Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Go Go Go Go
I've been on the move quite a bit in the past three weeks. I'm trying to put together posts on Sofia, Veliko Tarnovo, the Black Sea coast, trains and Romania. We'll see how much I can plow through in the next few hours on this couch. Currently I'm back at Backpack Hostel in Budapest. This is the first town I've returned to on this trip. It was a really cool experience to wake up, get off a train and have some strange feeling of familiarity as I exited the station.
Thursday, November 13, 2008
Varna to Brasov: Part II
Uh, my train didn't go to Brasov. I was on the right train but it didn't go where my ticket said it did. I want to make it back home with a few stories people haven't heard yet so I'm not gonna post this one. If you're curious, ask.
Varna to Brasov
At least I’m on the right train. I almost missed it. I’d be stuck in Ruse if I hadn’t made friends with a taxi driver/hustler here in the station. I’m not sure what his deal is but he tries to catch people coming off the train and offers them trips over the boarder to Bucharest. He is “special taxi man, cause not in taxi.” I think that means he has a car.
Anyways I’m not sure how the train schedules and signs work here. There was something about Budapest on the departures section of the train board about an hour ago but it quickly disappeared after a strange announcement. I was told “you wait, late.” So I waited… After two weeks I can barely read Cyrillic but, using a cheat sheet, I could tell that my train wasn’t listed on the board in the station. No Bucharest, no Brasov and no Budapest. Then my friend shouted at me, “What you do? Go now! Train!”
So here I am on the train. I’m not sure what the sign said but, the conductor assures me it’s going to Brasov.
My quick check with the direction of the sun says that we’re headed in the right direction, however I smashed my thumb in the cabin door on the way back in. It’s a day of ups and downs but I’m really enjoying it. It’s a total adventure.
I’m going to try and finish up my novel before arriving in Brasov but before I go, I’d love to share a few things:
Last night rocked for the simple reason that I found one of the coolest little lodging bargains in Varna. Art Hotel runs about $28/night for a single room in the center of town. For this price, I got my own cozy little room and bathroom, stylishly decked out in square modern furnishing, cable TV and free internet. I was planning on staying at Flag Varna Hostel but despite what Lonely Planet and Let’s Go say, they’re not open in the winter. I found this out after trying to knock on the door at 3PM, 5PM and 6PM. You think they’d have a sign…
Lost in translation moments are abound here. Hand gestures, wild sounds, head nodding and lots of laughter.
In another type of cultural experience, a 7 year old kid asked me for a cigarette as I waited in Varna’s central square. I gave him a piece of gum. He spit it out and shouted, “Cigarro! Cigarette! You give me! Gum for baby.” I don’t even smoke…
For my goodbye Bulgaria dinner I went to a Turkish restaurant where I feasted for about $10. This got me a tasty salad, full chicken plate (a full pound of freakin’ chicken and a grilled chicken heart on the side), a half liter of beer and custard desert. I’ll also add that Bulgarian cafeterias have won my heart. Just point, smile, act like a stupid tourist and they’ll pile on the food.
This morning I found an amazing bakery. Honestly, if you’re ever in Varna, you have to go to *** for breakfast. Tell ‘em Brendan sent you (if only for the strange, “I don’t understand but you’re funny” looks you’ll get). Get the chocolate croissant. In addition to its magnus gigantius size, you’ll enjoy the fact that it’s dipped in chocolate and completely filled with a dark espresso chocolate goo that is so rich, tasty and explosive that you’ll be licking it off your fingers for lunch. I’m glad I ate it in private.
We just crossed the Danube and I’m back in the world of an alphabet I’m fluent in. Everything is still made out of concrete but at least the billboards are phonetically familiar.
Which also brings us to passport control time and, from what I’ve heard, this takes a while. I’m known as Mr. Cox in these places. I have the urge to tell them Mr. Cox is my dad, I’m Brendan, BCox or even B-Dog but I can’t do that. Border controls fill my heart with an uncomfortable guilty dread. I doubt I’m alone in this sentiment. I feel like they’re going to go through my bags, inquire about my taste in travel literature and ask about why I bought the cherry Danish instead of the apple fritter:
“You are American yes? American like Apple Pie… WHY YOU GET CHERRY?”
