Bulgaria Day 7: Hitch-hiking to a monestary

I wake up pretty early and shake off the hangover with a quick swim. I'm going into the centre to meet Family Kenobove. We are going to visit Aladzha Monastery, so have to take a bus to the edge of Varna.

I meet them outside MacDonalds and we get on a bus. This my first time on public transport(The bus to Nesebar didn't really count), so it brings with it the fun of experiencing the bustle of public transport. This really gives you a feel for the people. Essentially it's like any bus anywhere, but it makes me feel like a traveller.

The bus is absolutely roasting. It is such a warm day, and the bus is baking us alive. The system costs 1 ticket no matter how long you stay on the bus for. SO the 20Km trip costs us about 50 Lev cents. We eventually reach the end of the line, and get off. It's a tiny little town which time forgot. There are people harvesting fields with scythes and a woman taking her goat for a morning walk:



We are hitch-hiking the 10 Km to the Aladzha monastery, so head out along the road. It climbs up along a hill and gives us a beautiful view over Varna. This is my last day in Bulgaria and it seems to be the hottest day yet. Walking along the road through the trees along curving winding roads reminds me of family trips to Arran.




The Bride is really excited about the little town and talks of memories of her grandmother's little village. As we are walking along the road, she says "I really hope we see an old tractor come along the road" In the true spirit of a country walk, Obi Wan pipes up, "I really hope we see a Taxi"

We are having no luck with the cars coming past, and the walk and the heat is starting to get to everybody. Eventually a woman stops. She's in a car with her daughter and we are taken along to the monastery. There are the usual tourist stalls selling crap, but other than that, the little steps up the monastery are subdued.

The ruins date back to the 13th and 14th century when, under the ottoman empire, churches were outlawed. The church was used by monks of the Hesychast order until the 18th century, but wasn't rediscovered until 1928.

There is a small visitor and information centre and a toilet, and then one path leading along to the catacombs, and one leading along to the monastery. When we round the corner, you get to see the monastery. It's a basically rooms carved into the side of a cliff face, but looks pretty cool:



We head up the stairs to the first level. We head along and see the various little rooms. They are tiny, and it's hard to believe that the little rooms were once populated, never mind able to hold ceremonies. People have left flowers and placed coins in indentations on the walls. At the end room there is even a little room with an icon in it.








We go up onto the second level. Its remarkable both for the monastery and also for the view over the Black sea coast.



We take some photos and then head on down. We have a little look around the visitor centre where the only interesting thing are some beautiful lithographs of icons. I'm starting to recognise specific saint's from the icon's. My lack of religious upbringing means that I don't really know many more saints than St. Nicholas - the patron saint of wrapping paper. Now I can recognise, the Archangel Michael - he's usually killing something, or standing with a spear.

We head along the path to the catacombs. It's about a mile's walk through the woods. It's a beautiful walk, and reminds me again of similar scenery in Scotland. There are various trees which are marked with little signs. I joke with Obi Wan that it's a got a real Lord of the Rings feel. We can imagine being Hobbits and setting off along the winding forrest path to leave the Shire on an adventure.

We eventually get to the Catacombs:



There are signs everywhere, telling us not to go in and how dangerous it is, so we can't get to see everything, but it's still pretty cool. They were used as a religious crypt and and for ceremonies during the 4th and 5th centuries by a Christian sect who placed a lot of importance in their dead. It's pretty spooky, and the dangerous falling rocks add to the atmosphere. The rocks are overgrown with vegetation. The Lord of the Rings similarities return. This is like the real version of Aragorn entering spooky caves to get the spirits of the dead to join his army.









We pose for a few photos - very quietly so as not to disturb the rocks.

It was definitely worth the walk, and we head through the woods to find our way back to Varna.

Back on the road with the tourist crap, we have the options of walking back the way we came, or walking on for about 2 hours to the next town where we can get a bus. We don't fancy walking, and eventually we find a guy who's willing to take us back into Varna for 10 Leva. It's not the friendly mother and child that we came across on the way, but it does save us some time and get us back to Varna.

