Sibiu

Horowitz Travel- May 13, 2017- Sibiu

They never promised me a rose garden, and that's a good thing. What we got today was a learning curve and a new normal. 

We met our guide, Radu, after breakfast. He'd traveled into Bucharest by train starting at 3 AM from his home in Brasov. The Mercedes van he was driving was unfamiliar to him and it took a while and a call to the company owner to get the AC working correctly. As it turns out, this 49-year old was a bad boy during the Communist era. He was into heavy metal, had long hair, and wore black clothing. He was detained frequently by the police trying to convince him not to listen to Western music. Now he doesn't like Trump, is socially liberal, agrees with the country's strict gun laws, is against drugs, and is hoping his 15-year old son learns from his mistakes. The one vestige of his risk-taking youth is that he's a ski instructor in winter.

We did a quick drive-by of the royal palace, art museum, & the square where Ceausescu gave his final speech before escaping, being caught, then killed. For a moment, I thought the entire tour was going to be on wheels.

Then we pulled up to a ginormous building. We'd arrived at the showpiece of Romania, the Parliament. The Soviets never ran the government of Romania. They let the local Communists run things. This is reflected in the Parliament Palace. In 1977, there was a massive earthquake. This motivated Ceausescu to implement a building frenzy. He had a competition for the design of the building and a woman won. Not only does the building not look "Soviet," but it’s elaborate by any standards. It is second only to the Pentagon in size of an administrative building. We waited 45 minutes before the tour started then 30 more to go through security. They took our passports and we were cautioned to check to be sure we got the right one when we left. Good advice. They tried to give Judi a Canadian one.

 Ninety-nine per cent of the building material is Romanian. Many floors are parquet, towering doors are artfully carved, most walls, columns, and floors are marble. Chandeliers encrust ceilings and sconces festoon walls. It is a treasure to behold. The problem is that when government money was being spent on the building, the Romanian people had little food or electricity. 

An amusing story was that a film was being made about the Nazis and the papacy. They didn't get permission to shoot at the Vatican, so used the Romanian Parliament building as a stand in. They hung posters replicating some of the art in the Vatican and have not been able to remove them. I suggested Goo Gone, but the guide said they want to keep them now. It makes a good story.

And we were off to the Village Museum. It's a collection of 136 reassembled buildings brought from different regions of the country. Interesting, touristy, and Radu kept telling us we'd see most of the examples in place when we traveled. It drizzled, we took a quick walk through, dismissed eating at the snack shop, and left.

We had a 4-5 hour drive ahead of us. There are 2 million people living in Bucharest and I think they were all trying to leave at the same time. It was a good hour in traffic before we decided to pull into a Subway for lunch.

Radu filled us in on a cursory history of Romania. The people were originally called Dacians by the Romans. In Bulgaria, they were called Thracians. No alphabet, no history. But we know that already. Then there was a series of separate states, unions, partitions, reunions. The Ottomans tried to conquer them, but were paid tribute to stay out. After World War I part of Hungary became Romania. Some people still hold a grudge. Then there were the Hapsburgs who were everywhere. Don't want to leave out Saxons (not to be confused with Anglo-Saxons) who settled Sibiu where we are tonight. Romania joined the Nazis at the beginning of WWII but switched to an alliance with Russia. What a jumble.

We still had the Carpathian Mts. to traverse. It went from industrial to beautiful pretty quickly. Old red roofs are being replaced with metal ones making villages look pock marked. Fields of yellow rape seed plants waved good-bye as we entered the foothills and climbed through Olt River Gorge. 

Our hotel, Imparatul Romanilor, a 16th century building, was a shock. The first thing I noticed was that the carpet had stretched out of shape causing ripples in the lobby. We were told there's only Wi-Fi in the lobby, but we have a good connection in our room. Speaking of which, it's our second room. The first one was two levels. The bathroom and sitting area were as you entered and a flight of steep steps led up to the sleeping loft. One of us would be dead or maimed if we spent the night there. We asked for a new room and were given a "suite." I use quotations because, although it has a sitting room (with a twin bed in it), separate bedroom, and two bathrooms, it is shabby. There are plaster patches on the wall and aged TVs (yes, two of them). Since there are two doors to the hallway from our rooms, David asked me to check to see if the second one was locked. When I tried it, an alarm went off. I laughed so hard I almost fell down. Judi's word for the place is "horrendous."

