9. USS Monterey

On one of those days during the first visit, early in the year, there was suddenly a buzz and hum in Varna. As the snow began to melt on the streets, the city and its inhabitants seemed to come alive. It was March 1st, Baba Marta!

Suddenly, everyone was wearing a red and white braided bracelet, the martenitsa. Or a red and white doll or red and white tassels. Journalists in the office who had distinguished themselves with harsh jokes and cynical comments were now fidgeting with their bracelets, half-smiling, and thawing out just like the last traces of snow on the streets.

And all of this was thanks to the national holiday Baba Marta, literally ‘Grandmother March’. It’s mainly a celebration of the end of winter and the beginning of spring, and a way to wish each other happiness and health.

The streets became more lively. A few days earlier, the city had already brightened up a bit when the USS Monterey docked in Varna. The American guided missile cruiser interrupted its exercises in the Mediterranean Sea for a few days of ‘rest and recreation’ in Varna. After that, it would participate in a NATO exercise in the Black Sea and visit several cities around the Mediterranean. Suddenly, you could see groups of strolling crew members in their characteristic Navy Service Dress Blue uniforms on the streets.

One of the approximately 400 crew members of the USS Monterey was Sailor Billy McLeod. He was enjoying a beer on a terrace and was up for a chat. With a wistful look, he watched a group of noisy mates who wanted to enter a café. Eleven more months, then he would be done with his service and wanted to ‘do Europe’.

“I’m not like most of us,” said McLeod, a fully blond and beaming American. Half-apologetically, he pointed to his colleagues with his glass. “They’re only interested in getting laid and getting drunk. For me, this is the best experience I can have: meeting new people, making friends, chatting over a beer, eating together. This is why I wanted to join the Navy, to be able to travel and meet a lot of people. Not like the rest who, when we leave a place, say, ‘It was all nothing again’.”

*

For the USS Monterey and most of its crew, this was probably just another courtesy visit. But for the population, the arrival of the ship and its crew meant much more. The visit was good for the economy and a symbolic boost that emphasised Bulgaria’s true alignment with the free West.

Their own naval fleet was lying idly in decay. During the economic crisis, the defence budget had been reduced by 38 percent, from $550 million in 1990 to $340 million in 1991. “Bulgaria’s ability to build a navy after the fall of the Soviet Union was negatively affected by the legacy of the Cold War, the lack of defence reforms for nearly a decade after the communist leadership was replaced in 1989, and declining defence budgets,” wrote Dr. Deborah Sanders a few years later. Sanders is an associate professor in the Department of Defence Studies at King’s College in London. She conducted extensive research on the Bulgarian and Romanian navies and the security situation in and around the Black Sea.

In “The Bulgarian navy after the Cold War: challenges of building and modernising an effective navy,” Sanders thoroughly examines the Bulgarian navy. During the Cold War, Bulgaria had always assumed that the Warsaw Pact would come to its aid in case of a military conflict, according to Sanders. The Bulgarian navy provided ships as a complement to the Soviet fleet in the Black Sea. “As one of Moscow’s most loyal allies, Bulgaria received not only military but also economic aid from the Soviet Union. Between 1946 and 1990, Bulgaria received nearly $16.7 billion in military and industrial defence assistance.”

That source had dried up after the dissolution of the Soviet Union, and nothing had replaced it. In Sanders’ words, “The loss of military assistance from the USSR and the lack of subsequent investments in naval assets and capabilities by successive Bulgarian governments had a negative impact on the country’s maritime power. The loss of access to Soviet spare parts and upgrades resulted in a serious deterioration of maritime equipment and capabilities.”

*

Here, in the port of Sozopol, a part of that neglected naval fleet lay before us; grey and peeling, rusted and abandoned.

To approach the harbour, we had sailed around the tip of the peninsula on which Sozopol is located. We had let a hydrofoil that connects the cities along the coast go ahead. The vessel skimmed over the water like a lame duck that just couldn’t take off.

The harbour faced away from the sea and probably offered more protection than the navy itself. Along the port side in the elongated harbour, there were about eight ships, of different classes and tonnages. It wasn’t quite a ship graveyard, as the ships were still afloat, but everything exuded decay and faded glory. It was also eerily silent; no shouts from workers, noise from tools, or loud commands. Above the town, the former training institute for seafarers stood, a distinctive white building with an angled design and a small tower, equally still.

Because Sozopol housed a naval base, the harbour had always been off-limits for foreign yachts, including Russian ones. But a day after our visit, the radio reported while we were on our way that the government had declared Sozopol an open city. From now on, everyone was allowed to enter the harbour by water. Cheers on board.

Sozopol itself is one of the oldest towns on the Bulgarian coast. It’s a picturesque town with houses made of wood and stones. Women working on crafts sit in groups in front of their homes and shyly promote their goods: skill-fully crocheted cloths hanging on long lines along the streets. Five lazy chickens doze in the shadow of a Trabant car. “In the evening, there’s dew on the deck. That’s a sign that the weather will be nice tomorrow.”

Ivan’s prediction comes true. On the way back to Varna, we sail behind the purple, white and black stripes of the spinnaker, swaying and lurching. The sea is empty, as usual. In Bjala—the last stop—we share the small harbour behind the breakwater only with a few fishing boats.

As the sun sets, three fishermen slowly and draggingly walk along the pier, singing, their arms crossed over their shoulders. They pause for a moment, wave, and then serenade us.

Sarajevo is very far away.