of drugs and my addiction, I was visiting the toilets of those huts twice as much as people with diarrhea. Sometimes, when I found myself alone on a whole floor of the house, I consumed my demons on the spot. I needed the energy, and I didn’t know a healthier way to get it, although there are many—and they’re okay.
I ate, had my coffee, and destroyed five rolled-up cigarettes before I went to collect my stuff again. This process was very demotivating. In the morning the whole bag looked like it was neither getting smaller nor easier to move, so every day, I had to restart and rearrange the whole thing to make it bearable. After I did that, I said goodbye to the lovely family that was taking care of the hut. The father was pretty tasty—he looked big and dirty and...
I thanked them and went on my way. Back into the forest, where I found shade yesterday, and then onto the dusty road under the sun for an hour, heading toward the next forest on my way to Echo Hut.
Iliya Badev
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