We couldn't wait to go to dinner. The guide suggested a "cellar" for typical Romanian fare. We found it easily, walked in, and walked out. It was as hot as a sauna. I couldn't breathe and the others couldn't stand it either. We walked down the pedestrian mall of trendy shops in old buildings and chose poorly. The menu went for pages, but when we ordered they were out of what we wanted. Of a dozen soups they had two. We got pizza and salad. It was forever coming and the waiter didn't bring plates from which we could eat. The table next to us had to translate that request for us. He then brought us saucers.

All in all, we're happy to have the day end. Tomorrow we go to Cluj Napoca. Huh?

Toby

Parliament Palace

Parliament Palace

Hotel Imparatul Romanilor photographs well

Bucharest

Horowitz Travel- May 12, 2017-Bucharest

We retraced our steps out of Bulgaria passing many towns we'd seen. Due to our desire to stay multiple nights in some hotels, our itinerary was arranged so that we were a five-hour drive from the border town, Ruse, where we were to meet our Romanian guide. From there we had a two-hour drive to Bucharest.

The Valley of the Roses and of the Kings sped by as we re-crossed the mountains through passes littered with roadside snails for the taking. Escargot forever. Vestiges of snow caps looked down holding on to the last of winter.

Due to our time table, we had lunch at a Go Grill. Fast food on the hoof. We had spicy beef sausage that was slid longways into holes in sub-like buns. Efficient and clever way to eat what was essentially a hot dog. With bottled water, it cost $3.50 for three of us.

We were mostly quiet during the drive with some reminiscing about our trip. We told Patrick that with all our travels including, India and Vietnam Nam, this was the most unique and varied experience we'd had. In other countries, we went from temple to temple, church to church, market to market. In Bulgaria, we climbed into caves, up to cave monasteries, into a bunker, down a cliff to a rock church, uphill to a Jewish cemetery, and learned about a civilization that previously had no relevance to us. 

We arrived at the transfer point, the Ana Palace Hotel, found our driver, and hugged Patrick good-bye. We all had a moment of sadness and insecurity as we left one keeper for an unknown. Patrick gave us red and white braided friendship bracelets. Traditionally they are to be worn until we see a stork delivering a baby. Sweet. True to form, Patrick waited for us to pull away before he left.

Our driver was Silviu. He was pinch-hitting for Radu Savu who will be our guide. We were treated to a ride in a roomy BMW van and were happy to stretch our legs. Silviu turned out to be an interesting man. He's about 28, works in the computer industry, is studying for his PhD in physics, and builds and races dragsters.

Shortly after crossing the Danube, we slowed at the checkpoint. Trucks can wait 4-8 hours, but we made it across in 25 minutes. At one point horns began honking. In the din, we could distinguish the cars from buses from trucks. I don't know if things sped up, but it was an amusing pastime.

Romania uses the Latin alphabet. Romanian is a Romance language. The problem is that we can read it but still can't understand it. It appears to be a better maintained country, but Silviu said there was a nostalgia for the economy and building projects under Communism. Ceausescu is remembered for full employment and his building program not for the full orphanages. Freedom under democracy is now favored, but it brings some insecurity.  

We drove down wide boulevards past actual sidewalks that were neither buckling nor made of rocks. Our hotel, Berthelot, is a modern, four-star facility. It's clean and the rooms are well appointed. I love kitsch, but there's a place for modern.

On the way to the ATM to get Romanian lei, we realized we needed bread for Shabbat. We'd gotten grape juice at a gas station this morning. With no language at all, we asked a proprietor if he had small bread (a roll). He said he didn't. We wanted to walk into his tiny shop, but he told us "no." We thought he was closed and asked him, "finished?" He shook his head up and down. In this area, the head shake for "yes" and "no" are opposite from us. We forgot that detail so thought he was closed. Then he pointed to the bread display in the window. We pointed to the smallest loaf labeled "baton." He agreed to sell it to us. We were ready for Shabbat. 