Once back, I want to head off to the Cathedral of the Assumption of the Virgin. I've passed it all week, but I've never taken the time to take it in. It's one of the few Varna attractions that I've not yet experienced, and one of the best.







Inside the ikons and paintings are beautiful, but they are a little clean, and the parade of tourists around the walls take away from it. I much preferred the dirty cracked images in St Stephan's of Nesebar.

Once outside, I've thought of a good souvenir for myself from Bulgaria. There's icons on wood for sale, and while I'm not religious, I really like them. So I head out to one of the stalls and ask which icon is Andre - or St. Andrew, the patron saint of Scotland:



I head around town and pick up a few postcards and some purchases(Counterfeit Sunglasses - 5 Leva)

Once finished, its a few phone calls to find out where people are meeting. Yet again it's off to the Alba. This seems like as good a place as any to spend my last night. People arrive in dribs and drabs and the salad, rakia and beer is flowing in no time.

I'm very disappointed to be leaving this wonderful friendly atmosphere with it's salads. I even manage to adopt a kitten:



It's then off to bed for a good night's sleep before the long trip home.

Bulgaria Day 6: The beach

I wake up with the frustration of having lost my camera. I dive in the pool, thouroughly pissed off. The groom shouts me over from the breakfast table. "did you get my sms??" After I SMS'd them last night, they phoned the lost and found and the Taxi driver brought the camera to their hotel. After all the bad things we've said about Varna taxi driver's, I was lucky enough to get a good one. I'm over the moon, having thought that I'd lost all my photos from the The Wedding and Nesebar.

Today we are going to a real beach. The Bride has cleared her plate of all organising responsibilities and is finally getting to relax. We are heading north up the coast, towards a resort called Constantine and Helena. We are 1 car full.

This beach is a much more lavish affair than Varna city beach. It is flanked on all sides by the huge resort hotels who seem to manage to cram in more English and German pink lobsters than is possible.



As soon as we get there, Obi wan runs of and starts using the Hotel pool. There is a sign instructing a charge of about 5 Euros for non guests. I instruct him that if anyone from the hotel talks to him, he has to answer in Dutch. He seems to understand.

Theres very little to tell from today. It disappeared very quickly, but in a very good way. I had planned to head further up the coast and visit a monastery.

After reading books, jumping waves and listening to my iPod for a while, I head off for an explore. I’ve heard that you can get a massage, and my love of Shiatsu leads me back up to the resort hotels to see if there is anything obvious around.

I eventually walk along the sleepy little street to a set of shops. Low and behold, they have a Sun!!!!!:



Living outside the UK, suddenly the ridiculousness, bad journalism, zenaphobia and page 3 titillation becomes a welcome change from either dry information in English or the lack of escapism involved in deciphering a newspaper in a foreign language. I get a Sun in Amsterdam when I really need some escapism. Find out who Robbie Williams has shagged at the weekend, or laugh at the royals. I pay through the nose, but it’s worth it.

I also ask the girl behind the counter if there is a place for Massage. She only speaks Bulgairan and German. Thank god for a Standard grade in German, although I only really need the words links, rechts und geradeaus.

I investigate the massage. It’s closed until 3pm, but it cots 10 Lev for 15 minutes or 20 for 30 minutes. I proudly return to Base camp with my Current Bun, and tell them I’ve found the masseur. They are shocked that anyone would pay that for a massage. It’s three times what it would cost in Varna. I’m not bothered, cos it’s three times less than I’d pay else where.

We head off for some beach side eating. It’s the usual shopska salata rakia and beer. We also have deep fried sprat fish. These, I think should be disgusting, but they are salty, crispy and deep fried. Perfect for the Scottish palette and a good munchy to have with beer. Tradionally salad should be taken with rakia at lunch time, but it’s only about 1pm, and I’m not that keen.

After lunch I go for my massage. It’s nothing special but it does add to a very chilled day doing not much.

