Ellis Shuman's Blog, page 24
December 27, 2019
Bulgaria Travel Reading List

"Bulgaria is one of the largest countries in the EU, and yet like so many places that fell on the other side of the Iron Curtain, it remains terra incognita. Yet, it’s a place with an ancient history, delicious food, beautiful music, picturesque churches, and of course, roses. Bulgaria supplies 50% of the world’s rose essence."
Victoria Frolova, a writer, journalist and professionally trained perfumer, put together "a list of non-fiction and fiction books that would be interesting even if you have no plans to visit Bulgaria and simply want to learn something new. These novels and travel accounts present a fascinating and rich land, a place where many different cultures, influences and traditions meet."
She mentions Valley of Thracians as "A fun, easy read, with vivid descriptions. A thriller set in Bulgaria that involves recovering a missing Thracian artifact."
Read the full article on Bois de Jasmin - A Primer on Sensory Pursuits.
Published on December 27, 2019 06:57
December 16, 2019
Neighborhood Watch

There has been a spate of break-ins in Neve Ilan - six houses in the last 3 months. Two weeks ago, a family woke up in the middle of the night to find burglars in their children's bedroom.
The intruders are primarily looking for car keys. Or for cash and jewelry. Why would anyone steal a large screen TV or a laptop these days?
Six houses burglarized and two of them just a few doors away from my home. The situation is frightening and worrisome, to say the least. And it calls for action, but what can be done?
My house can’t be seen from the road and it’s very dark, which could hide it from visiting thieves. Or make it an easy target. We’ve started leaving lights on at night. And the television, suggesting that someone is awake at all hours. We do have a security light which goes on automatically when someone approaches the back porch, but is any of this enough?
Security on my moshav is complicated. Neve Ilan has a hotel and an events hall; both bring guests and support staff at all hours of the day and night. Although there is a gate at the moshav’s main entrance, it is easy to get through even if it's closed – just wait to follow another car. No security fence protects us and several roads leading into the surrounding forests can't be easily blocked. All of which seem to invite thieves into our community.
So, with that as an introduction, I can tell you that I volunteered for a middle-of-the-night neighborhood watch. Not guard duty, but rather a slow, observant patrol in my car on the darkened streets of the moshav at 3 in the morning. A few houses had left their lights on; most had shuttered windows, locked gates. Security cameras. Except for one resident walking his dog, there was no one around. No suspicious vehicles, no strangers. All quiet.
My 90-minute shift was uneventful, allowing me to listen to 2 episodes of a podcast. Until...
As I drove a final circuit around the moshav, I spotted movement. A porcupine, nibbling on the weeds in a traffic circle!
I had never seen this creature in the wild before. In the forests around my moshav there are jackals and wild boars. The occasional gazelle. But a porcupine, complete with a coat of silver-colored quills? For me, this was a first! The animal captured in my car’s headlights was about knee high and I wanted to take its picture.
I braked to a quick stop in the middle of the street. Leaving the motor running and my door open wide, I approached the creature, fumbling with my phone as I tried to switch from podcast to camera. The porcupine heard me and fled towards the forest. I snapped a series of fuzzy pictures but the animal picked up its pace. And then it disappeared in the dark.
I caught my breath. I turned to look at the darkened houses of the moshav, the residents no doubt asleep inside, safe and secure. At least on this night. The porcupine was long gone, but its unexpected appearance would remain embedded in my memory for quite some time.
Late Night Encounter with My New Neighbors
Published on December 16, 2019 22:33
December 10, 2019
Five Great Books Set in Bulgaria

Bulgaria is a Balkan country, encircled by Romania, Serbia, Greece, Turkey and the Black Sea. So it’s no surprise that the territory has been fought over and occupied by many different invaders through the centuries, from Thracians, Persians, Celts and Macedonians in ancient times; as part of the Roman Empire in the first few hundreds of years AD; the Bulgars; the Byzantine Empire; the Ottomans; and as part of the Soviet Communist bloc after World War II.
Read the rest of this article on TripFiction.com.
Published on December 10, 2019 02:11
November 19, 2019
"Children of the Silent Revolution" – documentary review

