Bulgaria
I know I'm breaking the rules here with the frequency of updates, but I
wanted to write about my experiences in Bulgaria while they were still fresh.
There will only be one more "The Nomad Speaks" after this. I'm ending my
journey in Istanbul, Turkey this weekend and flying back to America to visit
friends and family before figuring out what to do and where to go this
winter. I'm currently in Veliko Tarnovo, Bulgaria waiting for my "Orient
Express" to Istanbul -- an overnight train that takes about 12 hours.
I've had an interesting time in Bulgaria. First off, the Bulgarians nod
their head "no" and shake their head "yes." Secondly, nearly everything is
in Cyrillic. I spent two nights in Sofia. I wasn't that impressed with the
city. For me, it had very little to offer -- with the exception of two
wonderful museums. The International Art Museum was my favorite, with
13th/14th century Japanese paintings, wood carvings and statues from 17th
century India and Burma, and African masks from Mali and Ivory Coast. They
were also showing a temporary exhibition of local artists. I was still
feeling down with flu like symptoms so I didn't do too much exploring. I
stayed in a nice hostel ("Hostel Mostel") with a shared kitchen, great
breakfast, free internet access, a common room and comfortable beds -- for
about $7/night. It was a nice place to hang out while I nursed myself back
to health. To be fair, I only spent two nights in Sofia and did most of my
walking around the center... so maybe it does have more to offer, but I
didn't find it.
After a bit of research and talking to other travellers and natives, I
decided to try and find the Glazhone ("GWAH-JUH-NAY") Monastery and spend
the night there. It's a remote, working, 13th century monastery that sees
very few travellers and represents early monasteries in Bulgaria. After
several chaotic hours at the bus station in Sofia, I managed to find the
right bus headed to the small village of Teteven. The "bus station" is
really a large dirt field with 50 or 60 buses. The only way to find your
bus is ask around and look in the window at the signs to find your
destination. Reminds me of the "bus stations" in Guatemala.
The bus driver was helpful and dropped me off at the right spot when I
mentioned "monastery." He also told me to meet him at this spot the next
day at 12:30pm and he would take me to Veliko Tarnovo -- my final stop
before Istanbul. As I was getting off the bus, a woman and her family
offered to drive me up the road to the village of Glazhone, where it would
only be a 4km walk to the monastery. I jumped in their cramped, 1960's(?)
stereo-typical Soviet car and they drove me to the edge of the village. A
few waves of the hand indicated that I should follow the road through the
forest, to the top of the mountain where the monastery is.
As I'm walking, I came across on old lady picking walnuts off the ground
around her farm. I gave her a friendly "dober den" and she started talking
to me -- in Bulgarian of course. We managed a conversation where she told
me she was 69 years old, she was born in Sofia, and she carries a cane
because of a back injury a few years ago... oh, and the cow eating in the
pasture nearby is hers.
By this time it's around 4:30pm and it starts getting dark around 6:30pm...
so I really wanted to get moving. She kept trying to tell me something... I
could tell she was either warning me or giving me instructions, but I just
didn't get it. Finally I realized she was telling me to wait and a car
would probably drive past and I might be able to hitch with them. Sure
enough, 10-15 minutes later a car drove by. She flagged them down and all I
heard was "blah blah blah Americana blah blah blah monastery."
As it turned out, the family was from Sofia just visiting the monastery for
a few minutes before heading elsewhere. The dad was from Germany and spoke
good English. As we drove toward the monastery, I spoke with them about
travelling and they said they knew the Western U.S. quite well. They had
been to Utah several times on vacation.
When we got to the monastery, the German dad talked with the head monastery
guy -- father (?) -- about giving me a room for the night. It was about $3
for a springy cot in a room with a single light and a small table in the
corner. It was perfect. Surrounded by beautiful wooded mountains with the
leaves changing all shades of red, orange and yellow. I asked him about
food and he said the restaurant offers food. As it turns out, the
"restaurant" is the house of the family that lives on the grounds. I should
mention, "the grounds" which includes the monastary/church, house and a shed
is probably no larger than an acre -- maybe 1/2 acre -- perched on top of a
mountain.
Here's a photo (not mine):
http://georgy.hit.bg/kreposti/mountain2.htm
The monastery was built in the 13th century, in the mountains, to avoid
problems from the Turks. The church was destroyed in an earthquake in the
1920's, but everything else is from the 13th century. The official name is
Church of St. George the Victor, in the Lovetch Eparchy. The monastery had
been a hideout of the Bulgarian revolutionist Vasil Levski.
I walked in, saw a group of Bulgarians at the table, so I sat quietly at the
corner of the table and tried to ask for food. They brought out a whole
fish that had been cooked on the fire, wrapped in aluminum foil and a small
bowl of chicken soup. One of the Bulgarians moved from his seat and sat
next to me. I think he was impressed with the speed at which I ate (I was
starving by this point and the food was delicious).