By the time I get back the weather is starting to deteriorate:



The wind is picking up and we decide to pack up and head off. As we do so, a black cloud like you’ve never seen moves steadily across the sky. We seem to have made the correct decision:



As we are driving back, theres an exchange in Bulgarian, which results in Obi Wan hiding under a towel in the back seat, as we drive through a police check. He’s not as I suspect wanted for being the cheekiest 7 yr old in the country. It turns out that there are too many people in the car and you can get charged, and the fact that we are driving in a car with Sofia plates means that the police target us. Country rivalries exist in every country it seems.

After a quick refresh in the room and a change of clothes, it’s back to centre for Staropramen and yet more shopska salata. It’s another good evening with about ten people dropping in. This time we head to a different bar. I’m pretty knackered so The Brie and I start with a coffee and Bailleys. I forgot how good that tasted and it picks me up ready for another night.



Once everyone is drifiting away and heading home for the night. The groom’s brother wants to continue as we’ve started to mine lots of stories about Scottish and Bulgarian history over some beers.

We head to a club which is completely dead, and I don’t remember the name of it. We then head off to another café and continue talking. Tomorrow I want to make a trip to the monastery, so I make my excuses and leave at about 2am…

Bulgaria day 5: Nessebar

After days in everybody’s pocket and lapping up Bulgarian culture rather than lapping up Bulgaria, I made the decision to go a trip out of Varna. It comes from glancing through the lonely planet. This country is so rich in stuff to see, that I’m determined to at least get a little trip out of Varna. The country is large, so to get to any of the other main cities would require an over night stay or an American style 16 hour round trip in a bus in order to spend 2 hours somewhere.

I’ve decided that the maximum use I can make of my time is a trip to Nesebar. Nesebar is an old historic town slightly further down the coast which is apparently very beautiful and very popular. In order to get there I need to take a bus from Varna’s second bus station and head down the coast for about 2 hours. From last night in Alba, I’m told which bus to get and where to get it. I stand at the bus station at about 9am, and wait 30 minutes for the bus. It’s clear that the bus isn’t coming. I know that the Taxi would cost about 15 euros, so I pull out the lonely planet. Get iPodded up and start walking. I can get to the centre no problem, I now know my way about but after that it’s about a 20 minute walk and I’m lucky to have Wish you were here to placate me as I walk:



This is an album that I have loved for so long that it removes you from your body and my legs just walk along automatically.

I’m now out in the sticks. The shops are getting more and more local, and I’m feeling more and more out of place. I ask a few times for directions to make sure I’m going in the right direction. This basically amounts to me saying “autogara” to people and them pointing.

Finally I get to the little wooden shack which turns out to be the Bus Station. I ask various people for a ticket to Nesebar in Bulgarian until I realise that they are telling me I have to pay on the bus. Then I get some breakfast at the bar. Two girls come up to me and pointing at the Bulgarian lonely planet sticking out of my shorts ask me:

“Do. You. Speak. English.”

I say:

“Yes. I. Am. Scottish”

Turns out they’ve been backpacking round Bulgaria and I’m the first English speaker(well, approximating English) they’ve met in 3 weeks or something like that. They don’t speak a word of Bulgarian and are convinced that by asking about my ticket and paying for food, I speak Bulgarian. We are now on the road on the bus and a kid starts talking to me.

People here are much friendlier. You don’t have the paedophilia fear that seems to envelop children in other countries. I use all my Bulgarian with this kid, asking his name telling him mine etc. The girls are stunned. I get the impression they ain’t “seen” much around Bulgaria, even though they’ve looked at a lot.

We talk about food, culture, the sights etc. I’m really jealous of anyone that heads off on these type of adventures, but by the time the bus journey is over, I’m already bored with the conversation. It could be that I’ve travelled to far from student conversations, or their posh Englishness is getting to me or even that I’m jealous of my travels, but I’m glad when they head off to a hostel and I get to go back to iPod Fuelled touring.