The Berlin Wall fell on November 9, 1989 - a pivotal event which led to the fall of the Iron Curtain and the end of the Cold War. Just one day later, the Bulgarian Communist Party ousted the country’s dictatorial leader Todor Zhivkov. The date is considered the beginning of Bulgaria’s transition to democracy. A change in power without bloodshed. “No violence, no victims.” A silent revolution.
For Bulgarians, doors to the West opened overnight. Travel was no longer restricted; the future was possible elsewhere in Europe and in America. How would Bulgarians handle their newfound freedom?
The documentary film “ Children of the Silent Revolution ” centers on a tightknit group of eight classmates from the central Bulgarian town of Kazanlak as they finish high school in 1995 and take their first steps into a rapidly changing world. They were “18-year-old kids, drunk with youth, in love with life, and eager to grasp their future.”
This compelling, well-made documentary follows the students, listening to their voices through intervals of their new life. Were their hopes and dreams fulfilled, either by staying in Bulgaria or by moving to the West? Were they happy or did they feel cheated? How did they see their future? Did their lives improve following Bulgaria’s silent revolution?
Filmmaker Viktoria Ershova, who left for America following high school, meets her classmates intermittently over the years and they freely speak their minds, something that wouldn’t have been possible if it was an outsider filming their lives. As a result, the stories they tell are poignant and honest and they don’t hold back with their opinions. Yet, no matter how far their lives have taken them, they all regard their native Bulgaria as home, as evidenced in their frequent class reunions; an ongoing affection for their homeroom teacher; and an intense love for their beautiful hometown.
Interspersed between the personal interviews is a vivid presentation of Bulgaria’s transformative, turbulent years, detailing citizens’ growing frustrations with their government and the burst bubble of politicians’ promises. The growing disillusionment with what was “a grand political experiment” helps explain what happened to Bulgaria’s children of the silent revolution. Communism may have fallen and their world changed forever, but democracy has yet to fulfill their dreams of a “just and prosperous future.”
“Children of the Silent Revolution” is must-viewing for anyone who wants to gain an insider’s perspective of how Bulgaria changed following the collapse of the country’s communist era. The fact that the documentary gives voice to ordinary citizens still faced with the ongoing challenges of modern Bulgaria makes it even more worth watching.
Viktoria Ershova was born and raised in Kazanlak, Bulgaria until she went to the United States at age 18. “Children of the Silent Revolution” is her debut feature film. The film has been screened in a number of festivals and audiences across the U.S. and Bulgaria. Viktoria is based in Los Angeles, but returned to Bulgaria for a year to finish the film.
The film “Children of the Silent Revolution” can be purchased, or streamed, on the official website.
Published on November 19, 2019 22:32
November 4, 2019
A Cow’s Tale - short story excerpt