I can’t help but feel as if I’m looked upon as a threat in these places. Like I’m punching a hole into their territory or intruding on their sovereignty. Once through, I always realize that they’re not the SS or the American border patrol. I’m not a suspect and they’re not the Gestapo. They’re just guys with a job to do: Go down the rows of trains, fill out forms, address passengers by their last names and put stamps in their passports..
Hey, another stamp. Cool!
Anyways I’m not sure how the train schedules and signs work here. There was something about Budapest on the departures section of the train board about an hour ago but it quickly disappeared after a strange announcement. I was told “you wait, late.” So I waited… After two weeks I can barely read Cyrillic but, using a cheat sheet, I could tell that my train wasn’t listed on the board in the station. No Bucharest, no Brasov and no Budapest. Then my friend shouted at me, “What you do? Go now! Train!”
So here I am on the train. I’m not sure what the sign said but, the conductor assures me it’s going to Brasov.
My quick check with the direction of the sun says that we’re headed in the right direction, however I smashed my thumb in the cabin door on the way back in. It’s a day of ups and downs but I’m really enjoying it. It’s a total adventure.
I’m going to try and finish up my novel before arriving in Brasov but before I go, I’d love to share a few things:
Last night rocked for the simple reason that I found one of the coolest little lodging bargains in Varna. Art Hotel runs about $28/night for a single room in the center of town. For this price, I got my own cozy little room and bathroom, stylishly decked out in square modern furnishing, cable TV and free internet. I was planning on staying at Flag Varna Hostel but despite what Lonely Planet and Let’s Go say, they’re not open in the winter. I found this out after trying to knock on the door at 3PM, 5PM and 6PM. You think they’d have a sign…
Lost in translation moments are abound here. Hand gestures, wild sounds, head nodding and lots of laughter.
In another type of cultural experience, a 7 year old kid asked me for a cigarette as I waited in Varna’s central square. I gave him a piece of gum. He spit it out and shouted, “Cigarro! Cigarette! You give me! Gum for baby.” I don’t even smoke…
For my goodbye Bulgaria dinner I went to a Turkish restaurant where I feasted for about $10. This got me a tasty salad, full chicken plate (a full pound of freakin’ chicken and a grilled chicken heart on the side), a half liter of beer and custard desert. I’ll also add that Bulgarian cafeterias have won my heart. Just point, smile, act like a stupid tourist and they’ll pile on the food.
This morning I found an amazing bakery. Honestly, if you’re ever in Varna, you have to go to *** for breakfast. Tell ‘em Brendan sent you (if only for the strange, “I don’t understand but you’re funny” looks you’ll get). Get the chocolate croissant. In addition to its magnus gigantius size, you’ll enjoy the fact that it’s dipped in chocolate and completely filled with a dark espresso chocolate goo that is so rich, tasty and explosive that you’ll be licking it off your fingers for lunch. I’m glad I ate it in private.
We just crossed the Danube and I’m back in the world of an alphabet I’m fluent in. Everything is still made out of concrete but at least the billboards are phonetically familiar.
Which also brings us to passport control time and, from what I’ve heard, this takes a while. I’m known as Mr. Cox in these places. I have the urge to tell them Mr. Cox is my dad, I’m Brendan, BCox or even B-Dog but I can’t do that. Border controls fill my heart with an uncomfortable guilty dread. I doubt I’m alone in this sentiment. I feel like they’re going to go through my bags, inquire about my taste in travel literature and ask about why I bought the cherry Danish instead of the apple fritter:
“You are American yes? American like Apple Pie… WHY YOU GET CHERRY?”
I can’t help but feel as if I’m looked upon as a threat in these places. Like I’m punching a hole into their territory or intruding on their sovereignty. Once through, I always realize that they’re not the SS or the American border patrol. I’m not a suspect and they’re not the Gestapo. They’re just guys with a job to do: Go down the rows of trains, fill out forms, address passengers by their last names and put stamps in their passports..
Hey, another stamp. Cool!
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Bulgaria: Sozopol
I’m spending the night in Sozopol where it’s cold, windy, cloudy and dark outside. A week ago I had no idea I would begin an entry about the black sea with a sentence like that. I was assured by many people that it would be warm and wonderful here.
I can say with certainty that none of those people have ever been on the Black Sea coast in November. It’s freezing cold here. This is the type of cold that can only be found on a chilly beach in the middle of the off season. It’s a pretty town but everything has been shut down and boarded up for the winter so I feel like I’m staying in the residential portion of an old, abandoned amusement park. The umbrellas have been stripped of their cloth, leaving only heavy rusted iron skeletons. The only thing of value left in most outdoor bars and cabanas is the concrete seating areas and shell of the bar, all covered in bright paint the color of summertime.
