To Veliko Târnovo
Our week in Bucharest was well-spent as we explored the many streets and neighborhoods of that dynamic and interesting city. But now it’s time to continue on our extended Eastern European circle; to leave Romania and take the train heading south, to cross the mighty Danube into Bulgaria and the Balkans.
To me, there’s always something appealing to the turmoil of a train station, the people from all parts of the EU who are heading out to various destinations. These days they’re not dressed as exotically as that opening scene in the great 1984 version of “Murder on the Orient Express,” but much of the energy is the same. We grab a quick and semi-nutritious breakfast in the station and we join the crowd.
But we’re reminded of our proximity to the Ukrainian border by the orange tent shelters that are ready for a possible wave of refugees from the Russian invasion. We stop at the First Responders office and donate our large remaining pile of Romanian leks to the grateful lady at the counter. It’s always a pleasure to find such people in our travels, people who are generous with their time to help others.
Soon we’re aboard a comfortable train and sharing a cabin with a couple of German guys who took a break from work to travel, and a woman who works for Greenpeace. It’s a warm day in early September and we really need some ventilation, but the train window won’t stay down. I hook the big carabiner on my bag to the window handle and that solves the problem.
Fields of sunflowers stand waiting for the harvest, while other fields are filled with the stubble that remains after the crop has been gathered. For me it’s always a mindful experience when looking out upon thousands of acres anywhere in the world that are devoted to producing the food we all rely on. We stop at a few villages along the way where rural life goes on, as it has for centuries.
And then we’re passing through a southern portion of Romania’s famous oil fields. The main oil fields at Ploiesti are north of Bucharest and were home to the world’s first large scale refinery in 1856-57. These resources became one of the main objectives for Central Powers in WWI, and then Axis forces in WWII, for petroleum to power their war machines. And in August of 1944 the area was targeted by the Red Army as they drove the Nazis out. Again we find ourselves in the midst of sweeping past historical struggles as we travel these lands.
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Maybe this is a good place to again insert the map showing the path of our journey to help you visualize where we are...
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We’ve noticed that the windows of the train, even those on the inside hallway, are speckled with some kind of dried water spots. And we wonder if they ever wipe things down on this line. But soon we’re crossing the great Danube valley and heading into Bulgaria. And then we pass under a sanitation facility that sprays who-knows-what over the entire train and into the open windows onto all of us. Mystery solved.
I recall a similar incident in Guatemala a few decades ago when we took a local bus to Lake Atitlan, but it was stopped at a checkpoint and we all had to step outside. Then some guys boarded the bus with hand pumped flits to spray down the interior. A young European girl asked me what they were spraying the bus with. She had a very worried look in her eyes. I said, “It’s probably DDT.” Because in those days, it probably was. Hey, we do our best but we can’t live forever.
Bulgaria looks a lot like most of Romania – and most of Hungary, for that matter. Modest cities and villages lie nestled among rolling hills and vast stretches of farmland. The houses have beautiful red tile roofs with an occasional Orthodox cross at the peak, and there are recycling bins at the nearest corner. The biggest difference is the appearance of signs in the Cyrillic alphabet, but also in the Latin alphabet for the convenience of travelers. I guess.
Our train stops at Gorna Oryahovitsa, which sits on the main line from Sofia to Varna, a popular resort on the Black Sea. This is where we’ll connect with the local train to Veliko Tărnovo (Great Tărnovo), and where we’ll need to score some Bulgarian leva to replace the remaining Romanian lei that still grace our pockets. ($1US = about 2BUL)
It’s also a good place to start getting reacquainted with the Cyrillic alphabet, which we have dealt with before in an extended visit to Bulgaria, and also many years ago in Russia. But very soon we’ll be disabused of our notions about any meaningful lingering competence with the Cyrillic. The sheer number of languages we’re encountering on this trip (there will be at least seven) means we’ll be lucky to learn more than a word or two in each of them.