He didn't speak any English, but he introduced himself as Andre. I told him
my name and that I'm from America. He said, "Ah, America... Bill Clinton"
and smiled. From that point on, he continued to pile food on my plate.
Fresh salad with feta cheese, some sort of crepe/pancake things... and shot
after shot of his homemade fire-water. It's made from plums and grapes and
must have been 200 proof. I've never had anything so potent. He kept
saying "Na Zdravi, Jelso!" He couldn't get my name right, he kept calling
me Jelso. "Na Zdravi" is the same as "Cheers." Since I didn't want to
offend my gracious hosts, I kept drinking. Surprisingly, I didn't really
get drunk... but I was toasty warm. :)
After a few hours of eating and drinking, the head monastery guy came down
and we drank a few glasses of wine. He told me about his trip to Czech
Republic.
By this point, I was ready for bed. When one of them left the table, I took
the opportunity to leave as well. As I was leaving, everyone wanted to
shake my hand and wish me well. They were very friendly people.
The next morning, I walked back to Glazhone, towards the pre-determined
meeting spot for the bus. After about 6km, I was very close to the road and
a car drove by, stopped and said something to me. It was an older guy,
obviously wasn't trying to rob me or anything, so I assumed he was asking me
where I was headed. I told him "Veliko" and when he gave me a puzzled look,
I said "Sofia." I thought worse case I'll head back to Sofia and catch the
bus to Veliko from there. He threw my pack in the back of his car and he
drove me to the bus station -- which wasn't really a bus station, more of a
parking lot. He told me in Bulgarian that a bus would be by soon to take me
to Sofia.
When the bus did finally show up, it wasn't bound for Sofia or Veliko. I
wasn't sure exactly what to do or where I was at, so I just stood around
trying to get the bus driver to tell me when the Sofia bus would be by, but
he kept nodding his head saying "Neh, Sofia." Luckily a woman on the bus,
spoke a little bit of English and she told me I could follow her on the bus
to the next town and there I could catch a bus to Veliko. A 10-minute bus
ride and a one hour wait and I was on the bus to Veliko. Amazing.
Veliko is a nice place in the central-eastern part of the country. It's a
small town, with mountains all around and a river winding below. Very
picturesque. I've been told by natives and guide books that THIS is true
Bulgaria. It's also a college town, so there's a hip vibe -- energy -- that
was felt the moment I stepped off the bus. Not much to do here, but it's
been a nice place to hang out and catch my breath before heading to Istanbul.
wanted to write about my experiences in Bulgaria while they were still fresh.
There will only be one more "The Nomad Speaks" after this. I'm ending my
journey in Istanbul, Turkey this weekend and flying back to America to visit
friends and family before figuring out what to do and where to go this
winter. I'm currently in Veliko Tarnovo, Bulgaria waiting for my "Orient
Express" to Istanbul -- an overnight train that takes about 12 hours.
I've had an interesting time in Bulgaria. First off, the Bulgarians nod
their head "no" and shake their head "yes." Secondly, nearly everything is
in Cyrillic. I spent two nights in Sofia. I wasn't that impressed with the
city. For me, it had very little to offer -- with the exception of two
wonderful museums. The International Art Museum was my favorite, with
13th/14th century Japanese paintings, wood carvings and statues from 17th
century India and Burma, and African masks from Mali and Ivory Coast. They
were also showing a temporary exhibition of local artists. I was still
feeling down with flu like symptoms so I didn't do too much exploring. I
stayed in a nice hostel ("Hostel Mostel") with a shared kitchen, great
breakfast, free internet access, a common room and comfortable beds -- for
about $7/night. It was a nice place to hang out while I nursed myself back
to health. To be fair, I only spent two nights in Sofia and did most of my
walking around the center... so maybe it does have more to offer, but I
didn't find it.
After a bit of research and talking to other travellers and natives, I
decided to try and find the Glazhone ("GWAH-JUH-NAY") Monastery and spend
the night there. It's a remote, working, 13th century monastery that sees
very few travellers and represents early monasteries in Bulgaria. After
several chaotic hours at the bus station in Sofia, I managed to find the
right bus headed to the small village of Teteven. The "bus station" is
really a large dirt field with 50 or 60 buses. The only way to find your
bus is ask around and look in the window at the signs to find your
destination. Reminds me of the "bus stations" in Guatemala.
The bus driver was helpful and dropped me off at the right spot when I
mentioned "monastery." He also told me to meet him at this spot the next
day at 12:30pm and he would take me to Veliko Tarnovo -- my final stop
before Istanbul. As I was getting off the bus, a woman and her family
offered to drive me up the road to the village of Glazhone, where it would
only be a 4km walk to the monastery. I jumped in their cramped, 1960's(?)
stereo-typical Soviet car and they drove me to the edge of the village. A
few waves of the hand indicated that I should follow the road through the
forest, to the top of the mountain where the monastery is.
