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Published: August 6th 2006
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I think I managed to get sick of Music in Velıka Tarnovo. Don't worry, it's not a permanent illness, But a few days I just wanted silence. The problem was that the hikers hostel where I was staying, although lovely, deemed ıt reasonable to play mind numbıng trance music from early morning to early evening. From then it got even worse, as a couple of obnoxious australians (whose major conversation topic was how much illegal substances they took) would hog the stereo and insist on playing 'a perfect circle' and every other experiemental metal band that I dont know the name of.
Apart from this testing ordeal, which forced me to stay away most of the time, Velika was a charming rustic town with a spectacular setting on a ridge overlooking a river.
I had travelled to Velıka wıth Adam, the guy who I had met in Plovdıv. When we arrived, the guidebook seemed to suggest that in order to find our hostel, we needed to look for the mystical sounding 'house of the little monkey'. Hoever, either this house, or the little monkey didn't exist. For an hour or so we became embroiled in the treacherously steep and
cobbled backstreets of Velika. I had to fend off one particuarly yappy dog who insisted on following me half way acoss town. It was about the a rat though, so I would have been able to take it if it came to blows
At this time of year, possıbly due to the unique mountan geography, the weather in Velıika seemed to follow a predictable pattern.
Morning: Blue Skys blazing dry heat
Midday: Clouds begin to appear in the sky, the ait becomes humid.
Afternoon: Sky's are grey, its hot and intolerably humid.
Early evenıng: Enourmous thunder and lightning storm, waterfalls flow down steps and slopes, cars drench passers by etc.
Late evening nightime: temperature drops, clouds dissapear.
Such consistent weather was actually very useful, as it became easy to plan around it. ,My instinct became so finaely tuned that I would return to my hostel just as the first few drops fell.
The big attraction in Velika was the Tsvarats Castle. This was situated on a isolated mound away from the town, with a 360 degree view of the surrounding valleys it looked like something out of Lord of the rings. One can understandwhy the Bulgarians
chose this as their Medieval Capital. İt would have been almost impossible to attack.
After I had kicked around the castle for a bit, (which was impressive enough, but without any sort of imformation on it, I didn't want to spend a lot of time there) I took a walk down through one of the old quarters of the town in an attempt to find a short cut back to my hostel before the rain started.
As I walked I got increasingy strange looks from the various elderly locals gathered about. They probably hadn't seen an outsider for a while. The road came to a halt by a railtrack in a derelict looking area. As I turned to leave I noticed a mangy looking dog about ten feet away, which staggered to its feet and began barking in a threatening manner. A horrifible moment folowed, when I realised, with a sinking feeling that I had unintentionally stumbled into some sort of vast canine lair. All around me dogs began to spring to there feet, snarling and pacing around. Luciıly most of them were chained up so I headed, unharmed, back the way I came.
On my third
day I bıi goodbye to Adam, who was off to Transniestrıer, a communist enclave in Moldova. And set off to find one of the many local authenticaly Bulgarian villages.There was no Public transport, but the guidebook said it was a reaspnable walk. I had been going for about half an hour in the sweltering heat when the road just fell away. Not under me, because then I wouldn't be here to tell the tale. It looked as there had been had some sort of landslide and although the road seemed passable on foot I didn't want to try my luck. I returned to the original turn off for the road. There was no sign, nothing to indicate that any motorist who nade a wrong turn mıght be potentially going to their untimely and gruesome death.
I walked along a couple of alternative roads for about half an hour, but all I came across was an industrial depot, and another lair of dogs, which I stayed well away from.
When I returned the Australians had departed, so it was pounding beats instead of twiddly guitars. Hooray.
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