We walked to dinner at Varta, recommended by the hotel. It's typical Romanian fare. When we asked the hotel manager what that would be, he said, "You eat chicken, we eat chicken." We had sour soup to start. Mine was chicken and the others had beef. Quite a nice tang. David had chicken schnitzel and Judi had a chicken dish with polenta. I had a salad. Can't stuff anymore into my body.

Tomorrow we'll tour Bucharest and head for Sibiu in Transylvania. 

Toby

Friendship bracelets from Patrick

Romania

Border crossing into Romania

Iron Curtain

Horowitz Travel- May 11, 2017- Iron Curtain

We left town down the main divided road now blooming with a luscious display of roses in the center. We were on the southeast road to Turkey and Greece. We eventually got close enough to the borders for Verizon to welcome us to both countries in turn.

Once again, we had a long enough drive to tell tales. Patrick had the winner. He was once held hostage in a strip club. He had a client who was traveling alone and "liked women." One of the many nights Patrick took him to a club, the man spent over $2,000 on wine, women, and..... Since it was such a large amount, his credit card denied it. He didn't have that much cash. The club insisted that he go to his hotel to get his debit card. They sent two "gorillas" to accompany him. Patrick had to stay at the club under the careful eyes of two other large, hairy "employees" until his client returned and the debit card coughed up the money. 

Patrick also told us a bit of what it was like growing up under Communism. He's 45 years old, so had that experience. He had a happy childhood and didn't miss what he didn't know about. What he did say was that everything Western was cherished. If he came across a Coke can or chocolate wrapper that a Western tourist had dropped, he treasured it. His pencil holder was, in fact, a Coke can. 

In preparation for our visit to the old "iron curtain," which was really a fence, Patrick sent us a link to a movie called Border. In Bulgarian, it's Granitza. It tells how eighteen-year old boys who might have misbehaved in the army during the Communist era were given duty guarding the borders. A barbed wire fence separated Bulgaria from Turkey and Greece to keep Bulgarians from escaping Bulgaria. The fence was electrified, not to hurt the escapee, but to alert the guards that someone had breeched it.  What the fugitives didn't know was that once they were over the fence they were still 2 km from the border. Guards would track them down in the "dead zone" and either capture or kill them. Capture involved a lot of paperwork. Killing someone fleeing was rewarded with 20 days off the guard’s two years of service at the border for each body. Guess what happened?

There is now another fence. It's barbed wire & taller than the one in the 1960-70's. It's on the border and alerts are by thermal detectors and cameras. The present fences are to keep immigrants out of Bulgaria. They already know that Bulgaria is the worst place to enter the EU. They're usually beaten and robbed before they're sent back. We passed a "camp" for immigrants that looked more like a prison.

After going through a few places that looked like ghost towns, we arrived at our first site. The Honda climbed a craggy slope as close to a bunker as it could get. We trekked through the weeds while Patrick assured us that he'd scare away the lizards and snakes, and that the snakes weren't poisonous. I stomped and tromped my way up making as much noise as possible. It was difficult entering the bunker but worth it once inside. The paint was peeling off walls, small animal and bird droppings were everywhere. It was a dismal, desolate place to serve. Although it's spring and a sunny day, we tried to imagine the loneliness, cold, and isolation of the young men's duty. Patrick cleared dust off graffiti telling us it was the soldiers' record of how much longer they had to serve. As I climbed out, Patrick told me that the rock I'd slid down to enter the bunker had a snake under it.

Patrick moved the car to a scenic overlook near a 10th century rock church we'd visit after lunch. He had a great idea. His Honda came with a picnic table fitted into the spare tire storage area. We had gone to Lidl, a grocery like Aldi's, and bought fixings. What a treat!