The origins of the Cyrillic alphabet are in Bulgaria and not in Russia, as every Bulgarian is proud to tell you. The work was begun by Saints Cyril (826-869) and Methodius (815-885), two Byzantine-Greek missionaries from Thessaloniki who were sent to convert the Slavs to Christianity. The alphabet was further developed by their disciples in Preslav, the capital of the First Bulgarian Empire and later adopted by the Bulgarian Orthodox Church, the oldest Slavic Orthodox church.
A cartoon about Saints Cyril and Methodius from Bulgaria in 1938. The caption reads : Brother Cyril, go tell those who are inside to learn the alphabet so they know freedom (Bulgarian: свобода) and anarchy (Bulgarian: слободия) are not the same.
Soon we’re on the train and the station master gives the green sign on his red-green paddle, as we head into the craggy and forested mountains of north-central Bulgaria.
Carolyn has booked us into the Tarnovgrad Apartments, a nice place with a simple kitchen area. And it’s just a couple of blocks downhill from the Old Quarter of Veliko Tărnovo, an important site in Bulgarian history and the nation’s first capital. Our neighbors store their street shoes, and a shopping cart, in the hallway, and the shoes lined up at the door kind of look like puppies waiting for dinner. Storing shoes outside the door and changing into slippers is also a Russian custom, especially in the slushy-muddy days of winter.
The apartment has one of those water heaters that hangs discomfortingly over the person using the commode. For what ever reason, the Bulgarians seem to be fond of them as we had the same thing a couple of years ago in Plovdiv. And there’s a handy coffee machine in the lobby area downstairs to get that morning espresso hit – after we gamble a few coins and press a button or two to see what surprise gets delivered in the cup below.
Everything in this picturesque locale is either uphill or downhill from where we’re staying, so we’ll get a lot of exercise. And it’s time for a late lunch and a bit of exploration. We find a place to order a couple of ‘toasts,’ which include ham with a slice of good local melted cheese and a side of cucumbers and ajvar, a staple of Eastern European cuisine. Delicious.
It’s the 10th of September and the weather is wonderful, and then a bit of wandering tells us we’ve found a picturesque locale to hang out for a few days to just enjoy the beauty. And the plentiful tourist shops. We pass several wine shops and a local anti animal-cruelty group. And there’s a tempting bottle of Stara Troyanska Slivova in a window, but we’ll deal with that important need later in the evening. We're content to just wander the streets and take it all in.
The eye-catching street scenes are endless and we even pass a notice for a ’stand-up comedy’ evening that I’m sure we won’t want to miss. I’d bet those Bulgarian jokes are real knee-slappers. And for the recently departed, there are loving memorial notices that are tacked or stapled to gates so that they weather away as the seasons progress. Just like the rest of us.
Several examples of ‘overhanging houses’ remind us of a previous trip to Plovdiv, which is considered to be one of the oldest cities in Europe and was once named Philippopolis after the father of Alexander the Great. We were told the overhanging rooms were a way to avoid higher taxes, which were based mainly on the footprint of the house.
We happen across several ‘investor specials’ that might temp someone with adequate ‘adventure capital’ to begin a renovation project or two. But they remind us of a time we peeked into a ruin in Álamos, Sonora, and a local expat ran down the street yelling, “No! Don’t do it!” He felt it was his responsibility to warn off fellow gullible gringos, after getting involved in a similar ‘money pit.’
There are intriguing broad vistas, and nicely-framed vignettes, of the hilltop Tsarevets Fortress ruins that played a large role in Bulgarian history, and that attracted us here in the first place. But that will wait until the morrow, as we retire to our apartment for an afternoon nap.
Later, we venture forth to a very good dinner at a very reasonable price. After three glasses of good local wine and a dessert, the total was about $US24.00 – or maybe half what it costs in the US or Western Europe – and we can live with that. In fact, the lower costs of travel in the Balkans are what make this months-long trip possible for us.
