Arriving by train in Plovdiv, we were met with curiosity and assistance as we tried to make sense of the Cyrillic alphabet. The 'old town' became our home and the UFA cafe our food source. The Roman Theatre is above, still used 2000 years on, and looks out over the city from one of the seven hills.
Our backpacks are getting very light as every piece of clothing is being worn. This area had its share of Orthodox churches, mosques, universities, cafes and 'new money' strip malls. We were quite comfortable here as we began to enjoy the winter food - think cheese, salami, stews, thick bread, red wine, dark wood...
We relaxed in another train to Sofia, watching Autumn from the window, leaves falling from trees and concrete from power stations. Quite often, I'd pass a blue sign indicating how much the EU is injecting into a particular stretch of track or road. The figures are enormous.
Wandering around the capital, Sofia, we followed the tourist map to the law, arriving for the changing of the guard with some young families. I elbowed my way to the front with this little fella but we soon had to jump out of the way.
Aleksanda Nevski Cathedral was decidedly numinous. The interior was particularly ethereal, dripping in gold and mosaic work, with an electronic image flashing for half a second near the donation box every few minutes.
Outside the Cathedral (no cameras allowed inside) I snapped this scene that I saw repeated often. Bulgarian parking police are tough. The team of three removed this car in under sixty seconds, giving me a wave as they sped off in their diesel truck.
At the southern end of Sofia lies Mt Vitosha, the city's own ski field. We found it by PT and then walked up to the lifts along the trickling creek.
After two lifts, at about 10 minutes each, we broke through the clouds and the gloom into the sunny playground at the top. Mountain bikers, hunters, walkers and berry pickers wandered about up here at the 2000m mark. We'd brought some pastries and the local paper and enjoyed a few hours of sunlight before shivering our way back down.
Here's one of the riders following the lift line. We made enquiries in town but the month before ski season all the MTB renters are switching to skis and boards. Lisa was relieved as it was very cold.
After a long weekend in our Sofia apartment, we headed south to the Rila Monastery, an Eastern Orthodox haven where they have maintained traditions far away from the darkness of some of the regional history. My traveling companion (pictured) declared we would stay there, in a cell, and pay the $50 mandatory donation for the pleasure. We did, and agreed it was well worth it when the others had to leave on the public bus only an hour after arrival. Despite snowing, it was stunning, in a beautiful mountain setting.
Like elsewhere, no cameras inside, but this was the detail outside which continued all the way around the central church.
Down below the monastery was the cemetery, with its own 200yr old chapel.
Below the chapel was the creek, along which you could walk the 21km back to town. I got no support for that idea.
The plan was to head south to Melnik for the wine but we'd missed the bus for the day so made three further bus trips to arrive in Bansko, Bulgaria's hope for the 2014 Winter Olympics. The place is abuzz with construction and real estate agents with Union Jacks in their windows and UK mobile numbers. We stayed for four days, entering the NP a little bit, falling in a creek, sampling a bit of the local wine and avoiding a certain tout who we think had spent a bit too much time in the military.
And ultimately back up to Sofia where we stayed overnight and woke up to snow! Back on the Balkan Express and off to Serbia while my one woman audience is getting sick of me whistling 'Winds of Change', but 'we've only just begun'.
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