Taking the
Plunge
Vevchani Stara Nova Godina
By Evan Brengle
By Pauza Staff
Anyone who’s ever witnessed a Polar Bear Plunge in
America knows about the near-religious fervor with
which those brave souls approach their task. Before
diving into the wintry water they steel themselves
with group hugs, chants and, perhaps surreptitiously,
a pull from the flask. Then there’s a whistle and a
momentary silence followed by a William Wallacelike battle cry. And they’re off.
So perhaps it should come as no small surprise
that it’s a religious holiday—Saint John’s Day on
January 19—that brings out the polar bears in Macedonia. All around the country, wherever there is a
Heather Tomlins, Ben Long, Mike Szymanski and Aryn Bloodworth
body of water, men, women and children go for an icy swim.
Aryn: A sardine tin of people packing tighter and tighter as
The largest and most famous of these swims is held in Ohrid,
swimmers pushed forward to get in the water and onlookers
where participants race to claim the wooden cross and, with it,
tried to see the chaos that was Lake Ohrid.
a year’s worth of good luck.
Pauza caught up with three PCVs who swam this year—
Heather: Anticipatory but encouraging. The crowd started to
Aryn Bloodworth, Heather Tomlins, and Mike Szymanski—
build up to the point where if you pushed forward a bit too
and asked them about the experience.
hard, even the spectators would have fallen into the water. It
was so crowded we couldn’t even strip down to our swimsuits
without difficulty, and a nice woman in the crowd wordlessly
How exactly do you mentally prepare
yourself for such a swim?
held my boots for me for the duration of the whole swim, handing them back with a smile when I was back on dry land.
Heather: By not thinking about it too much...and by getting
other PCVs to make a pact to go in with you so you don’t
During the swim, did your brain have any
difficulty instructing your extremities?
chicken out at the last minute. Topla rakija also helps remove
most of your sensible thoughts, which can inhibit you from
actually following through.
Aryn: After emersion, I actually thought I was going to drown
in waist-high water because I couldn’t breathe and my body
Aryn: I tried picturing a bathtub filled with ice water and then
didn’t move until well after my brain had willed it too. It was
pretended that there was nothing I’d rather do than swim in it.
kind of like when you’re dreaming and you dream that you
wake up but you really didn’t, if that makes any sense.
Mike: I think that the mental preparation was more difficult
this year than last, because I knew what was coming. I think
Heather: The only thing my brain was doing was instructing
the best preparation was just allowing myself to get swept up in
me to get out of that water...instructions which I ignored for as
the excitement, tradition, and energy of the event, [and] doing
long as possible.
that left little room to think about the cold.
Mike: Ohhhh, yah.
Describe the atmosphere just moments
before you plunged in.
Mike: The atmosphere of Vodici in Ohrid is fantastically difficult to describe, but I’ll try. There are thousands of people surrounded to watch this sacred event take place in this holy place.
People cheer on their friends, priests chant and sing, Vlatko
Stefanovski plays an electric version of Jovano Jovanke, and
swimmers whoop and holler in preparation of the plunge into
the icy waters. In an instant you are in frigid water looking at
snowcapped mountains in the distance, people scurrying back
on dry land, drinking rakija, laughing, the Red Cross is saving a hypothermic swimmer, you are taking everything in as
you know this is your last time to take part in your Orthodox
baptism. Suddenly and spontaneously both arms shoot up into
the air, like we see so many late kafana nights, and you are
overwhelmed with the ecstasy of the moment.
6 - pauza
On a scale from Macedonian Flag to Boiled
Lobster, how red was your skin when you
got out?
Heather: More like a deep ajvar.
Mike: I’d put it between pinjur and ajvar.
Aryn: I have no idea, everything else was way too distracting.
Because of the rocks, I wore shoes, but as soon as the rocky
shoreline ended, my shoes were sucked down into the quicksand like mud below and I was only able to retrieve one. At the
end, a 60-something man on the shore asked me how my swim
was and I tol d him, “Ne mozev da dushev i izgubev drugo,”
pointing at the shoe in my hand. Somehow, he found it for me
in the water! I guess the water really is blessed.