Then a short stroll on our first evening in town takes us to a fabulous moonlit vista of the sprawling Tsarevets Fortress that looms over the quiet villages in the winding valley below. Jupiter is at its brightest just above the moon, which emerges from the clouds to backlight the illuminated castle in a heavenly light.
Welcome to Bulgaria.
Afterward, upon wandering back through the cobbled lanes, the need arose for a nice bottle of rakia, the brandy of Bulgaria. We passed a little store where the owner was closing up for the evening and bringing the displays inside. We asked if he’s closed and he said, “What you want?” Whether he was open seemed to be conditional on our response. When we said, “Rakia,” he replied, with a twinkle in his eye, “Eez open for rakee-a!” And he sold us a tall bottle of his best slivova rakia (plum brandy) for 17 lev, or about 8 and a half bucks. It was a nice way to end our first evening in Veliko Tărnovo and we walked back down the cobblestone streets to our flat to enjoy some very smooth tipple, with a cookie or two.
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In the morning we awoke to another fine and sunny day, and a perfect day it was, to climb the imposing fortress. The irregular and well-rounded cobbles are a challenge to the ankles, as we head through the gateway arch, and a quick glance back past the gate at the town itself shows that we’re surrounded by impressive vistas. We’re even greeted by a patch of my favorite flower, the humble dandelion which regularly defeats all those relentless, irrational, futile onslaughts to eradicate it.
A map near the entry illustrates why this is a particularly good location for a fortress, as the Yantra River below wraps almost entirely around the summit, creating a natural moat. Thracian tribes were here around 6,000 years ago, and some of the early walls were built later by the Romans. The Byzantines began to seriously fortify this hill in the 5th through 7th centuries although it was only of minor importance during their rule, but became more significant under the subsequent First Bulgarian Empire.
Târnovgrad (now Veliko Târnovo, “City of the Tsars”) became the capital of the Second Bulgarian Empire after 1185, and the now-destroyed Royal Palace was the home of 22 successive Bulgarian kings. The Ottomans then took control in 1393 for the next 500 years. The town was freed in 1878 after the Russo-Turkish War and remains an important symbol of Bulgarian resistance. We were told that the Bulgarians are one of the few nations of Europe, and maybe the only one, to have maintained their original name. And now it stands is part of their origin myth.
From the Bulgarian Embassy site:
“Despite the vicissitudes of fate, they were predestined to found the Bulgarian state.”
Impressive stonework towers above us as we walk the ancient stones, and sweeping views of the modern village appear behind us and in the river valley below. It’s truly a beautiful place. While we know that much of the imposing fortress, destroyed by the Ottomans, was rebuilt under Soviet rule, we wonder if that’s ok in order to express the site more fully than just leaving a few rough foundations untouched.
The Romans felt little need to preserve the shrines of their defeated enemies and built their own now-historic temples on those sites. The Spaniards were similarly unconstrained in destroying Aztec and Incan temples to build sometimes-magnificent churches on the ruins. And so where do we draw the line?
Mock-ups of various missile-flinging devices help the modern observer to better understand the clever ways that our forebears could murder each other. And they remind me of the trebuchet that our brother-in-law built with his three sons to illustrate the principles of physics. And also to fling the occasional rotten vegetable from their garden at an offending neighbor, if I recall correctly. I think there was inspiration from a certain Monty Python movie.
There are informative signs in Cyrillic, although some of them should be clear to all but the most mentally incompetent. There are modern ruins in the valley below of a failed factory that remind me of trips through the hollows of West Virginia. And the rocky outcrops and scrubby trees in the hills remind me of scenes in New Mexico. As our friend Mark Mulligan has said, “We’re all just the same beer, different can.”
As we climb toward the church which now occupies the highest point, we pass a few scattered Roman remnants and a modern expansion of a nice music venue that hosts a regular summer opera and concert series that we’re sorry to have missed.
As we draw near the top we realize the route we’ve chosen requires us to scale a very rickety ladder to reach our goal. Gulp, ok.
