Most people associate Bulgaria with trips to the Black Sea. Warm water, quick flights, reasonable prices and we have a riviera for the thrifty. We got to know Bulgaria from a slightly different side. We entered it from Romanian Transylvania, and left it, reaching Greece through the Pirin massif. In the meantime, there was of course the capital, Sofia, spread out at the foot of Vitosha.
What do we know from Google? 10% of Bulgaria’s inhabitants are Gypsies. A Balkan country of the European Union with a relatively low GDP per capita, in the Schengen Area for a year. From visits to Biedronka and Carrefour, we know that they have quite good Sofia wine (interestingly, winemaking was developed there by the Nazis), they write in Cyrillic and eat a bit like Romanians and Hungarians, and a bit like Greeks and Turks.
What do we see when driving through Bulgaria? Unfortunately, endearing poverty. The wealth and level of society is not evidenced by the beautiful promenades and market square in the capital, monumental sculptures or the seat of parliament. These are usually impressive and rarely fail to delight us. The standard of living can be seen in the suburbs, in residential areas, in ordinary bars and shops. You can see it not so much in cars but in the staircases of buildings. You can see it not in tourist resorts but on a local road.
What terrified us was the poverty. The suburbs of Sofia look like Nigerian slums from Discovery Chanel. At the intersection, instead of a teenager washing windows, we have an amateur juggler who climbs a ladder to juggle whatever he can. It is easy to see women on the roads, doing the second oldest profession in the world (let’s not forget, the oldest is a toolmaker!). Out of the four cafes and restaurants we visited, only one allowed us to pay by card.
Sofia itself is especially frightening when looking at the city from a distance. The large post-Soviet blocks, with their darkened slabs, look as if they had been blackened by a missile. Up close, it’s better, but these are still views closer to Pripyat near Chernobyl than to Amsterdam or Antwerp.
Are there any advantages? Definitely! First of all, nature. The route from Sofia to Thessaloniki took us about 8 hours, although it should have been half that, because we pulled off it at least a few times to stop and take pictures of the snow-capped mountains, walk through beautiful meadows or stare at the wide-spreading trees. The greenery, mountains, meadows, flowering trees, streams and creeks – all of this really takes your breath away. Similarly, entering Bulgaria over one of the bridges from Romania is an orgy for the eyes. Almost an hour’s drive along the Danube, where we have this mighty river on our left hand, and forests on our right.
And now the culinary arts.. In one of the restaurants, it was not bad, but not great. Soup in the shape of our tripe but with a more yellowish broth, spaghetti bolognese but in a distinctly local version with paprika. It wasn’t bad although the palates didn’t go crazy. The cakes and coffee in the cafe in Sofia were better but the service and the dogs barking around took away the atmosphere and the pleasure.
Finally, a border curiosity. Before entering Greece, we were stopped by Bulgarian border guards. The leader of this group, in dark glasses, with an unsmoked cigarette, eagerly entered into dialogue. I asked him how he pronounced the name Saloniki. He replied:
– “I’m Bulgarian, for me it’s a Slavic name so I say Salon. But they say Thessaloniki there. He became sad as he finished his cigarette.”