Veliko Tărnovo and Beyond

Horowitz Travel-  May 6, 2017- Veliko Tărnovo and Beyond

Happy St. Geroge's Day. Bulgarians are celebrating the saint with a parade in Sofia, visiting attractions, and eating lamb. Type-A Patrick stressed about crowds where we were going as he strategized the best route and how to avoid the rain. We started at the furthest point, and David guaranteed sunshine based on faith not influence. 

We drove an hour and a half in dreary, threatening weather on what Patrick told us was nicknamed "the road of death." It was two-lane, truck-filled, and impatient drivers passed at will on curves. Patrick is a careful driver, but Judi, who sits up front, can hear him curse in English under his breath. He swerves to avoid potholes and snails and his car either needs shocks or springs. It's snail season and people collect them to eat. He doesn't want to deprive anyone of a meal. So far, our backs are holding up despite a bouncy ride and mattresses here being thin and ropey. Several times I've checked under myself while in bed to see if my nightgown had twisted only to feel knots in the mattress. 

We had a chance to chat and tell anecdotes during the ride. Judi told the tale of how storks bring newborn babies to a house and asked if Bulgarians have a similar explanation to tell children. He said their story is that after the baby comes, the stork lays on the couch and drinks beer, obviously referring to the father. In our daily belaboring of the plight of civilization, the world, & the U.S. in particular, he quoted Churchill:  there are "no eternal friends or eternal enemies, only eternal interests."

Patrick's goal is to amaze us and show us sites that are not on "package tours." He did both. We arrived at a 12th century collection of 150 caves formerly occupied by hermit monks. The Rock Caves of Ivanov are hewn from the cliffside and include cells, chapels, and monasteries. The remaining accessible cave is up a muddy, steep, slippery hill with few handholds. That was the "easier" way up. Well worth the climb, we were greeted with an ancient natural formation of a chapel adorned with 14th century frescoes in the Pelaeologoues style. It is neoclassical and known for thin human figures (El Greco-like) with clear facial expressions, background detail, and an unusual appearance of a nude. The walls and ceiling are covered with amazingly preserved frescoes including the Last Supper 140 years before Leonardo painted his. Our descent was by stairs. They were wet, slippery, and more dangerous. And there were distractions. We had to avoid gripping the handrail where snails perched (if snails perch). Snails of all sizes were obvious on trees we passed. I didn't know there could be albino snails, but I saw one today.

Safely on level ground, we went to lunch at a gas station. Quite a comedown from Patrick's usual fare, but he said they had delicious sandwiches. They were on an assortment of lovely baguettes and ranged from vegetarian to meats and smoked salmon. Rested, fed, and watered, we trooped on.

We would have skipped the Roman Nicopolus back near Veliko Tarnovo if it was raining, but David had predicted accurately. The rain stopped and the sun came in and out all day. The site was impressive as Roman cities are. We've seen several and it's always interesting to be reminded of how clever they were.

Patrick was antsy to get to The Church of St. Michael and Gabriel in Arbanasi Village. We sped down pitted roads lined with fluffy white lilac trees to one of his favorite places. The first part was built in the 17th century with the rest built in the 18th. There is no evidence from outside that under the red tile roof lies a domed structure built half underground. The purpose was to abide by the Ottoman law that churches couldn't be taller than mosques. The exterior presentation of plain stone construction made the interior all the more dramatic. The two rooms were distinctive in style and use. The sexes were separated with men using the older room. The flooring was made of large tiles taken from the Roman site we'd just visited. In both rooms, the walls and ceilings were covered with brightly colored biblical paintings, depictions of saints, and floral designs reminiscent of Turkish art. Each figure had a three-dimensional gold leaf halo. 

Not finished yet! We had to see, but thankfully not climb, the Tsarevets Hill or the Hill of Kings. It's a reconstructed battlement wall and bridge/road that protected the area from the 12th to 14th century during the second Bulgarian Empire when this was the capital. There's nothing but a park inside the walls, so we were spared the effort of touring yet another Medieval town.

