Blog Archives

Family

25/12/2019

By Pete
I’m sitting at our dining table looking out over the Chao Praya River to Bangkok a light mist hangs over the city yet to be burnt off by the morning heat.
Belinda is with her family in scorching Perth and our trusty van is sitting, frozen, in a storage yard in Sofia. To say the least the month or so since crossing the border into Bulgaria have been an emotional roller coast, especially for Bea.

We reached cold and stormy, Black Sea coast above Varna then turned south into roadworks, backed out and tried a slightly more inland route. We managed to find our way back to the coast for lunch by a small windswept fishing harbour then continued around Varna, past the, now sleepy, luxury resort towns that line the coast, with evocatively original names like ‘Golden Sands’ to ‘Sunny Beach’ where we camped for the night on the ‘deserted beach’.

We continued tracing the coast past Burgas to the town of Sozopol where we found an almost open campsite. While we were proceeding with haste toward Georgia we were still keen to explore parts of the Bulgarian coast.

Sozopol is one of the oldest towns on Bulgarian Thrace’s, Black Sea coast with its first settlement dating back to the Bronze Age. While many anchors from the second and first millennium BC have been discovered in the town's bay is proof of active shipping since ancient times it is now almost exclusively the domain of beach resorts.

We walked into town via the beach then the headland road, like most resort towns Sozopol had all but closed down for the winter, even the historic port fortification was inaccessible. After a brief stroll along the harbour and around the old town peninsula we headed back.

The next morning we dropped the Van at a local garage for a lube and oil change then went to explore the newer part of town... dead. An hour later we picked up our Van paid an extortionate amount of money for the service... which I am pretty certain they didn’t actually do..ripped off.. Bastards! I suppose we have been quite lucky in our travels and this was the first really dodgy act.
The weather improved the next morning but fog hung in the valleys as we drove to the Turkish border then onto Istanbul.
We stopped around lunch time at a small restaurant set up in truck stop. We may now be on our dash to Georgia, but we loved Turkey last time we were here, so were going to at least enjoy the food. A simple meal but really tasty of koftas in a tomato stew with bread and salad.

That night we stayed in a campsite just outside Istanbul and spent the late afternoon hunting down an ATM and a phone shop to buy a local sim.
Early the next morning we skirted around Istanbul and headed along the main east west hwy toward Samsun on the Black Sea coast where we found an open campsite. It was a nice site located just a short walk to a restaurant strip where after a look around decided to on pass on the donner kebab, I had promised myself I wasn’t leaving Turkey without having at least one, and had a very nice pide. The owner was super friendly and had a daughter in Sydney, of course.
(Parked next to us that night was a delivery van, it seemed out of place in a camping park!)

We had worked out that we would arrive at the border late evening, we weren’t keen on doing what could be quite a long crossing at night so the next night we camped in the car park of a rafting centre on the Firtina creek an hours drive from the border, it was pretty impressive for a creek!

We arrived at the border around 9.30 well we thought we had as the trucks were queued on the side of the road. It was actually another 10km to the border, ominous signs.
Bea had to walk through while I drove the van, besides the usual perusal of car documents and incessant checking of my licence (not sure many Aussies drive across the border) we breezed threw.
One thing you must do once you have entered Georgia is buy car insurance, it’s illegal to drive without it and no external companies cover Georgia. To assist travellers with this a rather robust and thriving market has set up within 100m of the crossing. Hawkers will assist you to park, arrange your insurance, arrange a SIM card, change your money and even flog you cheap booze.
By the time I drove out Bea had already selected our designated hawker and was well on her way to arranging our needs, without the cheap booze!

Successfully negotiating both the border and the shark pit we could now relax and enjoy Georgia. There were a few reasons we wanted to come to Georgia, not the least was this was, it is arguably the cradle of wine. They have been making it here for 8000 years so they should have got it right by now. It also has a great reputation for food, Russians seem to love Georgian cuisine, but this maybe more a reflection on Russian food. Despite this we knew very little about Georgia itself and were looking forward to learning.

Lesson number one- there is a reason that no company will insure cars in Georgia, they are truely maniacs, Thailand is a land of granny drivers in comparison.

The first major town you arrive at after the border is Batumi- This is Georgia’s seaside playground its resorts and casinos has earned it the title “the Las Vegas of the Black Sea” obviously buy people who have never been to Vegas! It was historically a port town so its ‘Old Town’ is centred close to its ports. It is obvious that there has been quite a bit of investment recently and much of the old town has been renovated.