Of course, we had to climb down to and into the church site. David and Judi lost their footing and sat down hard. I've started to keep score of slips landing on rears for the trip so far. David 4, Judi 2, I tripped once but didn't fall. Hermit monks lived in this tri-conal cross-shaped stone construction. Who else would? We managed to extricate ourselves in one piece and went on to see the soldiers’ barracks and lookout tower.

On the way, we passed through the old checkpoint and falling down gate. The barracks were in no better shape than the bunker. On other trips, Patrick had found a letter in Arabic that was tucked away under a shelf in a pile of rubbish. He thinks it was written by an immigrant woman who may have been hiding there. I asked if he could get it translated, but he said it's part of the history and didn't want to remove it.

Whew! Home free, we thought. We were heading out of the border zone when we were flagged down by a Bulgarian cop and an EU policeman from Germany. It was not an unusual occurrence, and we'd been told to bring our passports. They took David's and mine, but Judi looked honest enough for them not to be interested in her. Besides, she flattered them by asking if she could take a photo. They agreed.

We'd asked the hotel to do our laundry yesterday. Today we returned to clean, if not damp, laundry folded and displayed on our beds.

I found out that Patrick can take larger groups and has access to a mini-van. Since being here I've learned that Bulgaria wouldn't be a bad place to start learning about European history. It is a cradle of ancient history that eventually links with other civilizations. Information about Patrick is available at https://www.bulgariaprivateguide.com/ or Google Bulgaria Private Guide Patrick.

Tomorrow Patrick will drive us a long way to Ruse, a border town near Romania. No barbed wire, just a meeting with our Romanian guide, Radu Savu.

Toby

Judi & Me in Bunker

Picnic lunch

Rock Church

Judi in Rock Church

By Old Iron Curtain

Border guard

Plovdiv Walkabout

Horowitz Travel- May 10, 2017- Plovdiv Walkabout

Having a private guide means never having to look for parking at a hotel. Patrick is friends with the owners and it's not unusual for the proprietor to be removing the no parking sign as we pull up. After touring this afternoon, we went to our rooms to freshen up before having coffee at the hotel cafe. When we came downstairs, Patrick and the owner were sitting at a table in order to save it for us. Then Patrick was off to nap before his big evening of dinner at the hotelier's house and watching another football match. He admitted that touring wasn't as easy as it used to be, and we told him to rest before tonight. Now we're parenting him. 

This was a day of walking and museums. Judi has an app that counts steps. We've been doing an easy 7-10K steps a day. I'm sure today was no different. Plovdiv is known for its Revival architecture (mid-1800's). Exteriors are colorfully painted and decorated with designs while interiors have carved wood ceilings and walls painted in florals and geometrics resembling wallpaper. We toured the Nedkovich house belonging to a wealthy merchant and built in 1863. It was spacious and grand, but had no indoor plumbing or electricity. Interior windows opened to the grand entry hall or second floor landing to admit more light from exterior rooms. The kitchen was in an adjacent building.

The ethnographic museum was housed in a most beautiful structure showing off the best of Revival design. It highlighted different metal work, the wool industry that provided cloth for the Ottoman army, agriculture, bagpipes from when Celts were here (still a favorite music of Bulgarians), and Mummers costumes (started here, folks) worn during Lent, and their version of Mardi Gras. 

We hopscotched our way uphill carefully stepping from rock to rock on the cobblerock streets to an overlook where I took a picture of the ruin of a Roman wall with a McDonald's sign in the valley below. Down we went to remnants of a Roman theater and stadium.

Speedily moving along, we arrived at an archaeological museum where it was clearly illustrated how this was a crossroads of many cultures. Thracian items of finely designed gold pieces mixed with the Greek urns and amphora that traders brought back to this region. A mosaic floor depicting a menorah with a Greek inscription of names of donors was prominent in the collection. We weren't supposed to take photos in the museum, so Patrick left the room while we took contraband pictures of the 3rd century floor. A guard appeared out of nowhere, but we'd already put our phones away. We figured out that they had video surveillance. There was no incident.