In sympathy for us, Patrick drove us to Craft St. near our hotel. He dropped his car at the hotel and walked up to meet us at a friend's ceramic shop. He was ordering a casserole dish for his wife, but we didn't find anything we wanted to buy. We had to insist, but he let us walk down to the hotel rather than have him get the car. I am beginning to feel elderly with his solicitous treatment. He admitted that his job is to be a mother hen and we're his chicks. One time he told us to wait for him to bring the car and to "stand here." He pointed to a drainage grate on the sidewalk. When we saw his car coming, we all circled the grate facing inward to show how well we were following directions. He got the joke.

It was hard to get reservations for dinner and we ended up at our hotel again. We ordered lamb and rice for St. George. Patrick is watching his weight so he can fit into his wetsuit so only ate chicken. He's very judgmental about people's weight and has commented that his wife didn't get her good shape back after their son was born. At dinner, he remarked at the amount of bread David ate before the main course came since the lamb portion was to be large. He said it in a way he'd chastise his son. I think he was out of line as does David. Then he remarked that Miro, the manager, had gained kilos. It was enough to say it to us, but he also teased Miro about his mother feeding him well. 

He thought it would be a good idea for us to contact our Romanian guide, Andrei, to be sure our arrangements were clear for picking us up at the border next week. He said it's not wise to try to hold too many watermelons. Andrei had been a private guide, but expanded and now runs an agency. The implication was that Andrei is unreliable. Andrei has hired Bulgarians to do tours in Romania and Bulgaria. I think Patrick resents the infringement on his "turf." In his opinionated way, he's conveyed his dislike for Romania as well.

If anyone is interested, Patrick also does specialized wine tours and private tours (3-4 people max) of Northern Greece, Macedonia, Moldova, and other bordering countries. He doesn't do Romania. 

Tomorrow we do a lot of driving ending up in Varna.

Toby

Last Supper Fresco Rock Cave Church of Ivanov

Roman Forum

Tsarevets Hill

Long Day to Veliko Tarnovo-May 5, 2017

Horowitz Travel--Veliko Tarnovo

We awoke to news that the U.S. House passed a restrictive health care bill. This was expected, but our disappointment is tangible. And we are learning a lesson from Bulgarian history. There have been three Bulgarian Empires separated by foreign outside takeovers. Each time Bulgarians fought to regain their independence. There was always a resistance here, even during occupations. We just have to be diligent and take opportunities to reinstate and re-gain the government to which we aspire.

On the road, again. Patrick is a high maintenance guide. He wants us to be pleased, asks for reassurance, and we, in turn, try to convince him of how happy we are, and how we appreciate his choices. I'm not saying it's a negative, because we're getting excellent service. Today, however, our program was jam packed and we found ourselves becoming nauseated as he sped along winding mountain roads to be sure we saw everything. In the end, it was spectacular and more than worth it.

Judi asked about what appeared to be stray dogs with ear tags. He explained that they were indeed strays who had been neutered rather than putting them into an "asylum" for life. They don't kill strays but don't want them to reproduce. The dogs seem to be well fed (lots of trash around) and not dangerous.

We drove to Gumoshtnik to visit his friend Angelina. She's in her late 40's and looks 60. She is proudly in charge of the town cultural center built in the Communist era. It's a substantial building that houses a library, social hall, and auditorium. That's one thing the Soviets did that was positive. There we ran into a Brit and his Bulgarian girlfriend. He'd just bought a house in town. Patrick said houses can be from $800-20,000 depending on condition. The location is stunning and David kept picturing a resort on the hillside overlooking the valley and mountains beyond.

We proceeded to Angelina's home to meet her husband, Emil, and see their family farm. They have goats, chickens and a few cows. One kid was particularly fond of my fingers and used them as a pacifier since his mama was in another area. We tromped through the muck petting and cuddling. I was in hog heaven except there were no hogs. As we left the paddock, Emil was ready with a hose to wash our shoes. He rubbed the glop off our soles by hand, then we all scrubbed with homemade soap at an outdoor stone sink. We toured the tractor barn as Emil proudly displayed his machinery. Patrick got a chance to chop wood and was quite proficient at it. He was chopping away when Angelina noticed kids escaping from the paddock. Emil had forgotten to close a gate and we watched as he ran after them and carried them back to safety.