Nesebar is an island connected to the mainland by a causeway:



It is about 3000 years old and has so many old buildings and churches, that I can tell when I get off the bus that the lack of tourists I’ve seen so far in Varn are going to be a very pleasant but distant memory pretty soon. The first noise you hear is man with a mega phone shouting directions in German as to which bus goes back to which resort.

I enter along the causeway and instantly the place reeks of history:



The place just looks so perfect. They even have a bagpiper to welcome what I believe to be the only non German walking along the bridge:



I decide that rather than start with the ticking off of Lonley Planet entries, that I’ll get my bearings first by walking around the island. The water is so blue and the place looks lovely:





I make it full circle and the walk back along the causeway and start to look out for churches on the map to make sure I don’t miss anything. The first one I come across is Church of Christ Pantocrator.



It has a little art Gallery inside, but it’s not up to much. It’s contemporary art based on religious stuff, and it doesn’t really work, but the building is gorgeous. After this I continue round to St XXXX church:



It’s really a bit different, it has a stripy terracotta theme, and the design is far different from Western European churches. It’s in the middle of the main square, and is a really nice setting, if you manage to ignore the bad restaurants offering brat wursts and all day English breakfasts. The hard-sell to the tourists is really tough, little groups of rotund women run up to you and try to sell you bracelets and all types of crap for really extortionate prices. I don’t blame them. The resort goers seem to lap it up as if they have never seen any of this stuff before. For some reason they are less inclined to approach the solo traveller who is listening to Nine Inch Nails “The Fragile”:



I’m sure it’s a mortal sin to be browsing through such genuine religious relics while listening to nine inch nails. The lyrical content is slightly less that Christian, but it provides me with a really atmospheric experience that makes Nesebar even better.

I continue on my Church tour and onwards onto St. Stephan’s church:





This church is a pay to enter church. It’s the first one I’ve visited that’s like that. I pay about 2 euros to get in. This would have bought you a meal in Varna. Once I’ve bought the entrance ticket they tell me it’s a further 2 euros to use my camera. I can’t help thinking that this is even less Christian than me listening to nine inch nails.

I’m a little peeved, and think I’ve been had, there’s no other tourists here, and the turnstyle on the front of this church takes away a little from the small world charm. Once I’m in the door, I realise that it was worth every penny. This tiny church is absolutely covered in Ikons and freezes from the 16th Century. I’m really awestruck, I’m left alone in a room with these wonderful artworks in various states of disrepair:


























Sorry for that, but St Stephan must have been a good guy, because his church was out of this world. I must have been in there for over an hour taking photos and I think I really got my moneys worth. Bizarrely I was the only one there the whole time. I can only assume that everyone else assumes that they’ve seen as much in the free churches and shouldn’t need to pay. They are wrong!!

I now feel so chilled it’s unbelievable. I usually get bored very quickly with art, but having it all to myself was wonderful.

I come out and continue down towards the ruins of St. XXXX church. It sits over looking the sea and has a wonderful amphitheatre behind it. It is really picturesque and the advertisements for evening concerts all summer really sounds great.









All around Nesebar, are great little dilapidated buildings, but they have an excuse – they are absolutely ancient. I don’t know why one island needed so many churches, but it makes for a great trip through the various architectural styles and themes, which have been used in Bulgaria’s history. After St Spa’s church I get a little lost and end up taking a non tourist road, which on an island that is about a mile in diameter is no mean feat:



I even see a woman opening her door holding her shopping and two kids. She shouts, “wait, wait”, she digs in her pocket, pulls out a necklace and says, “2 leva, 2 leva”. They love their tourist diddling.

Inside St. Spa’s there is some ikons which you can pay to see. It’s ultimately peanuts, so I pay it, but it’s nowhere near the St Stephans:









After this I head along past another three churches St. Todor and St. XXXX, which you can’t get inside and St. XXXX which is now a restaurant:









I make it along another little dilapidated street. There are still Lada’s everywhere in this country, and they give it a very timeless feel:



I’m just about spent, and I’ve just about seen everything there is to see. It’s well past lunch time and I think I need to do it in style. I’ve decided that I’m going to pay through the nose no matter where I go, so I might as well go somewhere good. I go to a restaurant that looks over the sea and get some BBQ’d fish, a shopska It is absolutely delicious and I get to casually have a good meal, with a great view and update my moleskin with a few memories of my day. I really feel like the traveller today and it makes me what to just go out and have no deadline for getting back to work or Amsterdam, or even Varna.

