"... And thank you Mr. Roboto for helping me escape when I needed to." — Dennis DeYoung, 1983 On August 29, 2012, I've proudly celebrated three years residing in The Republic of Bulgaria. After 1,095 days, I've obtained a vast amount of knowledge and experience from living in a former Eastern Bloc. Unfortunately, I've only managed to soak up enough Bulgarian to get me around town. However, I'm no longer dazed and confused when a Bulgarian gives me that iconic head shaking 'no' gesture, which really means 'yes.' I've also found ways of avoiding stray dogs when running and I no longer over-tip the waiters — unless I'm eating at Happy bar and grill. There's also been some general positive change in Bulgarian culture — particularly in Sofia. Next to firmly sticking to the smoking ban in bars and restaurants, cars now stop at crosswalks, folks pick up after their dogs, and I've gotten more than a few cool cabbies not looking to rip me off. In the fashion world, women are no longer wearing 6 inch pumps to do their grocery shopping and sweatpants seem to be a dying breed amongst men. On the other hand, I still sadly see quite a few bus operators driving while talking on a cell phone or, in a worst case scenario, scarfing down a plate of lunch.
Like it or not, I'm still a celebrity on the streets and probably always will be. But during the days when I don't want the extra attention, instead of staying home, I've developed a tough skin — or what I like to call my robotic armor — which helps shield away the frustrations. However, suppressing my usual North American desires and delights, such as riding my Bad Boy, eating Ledo's pizza and munching on Little Debbie Snack cakes during movies has been tough, but being able to easily travel throughout Europe and eat Bulgarian mekitsa and honey, whenever I want, has been a most worthy substitute. On that note, in this final episode of 2012, to help celebrate three years in the Sunflower Capital, next to witnessing the rise of a popular traditional North American pastime and a foot stomping concert from one of the world's most well-known dancers, I finally experienced a few common aspects of the country that I've been neglecting, such as a performance from a local Bulgarian indie rock band, a tour through Sofia's most iconic cemetery, and a visit to an amusement park and zoo where I nearly got eaten by a giant reptile. Here's how the fun started . . .
"The spirits of the past
The costumes and the masks
The shipwrecks and the ghosts
From up and down the coast
they've all come back to see
If we were meant to be."
— Kirsty MacColl, 1991
THROUGHOUT 1975, IT WAS COMMONPLACE to find me and my family taking a long stroll through Harmony Cemetery in the Washington, DC suburban neighborhood known as Landover. Besides being the final resting place of my Grandpa Green, who'd passed away just two years prior in 1973, Prince George's County's biggest burial ground — notable for interring soul music legend Billy Stewart — was of easy access, as it was stiffly positioned in the backyard of my childhood home, the Washington Heights apartment projects.
In fact, the now renamed National Harmony Memorial Park Cemetery was the first burial site I'd ever visited. At barely 5 years of age, I still have vivid memories of its peaceful calm and the cautionary words my mom would repeat to me and my siblings over and over. As we bounced about the terrifically trimmed meadow, she'd shout, "Mind where you play! It's bad luck to step on a grave."
Though we took my mother's notions seriously, dodging a burial spot in Harmony Cemetery was liken to not stepping on a head of cabbage, while jogging through a cabbage field. You see, the headstones weren't of the typical visible Pere Lachaise nature. Measuring 9 by 12 inches, the bronze memorial plates were planted firmly flat into the lawn, not unlike a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame boulevard. Even then, Harmony's headstones struck me as unusual, as I'd always pictured them statuesquely curved and cross shaped like the one's I'd seen in classic 1970s vampire flicks. In stark contrast, after a recent guided tour through Central Sofia Cemetery, to keep from stepping on a burial spot was no challenge at all. You couldn't miss the variety of gorgeous, garish and gigantic gravestones on display, which were unlike any I'd ever seen — and being that I'm the leader and founder of the Brave and Fearless Cemetery Searchers, you'd better believe I've come across quite a few in my time to compare.
The tour, which Sarah and I were invited to by friend and U.S. Embassy ex-pat Richard Damstra, was led by a Bulgarian native historian named Lyuba, founder of the famous Lyuba Tours, who did an excellent job examining and explaining the historical background of the cemetery and its famous interments, which includes soprano singer Ghena Dimitrova, revolutionary Gyorche Petrov, politician Stefan Stambolov, communist leader Todor Zhivkov and his colorful controversial daughter Lyudmila Zhivkova, and Aleko Konstantinov, the creator and writer of Bay Ganyo — the most popular character in Bulgarian fiction.