I think that the tourist season must have recently ended because the highlight of my day was watching someone clear out their bar for the winter. The bar was located on the top of a rocky cliff so their moving technique was awesome: they simply threw all their cheap furniture and junk out of the window and onto the rocks below. Chairs, broken tables, bamboo thingies, lampshades and other items were simply cast off like an Anasazi spring cleaning[1]. For about 5 minutes I sat on the beach and watched all these items smash on the rocks below.
In hindsight, I might have witnessed the Bulgarian Mafia ransacking a bar….
Anyways, I’ve spent my time here walking around, taking pictures and walking around a bit more. There isn’t much more to do here. There are a few overpriced restaurants and cafes but that’s about it. Any public place I spend a bit of time in, I can’t help but feel like I’m intruding on these people’s lives. The economy of the black sea coast is heavily dependent on tourism (e.g. Sunny Beach has three times more hotel space than the beach can accommodate) but it’s obviously a summer time thing. From my interactions I can’t help but feel like I’m strangely out of place and out of time. I get concerned and confused looks like I’ve shown up right at the final buzzer of a sporting event or just in time for the curtain call of a play.
Tonight I’m staying in a simple guesthouse. The place is in Lonely Planet and it consists of 3 cold rooms on the second floor of an older couple’s house. It’s outfitted with creaky doors, strange plumbing and skeleton keys for the rooms. Nice. After ringing the doorbell a few times and waiting a bit, I engaged in a scene that I’ve reenacted in almost every city I’ve stayed in across Bulgaria: A strange man or woman approaches you on the street and motions at the place where you’re staying. He then tries to tell you (usually in Bulgarian punctuated with wild hand gestures) that it’s (a) expensive, (b) cold, (c) noisy or (d) filled with gypsies. What strikes me is that they’re not trying to sell me on alternative accommodations but they’re just trying to scare me away. For Sozopol, the man in question went for a combination of options A and B. This was a bit of a bummer because the ones who skip A B and C and go straight for the gypsies are by far the most entertaining of the bunch. Old ranting and raving bigots tend put a lot more heart into their practiced attempts to dissuade you.
Other Sozopol highlights include the taxi drivers waiting for a fare at the Burgas bus terminal. One the drivers I talked to actually lives in Sozopol. We communicated enough that I know he’s a bit shady and he knows I’m from California. An hour after I arrived, I found him back here hustling for fares in the central square. Every time I pass through the square he sings out “CALI-FORN-YA!” and points me out to his friends. I can’t help but feel like it’s a bit patronizing but I can’t help but smile and bust out a jiggy dance move for him.
I’m a good ambassador.
Most of the buildings here are made of wood. I like this because I’m sick of concrete by now. I might find the time to rant more about building materials in a later entry. For now, all you need to know is that I have a sinking suspicion that you can learn a lot about a people by how they build their homes and infrastructure. I’m going to have to fight the urge to throw a brick through every CVS or Walgreen’s window I see when I get back.
Finally, I’ll leave you a with an idea that is totally removed from travel and anything else I’ve talked about here. While hiding from the cold in a nice café I finally had the opportunity to read the transcript of Malcolm Gladwell’s talk: Age Before Beauty. It’s absolutely beautiful and completely inspiring. I think he’s about to publish a book on Genius and his talk ties in with the subject. If you’ve ever been interested in the difference between greatness achieved at a young age vs. greatness achieved later on in life go and read it. Absolutely fascinating.
And with that, I slip back into the dimly lit cold streets to find a store that sells Chocolate and Rakia: a nasty and cheap liquor made from grapes, plums and whatever other fruits a distiller might have lying around. One US dollar gets you approximately a half pint of 80 proof liquor. I’m not an alcoholic but it’ll help warm up my cold and dim single bedroom.
[1] The area below Mesa Verde yielded a gold mine of broken Native American artifacts because the Anasazi simply threw their trash and broken wares down the hills behind their settlements.
I can say with certainty that none of those people have ever been on the Black Sea coast in November. It’s freezing cold here. This is the type of cold that can only be found on a chilly beach in the middle of the off season. It’s a pretty town but everything has been shut down and boarded up for the winter so I feel like I’m staying in the residential portion of an old, abandoned amusement park. The umbrellas have been stripped of their cloth, leaving only heavy rusted iron skeletons. The only thing of value left in most outdoor bars and cabanas is the concrete seating areas and shell of the bar, all covered in bright paint the color of summertime.