It’s almost 5pm. The museum’s are starting to shut, and my time to get to my 6.30 bus is approaching. I have one more thing to see. The Basilica. The Basilica is a 9th Century ruined building in the middle of the city. It is the largest of all the relics which I visit. I’m tired, but it’s still quite impressive.





I now head back down to the causeway to check out the situation with the bus back to Varna. I’m about 45 minutes early, but since it’s the last bus, I wanted to make sure I was on time and knew the bus timetable.

I now have 45 minutes to kill so I walk along to the right down to the Marina. From here you can see all the traditional wooden houses:



They are built with a brick ground floor then wooden floors after that. If I recall my beer fuelled Bulgarian history lessons, the wooden part is for earthy things , such as storing cattle, the wooden areas are larger and are or more spiritual pursuits. Representatively the spiritual is larger than the earth.

The sun is starting to hang low in the sky, which cast beautiful rays across the peaceful rippling waters around the marina.






Eventually I get on a really crowded minibus. There’s no English speaking travellers this time. I’m just left sitting there with me and dookie on my iPod to keep me “up”. I’ve had a great day, but the bus journey back seems to really drag, especially when the driver pulls in at a bar for no other reason than to sit and have a drink with his mate for 30 mins.

The journey has little to see, and is mostly inland. I while away the time by looking at Bulgarian money and practicing my Cyrillic by working out who is on all the notes, and what they mean to Bulgarian History:



Bulgarian's use the Lev - Plural: Leva.

2 Leva Note:

Paissi Hilendarski -Monk who wrote a history of Bulgaria and started the Bulgarian cultural revivial.


5 Leva Note:

Ivan Mulev - Artist - early 20th Century - I'm told he's like Klimt.


10 Leva Note:

Petar Beron - Teacher - wrote the first textbook for learning the Language, which is maybe why Bulgaria has 98% literacy


20 Leva:

Stefan Stambolov - Prime Minister who did a lot for economic development

I was never rich enough to have a 50 Leva and the 1 lev note has been phased out.


I’m very glad when I step out the bus and finally get back into Varna centre. I try to phone people to see if anyone wants dinner, but no one answer’s their phones. It’s back to the hotel and lay my head down. When I get back the Bride has left a message for me. They are in a Restaurant which is called something to do with a bride(I’ll check later). The happy couple have their photos back, so have another night of salads, rakia and beer and look over the photos. I tell my stories of the day and they fill in the gaps in the lonely planet’s knowledge of Nesebar and Bulgaria.

I get a taxi back with The Bride and Groom, they get out and then give the taxi driver very specific instructions. They give me very specific instructions. Don't let him see all your money, only pay 2 leva etc. The Taxi drivers are famous for doing over tourists and extorting money by radioing all their mates. So I am busy keeping my wits around me and speaking Bulgarian with him. He tells me where he's going to drop me off, and I start to get worried when he passes the junction and is heading into territory which is unknown to me. I tell him I can get off here, pay him and get out, in a dark road beside a wooded area. He seems to be confused. He knew a better way to my hotel, that required me to walk through the woods. I didn't fancy it.

In all this street wise anticipation(Which was nothing), I left my camera in the car. I'm furious with myself. I quickly run over to another taxi and ask him to radio the taxis and ask if it's been found. He says that he can't radio other taxi drivers - now he is dodgy....

I send a text message to the bride asking for advice... but get no answer.

I head to bed thouroughly pissed off with myself not because of the camera, I've taken soemthing like 5000 photos with it and had my moneys worth, but I've lost all my Bulgarian photos so far, cos I've not got my laptop to download to. It stops me sleeping and I have a rough night tossing and turning.....