Many of his fellow kibbutzniks thought it a bit odd that Shimmy, the veteran and gray-haired raftan, had a favorite cow. Shimmy had worked in the refet for as long as anyone could remember and had extensive knowledge of the cows in his care, their eating habits, and their milk production capabilities. But to think that of all the animals in the herd, one cow stood out as his favorite, and possibly received his special attention, was strange to say the least.
Mazal was a special cow, or at least that was what Shimmy argued in his defense. “Just look at her,” he would say, and one could not help but notice Mazal’s unique coloring. She was almost an albino with her alabaster flesh and the pink coloring around her mouth and eyes. She stood out in sharp contrast from the rest of the black and white spotted Holstein herd. Only a splash of darkened flesh thrown on one of her hind legs almost as an afterthought spoiled Mazal’s stark white appearance.
There was more than just her coloring that made Mazal special, Shimmy pointed out. Her name meant ‘luck’ and she had lived up to her namesake by becoming a very productive member of the herd. The udders of the white matron provided countless liters of pure white milk in each of the three daily milkings.
“You’ve milked too many cows,” jeered the others, but Shimmy was unruffled by their reactions. They weren’t around to notice how Mazal followed him around her pen, stared knowingly as he stroked her flanks and mooed appreciatively when he attached the metal cups to her distended teats. Shimmy was positive that Mazal recognized him and responded to him, although perhaps he was the only one who could interpret the cow’s movements this way.
Shimmy would stand near the feed stalls and call Mazal’s name. The faithful white-flanked animal would saunter over, her long, powerful tail flicking carelessly from side to side, brushing away the ever-present flies. The cow’s nostrils flared up in greeting and her long, pink tongue whipped out to slap a rough, wet caress on his forearm. What an intelligent creature, he thought to himself, but there was no one else around to witness the response.
Despite his age, his occasional back pains and an often-erratic memory, Shimmy still took his turn in the weekly milking rotation and helped feed and care for the cows. Over the years, he had watched as the herd grew in size and the refet’s milk production increased. Shimmy had attended the births and deaths of many cows. He had witnessed the wondrous cycle of new calves being born, growing into heifers until they became sexually mature, being artificially inseminated and then giving birth. The heifers became cows, productive members of the herd until it was time to give birth once again. After many repetitions of this natural cycle, the cows would eventually complete their service in the refet and be thinned from the herd. Shimmy had followed the lifecycles of many cows, but he had never before encountered any like Mazal.
Shimmy’s special relationship with Mazal dated back to the night she was born. He had been called from home in the midst of a cold, winter’s storm. ‘Minerva is giving birth,’ was the message from the night guard; it was not clear how the birth was progressing. Shimmy dressed hurriedly, kissed his wife Esther on her forehead as she slept, and headed for the refet. As he struggled to pedal his bicycle against the powerful wind, he could hear the anguished moans of the expectant mother over the loud patter of the rain.
The mud in Minerva’s pen had turned into porridge-like mush and Shimmy sloshed across it, nearly losing his high rubber boots in the process. Due to the relentless downpour, his wire-rim glasses provided only a wet suggestion as to where he was going. Fortunately, Minerva stood near the feed pathway, partially protected from the rain by an extension of the barn’s roof.
“Minerva, it’s all right. There’s nothing to worry about,” he said, approaching the cow. He stroked the side of her long, black neck. Clouds of steam rose from the animal’s warm, wet flesh.
As if she recognized his voice, Minerva stopped moaning and eased her head toward Shimmy’s touch. Her large brown eyes stared ahead. She stopped shaking, momentarily relieved from the pain of her labor.
With a gentle nudge, Shimmy turned the animal around to have her face the pathway. He maneuvered her to the metalwork of the stall and finally Minerva lowered her head into the open frame. Shimmy quickly dropped the latch and the cow was secured in place.
After wiping his glasses on a damp tissue he found in his pocket, Shimmy took off his raincoat, folded up his shirtsleeves and slipped on a pair of white surgical gloves. He shivered in the cold night air as he walked around to the cow’s rear. He pushed aside the animal’s heavy, black tail and eased his hand into a partially constricted birth canal. To his relief he discovered that this would not be a breech birth. The front hooves of the baby calf were easily steered into position and they jutted outwards, appearing for the first time. Shimmy moved his hand around carefully. There were no obstructions, no reasons why this birth shouldn’t proceed easily.
But half an hour later, the rain was still pouring down and Minerva was nowhere nearer to giving birth. Every few minutes she strained her neck and jammed her head against the frames in frantic attempts to escape from the stall. Her moaning grew in volume, her pain obvious. Shimmy rubbed the cow’s flanks, realizing there was not much he could do to calm the animal.
The unborn calf was somewhat stuck in the narrow birth canal. He would need to help pull it from its mother’s body, which was something he had done many times in the past. He took hold of the animal’s two exposed hooves and yanked with all his strength. But the hooves were slippery and the calf didn’t budge.
Shimmy had come prepared with a length of black rope in his pocket; now he fastened the rope around the hooves and tied it tight. He stepped back to get a better angle, but he ended up standing directly under the edge of the roof. A strong torrent of rain drenched him, soaking his clothes and seeping into his boots as well.
He couldn’t see what he was doing as he pulled on the rope as hard as he could. But before there was any response from the cow, he lost his footing and fell backwards onto the deep, slushy mud, landing solidly and painfully on his rear end.
Minerva let out a long, lowly moan but her calf was still hidden from view. In fact, the pair of hooves appeared to have retracted into the mother cow’s womb; only the black rope Shimmy had attached to them was visible to the eye.
“Come on Minerva,” he pleaded. “Push!” He struggled to rise from the wet ground but his hands were covered with mud and he was unable to find a firm foothold on the slippery terrain. If the cow should kick backwards with her hind leg, she would strike him, as he was unable to move out of range. He should call for assistance, he thought, but first he had to get to his feet. He should have called before, but he had been confident he could handle this simple birth. But it wasn’t as simple as he had presumed.
And then an amazing thing happened. Afterward he couldn’t say exactly what came first—the sudden pause in the downpour or the quick and effortless birth.
The newborn calf seemed to pour out of its mother in a silent, powerful gushing forth of new life. Moments later, the calf was lying in a mud puddle, partially on Shimmy’s lap. The young animal snorted and struggled to take in its first breaths of air. Shimmy laughed and cried; his tears mixed with the raindrops on his face.
The rain stopped and he was finally able to stand up. He went over to the feed pathway and released the latch. Minerva backed out of her stall and turned to regard her offspring. With an inborn motherly instinct, the cow licked and cleaned her calf and nudged it to its wobbly feet.
It was only later, when Shimmy was carrying the calf to the refet’s nursery, that he noticed the newborn creature was completely white. What luck! Mazal! That would be the young calf’s name.

