Everyone slept last night except for me. My afternoon coffee yesterday was likely the culprit. Nevertheless, we started rolling early.

The monastary gates date back to the pre-stroller era.

It’s a striking, magical, peaceful scene. I’ve visited 3 times now – one wedding and two baptisms – and I’m always in awe.

Big brother, Georgi. Dimitar and I are his godparents, too.

Stefan is nonplussed.

The ceremony was attended by family only. It was nice to have such intimacy.

I did not capture the ceremony as I was part of it. Looking forward to seeing what our attendees captured.

The priest has been at this church for decades and he, along with his wife (orthodox Christianity allows priests to marry), run the show. He does the talking and she does the singing (cantor, is that the word?)

It’s interesting as I always feel passive in my participation, not just because of the language barrier. The priest directed the questions to the dads and, at the end, the dads and the priest take the babies behind the scenes (where only men are allowed) to complete a circular, stations of the cross walk.

After the dunking, the babies were changed into their new clothes. Queue the mamas.

Both babies, Stefan and Petar, were perfectly calm and well behaved. Praise be.

As this Bulgarian baptism is outside my span of control, Dimitar chose what some might call a charter-fishing-trip-out-of-Glouchester style outfit. And we lived through it, didn’t we?

This seemed a subversive move:

Pra Diado (great grandfather)

Post ceremony, we took off for a celebratory lunch on the water.