I think that the tourist season must have recently ended because the highlight of my day was watching someone clear out their bar for the winter. The bar was located on the top of a rocky cliff so their moving technique was awesome: they simply threw all their cheap furniture and junk out of the window and onto the rocks below. Chairs, broken tables, bamboo thingies, lampshades and other items were simply cast off like an Anasazi spring cleaning[1]. For about 5 minutes I sat on the beach and watched all these items smash on the rocks below.
In hindsight, I might have witnessed the Bulgarian Mafia ransacking a bar….
Anyways, I’ve spent my time here walking around, taking pictures and walking around a bit more. There isn’t much more to do here. There are a few overpriced restaurants and cafes but that’s about it. Any public place I spend a bit of time in, I can’t help but feel like I’m intruding on these people’s lives. The economy of the black sea coast is heavily dependent on tourism (e.g. Sunny Beach has three times more hotel space than the beach can accommodate) but it’s obviously a summer time thing. From my interactions I can’t help but feel like I’m strangely out of place and out of time. I get concerned and confused looks like I’ve shown up right at the final buzzer of a sporting event or just in time for the curtain call of a play.
Tonight I’m staying in a simple guesthouse. The place is in Lonely Planet and it consists of 3 cold rooms on the second floor of an older couple’s house. It’s outfitted with creaky doors, strange plumbing and skeleton keys for the rooms. Nice. After ringing the doorbell a few times and waiting a bit, I engaged in a scene that I’ve reenacted in almost every city I’ve stayed in across Bulgaria: A strange man or woman approaches you on the street and motions at the place where you’re staying. He then tries to tell you (usually in Bulgarian punctuated with wild hand gestures) that it’s (a) expensive, (b) cold, (c) noisy or (d) filled with gypsies. What strikes me is that they’re not trying to sell me on alternative accommodations but they’re just trying to scare me away. For Sozopol, the man in question went for a combination of options A and B. This was a bit of a bummer because the ones who skip A B and C and go straight for the gypsies are by far the most entertaining of the bunch. Old ranting and raving bigots tend put a lot more heart into their practiced attempts to dissuade you.
Other Sozopol highlights include the taxi drivers waiting for a fare at the Burgas bus terminal. One the drivers I talked to actually lives in Sozopol. We communicated enough that I know he’s a bit shady and he knows I’m from California. An hour after I arrived, I found him back here hustling for fares in the central square. Every time I pass through the square he sings out “CALI-FORN-YA!” and points me out to his friends. I can’t help but feel like it’s a bit patronizing but I can’t help but smile and bust out a jiggy dance move for him.
I’m a good ambassador.
Most of the buildings here are made of wood. I like this because I’m sick of concrete by now. I might find the time to rant more about building materials in a later entry. For now, all you need to know is that I have a sinking suspicion that you can learn a lot about a people by how they build their homes and infrastructure. I’m going to have to fight the urge to throw a brick through every CVS or Walgreen’s window I see when I get back.
Finally, I’ll leave you a with an idea that is totally removed from travel and anything else I’ve talked about here. While hiding from the cold in a nice café I finally had the opportunity to read the transcript of Malcolm Gladwell’s talk: Age Before Beauty. It’s absolutely beautiful and completely inspiring. I think he’s about to publish a book on Genius and his talk ties in with the subject. If you’ve ever been interested in the difference between greatness achieved at a young age vs. greatness achieved later on in life go and read it. Absolutely fascinating.
And with that, I slip back into the dimly lit cold streets to find a store that sells Chocolate and Rakia: a nasty and cheap liquor made from grapes, plums and whatever other fruits a distiller might have lying around. One US dollar gets you approximately a half pint of 80 proof liquor. I’m not an alcoholic but it’ll help warm up my cold and dim single bedroom.
[1] The area below Mesa Verde yielded a gold mine of broken Native American artifacts because the Anasazi simply threw their trash and broken wares down the hills behind their settlements.
Monday, November 10, 2008
Bulgaria: Veliko Tarnovo
I back date a lot of my posts so that the date of entry corresponds with the date I visited the city. Usually I write when the memories are still fresh and then procrastinate on getting everything online. This time it’s been two weeks since I was in Veliko Tarnovo but I’ll try to remember what my experiences there were like.