There is a new ocean side promenade, over designed, high rise towers and bill boards showcasing the next generation of gleaming modern apartments that are currently (almost) under construction. It seems crazy to see all this new development and enthusiasm when just a few streets back from the coast its dilapidated tenements and potholed roads. But then so is Pattaya and the Russians love that too.

After spending much of the day exploring Batumi we drove a little further up the coast where we wild camped at a lovely beach side parking area. A very pleasant, if a little cold, end to the day sipping G&T’s watching the sunset.

Lesson two most cars are missing at least one bumper and or fender, probably related to lesson one.

We headed inland through rural Georgia toward Tbilisi the Capital where we camped in courtyard of the Tbilisi Yard Hostel.
Also parked in the grounds of the Hostel was a Land Cruiser with a camper trailer with UK plates. We met the couple that owned it the next morning, they were Aussies, (obviously different border guy) who had left England a few months earlier on their Grand adventure. They had been staying here for a couple of weeks as they did some repairs and modifications to their trailer.
After a brief chat, we headed to the rail way station. I was over border crossings with the Van and the further east the less insured it was. The plan was to take the overnight train to Baku in Azerbaijan and return, then do a similar trip to Armenia. The lady at the ticket booth was both friendly and helpful and made the whole ticket purchase a breeze.
After a bit of a scout of the neighbourhood we returned to the hostel where we caught up with Mark and Sarah again and they suggested we join them for dinner which we gladly accepted, its always nice to share a dinner with new friends on the road. In the late afternoon Bea received a message from her sister, Her Mum had taken a turn while out of a day trip with her social group and had been admitted to hospital. It was routine and nothing to really worry about.
The four of us jumped in a cab and headed to a cheap and cheerful restaurant they had recently discovered, it was a great night, good food, well the pickled pigs feet may have been a little out there, lots of very drinkable Georgian red and fun conversations. It was almost midnight by the time we got back after being waylaid at another wine bar on the way back!

As we arrived back Bea got the next message, Things in Perth had deteriorated rapidly and the doctors were very concerned, Ruth was struggling to hold it together and Bea started to crumble.
We immediately threw the essentials into Bea’s daypack, grabbed a cab and headed to the airport. Luckily there were still a few agents still operating at that late hour and we searched for the quickest possible options to get to Perth. Bea could leave now but it would take two days and three stops, the fastest option ended up leaving the following night but was a one, brief stop, and she would be in Perth Thursday afternoon. We booked it and with nothing else we could do headed back to the Van.
The next morning with a little time and slightly clearer thinking we formulated our plan. The hostel was happy for us to leave the van in their carpark for a few weeks, which was helpful and allowed me to travel back with Bea. Once we understood the situation in Perth I would return to move the Van, via the Black Sea ferry, to Sofia where we had originally planed to store it.

The rest of the day was spent packing up the van and getting our gear together, there was no real appetite for sightseeing!
Mid-morning Bea face-timed with her mum and though quite sedated was able to say hi and Bea was able to send her her love. an emotional but therapeutic moment for Bea.

The Qatar airways flight left Tbilisi around 9.30pm. 17 hours and one short stop later we touchdown in Perth. Bea was Anxious but trying to remain calm as we left the aircraft, after boarder control Bea headed for the exit and I went to collect the baggage. If the bags were taking too long she would go with her sister to the hospital and i would find my way there ASAP.
Finally our bags came out and I was rushed through the VIP lane and out into the waiting area where I immediately saw Bea and Ruth embarrassed and I realised we were too late.
Trying to pull it together myself we greeted and made our way, in idle chat ‘nice weather’ to the car and to the hospital where the nephews were waiting.

It was a lovely funeral at Pinnarroo. Rick, and ex church minister, performed the service. Evan, one of the nephews, and his trombone choir played several pieces and Bea and Ruth gave a moving eulogy together, providing each other with emotional support, something June would have loved to see.

These times are tough, but you reflect on the good times, It was unfortunate that Bea didn’t quite make it, but technology had allowed her to say what needed to be said while June could understand. It puts travel and distance in perspective, wandering means missing family, but again its what we need to do and the world is so small you can get from one outpost to another in 24 hours, that’s incredible.

(Note. On my return to Tbilisi, parked up in the hostel was the delivery van we saw in Turkey and the Land Cruiser was still there. That Night Mark, Sarah,, the @Kingluie guys and I went for dinner, it amazing the people you meet and the friendships you make on the road)

A few days have past since I started writing this blog. It is now Xmas day and Bea is sharing it in Perth with her Family and I am in Melbourne with mine.
We’ll take a break from our adventure for a few more weeks but will be back on the road in march.