Read the rest of this story in The Virtual Kibbutz , available on Amazon.
Published on November 04, 2019 22:15
October 25, 2019
Review of 'An Elegant Theory' by Noah Milligan

Even if you failed Physics in high school, you’re likely to grasp the Many-Worlds theory suggesting that there is a parallel universe, or possibly many parallel universes, in which an infinite number of alternate realities exist. Each of these realities is like the one we are experiencing now, but the outcome of events is completely different.
Coulter Zahn, a PHD candidate struggling to prepare his dissertation, envisions his life unfolding in multiple directions simultaneously. In one, he makes a Nobel Prize-worthy scientific discovery that changes our concept of the universe. In another, his wife informs him that she is leaving him, a declaration that leads to tragic results.
Coulter’s story jumps back and forth in time, told alternatively in first and then third person. He is a complex character, burdened by loneliness, an obsession to prove a seemingly unprovable scientific theory, and a loveless marriage. Coulter’s actions, in the multiverses of his life, often frustrate us as readers because we are never quite sure whether his experiences are hallucinations or daydreams, or if they are realities taking place in another dimension.
Alongside the occasional mention of string theory and double-slit experiments, An Elegant Theory is a well-written psychological thriller, stretching our imagination into multiple realities and keeping us glued to the page.
An Elegant Theory is author Noah Milligan ’s debut novel. The book was shortlisted for the 2015 Horatio Nelson Fiction Prize and was a finalist for Foreword Review's 2016 Book of the Year. A graduate of the MFA program at the University of Central Oklahoma, Noah Milligan lives in Edmond, Oklahoma, with his wife and two children.
Note: I received a copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.
Published on October 25, 2019 01:47
October 13, 2019
And Then My Sukkah Collapsed