Veliko Tarnovo (or just Tarnovo for short) is a beautiful city. When you visit, you’ll understand why the New Bulgarians (British) are buying up property left and right here. The houses and buildings of the city are packed onto the land in such a way that they seem to form the hills themselves. Most of the suburban sections of the city are composed of old concrete apartment blocks but the main old town is historic and authentic without any disneylandesque sheen. Wonderful!
I’ve spent a good deal of my time here walking around the old town. After seeing the fortress the main sights in the area are monasteries and churches that seem to be everywhere in Bulgaria. I’m not a big House of God person. I enjoy large churches for their sheer size and Baroque decorations and I visit Mosques for their wonderful atmosphere but in Tarnovo I reached my limit early in my stay. Thus, I spent a significant amount of time walking around the city, taking photos and taking it easy (cooking, reading, hanging out) at the hostel.
I’ve met some really interesting people here at the hostel. I’ll don’t really write a lot about the interesting people I meet while traveling since it seems that everyone is interesting when you’re on the road. Even so, I’ll introduce you to two people here: Ichiro and Wayne. I like both of these guys a lot and they’re representative of some of the more colorful characters you’ll meet while hostel hopping.
When I met Ichiro, he was dressed in a traditional Japanese robe and had some type of white powder covering his body. I thought he had a skin condition. I became a bit intrigued when I saw that he has a friar’s halo shaved into his hair. It turns out, he’s a traditional Japanese dancer. At 43 (I think), his travel experience is incredible. He’s walked from Ireland to Istanbul (with the help of 2 ferries) and for the last 10 years of his life, he’s lived on the road, supporting himself by traveling from town to town performing the traditional Japanese Dragon dance. He’s toured every inhabited continent. As for the friar’s doo, his hair is shaved to resemble the Kappa, a mythical creature that lives in lakes and emerges from the water to get people to party. Seriously, the Kappa’s job is to convince people to get drunk. Put that culture in your pipe and smoke it.
Wayne is an American traveler living in Columbia. He’s a nut for word associations, etymology and 2012. I can’t really sum him up in a paragraph but he travels the world and tells his story to willing travelers and gives them a message: Just Be. Simply be. Without ego, without shame, you want to exist in the moment. His website is a work in progress and while I don’t agree with much of what he’s saying, I love his message and the amount of work he’s willing to put into learning more.
http://www.circusoflife.com
I left my book on the bus from Sofia but just happened to stumble upon a secondhand bookstore a few blocks away from the hostel. I’m now wrapped up in Malcolm Bradbury 1981 story of Dr. Petworth’s cultural visit to Slaka, the fictional Soviet Satellite state that seems to be vaguely modeled after Bulgaria. It’s a delightful read, full or ruminations on travel and movement through strange places and customs.
Unlike Dr. Petworth I still can’t understand a lick of the Cyrillic alphabet.
On Saturday, I leeched onto a student’s birthday party and made the trip out to a Bulgarian superclub. This was a first rate cultural experience. While we had a lot of fun dancing and hanging out I don’t think a lot of our Bulgarian counterparts had a good time. The club was huge so I took some time away from our group to explore the club and people watch. What I saw literally made me laugh out loud. I'd say that 80-90 percent of the people there were trying to look so cool that they were forgetting to have a good time. Frowns, stiff posture, and dismissive glances were everywhere. We still had a blast and managed to pull a few locals into our fun. Note: if you’re positive and trying to have fun, even if you’re a bit shy and nervous on the inside, you’re no only going to pull yourself into a positive and fun headspace but you’ll also pull those around you into it as well. If you just want to act standoffish and too cool for everyone, well, you’re gonna end up boring yourself and all those around you.
Other notes:
There’s a lot of hiking around Veliko Tarnovo but it isn’t spectacular, mostly trails through the hills to other towns and monasteries.
One of my favorite moments happened only a few minutes after I arrived. Since Veliko Tarnovo is a tourist town, if you’re walking down the street with a backpack, you’ll be accosted by old ladies who own guesthouses. They’ll use every trick they can to get you to stay with them. They’ll tell you that your hostel is closed or that it’s noisy. My favorite woman kept up with me for five minutes of walking and got more and more worked up with every step. By the time I left her, she was shouting that Hostel Mostel is “UNNATURAL PLACE TO STAY! 10 PEOPLE IN ROOM! GOD DIDN’T WANT IT THAT WAY! WHY YOU STAY THERE! YOU STAY IN GYPSY TOWN! YOU STAY WITH THE GYPSEYS!” When I saw her the next day, she wouldn’t even talk to me. She simply shook her head and gave me the stink eye.
