Tripping With Toby: Jernava

Horowitz Travel- May 8, 2017- Jernava

I am sitting on a porch overlooking a valley and lake as I write. The sun has played hide and seek all day. David kept reassuring us that we'd not have rain, and he was right again. Unfortunately, he was sitting out here with me enjoying the view when an enormous bumble bee flew in. Now I have the porch, the view, and the bee all to myself.

Last night I learned that sea gulls never sleep. The sounds outside our window varied from cats in heat to the cawing gulls. It was a nocturnal serenade of which I wanted no part. Love earplugs. Just heard a donkey and rooster rehearsing for tonight.

We also learned why the Black Sea has that name. It's not black at all. It was named for the deadly fast storms that swept down on ships without warning. There are at least 140 shipwrecks at the bottom.

Patrick is convinced that Bulgaria is very safe. Sometimes he doesn't lock the car when we leave it for lunch. At a gas stop we all came out of the restroom to see he'd left the hatch up. The police are known to be lazy, and I guess criminals are too.

On our two-hour ride to Nessebar, a UNESCO site, we listened to Patrick disparage what has been done with the lovely coastline South of Varna. We crossed the Balkan Mts. again heading for the Medieval town at the tip of a peninsular. The road is dotted with resorts and new construction. I hope their optimism is rewarded and the rooms are filled with tourists. Most visitors are from Western Europe in search of a cheap vacation. There's bargain airfare, food is very reasonable, and alluring packages are enticing. Resorts have English names and sound as if they were lifted from Vegas, eg., Excelsior.

The town of Nessebar dates from the 6th century BCE. There now is what remains of a Medieval town. We saw St. Stephen's Church dating from the 10th century with its 16th century frescoes. It seemed as if we saw every one of the forty surviving churches in the town. We only went into two churches, so it was mostly a walk-by. I forgot to mention the cobblestone streets here. In Western Europe, cobblestone streets are made of small stones in a tight-knit pattern. They're still a common stumbling hazard. Here, they have perfected the art of placing what I call cobble-rocks helter-skelter on their streets. The rocks weren't seated well in the beginning and have shifted over the years leaving mud-filled gaps and puddles. More of a challenge.

Patrick was most disturbed by the commercial nature of the town. Every doorway has become a kiosk selling the same souvenirs. His suggestion was to form a market square where vendors could congregate and leave the old buildings as they were. It's really ingenious. I've not seen a preserved site do that in all our travels. It surprises me that UNESCO hasn't thought of it.

And then Patrick pulled a rabbit out of his hat. He had what for a guide is a major coup. He found a place that no other guides know of. Through diligence, research, perseverance, interrogation, compulsion, and Google Maps, he found the location of the Jewish cemetery in Karnovat. He'd heard rumors of such a place and when we told him we'd like to see Jewish sites, he went to work. From when we booked the trip last spring until now, he's been a busy guy.

By dint of help from his GPS, dead reckoning, and determination, his 17-year old all-wheel drive Honda SUV (in pristine condition, I might add) threw itself up unpaved hills and rock-strewn paths, across slippery weeds, and trash filled lots until in the distance, on a verdant green hillside, we saw scattered white stones. We climbed out of the car and began to hike over what seemed to be an animal boneyard festooned with sheep remains. We descended into a valley and climbed the grass/mud slope to our destination. There were houses on the hill across the valley and one man called out to Patrick to ask what we were doing. Patrick told him we had come from Varna (not America), and that we were Jewish. The man wished us well. There was ample evidence he grazed his flock there.

It was a Sephardic cemetery using long, narrow, cylindrical monuments resting horizontally on the ground as markers. The area was larger than expected, and Patrick took as many pictures as we. David was able to read some engravings, we found rocks to place on a stone, and he said a prayer. When we told Patrick we were going to say a prayer, he asked if we would do anything unusual like hold hands. He was worried about that man. The bubble burst as we slid back to the car. Patrick asked us to check our clothing and later our bodies for ticks.

When we got to our hotel David Googled Karnovat (Karnobat) cemetery. It has a Facebook page and pictures including the hill we climbed.

Our mountain climbing SUV brought us to our 300-year old guest house (5 rooms) in Jernava. It's an isolated village of unpainted wood houses where generations have lived. The cobble-rock hilly streets are a challenge for auto and human alike. We strolled the area, and I wondered as I watched two women carrying shopping bags home,” What must it be like in winter?”

We ate dinner at the guest house. Our new love is a spread called lyutenisa. It's made of tomatoes, peppers, onions and their white cheese. David's mashed potatoes were really weird. They were cold and gluey. He must have liked them because he made all gone. There was also a combo of walnuts, cheese, and honey that turned out to be way too salty for us.

We were surprised when Baba Kunka came into the restaurant. She's a widow in her 70's. Patrick likes to give her a chance for extra earnings by bringing tourists to her home for breakfast. That's where we'll eat tomorrow morning. In any case, tonight she was looking for her chickens. They're free range and we took photos of them in front of a store. We last saw them at a playground. She keeps them in her yard at night and was having trouble locating them. She may be relying on their eggs for our breakfast.

Tomorrow we go to Plovdiv for three nights before we transfer to Romania.

Toby