Angelina joined us as we drove up the road to her old family home. They now use it as a weekend retreat, but it has no running water or plumbing. She has it furnished as it would have been when she was a child. She rents it out to limited clientele. There's not even an outhouse. We sat on the balcony in child-sized chairs and drank herbal tea from local plants she'd picked then prepared in an electric teapot. Yes, they have electricity. She served a cow cheese she made from milk provided by the cow we met. It was served on a plate covered in sugar. Interesting. I enjoyed one piece but it was too strong for more.

Our parting was filled with heartfelt thanks and promises to friend her on Facebook. Patrick told us that although they own land and have food and shelter, they can't afford things like clothing. We all plan to send them some clothes when we get home. We'll also send some small items for children to be kept at the cultural center. 

Not far down the road we visited a memorial to eight people from that town who went down with the Titanic. Of all the passengers, there were fifty Bulgarians who perished. Agents from the U.S. recruited workers in poor Eastern European countries. The workers sold all they had and ventured to the golden land where many achieved the dreams that had been promised. For others, it ended in tragedy.

The open-air crafts market in Gabrovo held promise of perhaps finding a hippo for Rylee, but it was not to be. It reminded us of Hale Farm in Akron as it's comprised of relocated examples of local cottages now used as workshops for craftspeople. Neither did we find a hippo in Tryavna. Patrick disparages "touristic" places, but took us there anyway to see the revival (post Ottoman) architecture notable for elaborate wood carving and roofs made of arranged rocks. 

Today's locations were all stunning. Each was nestled in the Balkan Range, had its own stream, and backdrop of heart-stopping views. Our last treat was a small monastery (three monks). It's in a valley and backs up against a rock cliff. Of course, Patrick has a friend there too. It was a brief stop, but lovely to see the small stone chapel encrusted with icons, overpowering chandelier, and bursts of color.

We're at the Gurko Hotel in Veliko Tarnovo for two nights. It's on a hillside, of course, and our room and sitting room are generous, clean, and light-filled. Kris, our guide from our day tour of Sofia is here too. He's acting as a private driver.

Patrick and Judi joined us in our room for Shabbat candle lighting, wine, and bread. He asked if he was Jewish afterwards. I told him we hadn't circumcised him yet. 

We had dinner at the hotel restaurant. It was delicious. My dinner was bohchor (sp) a take on chicken pot pie in a bread bowl only less soupy. Judi had a pork dish with porcini, and David had chicken stuffed with cheese. Our sever who also welcomed us to the hotel and showed us our rooms, was Miro. Patrick says Miro is always very fashionable. I wonder if he realizes Miro is gay? A loud and showy thunderstorm rolled in and out as we ate. Quite a spectacle experienced from a mountaintop.

Tomorrow will be busy with area sites. Depending on weather we may have to adapt.

Toby

Patrick chopping wood

View from Angelina's family home

Oreshak For Real

Horowitz Travel-May 4, 2017- Oreshak

We did so much driving today there's not much to write and only a picture of our tank being filled with LPG (liquid propane gas). I wish I could listen to the attendant's (no self-serve) dinner conversation as she tries to explain how a car pulled up, three crazy Americans jumped out and took a picture of the nozzle in the tank. The interesting thing about it, as you see, is that there's a separate opening for gas & LPG. When the car was retro-fitted, a separate tank was added as well as a computer adaptation. Other interesting Bulgarian gas station facts: it's a good bet the toilets will be clean; they sell distilled water for car batteries. David uses distilled water in his CPAP & was thrilled to have such easy access to it.

We drove through Northwest Bulgaria, the poorest section of the country. This has become the home to many gypsies. Sorry, those of you who object to that term. That's what Patrick uses and it's easier to stick with his language. He has a definite bias against them and verbalizes all the stereotypes which I won't repeat. They came from India following Alexander the Great. They fought on his side against the Indians and had to "get out of Dodge" when Alexander moved on. 

More interesting than rambles about "lazy gypsies" were the stork nests perched on telephone poles. We saw many occupied, but it's too early for the chicks to be around. The ride wasn't as scenic today, but we passed the time chatting. Patrick said he enjoys our stories. I told him we have at least thirty years more of adventures than he does.