The dark modernist paintings inside this 20th century church depict various scenes from medieval Bulgarian history. And they look to have been inspired by Orozco, one of the three great muralists of the Mexican Revolution, along with Rivera and Siqueiros. The church has not been reconsecrated, possibly because the paintings are not religious enough.
Back outside the church there’s a listing of all 17 Bulgarian Patriarchs from 1186 to 1394, in case we were keeping score. The list even includes the name of Patriarch Ioakim III, who met his untimely end for treachery at the local Execution Rock in 1300. Plus there are fine vistas of the town below and a charmingly old-fashioned amusement park called “Triovgrad.” I think. And a lizard or two.
A last bit of trek takes us down to Baldwin’s Tower, or the reconstruction from 1930 that now marks the end of the line. At least it was the end of the line for the truculent crusader Baldwin of Flanders, whose capture by Kaloyan, tsar of Bulgaria, led to his demise in the tower in 1206 at the age of 33. There were suppositions that Baldwin boldly attempted a dalliance with the tsar’s wife, and the tsar took it poorly. Some things never change.
Once back in the village, we take another look at the Fortress on the hill, and then rest up before enjoying yet another fine meal in a local courtyard. These folks especially know how to treat fresh vegetables from the garden. We have happily noticed in the past that roasted or grilled vegetables are an important part of the Balkan diet.
And their deserts are worth living for.
On another sunny day we pass an eye-catching lady in a bright pink dress who is seated outside an intriguing cafe called “Pinko,” and we step inside (because, well, how could we not?) for a hit of espresso and a platter of sugar-dusted donut holes with a cup of chocolate dip. There’s much to like about Veliko Tărnovo, and we only saw a small part of it.
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To Sofia
But all things pass, and we have an itinerary that is too filled with excellent adventures on our extensive three+ month Balkan Circle that has taken us through five countries so far, and then at least three more after this one. It’s time to grab a taxi to the railway station and get ourselves to Sofia. The same black cat is there sunning herself in the station, and the same posters tempt us to read them. But the stationmaster is ready and the train will soon arrive.
At Gorna Oryahorvitsa the Varna to Sofia train is the second one from the top of the board, and so I find a copy of Cosmo to help Carolyn pass the time.
Again there are peaceful fields of grain awaiting the harvest of a bountiful autumn – as in most other European countries – and I still wonder how things will play out in Russia’s outrageous aggression against their brave Ukrainian neighbors. As we pass through scenic rock-crested mountains with tumbling waters it’s easy to forget all that and just imagine living in a pretty little home with a big garden on the banks of a nice stream. And to know enough Bulgarian to speak with the local stationmaster. I was especially taken by the young boy looking up at the stationmaster, imaging that he could also do that some day. I can recall my own such dreams long ago when I was his age. Ah, those fond memories of old.
Do not despise old customs! Don’t forget your father’s fireplace!
— Georgi Sava Rakovski, Bulgarian writer and revolutionary (1821-1867)
Soon enough, we’re in the bustling big city of Sofia and we’re checked into the interesting room that Carolyn scored for us. We’ve never had a huge bathtub on a platform in the sleeping area before. But we have fond memories of the week or so we spent in Sofia in 2013 and we’re just happy to return for another dive into the capital city of Bulgaria.
We make our way to the nearby pedestrian-only Vitosha street for a delicious artisanal pizza and some hang-out time watching the crowds go by near those two big lions that flank the entry stairs to the Palace of Justice. The restaurant even puts a luminaria on our table as daylight fades into evening.
It’s a warm Thursday night in mid-September, the street is crowded with revelers. And ice cream beckons. We walk onward down colorful Vitosha street into our first night back in intriguing Sofia. It’s nice to be back.
A sunny morning is the right time for a trek to the city’s famous and majestic Alexander Nevski Cathedral. And just ahead of us two teachers are herding a class of youngsters to visit this important landmark for a history lesson or two.