Merry Xmas & Happy New year

7 Comments

Visiting Vlad

22/12/2019

8 Comments

We rolled over the Danube and straight into the arms of bureaucracy.
“Where are you going?”
“Bucharest.”
“Hotel reservation?”
I pointed at our home-on-wheels. “Campervan.”
He stared as if I’d claimed to sleep inside a hedgehog, stamped theatrically, and waved us into Romania.
Romania is properly big, and we’d sworn to save the west and north, Hungary, Ukraine, the lot, for a return trip. For now: Bucharest and the south-east, drifting toward the Black Sea. That was the plan anyway.
We parked ourselves at a no-nonsense campsite half an hour out: lake, power, hot showers, and an encampment of cheerful Irish traveling families five weeks into a “short stay.” Peace reigned until the function centre next door erupted into Romanian bangers at 11 and finally surrendered at 2 a.m.

Sunday called for ceremony, so I announced bacon-and-egg brekkie, purely because the bacon, eggs and mushrooms needed using. Fuelled, we abandoned the van and summoned an Uber, our first taxi in nine months, unless you count the 280-kilometre “taxi” to Lake Baikal, which I now recognise as paid hitchhiking with receipts. It was absurdly cheap and, more importantly, it spared us from wrestling Bucharest’s traffic.

I’d heard good things about the city, nothing specific, just a warm hum of approval, and it turned out to be entirely justified. We slid in through ranks of communist-era apartment blocks, their concrete softened by balconies sprouting geraniums and a pavement life so lively you could practically hear the gossip. Then came the stern geometry of state power: hulking ministries and broad boulevards designed to make the individual feel pocket-sized. And finally, as if someone had flicked a set designer’s switch, the old town: hip, café-rich, cobbled, and gorgeously walkable. If a city can wink, Bucharest winks.

We drifted toward the Stavropoleos Church, a pocket of carved stone and icon glow that hushes even the chattiest tourist, then wandered the National Museum of Romanian History where grim helmets and hopeful coins make their parade. At Pasajul Villacrosse, a honey-yellow arcade made for lingering, we eavesdropped on a tour guide explaining that Romanians in the northwest (closer to Germany) take life rather seriously, whereas down here, with easterly breezes and a dash of Asia, life is taken with more cigarettes, clinking glasses, and late nights. The evidence, bars, cafés, laughter, presented itself on cue.

At a market skirting the CBD we scored marinated lamb belly for the grill, thick slices glistening with the promise of crispy edges, and then detoured to Primăverii Palace, the former nest of communist dictator Nicolae and Elena Ceaușescu.

If you’ve ever wondered what happens when thriftless power meets a catalogue of global luxury, the answer is: eighty-odd rooms of it. Canadian maple floors inlaid with African mahogany, bathrooms the size of suburban lounges, a dressing room that could swallow a small boutique and ask for seconds. Much of it, we were told, under Elena’s personal instruction, the aesthetic of humble beginnings taking full revenge on subtlety. It’s astonishing how much money a dictatorship can pour into marble while the country is queuing for bread.
It's funny how quickly the hero’s of the workers become the people they revolted against, funnier still is their surprise when the working class revolt again and have them shot!
That night we barbecued by the lake, cool, drizzly, perfectly and, blissfully, band-free.

The following morning we were to continue, toward the Black Sea. Instead, geography seduced us. “Transylvania is just there,” I said, pointing west like a pirate queen. ‘Drac’ said Pete. Purists will note that Dracula didn’t exist in the inconveniently factual way, and Bram Stoker mined his villain from history’s murk, chiefly one 15th-century Wallachian voivode, Vlad the Impaler. Depending on your reading, Vlad wasn’t uniquely monstrous for his age so much as a man who suffered the bad luck of a particularly enthusiastic Irish publicist

We began with Curtea de Argeș, whose cathedral Vlad may have seen if he’d been in the mood for soaring frescoes and stern saints. We walked streets he may have walked (he did not buy a cheese pastry where I bought a cheese pastry; that, I feel, we can say definitively)

We then drove along a ribboning road to peer up at Poenari Castle: a jagged crown of ruins clinging to a cliff, once his and now everyone’s Instagram. The path was closed due to “bear activity,” a phrase that sounds cuddly until you imagine 1,480 steps pursued by something with opinions about your lunch. We thanked the local fauna for their public-safety work and decided that admiring from below was a noble, risk-aware choice.

