This is Dyado (Grandpa) Petko. Four years ago me and Ellie went on a romantic summer road trip themed “Bonnie & Clyde”. The goal was to drive from north to south and visit only desert beaches. While on our journey, in the middle of a God forgotten cracked, sandy road  with grass growing in between the cracks we saw an 80 year old hitchhiker. This hitchhiker was Dyado Petko. We drove him to the nearby rocks and eventually spent the entire day with him. Dyado Petko is a dreamy photographer. Actually, he is a super dreamy photographer. He has a tiny little  point and shoot camera thing but dreams of having an exhibition in Sofia. This is his wildest dream. Skinny, poorly dressed, but  still in a suit, walking on crutches. Nevertheless, the most amazing energetic adult I have met. He goes kilometres away from his village  almost every day to just take pictures. Of the same place. Always the same place.  The rocks. Slowly moving like three magic snails, enchanted by his stories me and Ellie listened in awe.  He told us of ancient people who lived in dwellings carved into the rocks ahead. And treasures buried nearby. Dyado Petko- shaky and fragile  walking like  some wise snail. No, wise turtle. With crutches. Like the one in Kung-Fu Panda. Wise Dyado Petko.

We brought him back to his rustic house to find out he lives no place else but at the far end of  a village, called  Tyulenovo (translates to something like town of seals).  His house is an accurate representation of how he looks. Situated next to a field, on top of a rock just above the sea. Cracked, with different paints, stiched, fragile, almost tilting to one side. With hay on the roof and a metal squaky front door. A vegetable garden. Cucumbers, watermelons, a rose or two, and chicken roaming around. We promised we would come back to visit next summer… Oohh, those empty promises we all throw in. Empty words out of politeness. Lingering in the air, waiting for some meaning to magically  be attached to them.

Last week I was in the region and decided to go to his house and check on how he is doing. I asked some strangers if they knew Dyado Petko only to find out he died 3 or 4 years ago. Perhaps months after our visit. I felt immense, mind numbing,  heart paralizing remourse for my unkept promise. Still, I went to check whether the house was there. Naively, to validate my  anticipation it dieing with him. Was I wrong!

Instead I found Dyado Petko had a lovely wife called Baba Radka. Her face was one of those  strong harsh old female faces  carved by sun, sea wind, and will. The will to go on and keep your garden green even without your dreamy man. Was she beautiful!!! I told her how we met Dyado Petko and  she said he did an exhibition in a small nearby town, not in Sofia. I asked to see his pictures and found he somehow saved 20 leva (8 pounds) out of his last pension for them to be printed out. But the pictures never got to her. So I got their son’s mobile (some 50 year old guy with a Che Guevara tatoo on his big belly) and got directions for where the print house is. Now I pray for the photographs to still be there. For I want to organize an exhibition of his work. In Sofia.

And invite Baba Radka.