One Man in Bulgaria

It's Saturday and I receive an email. Would I like to go along to a talent competition with an American friend of mine? His grand daughter is appearing. I knew that she has performed in several shows with her school and other voluntary organisations so I agreed. I should point out that my friend has lived in Bulgaria for ten years and is married to a local lass. Having consented to share a taxi we met and disappeared off into the suburbs. We alighted and found seats outside Cheers Cocktail Bar.  The stage and sound system were ready. Small world, a number 14 bus went past, this must be near the end of its route.

It is Thursday afternoon, the sky is clear and the temperatures ar in the 80s or 20s depending on your age.  It is 14:30 and I have just got off the number 14 bus outside the "Sea Garden" near the stadium. I walk down the steps leading to the underpass to my left, handy for the return journey, and the path down into the park to my right. I have been informed that there is a music festival taking place at the fountain below the statue.  I see several banners as I admire the gardeners hard at work in these temperatures keeping the gardens looking beautiful.  I can hear music so follow my ear down the path into the park.

I ended my last post with the words that I was not going to go into the historical details however I thought that I would give you some clues. National heroes Vasil Levski, Stephan Karadzha, Filip Tptyu, Bacho Kiro, participants of the April Uprising and others were held hostage and tortured in the prison. Russian Prince Alexander M. Dondukov-Korsakov fought against the British in the previous war in the Crimea before the Russians were persuaded to support revolution in Bulgaria. The Russians were partly persuaded because of the renaissance of the Bulgarian Orthodox Church, which had flirted with the protection of the Pope and 'Holy Roman Empire' before gaining strength and independence from the Ottoman supported Greek Orthodox Church.  Politics, taxes and corruption all played their part. Nothing changes. Tarnovo was central to all of these influences and consequences although the new King, Boris III, never took residence as the capital had moved to Sofia by the time he was ...

My second day in Veliko Tarnovo should have started with breakfast however I did not realise that the bar/restaurant kitchen did not open util 11:00 hours so be warned, accept the hotel's offer of a free breakfast. The fine buildings across the road housing the Museums of the Bulgarian Revival and the Prison now beckoned as they had been closed the previous day (Monday). This was proving very popular on a bright June day as were most of the attractions in the area. It would seem that end of term in this town, and possibly country, involves lots of school trips to see history and art first hand and I must say that all of the children were very enthusiastic. Perhaps that was freedom from the classroom rather than freedom from oppression?

I left the bar/restaurant on the corner and headed off up ul. "Ivan Vazov" this being the road I had travelled down in the Taxi from the city to the hotel. I still could not work out which bend of the river I was on. It was now very hot and humid and uphill! I passed some souvenier shops then came to the fork in the road where ul. "Nikola Pikolo" and my path become ul "Stefan Stambolov" and it was still uphill. Nothing for it ask a local. The con-census was, "It's down there" pointing back in the direction I had come. Not having a camel or water I darted into a shop for a bottle, I was going to need it especially when I saw those steps. Veliko Tarnovo is definitely not for the faint-hearted. I reminded me of Durham City from whence I came. This fact was to be brought home to me later for another reason.

Approaching the bar from the hotel At the end of my last post I took time out to have lunch at the cafe on the corner (or is it a bar or restaurant???), this was to be a frequent haunt of mine during my stay here in Veliko Tarnovo. Both the menu and the surroundings never cease to amaze and intrigue.  I was to discover that merely changing ones seat opened up a whole new treasure trove of wonders.  Despite the eclectic taste of the proprietor the place does not take on the being of a junk shop or jumble sale.

My alarm is set for 07:00, my bag is almost packed. I wake, shower and dress then proceed on a 20 minute walk to the bus station (10 minutes for everyone else). I sit in the morning sunshine; coffee and a sandwich to hand as I look across at the gleaming bright red BIOMET luxury coaches waiting to whisk people away to Sofia some six hours away. Haven't I told a similar tale to you before I hear you ask? Well patience folks all will be revealed.  This time I thought that I would tell more about the coach journey itself.