Two On Tour

Enjoying the first wisps of autumn at the foot of the Pirin Mountains

Friday 6 September

We wake up in Sofia in a Best Western hotel in a scruffy corner of town close to the bus station. Our bus doesn’t leave until two o’clock, so we head on foot into the city centre to see what it has to offer. We soon conclude that the scruffy, shabby, neglected air is a built-in feature of Sofia and not something confined to our neighbourhood. We didn’t have high hopes for Sofia, which is why we’re not basing ourselves here. In fact, it struggles to even meet our modest expectations.

Our bus leaves on time to whisk us to the mountains. It’s full. It’s Friday afternoon, after all. If I lived in Sofia, no doubt I’d want to get out of town at weekends too. Within half an hour, we’re heading into the mountains. The area is more populated than the long stretch of lonely forest between Veliko Tarnovo and Sofia: we glimpse regular villages off to the left and right, and we even see farm animals for the first time in Bulgaria.

As I stretch my legs at Blagoevgrad bus station, forks of lightning are shredding the outskirts of town. Within a few minutes, a cloudburst of tropical intensity hits the town and the bus departs Blagoevgrad through streets about to burst their banks as a river of water gushes through the town. Within ten minutes, we’re heading up the valley towards Razlog and Bankso. The roads are bone dry. It hasn’t rained at all here.

We reach Bankso three hours after leaving Sofia. Initial impressions of our new accommodation are mixed. We have a stunning view of the Pirin Mountains from the living room/kitchen balcony, and the main living space is perfectly fine. But there’s a slapdash feel to other details: a bare bulb in the bedroom, cheap hard towels, and a leaky shower unit. Our flat in Veliko Tarnovo was the most comfortable Airbnb we’ve stayed in this past year, so it’s hardly surprising that, view notwithstanding, we’re a little underwhelmed.

By the time we’ve unpacked, it’s already gone 6.30pm, so we head out to find a supermarket and something to eat. As our homework had suggested, many of the businesses in the immediate neighbourhood – the ski resort area – are closed for the summer. But a 10-15 minute walk is enough to find what we need.

After the sun disappears behind the mountains, it’s much cooler. I’m wearing my hoodie for the first time since early May. It’s good to breathe cool air again.

Saturday 7 September

I wake to find the neighbourhood shrouded in thick fog (or is it cloud?) But once I’ve showered and wander back to the living room to take another look, the peaks of the Pirin Mountains behind the flat are bathed in early-morning sunshine. It’s all rather wonderful.

Still, the weather slips and slides one way and the other all day. We have plenty of time on our hands over the next two weeks, so we leave the flat today only to do a proper grocery shop. The nearest decent-sized supermarket on Google Maps is the best part of a 30-minute walk, and the north end of town where it’s located is being skirted by thunderstorm that looks all the more ominous given the wide-open sky here in the mountains. Fortunately, the storm just about misses Bankso and we stock up without getting drenched. Or fried. Taking a slightly different route on the way back, we stumble across another decent supermarket half the distance from the flat, which for some reason doesn’t appear on Google Maps. Finding it is quite a relief as it’s a long uphill walk back to the flat from the north end of town weighed down by groceries.

It’s Saturday night: usually, we’d eat out. But logistics have already forced us to eat out the past three nights, in Veliko Tanrovo, Sofia, and then Bansko. Instead, we eat at home and watch Jaws – currently on Netflix – for the first time since we were kids. It’s still gripping stuff. I marvel at a young Richard Dreyfuss.

Sunday 8 September

It’s sunny today, so we finally get out to explore the old town. It’s further than
I expected: Bansko sprawls over a large area for a town with a permanent population of just 8,000 people. It feels almost the size of Veliko Tarnovo (pop. 68,000). But there are no high rises, and of course the housing in the ski zone is mostly empty at this time of year. But there are enough people around to give the town some atmosphere. How many are weekenders from Sofia and Plovdiv, I wonder? We’ll find out in the next couple of days.

The old town is lovely: traffic free, and refreshingly graffiti free. Why has Bansko managed to avoid the ugly territorial graffiti that plagues Sofia, Veliko Tarnovo and, to a lesser extent, Plovdiv? Is there genuine admiration for history and beautiful architecture? Or is Bansko just better run? I don’t know yet.

We really like this place and can’t help checking out estate agent windows out of interest. A two-bedroom 100m2 flat goes for around 70,000 euros. It’s eye-wateringly affordable.