I stayed in Veliko Tarnovo a day too long. I should have listened to my internal travel barometer. By now I think I’m a bit more attuned to when it’s time to leave a place and when I should stay longer. By Sunday morning I was itching to go but I didn’t make the jump. I ended up wasting another day kicking around the town instead of getting somewhere fresh and new.
I got a few suggestions to go to Sozopol. It’s a bit out of the way but we’ll see if I get there.
Veliko Tarnovo (or just Tarnovo for short) is a beautiful city. When you visit, you’ll understand why the New Bulgarians (British) are buying up property left and right here. The houses and buildings of the city are packed onto the land in such a way that they seem to form the hills themselves. Most of the suburban sections of the city are composed of old concrete apartment blocks but the main old town is historic and authentic without any disneylandesque sheen. Wonderful!
I’ve spent a good deal of my time here walking around the old town. After seeing the fortress the main sights in the area are monasteries and churches that seem to be everywhere in Bulgaria. I’m not a big House of God person. I enjoy large churches for their sheer size and Baroque decorations and I visit Mosques for their wonderful atmosphere but in Tarnovo I reached my limit early in my stay. Thus, I spent a significant amount of time walking around the city, taking photos and taking it easy (cooking, reading, hanging out) at the hostel.
I’ve met some really interesting people here at the hostel. I’ll don’t really write a lot about the interesting people I meet while traveling since it seems that everyone is interesting when you’re on the road. Even so, I’ll introduce you to two people here: Ichiro and Wayne. I like both of these guys a lot and they’re representative of some of the more colorful characters you’ll meet while hostel hopping.
When I met Ichiro, he was dressed in a traditional Japanese robe and had some type of white powder covering his body. I thought he had a skin condition. I became a bit intrigued when I saw that he has a friar’s halo shaved into his hair. It turns out, he’s a traditional Japanese dancer. At 43 (I think), his travel experience is incredible. He’s walked from Ireland to Istanbul (with the help of 2 ferries) and for the last 10 years of his life, he’s lived on the road, supporting himself by traveling from town to town performing the traditional Japanese Dragon dance. He’s toured every inhabited continent. As for the friar’s doo, his hair is shaved to resemble the Kappa, a mythical creature that lives in lakes and emerges from the water to get people to party. Seriously, the Kappa’s job is to convince people to get drunk. Put that culture in your pipe and smoke it.
Wayne is an American traveler living in Columbia. He’s a nut for word associations, etymology and 2012. I can’t really sum him up in a paragraph but he travels the world and tells his story to willing travelers and gives them a message: Just Be. Simply be. Without ego, without shame, you want to exist in the moment. His website is a work in progress and while I don’t agree with much of what he’s saying, I love his message and the amount of work he’s willing to put into learning more.
http://www.circusoflife.com
I left my book on the bus from Sofia but just happened to stumble upon a secondhand bookstore a few blocks away from the hostel. I’m now wrapped up in Malcolm Bradbury 1981 story of Dr. Petworth’s cultural visit to Slaka, the fictional Soviet Satellite state that seems to be vaguely modeled after Bulgaria. It’s a delightful read, full or ruminations on travel and movement through strange places and customs.
Unlike Dr. Petworth I still can’t understand a lick of the Cyrillic alphabet.
On Saturday, I leeched onto a student’s birthday party and made the trip out to a Bulgarian superclub. This was a first rate cultural experience. While we had a lot of fun dancing and hanging out I don’t think a lot of our Bulgarian counterparts had a good time. The club was huge so I took some time away from our group to explore the club and people watch. What I saw literally made me laugh out loud. I'd say that 80-90 percent of the people there were trying to look so cool that they were forgetting to have a good time. Frowns, stiff posture, and dismissive glances were everywhere. We still had a blast and managed to pull a few locals into our fun. Note: if you’re positive and trying to have fun, even if you’re a bit shy and nervous on the inside, you’re no only going to pull yourself into a positive and fun headspace but you’ll also pull those around you into it as well. If you just want to act standoffish and too cool for everyone, well, you’re gonna end up boring yourself and all those around you.