Several of us headed to Vev?ani, a village near Struga, to observe the local celebration of the Stara Nova Godina. We arrived around noon on the eve of the old new year, a couple
hours before the commencement of the day’s festivities. We
wandered around the village, visited some beautiful springs in
the hills, checked out the local church, and got some delicious
apple pastries from a small bakery. Intermittently, small groups
of costumed villagers could be observed heading to some gathering point down the hill. Spirits were high among the locals
and ourselves, and rounds of topla rakija were offered to the
visiting Americans. Around three, we staked out a good spot
and prepared to watch the afternoon parade. I am by no means
an authority on this event, but as it was explained to me, the
villagers dress up as whatever they fear most. Among the celebrants we observed a group of aliens with huge, green, broccoli-like heads with a captured shag-carpet creature; a pack of
werewolves; six or seven men tethered together with barbwire;
pregnant men, one of whom had his baby delivered before our
eyes right there in the street; surgeons armed with sledgehammers and cans of Skopsko, sawing their patients in half and
“borrowing” their organs to sell to any interested parties—in
his enthusiasm, one surgeon actually took someone’s or something’s liver, I think it was, into his mouth and shook it around; a
towering Snow White accompanied by his seven dwarves; and
The various characters from the day before began to march in, a
few at a time, beginning a perverse yet delightful oro around the
budding fire, accompanied by beating drums, waving sticks, and
flying meat, grabbing spectators from the surrounding crowd
and dragging them into the dance.
suited members of NATO
and the EU sporting cabbage helmets (I’ll leave
it to you to inquire as to
the significance of this).
Throughout it all, one was
constantly encountering
red suited little fellows,
covered from head to toe,
wearing tall pointed hats,
masked faces and white
skulls and crossbones on
their backs, jumping and
beating the ground with
what I believe were actual cows’ tails. A local
woman explained to me
that these characters were
rounding up the evil spirits of the past year to collect them in suitcases and
other containers and dispense of them, allowing for a happier
and more prosperous new year. The parade lasted about fortyfive minutes and then participants slowly dissipated and gathered in their homes for afternoon slavas. Around this point, we
called it a day.
We had been told that typically there was a bonfire the following day, the first day of the new year, in which the villagers
burn all of their costumes and props from the day before. Attracted by the promise of fire, we decided to head back again.
And I’m glad we did. It turns out that this is actually the larger
part of the celebration. Things began slowly, with Father Time
and the Grim Reaper dragging a coffin filled with not-quite dry
grass and other bits of randomness. They proceeded to light
this on fire, which was a rather long process, considering the
damp conditions. It would smoke for awhile, and they would
kick it or flip it over as if
to beat the coffin into cooperation. The various
characters from the day
before began to march in,
a few at a time, beginning
a perverse yet delightful
oro around the budding
fire, accompanied by
beating drums, waving
sticks, and flying meat,
grabbing spectators from
the surrounding crowd
and dragging them into
the dance. There was a
Tarzan with some unidentifiable skinned rodent,
which was then put on a
stick and proudly roasted
by a small boy. This was
followed by a joust with
the rodent stick against a stick with a headless chicken, the
jousters and observers alike amused by the sheer ridiculousness of it all. Around the time people began walking in the
fire—and attempting to pull others in with them—we decided
it was a good time to go. We had seen a lot, but it was clear that
both the festivities and the inferno were just getting started. It
would be a long night for the villagers.
It was certainly a one-of-a-kind experience: sinister yet
jovial, diabolical yet lighthearted. It was distasteful, crude, obnoxious and wonderfully so. With this in mind, for any who
enjoy such entertainments, I highly recommend attending both
days next year; just be sure to bring an open mind and good
sense of humor. I would also recommend going with friends,
just so there would be someone to notice if you disappear in
the mayhem.
winter 2009 - 7