We stopped for lunch at a lovely place. Where, I do not know. Patrick closely supervises what we order and makes recommendations. He had stinging nettle soup. I tasted it and may try it later on. There was a wooden box on the table with a button on it. The box was marked with "push button for service." As the waitress approached I asked if I could push it. Patrick told me there was no need since she was coming. I was teasing him putting my finger closer and closer. He finally explained to the server what I wanted to do. She indicated I should push it. It caused her watch to vibrate. After she left, Patrick turned to me and said, "What can you do with kids nowadays?" He said that maybe he should get me a babysitter or toys to play with in the car. 

He surprised us by paying for our lunch. I thanked him and said we'd buy him dinner. The joke was that our overnight was in his wife's hometown and he was staying with his in-laws.  His mother-in-law never missed a chance to feed him and tell him her daughter could have married better. Since he's given them their only grandchild, she might change her tune. He laughed and told us he was buying our lunch because he liked us a lot.

Our major tourist stop was in Pleven. The English translation said the building housed the Epopee of Pleven. Epopee? Patrick said it meant "epic." It was in a large multi-storied circular building with paintings, weapons, and an enormous diorama depicting the events of the Russian-Turkish war of 1877-1878. It reminded me of the diorama of the U.S. Civil War in Atlanta. Our guide spoke excellent English, but, of course, Patrick had to slightly amend his version of history when we were outside the exhibit. I particularly found the weaponry interesting. A lot was British and American. The Russians adapted rifles like Colts, Smith & Wessons, & Winchesters to suit their purposes. They also altered the Gatling gun so it would accept the same ammunition as the rifles. The Turks were stuck with single shot powder loaded muskets. Guess who won? It was a major blow and helped end 500 years of Ottoman domination in Bulgaria.

The next stop was at Patrick's bank branch in Troyan near where we were spending the night. He'd been carrying lots of cash with him (most from us) & was happy to deposit it. I'm surprised he left us alone in the car while he banked. He's like a mother hen. He's so protective and solicitous. When we got to our hotel in Oreshak, a suburb of Troyan, he walked us downstairs to go over the restaurant menu since he wouldn't be eating with us. I joked about "not another flight of steps" & he offered to go down and get the menu. When he took us to a craft mart I went to the restroom and found that he was pacing and wringing his hands when I returned. I hadn't told him I was going & as far as he was concerned I'd disappeared. Poor man needs to chill. He does seem tightly wound and sometimes walks too fast. He and I end up walking together, and Judi keeps David company at a slower pace. David’s arthritic toes have been acting up.

I'm writing this to you while sitting on the covered patio restaurant of our hotel Strannopriemnitza (yeah) as a thunderstorm rolls in. We were going to walk to a nearby monastery even though Patrick wanted to drive us and have us walk back. We convinced him we could manage both ways. He capitulated, but the storm was coming, and we didn't go.

It wasn't so much what we ate for dinner as how the menu read. David had "erked" (jerked) pastrami. It's dried corned beef. Since it was a starter, he also had cheese in egg with corn flakes and jam. It was the salty Bulgarian cheese in nugget form. Indeed, it was coated with corn flakes and fried. Jam was in a small bowl for dipping. Judi had "penny bun" (baby porcini) mushrooms in wine sauce & the mish mash egg scramble with tomatoes she had the other day. We shared "singed" loaf of garlic bread (nan). My stomach was off from all the wonderful local yogurt I've eaten, so I had chicken soup. We took a pass on: "coat" (goat) cheese, French fries or fresh French fries ($1 more), "shaken pig liver" (perhaps chopped), chicken filet on mushroom "mess" (mash?), veal head with veal stomach.

Tomorrow we head for Veliko Tărnovo & spend two nights.

Toby

Gasoline & LPG access

Storks

Epopee

Vidin

Horowitz Travel- May 3, 2017- Vidin

We crossed the Balkan Mts. which used to divide the civilized world (South) from the Barbarians (North). Now the world looks at the division from East to West, with the West (Europe) seeing itself as more advanced than the East (Asia).

Spring is evident here. Trees are blooming and stands selling honey and yogurt dot the roadside. We had a 3-4 hour drive past red rock chimney-like formations soaring to the clear blue sky. Each pile of rocks was doing its unique balancing act.