In addition to me, Sarah, and Rich, some old friends (Joe and George) and new ones (Bulgarian natives Petar, Stana and Angel) were also in attendance. The cemetery tour would also mark the first time I'd meet Boris "Bobby" Cheshirkov, singer, songwriter, and rhythm guitarist in the popular Bulgarian indie rock band Gravity Co. and his girlfriend Marinella. Me and Bobby, who strikes a uncanny resemblance to early-Beatle John, got along like school chums, vibing on classic rock. Before parting ways, he invited us to a couple of Gravity Co.'s upcoming concerts.
"I'm gonna be
Exactly what you wanna see
It's you who's haunting me
You're wanting me
To be the stranger
In your life."
— Michael Jackson, 1997
IF YOU THOUGHT A cemetery tour was creepy, things got creepier in the Sunflower Capital of the World a couple days later. But in the fun sense of it. All Hallow's Eve had struck and this year, after popular demand (from perhaps 3 people, including Sarah and myself), I finally dressed up as my hero the King of Pop. I'm not usually the superstitious type, but the subject of MJ brings up another interesting and somewhat spooky coincidence concerning three years in Bulgaria. You see, the King (whom you might recall was pretty much responsible for me finding my teaching career after a future colleague at AEA discovered me miming to "Billie Jean" during karaoke) was born on August 29th, the same month and day that I moved to Bulgaria. Now, how's that for sending goose bumps down your spine?
So, after a third trip to Sofia's costumed cache called Carnival For You to retrieve a "Billie Jean" era sparkled glove and blouse along with a pair of Julie Newmar-meets-Michelle Pfeiffer Catwoman ears and tights, Sarah and I suited up and headed off to a humongous Halloween party hosted by Joe, Kamy, Rich and my girl... uh, correction... my cat girl from the north country.
The party, which included two costume contests with a 100 leva prize to each winner, was held at Shipka Restaurant and just about everyone we knew (and some we didn't know) in Bulgaria showed up for the festivity — including more girls dressed in cat costumes (I guess I missed the memo?). Which brings to mind the sudden rise of the world's greatest masquerade party in the Sunflower Capital. This year, everyone who attended the party wore a mask and I even saw bushels of Bulgarians dressed up in wacky costumes on the streets — which was unlike the previous years when Halloween seemed virtually unknown.
Now, getting back to that concert Bobby invited me to. A couple of days after the Halloween festivities, Sarah and I joined Richard, Joe, George, Jeff, Maria, Andy and Marinella, for a stellar performance of Gravity Co., a three-piece throwback to that classic 80s Depeche Mode sound, at a local dive bar called Sofia Live Club.
With a huge majority of Bulgarians gravitating toward hard rock and metal, though I love the former and dig some of the latter, it was rather refreshing to finally chill out with a indie rock loving crowd for once. Gravity Co., who sang in English and performed a set of mostly electronic dance and pop-punk tunes from their still untitled, soon-to-be-released debut album and an encore of Beatles' b-side "Hey, Bulldog", was pretty awesome. Needless to say, after the show, Sarah and I converted to groupie status.
"From In Living Color to movie scripts
To On the 6 to J. Lo this headline clips
I stayed grounded as the amounts roll in
I'm real. I thought I told you?"
— Jennifer Lopez, 2002
IF ANYONE EVER SAYS, 'WHITE PEOPLE CAN'T shake their rumps to the funk,' tell them to come on down to The Republic of Bulgaria. These folks out here got a whole lot of rhythm and soul and they're not afraid to show it! Since attending more than a dozen Bulgarian-based dance clubs and concerts in the past three years, whether it be rock, pop, soul, funk, hip-hop or jazz, Bulgarians from all walks of life don't hesitate to get out of their seats and shake what their mommas gave them — so bodacious it would've made the late great Don Cornelius blush!
In fact, being that I'm a lover of all things dance related, Bulgaria's natural rhythm was one of the first things I'd noticed upon first arriving. However, with a long history of occupation, I'd often wondered how these Balkan boogiers adopted the gift of cutting a rug. So, without hesitation, I curiously asked a couple of Bulgarian friends "what's the secret?" Some naively assumed everyone in the world, white or black, had a natural street dancing rhythm. On the other hand, most were quick to point out a likely distant cultural tie to the Middle East, a region where hip-shaking is of second nature.