Finally, it was lunchtime. We got to relax at an outdoor venue and watch the world go by. Judi and I tried einkorn in a salad and looked it up later. It's a type of wheat. Then we had spinach balls stuffed with cheese with yogurt dip. Yum! David found BBQ beef ribs on the menu and couldn't resist. He said they were awful.

We had a quick run through a museum with more mosaic floors and lovely examples of Thracian millefiori glass. I started taking notes when Patrick told me not to bother. The museum guide was just making up stories. He gave us his version later.

We had a date at a winery owned by friends of his, of course. It's a boutique winery that only sells to limited clientele who come to them to order. They have no salespeople and no retail sales. The winery, established in 1881, was privately owned before the communists took it over. It was a popular place for multi-national Party dignitaries. Several important meetings were held there. It is once more in private hands. We had a grand tour and tasting. Unfortunately, I don't appreciate good wine. The rich oak smell reeks of oil or gasoline to my nose. David couldn't wait to rinse the taste out of his mouth. Patrick adores their top of the line Chardonnay. At the end of the tour we tried to secretly buy him a bottle, but he figured out what we were up to. He consented to having us buy a less expensive version that he could share with his wife. It seems that her nose is similar to mine. For those interested, the label is Strata Izba Parvenetz. 

Tonight is a milestone in our relationship with Patrick. He's trusting us to walk to a restaurant on our own after he only went over the directions and walked the route with us once. There were a few discussions about the route as we walked it alone that night, but we finally agreed and arrived at Hemingway's. It's an upscale restaurant by any standards except price. Our total bill for three of us was $13 per person without the tip. David and Judi had duck and we shared two appetizers. One appetizer was arancini (3 large balls) and the other was riblair cheese in a thin crust with honey, walnuts, and apples. No one ordered the horse either grilled or jerked.

After dinner, we went for a short walk on the pedestrian mall. Judi had her purse cross-body over her jacket. I asked if she could hide it underneath. She couldn't and was in the process of moving her wallet and phone to a zippered jacket pocket when a beggar approached. I pushed Judi aside and strongly and loudly told him, "NO!" David thought I overreacted, but after we were mugged in Arles I was ready to lay the beggar out flat. He's probably just a poor man doing the best he can. By then Judi and I were concerned about getting back to the hotel before dark. The beggar and the bad footing of the streets was motivation enough. David wanted to walk some more so we saw Judi to the hotel and strolled on. We ended up buying ice-cream bars and eating them in our lobby. I left a note on Patrick's door assuring him of our safe return.

Tomorrow we try to part the Iron Curtain.

Toby

Revival srchitcture-Plovdiv

Menorah mosaic

Winery

Plovdiv

Horowitz Travel- May 9, 2017- Plovdiv

We walked down the hill to Baba Kunka's house for breakfast thinking of omelets, but she didn't find her chickens last night, only her rooster. She prepared a spread of local cheese, jam, herbal tea in Disney themed mugs, salami, and fritters. She showed us traditional costumes worn by her family during a special festival in the village. No one is allowed in the village during that time without a costume. She's a most gracious and happy lady trying to make ends meet on a pension of $100 a month. It would be enough, but she has to help her married children financially. She holds down two jobs and earns some money weaving small mats. We bought some as a courtesy and also paid whatever we wanted to for our meal. Patrick also gives her money when he brings clients. He really has a soft heart. She talked to him non-stop about her family and news in the village. He's an important outlet for her. Baba's house is of wood and has several rooms and a basement. She has electricity and indoor plumbing but cooks on a wood stove. She keeps rabbits and chickens as well as an extensive garden. 

We passed a memorial board in the village displaying pictures of many deceased residents. One was of a man in a donkey cart. Patrick told us that the cart went door to door every day for years. I said that it was sweet they put up a picture of the donkey when it died. Patrick thought that was hysterical. The picture was in honor of the man. 

We drove a bit to the House of Roses in the Valley of Roses in Gyozleme. It's basically a shop selling articles made from rose oil. They had liquer, candy, lotions and potions. The saleswoman noted that we had lovely skin. I thought to myself, "And that was without rose oil." We bought stuff anyway.