Other notes:
There’s a lot of hiking around Veliko Tarnovo but it isn’t spectacular, mostly trails through the hills to other towns and monasteries.
One of my favorite moments happened only a few minutes after I arrived. Since Veliko Tarnovo is a tourist town, if you’re walking down the street with a backpack, you’ll be accosted by old ladies who own guesthouses. They’ll use every trick they can to get you to stay with them. They’ll tell you that your hostel is closed or that it’s noisy. My favorite woman kept up with me for five minutes of walking and got more and more worked up with every step. By the time I left her, she was shouting that Hostel Mostel is “UNNATURAL PLACE TO STAY! 10 PEOPLE IN ROOM! GOD DIDN’T WANT IT THAT WAY! WHY YOU STAY THERE! YOU STAY IN GYPSY TOWN! YOU STAY WITH THE GYPSEYS!” When I saw her the next day, she wouldn’t even talk to me. She simply shook her head and gave me the stink eye.
I stayed in Veliko Tarnovo a day too long. I should have listened to my internal travel barometer. By now I think I’m a bit more attuned to when it’s time to leave a place and when I should stay longer. By Sunday morning I was itching to go but I didn’t make the jump. I ended up wasting another day kicking around the town instead of getting somewhere fresh and new.
I got a few suggestions to go to Sozopol. It’s a bit out of the way but we’ll see if I get there.
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
Bulgaria: Sofia and Rila
So wha'd you guys do today? Oh really? That’s nice. Me? Oh, not much: went for a hike, saw some old churches, purified my soul…
Yea, really! Sorry to pull this type of stunt and say your day really can’t compare with mine but that’s why I’m on the road. You deal with tons of strange and upsetting situations, and spend countless hours in uncomfortable seats and once in a while you stumble upon something that’s totally amazing. It might be a spectacular view or a beautiful girl who just happens to have a thing for American Engineers or an opportunity to purify your soul by crawling through a dark cave. Yep, supposedly, passing through St. Ivan's cave purifies your soul and symbolize rebirth.
Anyways, I just got through spending a night in the Rila Monastery. It’s a beautiful monastery located in the Rila Mountains. There are tons of hiking trails that wind their way through the mountains and loads of small churches and shrines hidden away in this area. I’d love to spend a week backpacking through Rila National Park during the summer. Now isn't the time because it's freezing up here.
I timed my visit so that I’d be up here on November 4th: Election Day. My superstitious side thought it might be a good idea to make my way up here and spend the night in quiet isolation convincing the infinite that we need a democratically controlled executive branch. Whatever. It beats watching CNN for 18 hours. I’m not sure if they still allow him to cover the elections in the states but truly regret missing the spectacle of Dan Rather slowly going insane over the course of his 24 hour stints covering an election.
"You would sooner find a tall talking broccoli stick to offer to mow your lawn for free."
In complete media isolation, last night I felt like I was five year old kid waiting for Christmas. I had a ton of trouble falling asleep and when I finally managed to, I was plagued by three very vivid and very strange dreams that were loosely tied to Obama, McCain or the US government.
Strange dreams and cold rooms aside, spending the night in Rila is a great experience and I’d recommend it to anyone who comes to this part of Bulgaria. It gives you a chance to see the monastery and explore the surrounding mountains. Because of the limited bus service, you only have about an hour and a half of sight seeing when you do Rila as a day trip so make sure to spend the night.
When you do make the trip, you need to know three things: First of all, there’s no bar or nightclub in the monastery. It’s really quiet up here at night, you’ll need a book. Second, the restaurant outside the monastery says it’s open until 10PM. It is not. In fact, they close really early. I think they do this in order to give you the real deal ascetic starving monk experience. My dinner consisted of tap water two week old cookie crumbs I found in my luggage. Finally, when you check into a room here, you have to state why you’re visiting. Just so you know, "The beautiful ladies of Rila" is no an appropriate reason to visit the monastery. You’re on a "spiritual journey".
Anyways, on my return to Sofia today, I was greeted with a smile and a hug from Vasil, a member of the staff at Hostel Mostel (you should stay there!). Everyone here seems excited by Obama's victory. In fact, I didn’t know he had won until I struck up a conversation with a German couple on the ride back from Rila. I had seen his face on a newspaper earlier on in the day but his expression was not one of triumph. Perhaps he realized the job he’s about to undertake. Or he had to sneeze.