Speaking of rump shaking, a couple weeks after Halloween, it was inevitable that Jennifer Lopez — a.k.a. J. Lo — a.k.a. Jenny from the Block — should bring her Dance Again World Tour to the former Eastern Bloc. Arguably considered one the world's greatest dancers, it's been over 20 years since J. Lo debuted on In Living Color and rose to fame, after an Oscar worthy portrayal of my girl Selena. Nevertheless, her reason for longevity was proven, as she was on fire and never missed a step throughout the entire 2 hour sold-out performance at Sofia's new Arena Armeec. But before reviewing the full concert, it's a must that I reveal her opening act. If you recall the last episode, at the beginning of September, I started teaching a third year at the American English Academy of Sofia. Next to a continuation of teaching art, journalism, and world history, I'm still the hip-hop dance instructor for 6 through 12 grade. With this in mind, one of my star dance students, Remi, a Nigerian-Bulgarian whom you might recall from a few episodes back, was chosen (along with his Bulgarian based hip-hop dance crew known as Footprintz) to open up for J. Lo.
Unfortunately, Remi's always on-time, most dependable dance instructor arrived late to the concert and missed Footprintz entire opening set. But to be quite honest, as I always try to be on Blog-O-Daria, I'm not really to blame for my tardiness. You see, the Arena Armeec folks haven't quite yet invented a fast and easy route inside the joint. With one ticket-taking entrance (the other being a VIP) that moves at a snail's pace, it can take nearly an hour to get inside (and while I'm on the subject, getting out isn't any faster). Nevertheless, the next day in school, Remi (with some help from Mr. YouTube) gave me a detailed account of their foot stomping performance, which included the crew donning cool, creepy masks and a brief backstage meeting with the dancing diva herself.
It was unfortunate to miss Remi's Arena Armeec debut. But it would have been tragic to miss Jenny from the Block shaking her famous rear end in the Sunflower Capital of the World. So, after arriving in the nick of time, me, Sarah, Joe and George, enjoyed a night with J. Lo, who danced up a storm while singing many of her well-known hits, such as "Love Don't Cost a Thing", "Waiting For Tonight", Let's Get Loud", the Rick James sampled "I'm Real", and her theme "Jenny From The Block." However, Bulgarians will surely agree when I say that the concert's most memorable moment was a little bit before the encore performance of "Dance Again." With the Bulgarian crowd cheering for more, an appreciative J. Lo reached for a Bulgarian flag from a fan in the audience, wrapped it around her body, kneeled, and took a bow.
"Never smile at a crocodile.
No , you can't get friendly with a crocodile.
Don't be taken in by his grin.
He's imagining how well you'd fit within his skin."
— Frank Churchill and Jack Lawrence, 1956
I LIED. IN REAL LIFE, I WASN'T NEARLY EATEN by a giant reptile. It actually happened in my latest film role, Robocroc, a sci-fi-horror-thriller directed by Alan Sinclair, about a massive robotic crocodile that terrorizes a small American town. But how else would I convince you to read an episode titled Mr. Roboto? That said, if it had not been for the aforementioned film role, there's a strong chance I would have never located a zoo and a virtually hidden amusement park in Sofia. Here's how I discovered them . . .
August 29, 2012 not only marked my third year in Bulgaria, the eponymous date also stamps the first time I auditioned for a major American film. On August 29, 2009, at Sarah's urging, I showed up at Nu Image film studios, frighteningly read for a part, and won a supporting role in the still unreleased futuristic zombie-horror film Re-Kill, directed by Bulgarian born Valeri Milev. On that note, in recent times, I landed another supporting role in what turned out to be my 8th American movie.
Robocroc — which was mostly filmed at Sofia Zoo, Southeastern Europe's oldest and largest zoological garden, and Pernik Amusement Park, a seemingly unknown adult playground located in a small village of the same name, 12 miles outside the capital city — stars legendary actors Dee Wallace and Corin Nemec, with supporting roles by Lisa McAllister, Steven Hartley, Florence Brudenell-Bruce, my boys Atanas Srebrev, Vlado Mihailov, and Christian Hammerdorfer, Jackson Bews, former Irish boyband member Keith Duffy and myself — all of whom were wonderful to work with.
During the production of Robocroc, both the zoo and amusement park were shut down to the public, leaving it all to the film crew and actors to spend time with the many exotic animals or take a fun ride during shooting breaks. Speaking of breaks, I got a big one when I arrived on set and learned that I'd be working with one of my early film crushes, Ms. Dee Wallace, the mother from Steven Spielberg's epic 1982 blockbuster E.T. The Extra-Terrestrial and the sexy scream queen in the original 1977 version of Wes Craven's The Hills Have Eyes and Cujo from 1983.