We stopped at the Magura Caves for a walk on the pre-historic side. Dating from 10,000 BCE, they would have been unremarkable except for the extensive petroglyphs drawn using bat guano. They haven't been retouched and have survived these many centuries. The path into the cave was paved with slippery stones so we used flashlights and clung to the handrails as we descended. It was well worth the nail-biting descent to see the ancient depiction of animals and humans. It seemed as if the men were either hunting with bows, arrows, & spears, or pointing erect penises at dancing women. One of the more elaborate drawings was a lunar calendar which, despite an explanation, looks like a picture Picasso might have done as a 5-year old.

We stopped at a restaurant Patrick had never been to before. The food was good (shopska,omelette 'mish mash', & burger with cheese inside) but Patrick thought the waitress was rude and unappreciative of our generous "American" tip. We've worked out a system where he gives us money for his part of the bill and we split the remainder in thirds for Judi & us. 

Our hotel, Old Town, is across the street from the Istanbul Gate in the old part of Vidin. The gate marked the start of the road leading to Istanbul in Ottoman times. Patrick, always aware to give us options, suggested a walk along the Danube River. Yes, it's the same one that comes from Western Europe. It's a popular route for riverboat cruises that are docked near our hotel. The Old Town was a large house until converted into a most charming six room hotel. Each room is unique and has updated bathrooms. We were shown the breakfast room and we may get lost tomorrow morning wending our way down the twisting hallways. The place is decorated to the hilt with historic and family memorabilia. The downside was that Patrick's room had been given away to tourists. Evidently it was no problem, and he's staying down the street at a hotel he frequents and where we'll have dinner.

So, the walk took us along tree shaded streets and past a small mosque and library built by a former Jannisary soldier of the Ottoman Empire. It was explained that children were given to the army by their impoverished Christian parents in hopes that they'd have a better life. They were converted to Islam and raised to be warriors loyal to the Sultans. They were paid but couldn't marry or leave the corps. As the Ottoman clout waned, they were "downsized" and unemployed. Several set up their own fiefdoms as did the man who built the Vidin mosque. Although the Sultans tried to defeat him, he was not deposed. The top of the minaret is one of a kind. Instead of a crescent, it has an upside-down heart, the symbol of the Jannisary warriors.

Down the street was the synagogue abandoned for 70 years. It's a ruin and barely standing, just a shell of a building. Trees and weeds grow wild almost obscuring what used to be the Ark where the Torah scrolls were kept.

We continued to the fort built along the Danube by the Romans. It was expanded multiple times by the Ottomans and stands as a reminder of the vulnerability of the location. Just across the river is Romania, a former enemy. We entered what had been the prison of the fort and Patrick pointed out the rows of holes in the stone walls indicating how the prisoners counted the days of their incarceration. 

As we turned to go through the Istanbul Gate to our hotel, we noticed a monument with a menorah on it. The inscription said it was donated in 1998, by the Jews of Vidin now living in Israel.  It is a reminder of the Jews who fled the Inquisition and settled here and a thank you to the people of Vidin for saving them during WWII. 

Dinner was at the hotel where Patrick stayed. Once again, we had fish. It was tasty but I'm giving up on fish here. Too many bones for me.

Tomorrow we have a long morning drive to Troyan and stay the night at Pleven.

Toby

Cave paintings

Abandoned Synagogue

Baba Vida Fort

Rila

Horowitz Travel- May 2, 2017- Rila 

Sorry I had a weird subject for my last email. Hope you figured it out.

I left out the Celts and Crusaders in yesterday's list of influencers on the area. It's more interesting than I expected. Always good to have low expectations and be pleasantly surprised. 

We were greeted by a very awake and eager Patrick in our lobby this morning. By way of explanation, he has no Irish ancestry. He has a Bulgarian name, but at age 13, he fell madly in love with a girl named Patricia. His friends teased him by calling him "Patrick" and it stuck. He's now 47, married (not to Patricia), and has a 3-year old son.  His home is in Varna where he enjoys the beaches and spear fishing. He hates Sofia, and that's why he uses a local guide for his clients here. In winter, he and friends go South to discover and excavate Thracian sites. One of the group is an archaeologist and has written papers about their finds. He claims to have a good driving record in a country with the most accidents per capita in the EU, but talks with his hands as he drives. He's proud to be an independent guide and said his business is from referrals, repeat clients, and readers of International Travel News Magazine.