I was full of enthusiasm and good intentions as I unpacked the pieces of the pre-fab sukkah I had purchased especially for the holiday. It should be a simple matter of fitting together the metallic poles and the do-it-yourself sukkah would be standing.
A sukkah is a temporary dwelling in which Jews "dwell" - or at least eat their meals - during the week-long festival of Sukkot. The temporary status is reminiscent of the years of wandering that the Children of Israel endured on their way to the Promised Land.
Two hours after beginning to build our sukkah, the sukkah collapsed. Poles, and connecting pieces, plastic and metal, all lying on my patio at my feet.
Not prepared for the holiday rush
I saw an advertisement for pre-fab sukkot at a reasonable price. The company had a Jerusalem location, so I went there one morning before the holiday. It appeared that many others had the same sukkah-buying plans and I had to park a distance from the shop.
The company was not prepared for the holiday rush. There were more customers than salesmen, and the employed workers were quite inexperienced. Chalk it up to the fact that sukkot are only sold once a year, in the period before the holiday. Even so, the staff should have been trained for their job.
When I finally cornered a young salesman, I told him that I was looking for a 2-meter by 3-meter sukkah. My main concern, I said, was to make sure the 3-meter poles would fit in my car. "No problem," the salesman assured me. But he gave no clues how I would transport the poles.
I asked if the company made deliveries. "We'll come Saturday night, but very late," I was told What time was late? I asked. "We'll call you after midnight and let you know what time." I preferred to skip the all-night vigil and decided to try my luck elsewhere.

Anyone can do it
I saw an advertisement, for a competitor in the pre-fab sukkah business. This company claimed that its sukkah poles were no longer than 1 meter in length and were conveniently packed in carrying cases.
I approached a sales agent who turned out to be someone who ran an auto supply shop. He had never previously dealt with pre-fab sukkot. Even so, he assured me that the sukkah's construction was very simple and anyone could do it. The poles were attractively packaged in heavy-duty carry bags, which would have done a golf caddy proud. I paid for the sukkah. It easily fit it into the trunk of my car.
At home, connecting the black plastic pieces was not as easy as it sounded. There were four bags of different-shaped plastic, pieces quite similar to Lego. I looked for instructions, but there were none. Then I remembered the salesman's words. "It is very simple. Anyone can do it."
Logic dictated that a sukkah should be built from its corners. I took my hammer and began forcing the poles into connecting, angular pieces. Amazingly, the poles fit into place. The construction began to take shape, one frame of plastic after another. I enlisted my family to help, holding up one side as I worked on the other. This should do it, I thought, but the end results appeared lopsided and illogical. I told everyone to let go, and that is when the flimsy construction collapsed.

I want my money back!
"Didn't you follow the instructions?" the auto supply salesman asked me the next day. "What instructions?" I shouted. “I demand a refund!” There was only one problem. My sukkah had been taken out of its packaging and there was no money back guarantee.
The salesman gave me two pages of instructions. ‘Put pole A into black piece B’. If I couldn’t do it myself, the salesman promised me that he would personally come to my house and build the sukkah.
I decided to give the construction one more chance. This time I had instructions. I dutifully followed them, step by step. Within a short time, and without the help of my family, I had a formidable construction standing, one that would surely withstand the week-long holiday without collapsing on the dwellers within.
Of course, a sukkah is more than just the poles which form its sides. There are the sheets which serve as the walls and the schach which makes up the sukkah's roof. These are minor matters, compared to the struggles of getting the sukkah to stand in the first place.
Sukkot is a joyous holiday, one when families get together for festive meals in the luxury of flimsy constructions that stand for a week on patios, balconies and in backyards. After the frustrations and sweat that went into the building of my family's sukkah, I anxiously looked forward to sitting back and enjoying the fruits of my labor.

Originally published September 26, 1999 on About.com
Related article:
I Built My Sukkah Upside Down!
Published on October 13, 2019 00:02
October 9, 2019
14 Reasons Why Poker Is Better Than Sex

Back in the day, my job was to promote the game of poker. I wrote content for poker websites, banners, press releases, blogs, newsletters, and emails, all of them encouraging players - veterans and newcomers - to play poker online. In hindsight this is kind of strange, as I don't play poker myself. In any case, I spent nearly 13 years writing about the game as part of my job in the marketing division of an Israel-based, international online gaming company ( a company that is no longer in business).
In order to spice things up a bit, I occasionally resorted to humor, to show the fun side of the game (as compared to the strategic side of trying to win, no matter what cards you are dealt). Shown here is the result of one of my favorite humorous projects - an infographic listing the "Top 14 Reasons Why Poker Is Better Than Sex". I came up with the concept and wrote the content. I apologize that I don't remember the name of the freelance graphic designer who brought my vision to a comical reality.
Even if you don't know the game of poker, I hope you will enjoy my humor!