This impressive cathedral was built to honor the many Russian soldiers who died for Bulgarian independence, among other things, in the Russo-Turkish War of 1877-78. And it was named in honor of the 13th-century Russian prince who defeated the Teutonic Knights at the “Battle on the Ice” on the broad River Neva, near present-day St Petersburg. Check out the celebrated 1938 film “Alexander Nevski” by Sergei Eisenstein, with a musical score by Sergei Prokofiev, for its brilliant use of imagery – and you’ll see where George Lucas got the idea for those storm troopers in “Star Wars.”
The Museum of Socialist Art is among the many odd and interesting things we never got around to in our previous visit. A quick trip on the city’s very good subway gets us to the GM Dimitrov station in a modest neighborhood where an arduous search begins for the unintentionally well-hidden Museum. We’re finally greeted by the Red Star that previously stood atop Sofia’s Communist Party House.
In the theatre area we watch a nicely corny propaganda flick that’s probably from the late 1940s about how well everything was going at that time for the Bulgarian people thanks to their very close friends, the Russians.
An appropriate Red Carpet leads to the main exhibit hall, which is focused on "Art and Power;" and the role of artists in portraying the myths perpetrated by the powerful. The reign of Todor Zhivkov is noted as the longest-serving Communist leader in Eastern Europe and the last leader of the Bulgarian Communist Party. And there’s a bit of modern commentary that may have been unimaginable under his reign:
“His image dominated the public domain of Bulgarian citizens for over 30 years. In this sense, he became a visual cliché, devoid of any significance owing to its excessive use.”
Much of the art on display is by those who achieved the distinction of being named "People’s Artists." And though it’s often pure propaganda, similar to much of the "high art" funded by the Medicis, Napoleon, and other rulers, it’s generally well executed. Yet there are also very nice scenes of simple life, line drawings, fine portraits, and an amusing cartoon or two.
Outside in the extensive sculpture garden are many of the pieces that were formerly arrayed around Sofia and other cities throughout the country. While there are still a few soviet-era sculptures to be found in some of the city’s parks, this is the best place to see them in decent and un-graffitied condition. Many are of modest size but several are absolutely colossal, and it’s an interesting experience to walk among all this recent history. One might consider the fate of all the ancient statues of gods who were displaced by various new rulers, including those Roman and Greek statues that were defaced and destroyed after Constantine found Christianity useful in his governing, and it became the official religion of the Roman Empire.
The subway gets us quickly back to the University station where we stop to gather some food items for the apartment from the underground supermarket. Carolyn goes inside while I wait by the door with three ragged-looking pooches that are very concerned at being left in the corridor to await their master’s return. I feel their pain.
And from the University station it’s a nice walk back through classical architecture and pretty parks that are filled with statues, evening strollers, groups of students, and game-players of all sorts. Chess is especially popular among the well-educated residents of Sofia, but a gaggle of young boys is engrossed in their own game.
A wonderful attraction in the park is a new display of artistic covers from an imaginary literary magazine called “The Sofianer,” that’s modeled on the New Yorker. Similar fun projects have been mounted in Paris, Tokyo, Montreal Brussels, Milan and Shanghai. Like the New Yorker, the art focuses on everyday scenes that would bring a smile, and maybe a chuckle, to most city residents. At least one of them is an homage to one of the city’s most iconic fountains, that features a gorgeous young woman dancing naked in the waters. It’s just in front of the colorful and classical Ivan Vasov National Theatre. And the residents’ many dogs are as well-represented on the covers as they are on the city’s streets and in the parks. We also pass a ‘lost kitty’ sign along the way, like those we’ve seen in every large city we’ve ever visited.