We stopped at the synagogue, built in 1909, on our way out of town. It reflects the Sephardic (Mediterranean) traditions of architecture and is more ornate than we're used to. There are hardly any Jews left in the country and only one other functioning synagogue in Plovdiv. Even though Bulgarian Jews were saved during WWII, they fled to Israel with the takeover by the Soviet Union. Communism under Stalin was barely better than Nazism, and the new State of Israel offered the allure of self-determination.

We fit comfortably into his Honda SUV that has been retro-fitted to run on gas and propane. The tanks switch automatically much as our hybrids do when they go from gas to electric. We had a warm, sunny day to head for the Rila Mountains. Leaving the drab Soviet buildings behind, we were soon in farmland. We left the four-lane divided highway and started climbing up a mountain road to Rila about 75 miles away. The village of Rila was picturesque in that they had red tile roofs and grape vine arbors at each house, but it appeared to be generally neglected.

The Rila Monastery was founded in the 10th century by St. John of Rila, a hermit and Bulgaria's first Saint. It has burned down many times and was re-built bigger and better after each disaster. At one time it housed 400 monks, but today has around ten. The unused rooms are available for rent and offer very basic facilities and seclusion. Well, maybe not seclusion. It was crawling with tourists.  

The monks work hard at maintaining the facility. Restoration and repairs were ongoing and the clearly new exterior painting reflected their pride. Frescoes adorned the outside of the church itself with one in particular standing out. It was a depiction of Heaven and Hell and who would go where in the afterlife. Patrick pointed out that the Jews were clearly shown being herded into a flaming abyss. What the artist could never know was that in the future the flames were to be here on earth and the doing of Mankind, not God. Speaking of Bulgaria's alliance with the Nazis, yesterday Kris, and today, Patrick repeated that even though the Germans were evil, they saved them from being invaded by Russia during the war and held out the promise of Greek territory. 

The interior of the church was typical Greek Orthodox with a Bulgarian influence. There were icons and relics with an 800-year old silver framed collection of the bones of saints. Wherever there were no paintings of Biblical scenes, there was carved wood encrusted with gold leaf. The scrolling and intricate detail on the wood was magnificent and lovingly looked after. One side chapel held the tomb of Tsar Boris who helped save Bulgarian Jews. Speculation says he was poisoned, by whom depends on whether you're German or Russian. The official word is that at age 49, in 1943, he had a heart attack from stress and exhaustion.

Having dealt with the past, our appetites brought us back to the present. Lunch was at a stream-side restaurant overlooking the waters from which our trout had been retrieved. There were horses roaming in an adjacent pasture so I climbed down the hill and wandered among them trying to entice them with handfuls of grass. A few did approach, but the mares with foals kept their distance. As I was leaving, an old mottled horse started to come near. I turned to offer some grass, but she put her ears back. I told her that I was willing to be friends, but I did speak "horse" and understood she wanted me out of there.

The trout was delicious. At my request, it had been beheaded before serving. Patrick showed us how to debone it by lifting out the spine, but even then, there were many tiny bones left. I dealt with it and finished my portion. The skin was crispy and tasted great, but I didn't like the looks of the scales so didn't finish it. 

I dozed on and off on our drive back to the hotel as Patrick shared opinions on the future of Bulgaria. Since it's a village culture and more people are leaving villages for the cities, he thinks Bulgarians and their way of life will disappear. He predicts they will be overrun with gypsies/Roma since they have such large families. He said that the Iron Curtain still exists. A fence was erected by the Soviets to keep Bulgarians in its borders. Now it's used to keep immigrants out. Sound familiar? But he was a Hillary supporter and is very upset that Trump won. Most of his clients are from the U.S. and democrats. 

After sharing some of his background, he asked about ours. David is the first rabbi he's taken around. As for our personal stories, he was very interested in the LGBT history. In Bulgaria, it is considered shameful as is divorce. It is not so unusual in the big cities, but, although not illegal, they are not anywhere close to passing equal rights or marriage legislation. He asked intelligent questions and I'm sure he'll have more.

