Bulgaria, The Worst and the Best

Turkey is not part of the EU, but has applied to be part of the EU. The currency in Turkey is Lira, with an exchange rate of one Euro equal 4 Turkish Lira, and they take Euros, sometimes. Turkey has applied to be part of the EU and has been refused entry. Britain is part of the EU, doesn’t use Euros and doesn’t want to be part of the EU anymore. Bulgaria has been part of the EU, since 2007. One euro is equal to 2 Bulgarian Leva and they do not take Euros, ever. 

We cross the border from Turkey into Bulgaria and the change in scenery is immediate. At the border post there is a queue for 20kms of trucks wanting to enter Turkey. Bulgaria seems to be the through-route from west to East. Our satnav keeps insisting we have to buy a toll sticker and cannot go off Toll. We cannot even select ‘avoid Toll’. We ask at the border about a sticker and with raised eyebrows are told to go to the garage. We cannot have a repeat of the Turkish Toll thingy. We type in ‘petrol station’ and ignoring our stubborn GPS go off Toll down a very neglected, abandoned road. At a T-junction, turn left and get stopped by some Army chaps who understandably don’t speak English. Hand signalling about a sticker/fuel we get waved on to the old original disused border post where there is a service station. On the door is a big sign and inside a big man. He nods “Ne”. Does that means yes or no? He points to the sign outside and says “Ne”. That means No. We now understand that motorbikes are excluded from the Toll vignette system, but the GPS doesn’t.

It’s a very frustrating ride as we really want to go on the rural roads but cannot seem to get off the Toll. I type in Haskovo in an attempt to see more of the south of Bulgaria. Once we are off the Toll, which is a super-highway, super tarmac, super speed limit 140kms/hr, we realize why we need to stay on it. The roads are appalling. Properly shaken up we get to Haskovo and find a shady place to park up the bike and eat some lunch. It is a whopping 38degrees and windless. A charming stone sculpture commemorates the inhabitants of Haskovo and the museum offers excursions to the 4th C Thracian period Alexandrovo tomb where well preserved frescoes of hunting boars are to be seen. We decline but read up on the population and religious mixtures (approximately Bulgarians 79%, Turks 20% and about 1% Roma with 80% Orthodox Christians and 20% Muslim).

This small town is probably a good indicator of the long and war-filled history of Bulgaria. From being invaded by Alexander the Great from Macedonia, Persians, then the Greeks, Celts, Romans, Goths, Huns, Crusaders and Turks, until their ‘liberation’ from the Ottoman Empire in the 19th Century by the Russian Army. Then the Balkan Wars, both World Wars, Russian rule and now a member of the European Union. May their future be more peaceful than their past.

We notice the storks settling in on specially built platforms, and young chicks peeping out of their nests. There’s a whole eco system up there as other birds and bugs fly around and share the nests.

We criss-cross the super highway, up to Stara Zagrov, down to Chirpan, ignoring the GPS and just using our tiny little map and picking out place names. Chirpan was interesting. The houses are built of a rough red-brick (like fire-bricks) piled on top of each other with almost no mortar between, then painted with a white wash. The outskirts of the town was surrounded by these buildings and also hay bales and horses and carts.

We ventured down a narrow lane to another town looking for a café and came to an abrupt halt at a barrier which enclosed a children’s play park. As we were turning around a few people came out of a door carrying bread and other shopping. I left B at the bike and ventured into this burglar-barred shop to ask about a cup of coffee. “Ne” , no coffee, “ne”, no euros, “Ne” no ATM. When I returned B was surrounded by a bunch of shy/curious/enthusiastic 12-13year old school children with their teacher. A complicated conversation ensued about ages and origins and destinations, with the teacher translating and the youngsters trying to speak English.  No coffee so back on the highway to Plovdiv, selected to be European Capital of Culture in 2019. By now the long boring highway had changed to green rolling hilsides and we spotted that the capital, Sofia, was not far away. So 408kms from our start point in Turkey at Edirne we landed up in Sofia, capital of Bulgaria, by teatime, ready to look for a campsite.Tired, hungry and thirsty the Garmin tells us that the nearest campsite is 10kms on the other side of town. Oh dear, we sigh. This is not going well. As we pull up at a set of traffic lights to stop, we nod at a fellow rider on a Honda in full bike gear. He nods back. Lifting up my visor ”Hi, “ I call “we’re looking for a campsite”. Pulling out his music earphones, he indicates one about 10 kms away on the other side of the city. Talking through a full face helmet is never easy, but we nod to each other and we get a head start as he is still fiddling with his earphones. At the next traffic light we stop again and this time our biker friend pulls up behind us. How did he get there? The traffic light turns green, we go, he overtakes and indicates for us to pullover. He spotted our ‘HORIZONS UNLIMITED ‘sticker on the back box and invites us to couch-surf. How amazing this dreadful day is turning out to be. It’s a very quick whizzy ride through the strrets of Sofia, us lumbering on our laden Sertao, following speedy Honda man. We get to the apartment, take off our helmets, introduce ourselves and are immediately welcomed into the wonderful world of Mitko and his fun-loving fabulous friends. The next four hours are a magical tour of Sofia and the parks and the history and the bar and the buildings. We greet the Eagle statues where revolutions and protests take place, easy now to call up your mates on Whatsapp. We meet and greet the great statues of heroes and villians that abound in the huge central park. We stop and stroke the beautiful sculpture of a stone elephant, rubbed smooth by more than 60 years of sliding. We walk down the Original ‘Yellow Brick Road’ and admire the Yello Brick Palace built for the King. We land up at ‘The Wrong Bar’ for a mixed grill to beat all mixed grills and tumble onto Mitko’s couch at pumpkin hour. 

Exhausted and delighted. Bulgaria, the worst and the best of days all rolled into one. And how has being part of the EU changed Bulgaria? AWESOME, says Mitko. A whole new world awaits this generation and they’re keen to grab it with both hands. GOOD LUCK, we say. If being part of the EU keeps the Peace, then it’s the right way to go