Night fell as we threaded the Carpathians, hairpins, pines, the odd truck appearing like a grumpy whale and we rolled into Bran late, The castle would have to wait until morning.

I woke early, hoping for mist. In my mind the castle would heave out of a foggy hollow, bats forming punctuation marks across a pewter sky. In reality, it was a blue-sky postcard morning. The castle sat beaming on its rocky knoll, lawns crisp, the atmosphere more “storybook picnic” than “gothic terror.” If unicorns had pranced past, I’d have offered them a carrot.

The castle didn’t open until 9.00 so we had a coffee and perused the souvenir stalls out the front, Vlad may have only lived in the castle for a few years and it was actually an Irish writer who put it on the map, but that wasn’t going to stop the locals wringing out every last Lev from it!!
The castle is unusual in that it is still privately owned by the kin of the last queen of Romania, who actually lived in the castle until 1922

The gates opened at nine, which left time for coffee and a survey of the souvenir battalions outside: magnets, mugs, capes, plastic fangs, and at least one T-shirt inviting my blood type to present itself. Vlad may have passed only briefly through Bran, and it took an Irish novelist to do most of the myth-making, but you can’t fault local enterprise. Every last cape is enthusiastically courted.

Inside, Bran Castle is not the damp crypt of popular imagination. It’s whitewashed, wood-floored, and—heresy alert—cosy. Small rooms, warm corners, homely furniture that looks made for reading rather than plotting. It remains privately owned by descendants of Romania’s last queen, she lived here in the 1920s, and it feels more like a lived-in family stronghold than a stage set for sanguine dramas. Halloween decorations were still tucked about, a faint afterglow of autumn mischief. Now that, I thought, is when this place would truly sing: candles fluttering, shadows lengthening, somebody in a questionable wig trying not to spill their mulled wine on a 14th-century stair.

We swung east at last, threading up through the Carpathians where the road clung to cliffs like a koala with trust issues, then gliding down onto Romania’s broad, green apron. This was the Romania I’d been hoarding in my head: quilted fields stitched with hedgerows, villages paused halfway between “under construction” and “folk art installation,” horse carts clip-clopping past vegetables of operatic scale. The cabbages were the real headliners, vast, beach-ball specimens stacked on utes every few hundred metres. Nonas toted them home with the confidence of women who know a hundred ways to cook a brassica, whereas I can manage… two, if you count “shred and hope.”
We parked up that night in a hotel car park near the border, a glamorous return to our youth, except this time we were sober and in bed by ten. The Wi-Fi was saintly, so we slunk into the bar to triage life admin, including the small matter of Turkish visas we’d artfully ignored. Three days’ processing, said the website; we were operating on what NASA would term “optimism.”
The Black Sea plan took a turn over a glass of local lager. Our ferry from Varna to Poti, it transpired, would cost nearly $1,500, ouch, and, because it was off-season, wouldn’t sail until the 24th. A glance at the map, a quick marital summit: driving to Georgia would take three days. Decision made. We’d loop the sea by land, Bulgaria, Turkey, then Georgia, poke about in Georgia, Armenia and Azerbaijan, and meander back through Turkey.
At dawn we rolled onto the Danube ferry, waved Romania goodbye, and bumped ashore in Bulgaria with a plan, a deadline, and a renewed respect for cabbages.

8 Comments

Bulgaria

18/12/2019

4 Comments

By Bea
It was early evening and dark by the time we finally crossed the border so we parked for the night in a guarded truckie stop behind a service station. It was cold, we were tired, we couldn't be bothered cooking and there was a restaurant attached to the service station. The place was run by a young husband and wife who made such an effort to make us feel welcome. They hardly spoke English and the menu was in Bulgarian yet with a little help from google translate we managed ordered, the food was actually, pretty good. He, the cook, came out to make sure we were happy and was super pleased when we attempted to say delicious . They even gave us a glass of the local ‘grappa’ on the house.

The next morning, we happily went back into the restaurant for a coffee and to use the internet to upload our latest blog. There was nothing breakfasty on the menu, well nothing western, that we could decipher (bit of a Shirley Valentine moment, sorry), in broken English they offered to make us some sort of ham and cheese dish on toast, it was simple and delicious. We were liking the welcoming vibe of Bulgaria already!

We made our way into the capital, Sofia, our camping app located a overnight stop right in the centre of town. Now some spots we choose for the ambience and others for convenience. In the bigger cities it is often about convenience, this one certainly was! It was a small, guarded, car park that offered long and short term parking. The owner bent over backwards to fit us us in. He moved cars around like a game of Tetris then positioned us hard up against the fence.