I’ve spent quite a bit of time in Sofia. It’s not an amazingly beautiful city but it’s a great place to spend some time. It’s cheap and there’s plenty to do. Supposedly the club scene is spectacular but there aren’t any amazing acts coming through town while I’m here (Marco Carola is scheduled for next weekend… shoot).
One of Sofia’s nearby attractions is Vitosha mountain. At 2000 meters, it towers over the background of the city. I made my way out there and climbed to the top a few days ago. While it’s a big attraction, I was blown away by the staggering number of people out on the hiking trails. It was literally like being in an amusement park. While I could have done with a bit more solitude, I was really impressed to see so many people out and enjoying a bit of nature.
The views weren’t bad either.
OK, I’ve gotta’ go purify my stomach with a plate of veggies and a Bulgarian Pilsner.
Yea, really! Sorry to pull this type of stunt and say your day really can’t compare with mine but that’s why I’m on the road. You deal with tons of strange and upsetting situations, and spend countless hours in uncomfortable seats and once in a while you stumble upon something that’s totally amazing. It might be a spectacular view or a beautiful girl who just happens to have a thing for American Engineers or an opportunity to purify your soul by crawling through a dark cave. Yep, supposedly, passing through St. Ivan's cave purifies your soul and symbolize rebirth.
Anyways, I just got through spending a night in the Rila Monastery. It’s a beautiful monastery located in the Rila Mountains. There are tons of hiking trails that wind their way through the mountains and loads of small churches and shrines hidden away in this area. I’d love to spend a week backpacking through Rila National Park during the summer. Now isn't the time because it's freezing up here.
I timed my visit so that I’d be up here on November 4th: Election Day. My superstitious side thought it might be a good idea to make my way up here and spend the night in quiet isolation convincing the infinite that we need a democratically controlled executive branch. Whatever. It beats watching CNN for 18 hours. I’m not sure if they still allow him to cover the elections in the states but truly regret missing the spectacle of Dan Rather slowly going insane over the course of his 24 hour stints covering an election.
"You would sooner find a tall talking broccoli stick to offer to mow your lawn for free."
In complete media isolation, last night I felt like I was five year old kid waiting for Christmas. I had a ton of trouble falling asleep and when I finally managed to, I was plagued by three very vivid and very strange dreams that were loosely tied to Obama, McCain or the US government.
Strange dreams and cold rooms aside, spending the night in Rila is a great experience and I’d recommend it to anyone who comes to this part of Bulgaria. It gives you a chance to see the monastery and explore the surrounding mountains. Because of the limited bus service, you only have about an hour and a half of sight seeing when you do Rila as a day trip so make sure to spend the night.
When you do make the trip, you need to know three things: First of all, there’s no bar or nightclub in the monastery. It’s really quiet up here at night, you’ll need a book. Second, the restaurant outside the monastery says it’s open until 10PM. It is not. In fact, they close really early. I think they do this in order to give you the real deal ascetic starving monk experience. My dinner consisted of tap water two week old cookie crumbs I found in my luggage. Finally, when you check into a room here, you have to state why you’re visiting. Just so you know, "The beautiful ladies of Rila" is no an appropriate reason to visit the monastery. You’re on a "spiritual journey".
Anyways, on my return to Sofia today, I was greeted with a smile and a hug from Vasil, a member of the staff at Hostel Mostel (you should stay there!). Everyone here seems excited by Obama's victory. In fact, I didn’t know he had won until I struck up a conversation with a German couple on the ride back from Rila. I had seen his face on a newspaper earlier on in the day but his expression was not one of triumph. Perhaps he realized the job he’s about to undertake. Or he had to sneeze.
I’ve spent quite a bit of time in Sofia. It’s not an amazingly beautiful city but it’s a great place to spend some time. It’s cheap and there’s plenty to do. Supposedly the club scene is spectacular but there aren’t any amazing acts coming through town while I’m here (Marco Carola is scheduled for next weekend… shoot).
One of Sofia’s nearby attractions is Vitosha mountain. At 2000 meters, it towers over the background of the city. I made my way out there and climbed to the top a few days ago. While it’s a big attraction, I was blown away by the staggering number of people out on the hiking trails. It was literally like being in an amusement park. While I could have done with a bit more solitude, I was really impressed to see so many people out and enjoying a bit of nature.
The views weren’t bad either.
OK, I’ve gotta’ go purify my stomach with a plate of veggies and a Bulgarian Pilsner.
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