We had a 2-hour siesta before dinner at the Hadjidragonov Restaurant. Yes, that's where we ate the first night. I had my eye on the porcini mushroom soup in a bread bowl. Patrick joined us and suggested we try shopska salad made with sliced cucumbers, tomato and local sirene cheese. The shredded cheese made the dish. It's cow cheese that resembles feta. David & I shared the salad, David had lamb soup in a bread bowl, and Judi shared her salad with Patrick and had mushroom soup. It was a good change from the heavy meals we'd been eating. Patrick seems to want to join us for meals if it's ok with us. I hope we don't get tired of each other. Tonight, he was eager to return to the hotel to watch a football (soccer) match between two teams from Madrid.

Tomorrow we say good-bye to Sofia and head for Vidin. I have not a clue.

Toby

Rila Monastery

Horses by trout stream

Communist architecture

Sofia City Orientation

Horowitz Travel- Sophia City Tour- May 1, 2017

It's May 1. There are no parades of military might, but it is a holiday. It's Labor Day. No school, no work, just extra crowds at tourist sites.

Our city guide, Kris, met us at the hotel. He has a degree in history/geography and spoke good if rapid English. He's 27, and told us that during the 90's his father didn't see a future for them under Communism. He sent Kris to a private school where he learned English. He's been to the U.S. and has traveled the world with his grandmother with whom he's very close.

On our way to our first stop, Kris pointed to the proximity of the Balkan Mt. Range. The imposing sight looms over the city and divides the country north from south. The plus is their beauty and that skiing is only a few minutes away. We arrived at the historical museum for an overview of Bulgaria's past. Being at the crossroads of civilization and having been influenced (read: losers in battles) by a collection that includes: Thracians, Greeks, Romans, Ottoman Turks, Barbarians, Slavs, Huns, Russians, they are an amalgamation of that past and a fierce identification with and desire to be just Bulgarian. 

During one of several times of independence interspersed between foreign governing, King Boris acquiesced to Constantinople and declared that the country would leave its pagan ways and convert to Christianity. It was a political decision. He then made the church into a Bulgarian version so they wouldn't lose their language or identity. A Bulgarian alphabet had been created and he wanted it left intact. It appeared to be too complex for most to learn so it was simplified into what is now the Cyrillic alphabet that we associate with Russia. But it was a Bulgarian creation.

Our tour continued to the Benyana Church parts of which date from the 11th century. Amazingly preserved frescoes depicting faces of 250 individuals cover walls and ceilings giving faint evidence of their age.

We lunched outdoors at a quaint restaurant. The bread was outstanding. I'd tasted Bulgaria's famous yogurt at breakfast, had local cheese with my aubergine for lunch, and the bread completed my Bulgarian flavor palate. Judi had shopski, an egg, cheese, and tomato combo cooked in a clay pot. David had chicken and veggies served on a sizzling skillet. It reminded me of fajitas. Judi was the winner. Menus list the size of the portions in grams for each dish. We're getting better at judging, but still over ordered. 

A modern history lesson followed. We were apologetically told that although Bulgaria aligned with the Nazis, their hearts weren't in it. They were uncooperative allies who made promises to supply weapons and soldiers, but never kept them. They're also known for saving approximately all of the 35,000 Jews in the country at the time. Most have since moved to Israel. In one incident, they were told to fill trains sent to transport Jews to Poland. Instead, they filled the trains with Christian Bulgarians whom the Nazis didn’t want and got away with it. The Nazis were angered, but there were no penalties. 

Rid of the Nazis they found themselves under the thumb of Russia and Stalin. I explained to Kris the phrase "from the frying pan into the fire," and he agreed that's what happened. At the end of the Soviet Union, Bulgaria became a parliamentary republic. Out of curiosity, I asked what happened to the statues of Communists that had peppered the area. He said that all except one were in a museum of Soviet society. Maybe that's where our statues of Confederate icons could be taken, a museum of the Civil War. As with Bulgaria, it's a dark part of our history, but not to be forgotten.