The next valley was that of The Thracian Kings. There are around 1,000 burial mounds and temples dotting the landscape. The first one we stopped at was closed. Patrick was livid about how Bulgaria doesn't know how to run its tourism industry. The EU gave Bulgaria money to develop sites but not enough to staff them.

Luckily, the next tomb was open for business. Located in Kazanlak, it was of typical beehive construction. It was found intact before robbers could raid it, so all the artifacts were salvaged. There was much gold and exquisite personal belongings of the man who was never actually buried there. Some tombs are ceremonial meaning the person for whom it is built might have died in battle and the body was never found. Other temples become tombs when they are no longer used for worship. Each is a work of art.

We drove through a raging storm hopeful that it would clear up when we arrived at the Roman baths in Histeria. Bulgaria has the third largest collection of ancient sites in Europe after Greece and Rome. They are particularly proud of these baths. We've seen baths all over, but never with running water. Warm water can be seen flowing through channels where pipes used to be and into stone pools. Steam rose in places where the air was cooler. And yes, the rain stopped as we arrived.

The Thracian Temple at Starosel was our last stop. As was the custom, temples that weren't used for tombs were sealed, thus preserving them for posterity. Details of the construction fascinate me. Aside from the conical pile of stones rising into a beehive roof perfectly balanced and weighing tons, there were visible iron rods joining one stone to the next giving stability and strength. 

We drove to Plovdiv, the second largest city in Bulgaria, crossed the Maritza River, braved rush hour traffic, and admired the Roman wall that seemed to be everywhere. Plovdiv's Roman name was Phillipopolous, for the father of Alexander the Great. We arrived at The Renaissance Hotel, our home for our last three nights in Bulgaria. It has five rooms and our group is occupying three. It's another one of the tiny gems Patrick seems to unearth.

Dinner was across the street. While Patrick enjoyed tripe soup, we scarfed down garlic bread and fried yellow cheese. There was a misunderstanding with my "meatballs" and they contained pork. Judi gave me some of her chicken, but I was just as happy to have more room for bread. She tasted my "meatball" and didn't like it. When the server asked if we wanted to take them with us, under her breath, Judi said "we could feed it to an animal on the street."

Back at the hotel, we said our good-nights and climbed the steps to our rooms. Faced with three alternatives, I couldn't remember which room was ours. I think I'm exhausted.

BTW, it was 40 shipwrecks, not 140 in Lake Varna.

Toby

With Bab Kunka and her mats

Roman pool with warm running water

Beehive construction in Thracian tomb

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

Typical of Nessebar including air-conditioner

Jewish Cemetery-Karnovat

Tombstone inscription

Baba Kunkas' rooster and chicken

Varna

Horowitz Travel- May 7, 2017- Varna

I'm thinking that there's so much consumption of eggs and dairy here that cholesterol issues and lactose intolerance must have been bred out of the population. Meatless main courses are common and everything is topped with cheese except the fatty lamb and beef.

Our aim is to please Patrick and we did. He said we chose wisely today. But our choice made it tedious for Patrick and ourselves. He'd asked if we wanted to see a Romanian Queen's summer palace near Varna or an ancient Thracian tomb. We chose the tomb. The drive was 2 1/2 hours out of our way then 2 1/2 hours to Varna, our stop for the night. Luckily, LPG needs a fill up every 120 miles so bathroom stops were frequent.

Sveshtari is the village nearest the tomb. Actually, there are about 50,000 of these burial mounds in Bulgaria. Most are unexcavated. This is Patrick's favorite as it has unusual features. Remember, he's quite knowledgeable about Thracian history and artifacts. It's his hobby to discover them and dig them up. He was nervous about large crowds and a long wait since it's Sunday and a holiday weekend. He isn't allowed to act as a guide inside the tomb, but he wangled a way for us to join a group of ten Bulgarians. We didn't understand a word the guide said, but Patrick gave us a rundown afterwards and answered our questions. 