Obviously, he had done this before! He was super helpful and offered a lot of advice on what to see.

Sofia is a complex city with a complicated past, It has all the big name high street brands and graffiti every where, it has churches that spent several centuries as mosques and soviet architecture trying to be reborn as modern city. Right in the middle of the city, there are Roman ruins that were recently uncovered as they extended the metro.

Like ground hog day... we visited the old market hall, bought lunch which we ate in a park over the road. The park was right alongside an old mosque that was built as part of an ancient baths complex.

Behind the market was is the Sofia synagogue, the largest in the Balkan region holding up to 1,000 worshippers. It was also very close to the Alexander Nevsky Cathedral built in the 1880s, this place was massive, it can hold around 10,000 people. In Sofia at least, it appears that all the major religions can happily co-exist, an example to the rest of the world!

These aren’t the only religious sites, the city is peppered with them, like the The Church of St George, a rotunda, which is located in the heart of the city and built back in 300s. The non religious buildings are also impressive, the typically Stalinist architecture of the National History museum (that was the residence of the former dictator Todor Zhivkov) and the very grand Ivan Vazov national theatre are nice examples.

We had read several good reviews of a nearby restaurant, Pod Lipite (Under the Linden Trees) that served local cuisine using produce from their own farm. We went for a walk to suss it out, via the Borisova Gradina, a well utilised park that was first landscaped in 1880s, past the local football stadium and several concrete table-tennis tables where some serious looking matches, and drinking were underway. The restaurant was a wonderful old wooden tavern. The staff were friendly and inviting so we reserved a table for dinner.

That evening we headed back out for our ‘date night’ dinner... by tram. The ticket system only took certain coins, which we didn’t have. Thankfully a kind lady, who didn’t speak a word of English, gave us one of her tickets and showed us how to validate it. She wouldn’t accept any money in return. It’s small moments like those that make a place feel special.

The restaurant was heaving with locals when we arrived, which was reassuring. It was the type of place locals seem proud to take out of town friends and colleagues to, or to celebrate random occasions. The waiter was very helpful and we let him suggest a range of dishes to showcase their Bulgarian cuisine, we were not disappointed. We shared a plater of home made dips, homemade bread and hand made sausage. For mains we shared a pork and pickled cabbage dish and Haiduk style Chicken . Then he insisted we try the baked quince with honey and pistachios...and a complimentary glass of Raki, we rolled out of there!

Our fridge had been playing up for some time and was now barely working. Unfortunately the place that was able to fix it also sold a great range of ‘camping goodies’. It was a costly stop... mm a gas bottle that you can just fill up at any auto gas pump need one of those..,.. argh a winter windscreen cover, yep its getting cold... look how dirty the bikes are getting , we really should get one of those covers.... it took most of the morning but the fridge was fixed and the shop was bare!

The Monastery of Saint Ivan of Rila is the apparently the holiest and most famous Eastern Orthodox Monastery in Bulgaria. Located in the south west of the Rila Mountains, a beautiful 2 hour drive through a national parks thick with trees in autumn colours, from Sofia, the Rila Monastery was founded in the 10th century by the hermit St Ivan of Rila. St Ivan lived in a cave without any material possessions not far from the complex which was built by his students who came to the mountains to receive an education and is still in use today.

The centre piece, standing in the middle of a cobblestoned courtyard, is the five domed Church. It is simple yet every inch is decorated with beautiful frescos. The courtyard is hemmed on each side by the two storey, white rendered and black wooden beamed monastery. Dotted around the courtyard were natural spring water fountains, the cool fresh water was perfect for topping up our supply. All over Albania and Bulgaria there are communal water fountains like this usually crowded with people filling large containers

Leaving the monastery the next morning we stopped at Stob to visit the stone pyramids. To view them, was a steep 2km hike up a hill.

Our expectations were pretty low, come on in West Australia we have the pinnacles, we were surprised, and a little relieved to discover such an interesting formation, quite breathtaking. These burnt orange sandstone formations that average about 10-12 metres, have eroded over time by the winds, with little hats of stones, some sitting precariously on top waiting to topple. Quite incredible and definitely worth the hike. These natural pyramids are famous for their interesting shapes but also for the legends of love that go along with them.