Monday 9 September

The last doctor I saw said to wait five to seven more days before removing my arm splint. It’s been five days, and the temperature is about to drop ten degrees in the next 24 hours. I’d like to be able to go out with my left arm properly covered when it cools down, so just before lunch the splint comes off. Good god. Ouch.

It’s not the original injury that hurts, it’s the stiffness in my hand, wrist and elbow. Reluctantly, I accept that it’s going to take several more weeks, and quite possibly months, to get my arm fully mobile again. Right now I can’t even entertain the idea of moving my arm away from the position it’s been in for the last four weeks. On doc’s advice, I’ll continue wearing a sling for another week. I find a couple of useful physiotherapy videos on YouTube showing exercises I can do to start loosening up the stiff joints and tendons. I’m starting with my hand and wrist: my elbow can wait for now.

After lunch, we head for a small lake a couple of kilometres west of Bansko. We get close, and it would probably be absolutely fine to continue but it feels very remote and our inner preservation instinct tells us to head back towards Bansko before we run into a wild dog (wolf? bear?)

Tuesday 10 September

A rainy day. All day. We don’t leave the flat. I’m beginning to get my fingers and wrist back in use. (At the moment, I have a mental block about moving my elbow. I’ll stick to what my body is saying.) By repeating some simple exercises several times, by the end of the day my hand and fingers are a lot more flexible. I’m also making some limited progress with my wrist, but I’m still some way from 180 degrees of movement.

We watch The Florida Project. Wow. I’d heard it was good, but it’s way beyond that. It’s easily one of the greatest American films I’ve seen this century.

Wednesday 11 September

The weather gradually clears up, but apart from a grocery shop we only leave the flat to walk down to the old town for our midweek restaurant meal. It’s just about warm enough to sit outside at a taverna on the main square (although we’re among the only ones brave/daft enough to do so). But by the time we’re ready to leave, I’m cold. As we walk back up to our end of town, my teeth are chattering.

It’s two days since I removed my arm splint. I’m beginning to get some very limited movement back in my elbow. Everything – hand, wrist, and especially elbow – is still stiff and painful, but there’s steady progress.

Thursday 12 September

I wake up to a message from mum that Roger passed away yesterday at home in New Zealand. I believe he was 70. Mum had reported earlier this week that he was seeking out assisted dying. In the end, he passed naturally. That must be some small consolation for Sue, Claire and Mark. I send messages to all three of them, along with a card. Mark had been due to move to Australia today, but remained in Gulf Harbour to be with his dad.

Here in Bansko, it’s a glorious morning. When I look out the window just after reading mum’s message about Roger, this what I see:

We’re keen to make the most of this glorious early-autumn day, so after lunch we follow the road up the valley in search of a waterfall marked on Google Maps. A good hiking trail skirts the unusually good quality road, which itself is almost deserted. We’re left in peace to ramble up the valley through the pine forest with gurgling streams flushing yesterday’s rainwater down to lower ground. It’s good to be out in nature again.

We don’t quite find the waterfall: it seems accessing it would involve leaping across a fast-moving stream. If I weren’t wearing a sling, I’d be up for it, but right now I’m erring well of the side of caution. Satisfied with what we’ve found – towering pines and fast flowing streams – we leave the hiking trail and walk the forty minutes back down to Bansko on the road.

I’m beginning to read up on Bosnia. We’ll be in Sarajevo in less than four weeks. Right now, it feels like a big leap into the unknown. But a couple of months ago, Bulgaria felt equally like a leap into the unknown. I’ve no doubt we’ll work it out.

Friday 13 September

We manage a stroll down to the town centre and drop by the small tourist information office. The woman working there is wearing a neck brace, and I’m in a sling, which sparks an inevitable ‘What happened to *you*?’ exchange. (In her case, she just developed a sore neck. That was six months ago…) We establish that a day trip to Bulgaria’s #1 attraction Rila Monastery is going to be tough from Bansko unless we can rent our own car, which we clearly can’t, given my arm. That’s OK. I’m happy enough for the next week just pottering around Bankso and following a few hiking trails.

On the way back, I stop off for a haircut. The barber speaks some English and on seeing my balding features literally tries to sell me snake oil to make my hair grow back. I politely decline.

Saturday 14 September

Large parts of southern Poland and Czechia are currently flooded. We’re free of floodwater here, but the same weather system is giving this part of Bulgaria a rather unsettled few days. After on-off rain for most of the day, we get out for a walk (packing umbrellas) in the late afternoon. We eventually emerge from the forest onto the lower reaches of a ski slope, which we walk up a bit and then follow bank down to Bansko.