Why is poker better than sex? Let me count the ways:
1. Sex is good, but Poker lasts longer.
2. You can still get lucky even without showering or shaving.
3. Once you finish a session, you can start a new one right away.
4. You can play any opponent, even if they're 25 years younger, or older than you.
5. Sometimes Poker pays you, and it always welcomes you back for more.
6. Playing with a lot of partners is allowed, and in fact, threesomes and foursomes are welcome.
7. You never have to apologize for a bad hand. Just get right back in the action and play some more.
8. You can eat, or watch television, or smoke, or listen to music, or get a massage, while you play.
9. You'll never hear an opponent complain, "Not now, I have a headache."
10. Your game can last as long as you want.
11. Your opponents won't care how inexperienced you are, and in fact will probably welcome this.
12. There is no need for wining, dining, or foreplay. You can jump right into the fun stuff.
13. You can watch how others play, and no one will get mad.
14. You can switch partners with no need to explain yourself.
And, 7 reasons how they are similar.
1. Playing alone is not as fun.
2. You must make sure to take adequate forms of protection.
3. Having a good hand is not enough. You have to know how to use it.
4. Everyone claims to have a big pair.
5. There are frequently risks involved, so it's best to be cautious.
6. You need to know when to bluff.
7. The size of your stack is important.
Originally posted on the Titan Poker website.
Related article:
The Poker Writer Who Never Plays Poker
Published on October 09, 2019 22:02
September 23, 2019
The Seven Rila Lakes from Above
I hiked to Bulgaria's Seven Rila Lakes this summer, and they were amazing! Even more stunning is seeing them from above. This footage of drone clips was taken by Sam Ozanne during his recent trek in the Rila Mountains, posted on YouTube by Aerial Adventures.
Originally posted on YouTube.
Originally posted on YouTube.
Published on September 23, 2019 23:02
September 17, 2019
We Go to the Polls, Again

I usually refrain from writing about Israeli politics. I avoid discussing the subject but as Israelis go to the polls again*, for the second time this year, I can’t put my head in the sand to escape what’s going on. Every Israeli has a vote; every Israeli is responsible for the situation we’re in. Here is my viewpoint.
If you don’t know which party I’m voting for, you can see the ballot in the image (the photo was taken by a friend). Meretz is Israel’s left-wing, social-democratic and green political party. I’ve cast my vote for Meretz in every Israeli election that I’ve participated in.
I am comforted by the fact that as messed up as Israeli politics are, things are much worse in the US and the UK.
We will probably end up getting the extremist right-wing government we feared getting in April.
Bibi is not only fighting for his political survival. He is fighting to stay out of jail.
Bibi has been behaving much, much worse than last time.
I don’t believe Bibi. I believe in the opposition, Israeli’s free media, the justice system, and the police. Our prime minister is corrupt, should be voted out of office, and then face the charges against him.
Bibi has always been like this, but he has gotten worse because he has Trump for a role model. So many things are similar - the arrogance; the hatred of the media; the “I can do nothing wrong” attitude; the use of social media for evil political purposes; the talk about migrants/Arabs invading/taking over the country.
Unfortunately, no one in the opposition is strong enough to take on Bibi - and that is because every politician has an ego. If all the opposition parties were united, there might have been a chance.
We've learned never to believe the pollsters.
Anything could happen and none of it is good.
The bottom line - I hope tomorrow will prove me wrong!!!
* Israel held general elections in April. Bibi (Benjamin Netanyahu) failed to form a governing coalition and the Knesset voted to dissolve itself and stage new elections.
Published on September 17, 2019 02:20