A walking tour followed including going into the Alexander Nevsky Church and Haggia Sophia (formerly a mosque). We walked past a functioning mosque and on to the synagogue which was closed. We hope to see it tomorrow. As we proceeded, the contrast between Soviet architecture and the European influenced Renaissance inspired buildings that preceded them was laughable.

Kris left us around 6PM and we strolled a pedestrian mall, ate outdoors again, and walked back to the hotel. 

We still find our hotel comfortable. In an attempt to provide for all our needs, a list of services is in our room. Along with toothpaste, the front desk also has condoms.

I don't know if this is a coherent posting. Although I slept through the night, jet lag has caught up with me.

Tomorrow we see the monastery at Rila.

Toby

Benyana Church

Alexander Nevski Cathedral

Why Bulgaria and Romania?

Horowitz Travel- April 30, 2017-Sofia, Bulgaria

Why in the world are we going to Bulgaria and Romania? One answer is that those are two places in the world we haven't been. Another answer would be that I was listening to an NPR discussion about Elie Wiesel. They mentioned that he was from Romania. Hmm! I thought. There must have been a substantial Jewish community there. My interest was piqued. Being so close to Bulgaria, we figured, why not? Somehow, we interested Judi Cope, our friend from DC and frequent traveling partner, to join us.

We hired guides recommended by an Akron travel agent and have been emailing them directly to make arrangements. We cautioned them that we are tall people with long legs. They each have SUVs that will accommodate our height and limited baggage. We really packed frugally.

We drove to Judi's place in Potomac, spent the night, and flew out on April 29. We're all TSA pre-checked, but for the first time I was "selected" at random for extra attention. The agent was very friendly and joked as he examined my iPad. David's carry-on needed a closer look as well. He had two items laying together in the case which showed the image of something solid and unidentifiable. In addition, he got thoroughly frisked. He too was cleared.

We landed in Frankfurt at 5AM in time to see the lights just coming on down below and a glimmer of sunrise casting an orange glow on the horizon. We had to go through security again even though we were just transferring flights. Judi got a pat down. It's a good thing I didn't. I was carrying half the cash in U.S. dollars to pay our guide in Bulgaria. It was hidden in my bra. David's CPAP was scrutinized, & my quart bag was scrutinized. The gonif found a moisturizer/sunscreen that was over-sized and confiscated it. It was only a third full & the spare was in checked luggage. No biggie. 

Our flights were on time and we navigated over the Alps in glorious sunshine. To paraphrase Maurice Sendak in Where The Wild Things Are, we sailed through a night and into a day of our very own adventure. We were met in Sofia by "not our guide." Evonne was just our driver to the hotel. Judi's impression of Sofia was that it could use a good power washing. I thought that might blast off the peeling paint that's been slapped on some old Soviet buildings in an attempt to "refresh" them. Then there are the plain old gray Soviet blocks of concrete apartments buildings. Mix in a generous coating of graffiti and you get the picture. We did pass an expansive park as we approached the city proper. We'll learn more tomorrow. 

Patrick "our actual guide," came by the Hotel Favorit to introduce himself and explain that tomorrow we'd have a local city guide and then he would be with us the rest of the time. Despite the exterior looking as seedy as the rest of the neighborhood, the hotel might turn out to be our "favorite." We have mini suites with a sitting room and separate bedroom. It is immaculate. 

After we checked in, we went in search of ATMs. That accomplished, we found the nearby Ramada with casino and settled in for a snack, not gambling. Our bodies have no idea what time they're on. We keep eating to stay awake until at least 9PM this time. 

Hadjidraganov's House was a nearby restaurant serving Bulgarian food, so we chose to eat there. Our stamina was waning. David & I shared a platter of shashlik (kebabs) and lamb sausage. It was abundant and tasty. Judi had a more mundane but yummy lamb chop. The house is 100 years old and built by Hadji Draganov, an itinerant merchant. He fell in love with the area, built the place, and settled in to offer true Slavic hospitality. Judi and David had a local beer whose name we can't pronounce or read. They use the Cyrilic alphabet here. 

It's good to be traveling again even though it's so soon after our trip to Israel. This jaunt had been planned for almost a year. It was the trip to Israel that was stuck in at the last minute. As usual, I will caution you that what I write is generally my impression of the experience. Please feel free to share these emails with whomever you think might be interested.

Toby