2. Drinks and Candlelight

Aside from dealing with cold and darkness, Bulgaria faced significant problems with its power supply that winter. The four heavily outdated nuclear power plants in Kozloduy, commissioned in 1974 and ’75, as well as in 1981 and ’82, were shut down for maintenance. The government was forced to implement nationwide rationing. In practice, this meant three hours of electricity followed by one hour without, then three more hours of electricity, and so on. However, nobody found it strange if sudden blackouts occurred in between or if a regular interruption lasted twice as long.

In 1991, according to the International Atomic Energy Agency (IAEA), Bulgaria was dependent on nuclear energy for 34 percent of its energy needs. A team of 32 experts from 21 different countries had begun a thorough investigation into the safety of a total of ten older nuclear power plants in the former Czechoslovakia, the Russian Federation, and Bulgaria. These power plants, all of the WWER-440/230 type, originated from the same design in the Soviet Union.

Soon, it became clear to the researchers of the international nuclear watchdog that there were numerous issues with these power plants. The situation in Bulgaria was so severe that in June 1991, the head of the IAEA urged the Prime Minister to take immediate action. The Kozloduy power plants were not sufficiently resistant to earthquakes. This became evident in 1977 during a strong earthquake in the Romanian region of Vrancea, east of the Carpathian Mountains. The power plants sustained light damage during that quake. The earthquake had a magnitude of 7.2 on the Richter scale and was felt throughout the Balkans.

In Romania, nearly 1600 people died, and over 11,000 were injured. Bulgaria also had some casualties. Subsequent earthquakes in the same region in 1986 (magnitude 6.9) and 1990 (magnitude 6.7) once again affected the power plants. While the number of casualties and damage were significantly lower on both occasions, it was evident that the nuclear power plants were far from earthquake-resistant.

The final report from the IAEA would be published in May 1992. The findings were striking: around one hundred safety issues were identified with this type of power plant. About sixty of these were considered ‘very serious’ and required ‘immediate attention’. Eventually, the power plants would be shut down.

During the winter of ’92, candles were in high demand, as were firewood, coal, and briquettes for the still widely used tile stoves. The often calm days were filled with the distinct scent of burning wood and coal. Added to this were the exhaust fumes from the many decrepit Ladas, Skodas, and Trabants. The greasy smoke settled on everything and everyone, sticking like sticky snow to wooden clogs.

However, people made the best of the situation. When the electricity went out, shop doors closed, and office workers opened their bottom desk drawers. Salads, bread, and sausages were placed on the table, along with drinks, especially vodka and rakia, the national spirit made from fruits, often produced clandestinely. The alcohol content ranged from around 70 to 80 percent. When the bottle was opened, a disconcerting spirit vapour would waft into your glass.

My basecamp During my first visit, was the Morski Svyat editorial office in Varna, a trade magazine for the maritime sector. Despite challenges like shortages of paper, the creators aimed to release an issue every month. The connection had been established thanks to Vladimir, a Bulgarian artist who had moved to the Netherlands and was a good acquaintance from the café. He was friends with the editor-in-chief. “If you want to know more about Bulgaria and the Black Sea, that’s the best place to start,” he had said. “They’re good people, and they’ll be happy to help you further.”