As I'm walking, I came across on old lady picking walnuts off the ground
around her farm. I gave her a friendly "dober den" and she started talking
to me -- in Bulgarian of course. We managed a conversation where she told
me she was 69 years old, she was born in Sofia, and she carries a cane
because of a back injury a few years ago... oh, and the cow eating in the
pasture nearby is hers.
By this time it's around 4:30pm and it starts getting dark around 6:30pm...
so I really wanted to get moving. She kept trying to tell me something... I
could tell she was either warning me or giving me instructions, but I just
didn't get it. Finally I realized she was telling me to wait and a car
would probably drive past and I might be able to hitch with them. Sure
enough, 10-15 minutes later a car drove by. She flagged them down and all I
heard was "blah blah blah Americana blah blah blah monastery."
As it turned out, the family was from Sofia just visiting the monastery for
a few minutes before heading elsewhere. The dad was from Germany and spoke
good English. As we drove toward the monastery, I spoke with them about
travelling and they said they knew the Western U.S. quite well. They had
been to Utah several times on vacation.
When we got to the monastery, the German dad talked with the head monastery
guy -- father (?) -- about giving me a room for the night. It was about $3
for a springy cot in a room with a single light and a small table in the
corner. It was perfect. Surrounded by beautiful wooded mountains with the
leaves changing all shades of red, orange and yellow. I asked him about
food and he said the restaurant offers food. As it turns out, the
"restaurant" is the house of the family that lives on the grounds. I should
mention, "the grounds" which includes the monastary/church, house and a shed
is probably no larger than an acre -- maybe 1/2 acre -- perched on top of a
mountain.
Here's a photo (not mine):
http://georgy.hit.bg/kreposti/mountain2.htm
The monastery was built in the 13th century, in the mountains, to avoid
problems from the Turks. The church was destroyed in an earthquake in the
1920's, but everything else is from the 13th century. The official name is
Church of St. George the Victor, in the Lovetch Eparchy. The monastery had
been a hideout of the Bulgarian revolutionist Vasil Levski.
I walked in, saw a group of Bulgarians at the table, so I sat quietly at the
corner of the table and tried to ask for food. They brought out a whole
fish that had been cooked on the fire, wrapped in aluminum foil and a small
bowl of chicken soup. One of the Bulgarians moved from his seat and sat
next to me. I think he was impressed with the speed at which I ate (I was
starving by this point and the food was delicious).
He didn't speak any English, but he introduced himself as Andre. I told him
my name and that I'm from America. He said, "Ah, America... Bill Clinton"
and smiled. From that point on, he continued to pile food on my plate.
Fresh salad with feta cheese, some sort of crepe/pancake things... and shot
after shot of his homemade fire-water. It's made from plums and grapes and
must have been 200 proof. I've never had anything so potent. He kept
saying "Na Zdravi, Jelso!" He couldn't get my name right, he kept calling
me Jelso. "Na Zdravi" is the same as "Cheers." Since I didn't want to
offend my gracious hosts, I kept drinking. Surprisingly, I didn't really
get drunk... but I was toasty warm. :)
After a few hours of eating and drinking, the head monastery guy came down
and we drank a few glasses of wine. He told me about his trip to Czech
Republic.
By this point, I was ready for bed. When one of them left the table, I took
the opportunity to leave as well. As I was leaving, everyone wanted to
shake my hand and wish me well. They were very friendly people.
The next morning, I walked back to Glazhone, towards the pre-determined
meeting spot for the bus. After about 6km, I was very close to the road and
a car drove by, stopped and said something to me. It was an older guy,
obviously wasn't trying to rob me or anything, so I assumed he was asking me
where I was headed. I told him "Veliko" and when he gave me a puzzled look,
I said "Sofia." I thought worse case I'll head back to Sofia and catch the
bus to Veliko from there. He threw my pack in the back of his car and he
drove me to the bus station -- which wasn't really a bus station, more of a
parking lot. He told me in Bulgarian that a bus would be by soon to take me
to Sofia.
When the bus did finally show up, it wasn't bound for Sofia or Veliko. I
wasn't sure exactly what to do or where I was at, so I just stood around
trying to get the bus driver to tell me when the Sofia bus would be by, but
he kept nodding his head saying "Neh, Sofia." Luckily a woman on the bus,
spoke a little bit of English and she told me I could follow her on the bus
to the next town and there I could catch a bus to Veliko. A 10-minute bus
ride and a one hour wait and I was on the bus to Veliko. Amazing.
Veliko is a nice place in the central-eastern part of the country. It's a
small town, with mountains all around and a river winding below. Very
picturesque. I've been told by natives and guide books that THIS is true
Bulgaria. It's also a college town, so there's a hip vibe -- energy -- that
was felt the moment I stepped off the bus. Not much to do here, but it's
been a nice place to hang out and catch my breath before heading to Istanbul.