Bulgaria - Hearts of Fire to Thaw Even the Most Icy Travellers

I had one last night in Istanbul with part of the crew. We all had lunch together, then Paria and Vaughn had to take off. So that night I went out with Rich, Hanna, James, and Zara. We went to a different part of Istanbul, where the party was happening. I was surprised to learn what a party the nights of Ramadan can be. We stumbled upon this fair where they had a small story-show going on and lots of booths selling all sorts of things, like toffee....mmmm toffee so good. We parted ways the next morning and I set off on a bus to Bulgaria. Crossing the border is no easy task. I had my passport checked and or stamped 5 times. Once to get on the bus, once to declare goods leaving Turkey, once to exit Turkey, once to declare goods entering Bulgaria, and once to enter Bulgaria. It was a looooonnnnng drawn out process. So lunchless for much longer than expected, I finally got to Bulgaria at 17:30.

Bulgaria is a place that is difficult both in a linguistic and navigational sense, the latter having a lot to do with the former. The problem is that the Bulgarian language is written in the Cyrillic alphabet, which, to say the least, is a touch different than the one we use. When I arrived in Plovdiv and stepped from the bus into the pooring rain, I figured I'd give it a walk and with a little help from some German tourists found a hostel in no time. Thank goodness for them because it appeared that no one spoke English, or German for that matter - a very common second language. I've since learned that almost all Bulgarians speak some of one of those two languages, but often pretend not to. It's not that they're being rude, but are embarrassed by how poorly they think they speak it. But it was okay, I was embarrassed that I couldn't understand any of theirs, written or spoken.

I soon discovered that women in their 20s and 30s spoke fairly good English and were eager to help, whereas guys in that age group didn't speak any English. Strange, but actually quite to my liking...I had an excuse only to ask questions of the former category.

I found my way to the tourist information office, which turned out to be the tourist-information-we-cannot-provide-for-you office. It did not have a map of the city, or a what-to-do in Plovdiv pamphlet. It was not at all useful. But I should say neither was my guide book, let's just say the Rough Guide needed another draft.

First note to Rough Guides: If you say this is the one city in Bulgaria that is a must see, you need to include a freaking map!

It turns out I missed a good deal, because I could not ask in Bulgarian, and they could not tell me in English. So I wandered around, and I've gathered that I successfully circumnavigated most of what was worthy of being seen, without actually seeing it. However, I did see a few things, and struck upon my own adventures in Plovdiv.

I wandered around looking for a restaurant, and seemed only to find McD's and Kabap places. Being that I'm starting to grow sick of eating kabaps, I decided to pass on them, and just before breaking down and going for a Big Mac, I found a Bulgarian Italian restaurant. I had a big meal that was not quite Italian, but still tasty. While there I spent the better part of an hour watching the end of the Women's World Cup of Field Hockey, wherein the Aussies had their asses handed to them by the Dutch. To me it seemed like the ref was giving the ball to the Dutch a lot more frequently, and at one point the Australians scored from their end, but it didn't count. I was befuddled. However, after watching for a long while, using my powers of logic, deduction, and reason, I came up with the insightful point that I don't understand the rules and thus am confused.

The busboy was equally confused though. He was very friendly and then gave me directions to an internet cafe. But when he became insistent that I go there, and told me that people really do like him, with relevant examples, I noticed he developed a touch of the crazy eye and decided to find my own internet cafe.

That night, the pasta had its revenge as it attacked me violently with a case of the H.A.P. For those of you not in the know in my acronistic world, the H.A.P, is "Hot Ass-Piss." I dreamed about playing hockey, and we were making a comeback when all of a sudden I really had to go to the bathroom. That's when I woke up, pinched hard, and made a waddle for it. Victory was mine!

My breakfast in Sofia a couple of days later proved to be interesting in its own right. I was brought a plate of cheeses and bread with jam. I decided I'd try the first one; it was awfully bland...almost like butter. In fact, it was butter, and I just put a large bite of it in my mouth. So I moved on to the second sample. It was not bland at all, in fact it was so salty, I could barely eat it. In fact, I could not get past the second bite. It seems that the Bulgarians have learned how to make sea water into a cheese-like substance. So I moved on to the last one, and it was juuuussssst right. Fortunately, Cory-locks was not attacked by bears.

