Part 15: Varna (Days 36, 37, 38, 39)

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I wouldn't make a good hobo. I'm not addicted to crack, I haven't got a beard, and I have trouble enough sleeping in hostel beds, especially if the pillows are too big. So managing to get an hour's shut-eye on the floor of a Bulgarian railway station with prostitutes and other undesirable characters roaming around nearby surprised me.

It had been none of our intentions to spend the night on the hard marble floor of Ruse station, believe it or not. Mildly hungover, we had set off from Brasov at 2pm and spent a couple of hours at Bucharest before catching our connecting train to Ruse, where we would wait for four hours before getting the 2.30am train to Varna. Unfortunately, as we discovered when reaching Ruse, the 2.30am train didn't exist. It only runs in summer. Cursing the Romanian ticket clerk that had failed to check this rather important detail, we were informed that the next train to the coast was 6.10am. It was now 11pm and we were in the middle of nowhere. We had little option but to stay put and wait it out.

We had, by coincidence, met three Canadians at Bucharest who had also stayed in our hostel in Brasov, and they were in the same predicament. We hadn't long been at Ruse when one of their number, Jason, was offered "services" by a very mankey prostitute, who stuck around for the evening. It's obviously a popular spot for business (although she didn't seem to get any).

If it wasn't bad enough, I entered the station toilet to see the attendant, a man in his 70s, perched atop a toilet seat doing his business. Obviously he didn't feel like closing the door. I put it out of my mind while I used the urinal and washed my hands, but worse was to come. On trying to leave, he wanted me to pay 0.30 lev. He sprung from his position, presumably unfinished, and without washing his hands, took the money from me and doled out the change (I only had a 10lev note). There was an unmistakable odour eminating from his person. Welcome to Bulgaria.

After an age and a brief sleep, we successfully caught the 6.10am, during which I slept for most of the four hour journey. On arrival at our hostel we went straight for a quick pizza lunch (at 11am) and understandably went straight back to bed, waking at about 5.30pm. 27 and a half hours after leaving Brasov.

We had arrived in Varna a few weeks too late. The season in the Black Sea resort had just ended, and while sunny and warmer than Romania, the tourists had all gone home and it was no longer sunbathing weather. Further evidence was at the beach bars that night. Many were closed, the rest were sparsely populated. By then, we'd had a few drinks and ended the night in the Tra La La club, which had more people in than most. The walls, randomly, were adorned with prose from Terry Pratchett books. After we had passed the point of inebriation, we thought it would be a great idea to buy some massive cigars and smoke them. We must have looked utterly ridiculous. Brits abroad!

It became clear after we left that Si had lost his wallet in the club. Fortunately it had about 20 lev (eight pounds) and some old train tickets inside. His suspicion was that it was stolen. I like the thought that some opportunist saw us smoking Cubans like big shots, and assuming we were rich westerners, took it. I'd love to have seen his face when he opened it up to find a sum of cash that wouldn't buy you three drinks in the UK.

If stray dogs were common in Romania, in Varna the stray cat is definitely king. Earlier on that first night we had watched amused as a dog and a cat exchanged pleasantries before the latter was chased around the beer garden and eventually up a tree. Almost as common as stray cats and infinitely more annoying were men approaching us on the street trying to change money - obviously this is always a con but they are extremely persistent so often you had to walk into a shop to get rid of them (on one occasion I realised the shop I had escaped to was a ladies eyewear outlet. I got some funny looks).

I'd gone out on my own Saturday morning to buy some jeans while Si and Carmel struggled to shake off their hangovers. I strolled the bar-lined pedestrian streets which led down to the beach. It was hard to imagine that three weeks previously it would have been teeming with tourists. It was more than a little disappointing too, seeing as it was our main reason for coming here.

Later that evening, we met up with our Canadian friends again and had a couple of drinks with them in the busy Bar De Luxe, where we exchanged the normal travel tales. But after the carnage of the previous evening, another big one was never likely so our last night in Varna fizzled out somewhat. It's a pleasant enough town, and everything is absurdly cheap (beer was less than a pound everywhere) but we were a month late to see it in its full glory.

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