We continued south to the area of Rupite which is actually a crater of an extinct volcano, known for its thermal hot springs and the prophetess Baba Vanga. What a place, hot baths at our doorstep! A couple of other campers were already parked up and there was a steady stream cars coming and going as locals came to enjoy a leisurely soak in the mineral enriched thermal springs.

Baba Vanga was a mystic and clairvoyant who spent the last years of her life in a house very close to the springs. She who lost her eyesight at a young age, supposedly unlocking her powers of clairvoyance. Many believe she predicated the 9/11 terror attack, Brexit and the 2004 Thailand tsunami.

The ruins of the Thracian-Roman town - Heraclea Sintica are also located near the springs. Recently two cities have been uncovered, one built on top of the other. We were looking at city was occupied for 800 years. The ruins had been partially recovered to protect them until there was enough finances to protect them properly

Late afternoon and time for a bath. It is bewildering how water from the ground can be so hot, its around 80 degrees. There were several ‘pools’ and obviously the further away from the spring you went, the cooler it was. We tried a few ponds until we found the perfect balance of heat and depth! We had plenty of time so I just lay there enjoying the soak. I tried rubbing the mineral mud over me - supposed to be good for you. Whoever came up with the idea of getting dirty was getting clean!

The next morning we turned north and skirted the Pirin Mountains, apparently the home to bears and wolves though none were sited by me, unfortunately! We were headed to the ski village of Bankso which, even though there was no snow, Pete was keen to check it out. Unlike the ski village we visited in North Macedonia, this one had a bit more life. In fact, the town was a buzz with people preparing for the season due to start in a month’s time. A lot of renovations, repairs and stocking up... just waiting on the snow.

The resort area of town was a mass of hotels and looking at the ski map we struggled to see how all these skiers could fit on the mountain. The old town on the other hand is fairly small but really interesting, winding cobblestoned roads and compact houses and shops occupied by the locals. It was still a community as opposed to attracting tourism.

That night we ate at a local restaurant. The guy hawking for business promised great steaks, sounded too good to pass up - yep suckers! To be honest, it actually turned out to be a really good restaurant, It was rustic pub style, cosy, typical ski village restaurant. The fire was lit and the big TV was showing ski and snowboard aerials, we were very happy. The hawker wasn’t lying either, We ordered a plate of foie gras as an entree to share... yes you read that right - this restaurant did an amazingly good foie gras, perfectly lightly seared with a balsamic glaze and blueberries and apple and served with home made bread. This was fine dining food not expected in a resort restaurant in the off season. For mains I ordered beef with champagne and mushrooms and Pete couldn't resist the local slow cooked lamb dish that was incredibly large. Needless to say most of that came home with us.

On our way out of town the next morning we called past the laundrette to pick up our, very large, load of washing which we had dropped off the previous day. It had been quite a while since we had been able to do a proper wash and it was certainly nice to have everything fresh and clean again.

The road to Velingrad started out wide and smooth, we felt it was going to be quite a boring journey, however it unexpectedly turned into the mountains and followed a river through a stunning gorge. The craggy mountains were thick with autumnal forests and jagged slate cliffs jutted out at irregular angles. On occasions rocks overhung the narrow road making me shut my eyes- but Pete has mastered the width of the van now - I just wish my brain could!

Sadly it didn’t last long the road opened up onto a broad valley, we were back on the long stretches of highway cum potholed road.

We reached the town of Plovdiv, an ancient city built around 7 hills and the second largest city in Bulgaria. It has been inhabited for more than 8,000 years making it, arguably, the oldest continuously settled cities in the world. We camped up adjacent to a fresh market, about 5kms from the centre. Needing the exercise we walked into town wandering through leafy suburbs and streets lined with fresh vegetable stalls. The town centre streets, like most towns, were cobbled but these cobbles were massive and very uneven, the roads had subsided a little making it even more difficult to walk on. Im glad we were walking, there was no way the van would have survived!

The Old Town covers the three central hills and is a now historic preservation site known for its Bulgarian Renaissance architectural style of the mid 19th century. Almost every house in the Old Town reflects the characteristic exterior and interior decoration of the time. The two and three storey buildings are timber framed with, typically, brightly painted stucco walls the upper levels often canter-leaver out over the street and are more decoratively painted. It certainly made for a pleasant streetscape.

We continued up through the old town to the ruins on Nebet tepe, an area first settled by the Thracian’s over 6000 years ago. Given its history the site it felt strange that it wasn’t “Historical park” or Museum it was just a place where locals go to hangout amongst the ruins, chatting, playing and taking in the views across the modern city. We wandered back into town past the massive ancient roman theatre which is still in use to day seating 6,000 people, The ruins of the ancient theatre of Philippopolis, remnants of the city’s Roman forum and the Bachkovo monastery that was founded in 1083, second largest and oldest Eastern Orthodox monastery in Bulgaria.

