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…