I'll admit, upon first walking onto the Robocroc set and spotting the Ms. Dee Wallace — who was still gorgeous — in the flesh, the thought of approaching her made me more nervous than a vegan locked in a slaughterhouse. But Ms. Wallace, who, by the way, insisted that I call her 'Dee', was quite down-to-earth and made me feel like I was the actual legendary actor.
After shoots, she'd invite me to lunch where we got personally acquainted. Instead of me requesting all the usual stuff fans want to know, Dee asked more questions than I did. Among many of them, I discovered that we had something important in common other than acting; she started out her career as a high school English teacher. Imagine that — Dee Wallace as your teacher. Straight A's all day is all I can say.
Speaking of teachers, among many of the super-nerdy fan questions that I did eventually request from Dee, the best was when I asked her to recall memories from an early film role as a school teacher in one of my all-time favorite Starsky and Hutch episodes "The Crying Child." After relaying how surprised she was that I knew that particular episode, Dee said that it was a "true learning experience working with Paul Michael Glaser." She continued with disclosing more stories of funny and serious incidents on and off set — some of which helped shape her acting career. Little did Dee know, just as she learned from observing Glaser, I was also studying her expertise performances during the filming of Robocroc. When we parted ways, I confessed that meeting and working with her was the greatest moment in my short film career. She simply smiled that familiar smile I'd seen on film and television many times over — then looked me straight in the eyes and said, "nah, much better ones are ahead." Wouldn't it be nice.
"There is a blue one
Who can't accept the green one
For living with a fat one
Trying to be a skinny one."
— Sylvester Stewart, 1968
SADLY, RACISM EXISTS MOST EVERYWHERE. And you'd better believe that foul creature is no stranger to the Sunflower Capital of the World. Thankfully, after three years, I haven't been a victim to it — here. In fact, it's been quite the opposite. As I stated earlier, Bulgarians are frequently friendly and often smile and gaze in my direction — and, on more than a dozen occasions, have requested a photo with me. On the other hand, I've heard tragic stories of racism and have even witnessed ugly incidents first hand — frustrating matters that my robotic armor tends to shield off.
However, one must sympathize that after being coercively clocked up by the Soviet Union for 50 years, most of the times what can be perceived as racism, is really nothing but cultural ignorance with no real harm intended. Think of it like the George Lucas-Jar Jar Binks theory; when there's an absence of awareness, anything's possible. For instance, one can easily spot an advertisement like 'Afro Coffee' at most big Bulgarian food or gas chains. My best guess for this little disturbance perhaps came from the art director simply thinking 'this is gonna be cool' without a second thought of Bulgarian backlash.
However, the most adorable example of what could be perceived as racism tends to happen while I'm teaching in school. Every once in a while, a student, usually an Eastern European, will politely ask, 'Mr. Owen, may I feel your hair?' or 'can I touch your skin?' After a short pause, hoping for a laugh or punch-line, I suddenly realize these kids aren't kidding. They're dead serious. Most even confess that I'm their first encounter with a Black man. And to be honest, I'd ask the same, had I never encountered a white person.
With this in mind, cultural political incorrectness in Bulgaria is what initially bonded me and Robocroc star Corin Nemec, veteran actor known for the 1990 sitcom Parker Lewis Can't Lose and the 1997 sci-fi sensation Stargate SG-1. It may have been the '71 baby connection, but whatever the case, the two of us found a certain black — yeah, pun intended — comedy in the overall situation, which made us laugh like school boys during the Robocroc shoot. In fact, it was tough not to laugh at times. One of the funniest moments was during a shooting break, when Corin discovered a service station prop called 'Black Fuel.' After a satisfying chuckle, we took wacky SNL-type photos to preserve the moment.
Next to being the most genuine, down-to-earth actor I'd ever worked with, my boy Corin was also instrumental in hooking me up with speaking lines in just about every Robocroc scene that involved me. Originally, my character, 'Lt. Dan' (which underwent a name change to 'commando' probably for copyright reasons), was slated to be what the director called "expensive background."
Basically, I was to simply stand around, look tough, and hand the main characters a weapon when needed — a near extra-like role I had no problem with. And believe it or not, since first appearing in a major American film, I never wanted a starring role or speaking part. I would have been happy just walking on screen for a fast moment. But Corin wasn't having that. He must have sensed the acting potential in me. Because within mere seconds before shooting each scene, he'd write me a quick, clever line or two to deliver. Every time it happened, the director liked what he heard and ended up going with it. So, when you see Robocroc, which I'm sure all of you will, thank Corin for my cool lines. Be seeing you. O