The next morning we were on the road heading towards Bucharest, it was going to be a long day driving, but we were not in a hurry. The roads here keep surprising us -highways can be bumpy and poorly maintained and byroads can be smooth and pleasant. It just keeps you guessing. At one point the road became congested and cars were parked along both sides, it was some sort of market happening..in the middle of nowhere. Being suckers for markets, and in need of a break, we stopped to have a nosey. It was a Saturday flee market with almost anything secondhand for sale, though nothing from the 21st century! Old phones, computers, even skis and I swear Pete’s Dad’s tool shed was out there for sale! Pete managed to pick up a few odd things for the van and i managed to pick up a pancake stuffed with feta style cheese!

Back in the van and on our way. I had a date with the Count - Romania here we come. Bulgaria, we shall return in a few days..

4 Comments

North Macedonia

5/12/2019

6 Comments

By Bea
Lake Ohrid lies between Albania and North Macedonia and is one of the oldest and deepest lakes in Europe. The annoying thing about the change in border crossing is that we were now on the lakes’ western side rather than its eastern shore, which we had intended to follow through the Galichitsa National Park stopping along the way to camp for the night. Okay suck it up, things change, we will drive up the west side and into the main city of Ohrid, it was after dark anyway.

We drove to recommended camping park, a large restaurant carpark, very close to the city, where a unfriendly waitress curtly informed me that there was no parking during winter, weird! We drove to another spot but it had a ‘bad vibe’ and Pete’s gut instinct was to move on. We drove back into town to buy a local SIM and do some further research. It is amazing how reassuring it feels when you have internet again, such 21st century problems!! When we first travelled through Europe all we had was a thick Lonely Planet, a dodgy map and a public phone box to find your accommodation! How easy has life become?

There was a 24 hour car park right in the centre, guarded, expensive, but really convenient. We would head there later but first dinner, at an Irish pub! The day had been a little stressful, we were cold and we deserved a good comforting pub meal! We returned to the van to find a flyer under the windscreen for a Campsite only 4kms away, it appeared to be pretty good. We drove to the campsite and were met by the friendly owner who had ridden down to open the gates for us. It was way cheaper than the 24 hr car park and had toilets, showers, electricity and wifi. SCORE! We parked up and hit the sack. We woke to find we were in a lovely setting right by the lake, amongst the beautiful autumn trees. A nice find. (It turned out that the parking guard in town was the owners mate and rang him saying there was a van looking for somewhere to camp so he came in and dropped the flyer on our windshield, now that is direct, proactive marketing, he is now on Park4nights!)

In fact we woke the to the van rolling back and forth, there was no wind and the trees were stationary, it was a horrible feeling. Pete suggested it could a tremor somewhere. Sure enough we were 70km from the epicentre of a 4.7 earthquake on the border of Albania. The place we had just left. Didn’t make the news anywhere, I only found out by googling it later. (Note; a few weeks later a much stronger quake hit killing several people.

There is promenade that follows the lake edge of the lake all the way into town, that made for a lovely ride, albeit bloody freezing, into town.
Ohrid is foremost a beach resort so its old town isn’t its main attraction and therefore hasn’t been turned into a full on tourist trap.
It is, small, charming and easy to explore in 2 - 3 hours.

We visited a beautiful old church, the Svetja Sofja (St Sofia), I was a little disappointed that they didn’t allow photos as the interior was covered with amazing old frescoes they were only half restored so they didn’t feel reproduced.
We walked to Plaosnik an old archeological site and to the Amphitheater, built in 200 BC and the only Hellenistic-type theatre in the country. It too was quite impressive and still in use today, it would be delightful to see a live concert or production there. We also hiked up to Samuel’s Fortress but its nothing special... just the outer wall was still in tact, good view of the city though.

Returning to town we first followed a pathway through the pine forrest then along the coast stopping at St Jovan Kaneo, an Orthodox Church, that stands on a cliff above a fishing settlement and overlooking Lake Ohrid.
We made our way back to the bikes through the old town streets admiring some of the restored Ottoman-era buildings including Robevi Family House, which once belonged to one of the richest families of the country, and the Church of Saints Clement and Panteleimon.

