Studena to Sofia, Bulgaria. June 19 to 22.
My original idea after Bulgaria was to cycle through Romania to access northern Europe. I had heard good things about the country from other travelers and one or two Romanians, but mostly I'd been intrigued by the fact that I really didn't know much about Romania at all. When I arrived in Bulgaria and started to look ahead it started to seem a bit trickier. The Balkan mountains go through Bulgaria and need to be climbed or circled in order to reach Romania. Additionally, the spots in Romania that had caught my attention were also at higher altitude with lots of serpentines to reach them. Mountains are spectacular for cycling but they do ask for significant time investment, time that I wasn't quite sure that I had after exiting Turkey two weeks later than anticipated. Touring Romania proper felt like a bigger and bigger ask.
Serbia on the other hand looked more accessible as the route to Sofia and then to the border slowly ascended to a plateau before going down again. And when I thought about it, what really did I know about Serbia as a place to visit and to live in? And if Romania was supposedly rich in natural beauty, didn't neighbouring Serbia ought to have something similar to offer as well? With a sudden curiosity for the former Yugoslavian center I switched plans and didn't look back.
While they are commonplace all over Eastern Europe, Bulgaria really is the country of sunflowers. I stayed away from the main roads while also avoiding the steep mountains and by doing so I was practically swimming in sunflowers all the way from Svilengrad to Sofia. It never grew old seeing all the smiling faces, the younger twisting receive maximum light, the older settled to face east and meet the sun every morning.
Cycling through Bulgaria was quite lovely but also quite lonely. English had improved among the younger population compared to Turkey but international tourists were few and it was tricky to find local connections. I was in my routine of setting the alarm to 5 a.m but luckily I wasn't the only one to wake with the light. As I was leaving my accommodation in Krizhovnik the German shepherd at the lodge wanted to tag along. It wouldn't be able to keep my pace but the little companionship felt was enough to make me slow down. For a good kilometer I had a rare sense of belonging and wished that I had had a four-legged friend to go with me on such an epic journey. In a future perhaps I will.
There were of course also two-legged friends to be made. In Plovdiv, Katerina and her adorable goofball of a son Gabriel took me in for a night along with the vacuum robot Kaladin. That last one is important as it was Gabriel's favorite friend to play with at literally any hour of the day. I have never seen such spotless floors in a small child's home. With Gabriel's father working abroad Katerina was practically living a single mother's life.I was more than impressed with her structure and organisation of everything around the home, her son and her guests. Yes, as a single mother she still managed to make quality space and time for travelers like myself, asking nothing in return. She is among the most nurturing souls I have ever met and that's saying something.
As for Plovdiv it is rightfully known as the gem among Bulgarian cities with
architecture through the ages blending intimately and tastefully with parks, plazas and
promenades. For a weekend with a date you could wish for nothing more. At the time there were several music events going on around the city with a big stage sponsored by the NRJ radio station where teenagers in hordes hung out, notably more boldly dressed than anything I saw Turkey. But my attention was caught instead by a much smaller stage in the old town where the young people were not only watching but performing as well, singing international hits and local favourites with a band for support. It was a family folk fest vibe that was irresistible to my yearning for anything homely and wholesome.
On my way to Sofia, for the first time on the whole journey, I could travel together with someone that not only had two legs but also two wheels. I bumped into Nikolai at a restaurant by the road and looking at our clothing we quickly identified each other as fellow cyclists. It was only for a few short hours that I got to ride with him before he turned to home and I to the capital city, but again that short taste of traveling companionship had a big impact on the joy of the journey. I was happy to take a detour to follow him on the more scenic route and the motivation to push for a workout rather than simply advance progress increased drastically. It surprises nobody that an activity is more fun together than alone and that exercising especially can see a boost with a partner. But after cycling almost 4 000 kilometers on my own, it had become so much solitary routine that I had lost the imagination of how it could be different, together.
"When I was small I remember we used to play in snow this high." Nikolai held his hand out about waist height as we were rolling over a small hill. "My father tells stories of this kind of snow", he continued and lifted the hand to shoulder level. "Now we are lucky if any snow sticks at all."
I don't rule out that the snow appeared much thicker to young Nikolai simply because he himself was much smaller back then. Even so it is apparent that in Bulgaria, just like everywhere, the times are a-changin'. And they are changing fast.
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