From Tues, September 22, 2009
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10:15 am -- The bus we're on now is far less comfortable than the one that took us into Sofia yesterday. Here in the back, the noise of the engine all but drowns out our conversation, the smell of diesel fumes is overpowering, and all the seats and walls are a dull shade of brown like the inside of my 5th grade school bus (the deja vu is satisfying but fleetingly so). I'm quite sure the vehicle couldn't have come off the factory line any later than the 80s. The driver's face occasionally glances our way in his rearview mirror, and we think he may be blind in one eye but have decided against asking, now that we're chugging along on the road.
We're on the way to the town of Rila. Onward from there to Rila Monastery, tucked away in the mountains but one of the main must-sees of Bulgaria.
Presently, we've just left Dupnitsa, a quiet tiny town at the foot of the mountains. We only stayed long enough to grab a meal before transferring to the bus we're on now. To get here, though, we woke up before the first light of morning and got on a bus leaving Sofia at the crack of dawn. It stopped near Dupnitsa by the side of the highway, from which we had to find our way on foot to the actual bus station. We were directed to follow the signs, and it took longer than it probably should have: one sign said in Bulgarian, "Aftogara," which, I only belatedly realized, resembled the word for "bus station" in French.
A thought: I'd like to have a serious talk with my high school self about why foreign languages are important and why I should have kept learning after graduating. It would have been worth it.
As for yesterday, we spent all of it wandering around Sofia. It was different than any of the places I expect we'll see today, with more trappings of a major city -- the buildings actually rise up around you, and there are more historical monuments to explore and parks to relax in. Once again, we checked ourselves into a hostel, this one run by an initially intimidating middle-aged lady who spoke in a thick accent. I would call the accent Bulgarian, but my ear so far is only sharp enough to discern that it's vaguely Eastern European. Ultimately, she was quite helpful and generous to us. We got some good restaurant tips from her, and when we bought ourselves a bottle of wine in the evening, she let us borrow her glasses to polish it off.
There's not much to say about Sofia that can't be better shown through pictures, but if there's one thing worth noting, it's the giant shift in social climate as we've hopped westward over this break. Granted, Qatar is progressive relative to its immediate neighbors, but it's still a country where it's inappropriate at best to show shoulders and thighs, where alcohol is tightly regulated through buying permits, and where it's technically unlawful to be eating and drinking publicly during Ramadan daylight hours. Then we arrived in Turkey, a Muslim majority country with an officially secular government. Mosques feature prominently in the Istanbul cityscape, but at the same time, bars do a healthy business serving raki and still stiffer drinks. Bulgaria simply takes it one step further. Beer is painlessly inexpensive, at about 1 USD or less for the cheapest tap. Lingerie stores abound on every other block, and gentleman's establishments, while not uncomfortably common, are openly advertised on signposts at main intersections. For better or worse, this place is obviously a world away from Doha.
9:40 PM -- Back in Sofia. One hour left til we have to catch the overnight train to Burgas. I'm slouched around the tables of the now-too-familiar bus station, while we all catch up email and catch our breaths. Rila and all around was worth the trip. Once we got to the monastery, we wandered around it for some time with the tourist crowds, before striking out into the mountains ourselves. We went up into the hills until happening upon a tiny retreat in the mountains. Rested for a bit, then headed back. It was beautiful; see for yourself.
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