The next day, I had a walk around, but as mentioned before, I did not see much of note, and instead I decided that if they could not help me, I'd help them.

Help me, help you. Help me,

Old Party Headquarters
A daunting and ominous building staring down the middle of the main drag.

help you.

So I waved a guy back so that he could fit into this tiny parking space, then wandered off in search of the bus station. Along the way I jumped in front of an old lady who was about to be splashed by a car speeding through a roadside puddle. I was tres wet, but she was safe, and oblivious to the events as they had unfolded, but I felt like a superhero: Spunge man, soaking up puddles that attack at will. Then some woman was waving her arms wildly at me from her car. I didn't understand a word, but figured out with the above mentioned powers of deduction that her reverse lights and crapy park job needed my skills. Finally, I found a lady who was having trouble pushing tacks for her poster into the wood of the bulletin board. All in all, it was a good day.

On the busride, I met a nice young lady named Marina who taught me the Cyrillic alphabet and told me how to pronouce them. I wrote that down, and it has been the most useful, indeed crucial tool ever.

Second note to Rough Guides: The Street names on your map of Sofia are not helpful, since on the street signs they're not written in English!!!

Thankfully, I had my trusty rosetta stone to guide me.

Sofia has been much maligned by the guide books. Sure it's not the most beautiful of European capitals, but it has a lively arts scene, that's maybe more prolific than anywhere else I've been, and its parks are beautiful. Bulgaria is a place that is full of potential. Everywhere there is decay and streets are cracked, buildings worn down. They're working on all that, but it takes time to repair decades of neglect. So in that sense it's a bit on the ugly side.

Despite their culinary and informational difficulties, the Bulgarians score major points with their own amazing selves. The women are so stylish. They have an impeccable sense of fashion, which only serves to underscore the fact that I am an outsider, and would never fit in. But their fashion isn't dictated by a single trend. They seem to be aware that different shapes belong in different styles of clothes. In other words, I did not see enormous bellies falling out of midriffs. I was very impressed and enamoured. The one goldmine they've struck upon are the calf high boots. God those are sexy! They don't like to maintain eye contact though. They seem to make sure you see them looking, then look away, and flick their hair as they walk by. Damn them, they must know that woman smell is the best scent in the world. It's better than the first rain, than the ocean, than coffee beans, it's the best and greatest scent in the world, and damn them for knowing this.

The guys may or may not have had a sense of fashion, I wasn't really paying attention in truth (I've been accused of being a pervert recently, given that inuendo, and not-so-inuendo-y topics tend to be amongst my favorites... to which I reply... yes, yes I am). I did, however, notice my share of the amazing eyebrows that Bulgarians are so famous for, sported by Leonid Brezhnev.

I have to admit, that I'm getting kind of travel worn, so I was not in the best of moods during my stay in Bulgaria, but I was totally rejuvenated by the extraordinarily friendly and truly charming spirit of the people. I spent a good half an hour talking to an old lady about all her travels around Europe and how ugly places like Paris are compared to her Lovely Sofia. It's nice to see someone love their city so much and she's entitled to her opinion, even if it's objectively incorrect. The most glorious of my adventures was wandering through the street market in front of the cathedral. Looking at varied treasures from the communist and Nazi periods, both real and authentic fakes.

Side note: The Bulgarians were the only axis power who when asked to send their Jews to concentration camps refused Hitler's orders and left them alone.

It was such a refreshing change from the Turkish markets. With the exception of one old man, nobody tried to sell me anything, they just wanted to talk and ask me where I'm from and how I liked Bulgaria. Then one fellow took me in behind his table and we talked for more than an hour about the state of Bulgaria and how life is different compared to Canada and the U.S. Then after he learned that I was 29 and single he spent 15 minutes 'training' me how to talk to women (which I actually kind of appreciated). I love women, but they intimidate the hell out of me for unknown reasons...fear of rejection, or indifference perhaps? He gave me some book suggestions and then asked me to send him a copy of mine, which I will gladly do. The whole time he didn't even suggest I might like to buy some. Instead he sent me along my way and I was much rejuventated and invigorated to continue my travels.

Thanks Bulgaria, I will most certainly be back in your warm embrace in the future.

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