Briefly, 5,000 BCE, the Black Sea was a lake. Varna was home to a civilization of the same name until a natural disaster (probably earthquake and tsunami) caused the Mediterranean Sea to overflow and join the lake. Some think it might have been the Great Flood mentioned in the Old Testament. 

Five thousand years ago, Thracians were a disparate group of warring tribes with similar traditions living in the area now known as Bulgaria. Historians said that if they had ever been able to unite, they'd still be undefeated. They co-existed in time with Egyptian dynasty's, Greeks, ancient Hebrews, and Romans. The Roman Empire was their downfall.

We saw remnants of their gold and silver work in the museum in Sofia. They were prolific builders. But none of this was documented in their history due to lack of an alphabet. Written records of their existence are due to Greeks and Romans. 

Greatness is exhibited in the tomb we saw today. Buried under a mound of dirt and grass since 300 BCE, the beehive burial chamber is reinforced by an interior concrete dome built after its discovery in order to preserve its structural integrity. Thracians used keystones and arch construction very efficiently. This tomb is exceptional because it is the only one to have an extra room for offerings to be placed. The king was buried with many belongings, his dogs, gold, and even his horse. Aside from normal jewelry, skeletons were found and photographed with gold penis coverings in place. That's living...or dying. This tomb is best known for the caryatids on the walls of the interior room. They are half woman, half lotus and it's thought that each individual face resembles one of the king's wives or goddesses.

The two sarcophagi are for the king and queen. We don't know if she had to be dead already or killed when he died in order to be buried with him. They believed when the king died he became a god.

We needed nasal spray and cough drops so got to visit a pharmacy at a three-tiered modern mall on the way into Varna. The mall is where Patrick's wife works, & she assured him it would be open on a Sunday. She's in charge of special shows and exhibits there.

We dropped our bags at Hotel Hi, another charmer, and took a walking tour to see old Varna. Greek and Roman influence is everywhere you dig. A scant amount of ruins can be seen because they're underground and new buildings are everywhere. The old Ashkenazic synagogue is the most intact because it has been rehabbed into an office building. The Sephardic synagogue is as decrepit as the one in Vidin. It's a shell with a forest of trees growing inside. Our walk ended at a huge pedestrian area of shops and cafes. There were trees and flowers down the center of the promenades with crowds strolling & skateboarding. At one end, there was a large open area where circles of dancers formed as they stepped in time to traditional music. The old dances are learned in school and all ages were enjoying the lovely weather and holiday. Once again, the weather had held for us.

This is Patrick's home town. He'll be staying with his wife and little boy tonight. He gave us choices of restaurants and made a reservation for us. At first, he insisted we'd have to take a taxi. After reconsideration, he allowed us to walk. He gave us directions, reviewed them, and quizzed us before turning us loose. 

With all our preparation, it began to rain, so we took a cab to dinner. Captain Cook's was at the end of a pier overlooking the Black Sea. It was the first time we laid our eyes on that body of water. The evening was grey and the sky foreboding but we enjoyed our view of the coastline and expanse of rippled water. Patrick recommended ordering sea bass encrusted in salt, but it would take an hour to prepare. Instead, we ordered individual wild sea bass bbq style. That meant grilled over a fire. The fish was sweet, delicate, and boneless. When we finished, we asked the maitre d' to call a cab. He told us to look for a taxi from the Hippo Cab Co. I couldn't believe my luck! I waited for the cab to arrive, and, like a crazy lady, I jumped in front of it and took a picture. Then I took one of the side door. There was no way David could explain what was happening to the driver. When we got back to the hotel I was so excited I showed the photo to the woman at the desk. She went on line and showed me a site for Hippoland. It's a huge children's store with several branches. In looking at their site I realized it was a department store not a hippo specialty shop. If all else fails and I can't find an actual hippo for Rylee, I'll print and frame the photo of the cab.

Tomorrow we end up in Jeravna.

Toby 

Thracian Caryatids

Ashkenazic Synagogues

Great cab company

Dancers on mall