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Rila Monastery
Rather than simply lavishing our time on the gorgeous streets, parks, and fine eateries of central Sofia, we still had an actual important task to finish before departure. A visit to the nearby and famous Rila Monastery became mandatory after we each read The Shadow Land, an historical novel by Elizabeth Kostova that delves into the dark heart of Soviet Bulgaria. An important event takes place within the thick walls of Rila Monastery early in her novel, which is also something of a travelogue through much of the country. We had previously visited Plovdiv and Sofia, other settings in the tale, and now we had the opportunity to add Rila to that list.
Carolyn booked us onto a local tour and soon we were into the Rila Mountains, through farmland and rural villages with their traditional grape vine-draped entryways. It’s a beautiful way to provide a shady walkway on a village street, while producing a useful crop for making wine to grace the family table.
The Rila Monastery, dating from AD 927, has survived through the centuries despite numerous plunderings by the Ottomans and a disastrous fire in 1833 that consumed much of the structure. Yet it has long remained a spiritual and pilgrimage centre and a symbol of Bulgarian endurance. And now it’s a popular tour destination, so we had plenty of company for the day.
Our enthusiastic guide gave us more information that we could possibly recall, of terrible devils threatening simple farmers who might stray from the fold, St Michael about to skewer some pathetic old guy, and a fish-like creature with needle-fangs for teeth who devours those that the church – or someone else of importance – believes are unsuitable to be spared. So it seems the safest bet in life is to keep such churches and all their devils at arms length.
Elizabeth Kostova’s novel concerns a young woman who arrives in Sofia and soon finds she has a strange item in her belongings. Her quest to return it to the owner takes her on a circuitous trip throughout the country, and into Bulgaria’s dark post-war history. She finds herself at the Rila Monastery in a threatening situation, but manages to escape through a hidden corridor and a back door. It’s not surprising that we were unable to find that back door in the limited amount of time we had available, but we got an overfall view of the layout described in the book. I’ll re-read that section in a few months after this trip is over, and when I have the book once again in hand. Meanwhile, the ancient Monastery remains immersed in craggy peaks and misty wilderness and it’s easy to imagine the mystery and magic that surrounds it.
Before returning to Sofia there’s time for a lunch stop and a hearty bowl of beans. I’ve long had a great fondness for that sort of peasant fare and it seems to pair well with the scenes of rural life that surround us on our way back through the Rila Mountains.
The tiny 13th-century Boyana Church, located just outside of Sofia, is also featured on our all-day tour. This Unesco World Heritage site contains some of the finest examples of medieval Bulgarian murals and it’s nested into a verdant landscape of flowers, shrubs and towering trees. It would be an ideal place to spend some quiet time in contemplation, if you’re not on a day tour like we were.
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Alas, the time has come to depart the fair city of Sofia, and her towering statue to the goddess of wisdom that stands at a major intersection nearby. We’d had a fine dinner at Lavelle recently and that seemed like a great choice for our last night in town. Plus it’s on a side street only a block from the apartment. Again, it was a very happy dinner indeed, and a fitting way to end our latest visit to Sofia.
We cap off the evening with another good tot from that bottle of rakia we scored back in Veliko Târnovo, along with a bit of rich dark chocolate and a couple of ibuprofens to ensure a good night’s sleep.
In the morning we’ll take a bus to cross the mountains along Bulgaria’s western border. We’ll be going to surprising Skopje, the capital of North Macedonia. Please join us for that one. — PRW
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Packing for travel
I’ve worn out several very good quality Costco rolling bags over the years, so I finally went to REI for something truly rugged. And I found a bag with two big tough wheels that are well-designed to deal with the rocks and sand and mud and cobblestones and broken sidewalks that we regularly find on our travels. It’s the sort of stuff those little four-wheeler "airport bags" can't handle. And my new bag has lots of strong handles to grab quickly for tossing onto trains, etc.
Carolyn also found a smaller size that works for her.
After a pick-pocket episode in Rome, I ditched my backpack and now carry a cross-body courier bag that I can swing in front of me among crowds. So far that combination of stout bags has done me very well over several years of months-long travels, and I’m happy to recommend it.