I’m still a bit skittish out in the countryside in an unfamiliar country. My reptile brain is hollering “Get out of here right now before something with big claws and teeth eats you!” My rational brain is muttering, “Look, seriously, how many people have had the misfortune to be mauled by a bear around Bansko this year? Probably zero, right?” The stand-off between these two brains is exhausting.

Sunday 15 September

A very quiet day. A bit of work. A walk to the supermarket. Match of the Day. And that’s about it. We’ve both chosen our first Bosnia-related books to dive into. In the past few days, I’ve been brushing up on Bosnian history and practicalities with my Brandt guide. But it’s time for something more personal.

One outcome of reading up on practicalities is that it’s arguably more trouble than it’s worth to return to Sarajevo from Split in mid-December (= our current itinerary). The Croatia/Bosnia border can apparently be slow, the weather can be poor, and Sarajevo airport often has to close due to winter fog. Although we’ve bought return flights to Sarajevo, we probably wouldn’t be much out of pocket if we fly back to London from Split instead. We’ll look into this option this week.

Thursday 19 September

We’ve had a very quiet few days. Our minds are very much turning to Bosnia and Herzegovina, and the days are drifting pleasantly by without very much of note happening here in Bansko. A bit of work. A bit of help for Ian with his job applications. Some financial homework (interest rates are about to start falling; we need to start getting money out of cash). Both of us are unfailingly busy, even if we’re not exactly busy creating new memories every day. It’s turned colder and, unlike this time last year in Greece, when we were still swimming in the sea, we’ve turned the heating on. Bansko remains very quiet. We visit a couple of museums; in both cases we’re the only visitors. The sole member of staff at each museum unlocks the display rooms for us and turns on the lights. We eat out at one of several restaurants in town that employs musicians drifting from table to table playing Bulgarian folk music. With few other customers, we get a little too much attention. But they’re jolly good.

Friday 20 September

Ian turns 51 today. He texts to say he’s got a couple of interviews lined up next week, which is encouraging news. I know his state support runs out around now. Although he and Rose won’t exactly starve without it, he’s been out of work for six months now. Maybe this time?

We’re really beginning to look ahead now. Both K and I are reading the same memoir of the Bosnian War, Goodbye Sarajevo. It’s a split narrative written by two sisters: the younger one was bussed out of Sarajevo at the beginning of the siege; the older one had to stay put. Far more so than Bulgaria, I feel I need to read and watch a lot about the awful events of the mid-90s to prepare for an extended trip to Bosnia.

But we haven’t completely moved on yet in our heads: In the evening we watch a Bulgarian film on Netflix, A Picture of Yuki. It has many flaws, but despite them it’s an excellent window on the troubled relationship between the Bulgarian and Romany communities in rural Bulgaria. The actors playing grieving Romany parents (the dad below) are excellent, even if the leads are wooden and the pacing is glacial at times. It’s the fifth Bulgarian film we’ve watched, and certainly the one we’ve learned most from about Bulgaria.

Saturday 21 September

We’re into our final two days in Bansko. The weather is glorious, and we learn it’s a long weekend as Sunday 22nd is Bulgarian Independence Day (from the Ottomans in this case). Bansko has filled up a bit with weekenders and definitely feels more vibrant than it has done this past damp, quiet week.

We head towards a small reservoir a kilometre or two away at the edge of the forest and mountains. When we reach it, we find a restaurant with plenty of people sitting outside in the sunshine enjoying the views over food and mid-afternoon beers. We plough on into the vast forest but decide not to venture too far given my still-healing arm. (I’m going without a sling now, but I’m struggling to get full flexibility back.) The forest is lovely today and we fall into reminiscing about hiking in Hong Kong with the gang. Conifers aside, today would be a perfect mid-winter walk in one of the quietest corners of Hong Kong.

Tonight is our last night eating out in Bansko. We head back to the ‘traditional’ Bulgarian place (they’re all ‘traditional’ in a resort town, of course) that we ate at three days ago. Tonight, it fills up fast with weekenders. It’s positively buzzing compared to a wet Wednesday night three days ago.

Sunday 22 September

It’s our final day in Bansko. I’m rather sad to leave the mountains and return to the city, but it’s time to turn to new adventures. It’s another glorious day: Bansko has saved the best weather to last. We head up the valley as we did 10 days ago. We notice more trails this time and end up improvising our way up to the same spot we reached before, deep in the forest next to a babbling mountain brook. There’s some sort of endurance race going to today and runners coming down the valley pass us every couple of minutes.