That afternoon we bumped and shook our way along the potholed and patched ‘highway’ north before turning off onto a smoother, albeit single lane, road that climbed steadily through the autumn forests into the fog of the Mavrovo National Park.I do love autumn but I prefer it when I can see! 3.30pm, dusk and thick fog - not nice!
Eventually we descended, out of the fog, to Mavrovo Lake and Mavrovo town (known for its ski area) where we bought provisions for a hearty casserole dinner before turning down a small track to the lake edge. There was one camper van already there and another small van followed us down the track. Time to settle in for the night.

We woke to a gorgeous backdrop, the morning fog was hovering on the mountains. The shimmering lake reflected the soft morning sunlight, the mountains and the autumn leaves, it was breathtaking. We continued down the road into the Mavrovo ski village. It was a quiet small, and at this time of year, almost a ghost town, there was one ski lift and only a couple of runs. The makeshift ski rental shops were boarded up for the summer. It certainly wasn’t Hakuba or Whistler.

Mavrovo Lake is also famous(ish) for its ‘Submerged Church’. The Church was partially submerged when the dam that created the lake was built. At this time of year, the end of summer, with the low water level it was, unfortunately, the ‘Happily on dry land Church’. We could walk around it and take photos, a bonus I suppose as not everyone gets that opportunity. We did ponder the fact that we had driven to see a church that was partially submerged by a dam when, only a few months ago we sailed over entire cities flooded by the three gorges dam!!

Our next destination was Matka Canyon. Road closures and detours along the way sent us through narrow village streets - making the drive more interesting. We were initially surprised to see how busy the Canyon was, especially in the off season however being less than hour from Skopje it made a nice Saturday out for the locals. It was a beautiful area, grey jagged mountains, blanketed in autumn trees, dropped dramatically to the river.

We splurged a little and took a boat trip up the canyon to one of the caves. There are 10 caves in the canyon, but only 2 are open to the public. One is actually submerged and only accessible by tech scuba divers. They still don’t know how deep it actually is, one dive team reached a depth of 247m with the bottom still nowhere in site! The other cave is only accessible by boat. We were given a guided tour, it was a nice simple but pretty cave full of lit up stalagmites and stalactites and the usual “can you see a rabbit or a gorilla?”

We had intended to stay the night in the canyon yet it was still so early so we decided to head into Skopje, the capital, only about 45 minutes away.

Driving the through the outskirts of Skopje, it wasn’t charming either of us, it wasn’t doing much for me at all. We found a car park close to the river, where we intended to stay the night and then headed into the city area to explore a bit more.

The city is quite a mish-mash. A few years ago a the government spent exorbitant amounts of money gentrifying the CBD (giving all the buildings neo-classical facades) It now feels a little grotty, like there was no engagement from the people and no maintenance budget! The government was try-hards but the people weren’t! The epicentre of this ‘revitalisation’ is Macedonia Square where they really threw everything at it. There are gloriously over scaled monuments, statues and fountains, stone bridges and neoclassical buildings, some of which are more than 10 years old!

Heading out of the square toward the old bazaar, the city started to get more interesting, a city that had evolved through time reflecting the needs and desires of its population. Never judge too soon, right?
We found their only micro brewery and had an afternoon beer which I have to admit were pretty good. The sun was setting, it was getting bloody cold quickly, so we hoofed it back to the van for dinner, via the fresh market to buy ingredients for a veggie curry. There were a few more vans parked for the night, including the small van that had followed us down the track at the lake.

We wandered back into the city to continue our sightseeing and buy provisions at the markets, however we bumped into Adam, a young Australian / Iranian / Italian guy (a long and colourful story about his ethnicity, but no time here) that we had met a few weeks back in Kotor - it is so freaky how that happens. He is a super friendly, vivacious, guy who set out on a two week trip and nine months later is still travelling. The three of us ended up hanging out for a few hours, catching up over morning coffee, a market trip and an early lunch. Parting ways we headed back to the van minus half the provisions we meant to buy and hit the road.

We headed to a little town called Kratovo that sounded interesting and was in the general direction that we were travelling. It’s not quite on the tourist must see list yet but they are trying to restore and preserve it with the help of foreign agencies. It is known for its stone bridges and towers, It was interesting, friendly, small and had nothing really to see except for its stone bridges and towers! There were once 12 large stone towers, but sadly today only 6 stand.

We had intended on camping the night but given we had seen everything there was to see we decided to head for the border. Bulgaria here we come!

6 Comments

our latest posts...

Family

Visiting Vlad

Bulgaria

North Macedonia

Author

Archives

Categories