'The Hike' - Chapter Thirteen - Survival Mode


        A photo of the tiny bathroom of my tiny apartament... 

Chapter 13:


Night 9:

Sleeping alone in the middle of nowhere under the influence of some paranoid, stimulating drugs can seriously fuck you up. After I ate everything, smoked, drank a couple of beers, and took a shower, I was so ready to fall asleep on the soft beds. Still, sleeping alone in a room with 30 more beds around you brought some fears. Maybe it was just the drugs, or maybe all the movies and horror books that played with my imagination because I fell asleep watching the corners of the room, looking for something that wasn’t there.

A couple of times, I woke up, feeling the malignant presence of something in the room, only to open my eyes and realize it was just my imagination—at least, I hoped so. No one was in the big room, and no one wanted to harm me. Probably the wild animals in the forest feel the way I did every night when I had to sleep out alone or in a similar situation.

To be honest, I still have those fears. Darkness and being alone always give me the shits. Meanwhile, I still watch every horror movie to experience those emotions and provoke them. Last weekend, I turned 33, and I still feel fear. Four years ago, when I did this adventure, I felt those fears too. I feel like our primal emotions control our lives and are what ultimately connect us to the animal kingdom. Unfortunately, I can connect almost every decision back to some type of fear.

I closed my eyes one more time, and when I opened them, it was bright and shining.


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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