Monday 23 September

The journey back to Sofia goes smoothly, as almost every journey has done for over a year. Why do I worry about these things? Our taxi driver recently suffered a dislocated shoulder when his dog tugged too hard on its lead and is apologetically unable to hep load our suitcases into his taxi. I manage one-handed. It’s fine. Doing my physio exercises waiting for the bus in the autumn sunshine, I manage to touch the inside of my left shoulder with my left thumb for the first time since my accident. I’m still finding it hard to extend my arm, but my elbow flexion is getting there. I think I have about 90% flexion, and about 70% extension now.

I listen to This Mortal Coil’s ‘It’ll End in Tears’ and Big Country’s ‘Steeltown’ as the bus winds its way from the mountains to Sofia. Neither are classics by any stretch of the imagination, but both are 40 years old and it’s time to revisit them. (Earlier, while packing, we play Aztec Camera’s ‘Knife’, also 40 years old this week. It sounds better than ever.)

As we pass through the southern suburbs of Sofia, Bulgaria’s capital looks more pleasant than when we were here a few weeks ago . Our hotel is right in the centre this time, a stone’s throw from the cathedral and next door to the Egyptian embassy. The main pedestrianised street, Vitosha Boulevard, is pleasantly busy (it’s a public holiday today) and quite lovely, with a basilica at its north end at Mount Vitosha towering over its south end. It’s all so much smarter and more cosmopolitan than the scruffy corner of Sofia we stayed in a few weeks ago close to the bus station.

Dinner finds us at the local Happy Bar and Grill. It’s every bit as good here in Sofia as it was in Plovdiv. We sit at a table next to the open windows and watch the street outside gradually grow dark.

Tuesday 24 September

Today is our one full day in Sofia. It’s a bright early autumn day as I head out to the nearest bakery to grab something for breakfast. It’s rather novel to join commuters on a morning stroll: it’s the first time I’ve been out and about before breakfast since I broke my arm more than six weeks ago. But even in those now far-off days, I was always back at the flat before the commuters were out on the streets.

We head out to a gallery to see an exhibition of paintings by Zachno Uzunov, which is excellent. Upstairs, there’s an exhibition of black and white portraits by East German photographer Helga Paris, which is also very good. After an overpriced lunch of ramen, which we top off with ‘miso’ ice cream – it tastes like butterscotch to me – we head to the ‘Red Flat’, a sort of living museum. It’s a typical late Communist-era middle-class flat (Bulgaria had a middle class?), frozen in time as it was in the 1980s. It’s bigger than I expected – about the size of our HK flat – although there’s only one bedroom. From the Red Flat, we head to Sofia’s most famous landmark, Alexander Nevesky Cathedral. It’s considerably more impressive inside than its ugly oxidised copper roofing suggests from the outside.

We finish once again at Happy Bar and Grill, which has been excellent every time we’ve visited, whether in Plovdiv or Sofia. Possibly our favourite thing about Bulgaria?

And that’s it. Our two months in Bulgaria are over. It feels a long time since our bus from Istanbul inched over the border near Edirne back on July 24. Despite breaking my arm, I’ve had an excellent two months here. I had no idea what to expect. We both felt we were heading into the unknown. But Bulgaria’s been easy to navigate, unfailingly friendly, and endlessly interesting. The world’s a big place, so I doubt we’ll ever come back. So long, Bulgaria!

Wednesday 25 September

For a second bright autumn morning, I join the commuters on foot, heading to the local bakery. I bring back a couple of savoury buns, which I eat outside on the hotel room patio. It’s time to go.

It doesn’t take us long to pack, and it’s only a short taxi ride to Sofia Airport. The flight is delayed for over an hour with no information or explanation. I notice a well-dressed local lady remonstrating with the only member of ground crew who strays anywhere near our gate. He doesn’t appear to have any idea what’s going on and soon disappears. I wander over to the assertive lady and ask if she managed to glean any information. She didn’t. She complains that Bulgarian Air are always like this. She avoids flying with them unless she has no choice. Apparently, our unexplained delay is entirely normal. She apologises for the state of her national airline. Well, it’s hardly her fault. I thank her, return to K, and start texting mum, concerned that we’re not going to catch our coach.

We eventually take off nearly an hour and a half late. But Heathrow is admirably efficient tonight and we make our bus – for which we’d factored in two hours’ contingency from our scheduled arrival time – by five minutes. Mum’s at Fareham bus station to collect us and pops a pizza in the oven for us.