Novi Sad: quiet and loud.

Novi Sad is calm, vibrant, musical, relaxed and a wonderful place to let the world roll by.

The fortress and the city.

A short bus journey from Belgrade is the small city of Novi Sad, although locals claim it is the heart of Serbia and the country’s true capital, for the most part it is just a small town. It doesn’t have Belgrade’s grand buildings, pumping clubs and vastness, but it does have the strange ability to have a nice slow pace, but to be a centre for the arts and culture at the same time.

The Danube.

My days in Novi Sad have been amongst the most relaxed on my trip so far. Most days featured a wander around the beautiful old town with its pastel coloured buildings filled with bars and eateries. In the middle of the town square stands a gorgeous old church with a roof of colourful tiles and municipal buildings, all decorated in blooming flowers. The people of Novi Sad gather in this area daily to meet, enjoy the small market that is set up here and often to enjoy live music. The city is famous for the Exit festival and although that finished a few weeks ago, the musical vibe still permeates the town. In the 3 days I was here I saw an army brass band, a small orchestra, an acoustic duo and an old man playing a traditional Serbian instrument all playing in public spaces with lots of people gathered around enjoying the sounds. The music was always loud, but this never seems to bother the locals who love to come together, sit outside and enjoy the sun on their skin as they drink a beer or eat an ice cream. They seem to just like being around each other and any excuse will do; one night, it was a water polo match that seemingly half the town was out and raucously cheering for. Much like Belgrade, the people here take to the streets to enjoy each others’ company and bars and restaurants. I am quickly coming to understand this is the Serbian way, being social, being kind and overdressing for all occasions.

The main square, Slobode.

Speaking of which, AGAIN the kindness of people here has warmed my heart. My giant bag has become the bane of my existence. But I suppose that’s how it is when you’re carrying all your worldly goods on your back. I went inside the hostel at the same time as a man who lived in the same building, he saw me and without so much as asking he picked up my bag and took it up the stairs, he climbed two flights, dropped it on the inside of the hostel, waved to the owners, waved to me and was gone. I had barely said ‘hvala’ (thank you) before he disappeared. Also, the hostel owners are so caring. I have come down with a bit of a cold, So I’m not feeling great. blocked up, sniffly, headache-y, the usual. The owners have come to check on me several times, offering soup, tea and advice about the best way to get better. Probably more attention than I would get at home! I am also quickly coming to realise that if you run an Eastern European hostel you must have a gorgeous friendly dog that lives there. It’s like the law or something.

Danube Park.

The other main location within the town is the Petrovaradin Fortress, you walk out of the city and when you cross over the Danube on the bridge it stands tall on the hill above the water. Climbing up is not a struggle and the views back over the city are gorgeous. Sunset from here was quite spectacular. Inside the fortress there are a number of artists’ workshops where you can view and buy art. One artist set up his own bar is his studio, so you could drink his home-made ‘lemonada’ while you perused his work. In other areas there are ivy covered walls, restaurants, hidden corners and more lovely views. We spent a good chunk of time at the fortress wondering how they fit all of the people in their for Exit, but also enjoying the cool breeze that was only up there and finding quirky things to enjoy, like graffiti, art and all the stray cats.

The Petrovaradin fortress

I feel so lucky to be indulging myself for the best part of 8 and a half months by travelling around this part of the world and Asia. It is a privilege for me to meet so many new people and gain insights into the world I live in. But, being 4 months in sometimes it is just nice to switch off your brain and enjoy a good movie. In Novi Sad, I can see a film for less than a quarter of the price is costs me in Melbourne, yes, LESS THAN a quarter. about $4 Australian. That seems outrageous to me, but I am no economist. Anyway, I took this time in Novi Sad as a chance to do the things I like doing, and besides an afternoon of reading ‘A Clash of Kings’ in the park, I also got to see a film at the local cinema. I am learning that this sort of ‘normal’ non-travel activity is helpful for my brain. It was so normal and if it hadn’t been a real tear-jerker of a film, I would have probably really enjoyed it. The film was ‘The Fault in Our Stars’ and, besides the friend I saw the film with, I was the oldest person in the cinema by about 15 years. It is safe to say that whether you’re in Australia, Serbia or anywhere in between, teenage girls are the same everywhere.

The city at twilight.

The weather has been hot while I have been here. Really hot. So what do you do in a centrally located town in a land-locked country when you want to cool off? You make your own beach on the river bank. On the banks of the Danube, locals come to take a dip and show off their smallest bathers (or none at all) or walk their dogs and let them wade in the water. But there was something here I found unusual. After sitting on the dirt/sand on the river bank and dipping our feet in, we walked up to the place that was actually labelled as the beach on our map, here we found something really strange. A ticket office. In Novi Sad, you pay for the beach! Of course, as an Australian this is madness to me but the beach was blocked off from entrance unless you paid the fee. It wasn’t a big cost (50 Dinar, or about 60 cents), but it was the principle of it.

The ‘beach’ you didn’t have to pay for.

I am glad I decided to stay in Novi Sad, many of the attractions could have been knocked over in a day trip, but being here for a few days gave me a good chance to soak up the atmosphere and the ways of its people, which I find much more interesting. It is a quiet town, but there is always something happening and that was more than I could see in a day.

Belgrade: The social city.

Belgrade is grey, social, eclectic, scarred and hot in the sun.

Where the Sava meets the Danube.

While I was in Romania I found out a few of the people I met in Berlin and hung out with in Copenhagen and Stockholm on the first leg of my Top Deck tour were going to be in Belgrade for a few days. I took this opportunity to change my plans slightly and meet up with them in the Serbian capital. I always planned to make my way here eventually, but it was great to get the push I needed to alter my plans. Obviously being here with friends changes the dynamic, it’s less about me and more about socialising, hanging out and seeing the sights. This has been a welcome change after a month or so on my own. There’s something to be said for sitting at a restaurant and talking or going out to get a drink together that is a great aspect of group travel that hasn’t always been an option for me when I am flying solo. Before my arrival I knew very little about the city, besides Serbia always having the most awesome Eurovision satellite call-in (that I often do an impression of “Hellloooo! Belgraaaade caaaalink!”). What I have discovered is a relaxed and social city, where a day is not complete without an ice cream.

Near Republic Square.

My journey from Brasov to Belgrade was a long and tiresome one. It involved a 10 hour train to the city of Timisoara in the north west of Romania, an almost sleep in a hostel, a 4 hour journey over the border to Vrsac and then another 2 hours on the train to Belgrade. I should point out here that there is only about 150ks between Timisoara and Belgrade, but that’s another story. Upon arrival at the wrong train station I found myself lost. It didn’t help that is was hovering around 35 degrees Celsius while I searched for streets that didn’t exist. I learned many cities ago that public transport maps are a traveller’s best friend, but it would seem friendly locals are their soul mates. I think I only looked lost for about 20 seconds before a young woman helped me find the street my hostel was on on the map. But she was not the only one. The teen on the bus, the two old guys who began cat-calling me in Serbian (possibly) who gave me directions and the offer of a lift on one of their motorbikes and the man who saw me looking at street numbers and my phone in confusion all helped me find where I was going. I was lost for about 2 hours in total but there was so many kind Belgraders who were willing to help me that I was a bit overwhelmed. I hope that how much I Blanche DuBois-ed this trip – that is, always relying on the kindness of strangers – is something I remember when I am a local again.

‘The Victor’ looks out over the city.

Belgrade is a city that has been damaged and rebuilt many times since it’s settlement. World Wars and battles brought about by the dissolution of Yugoslavia have meant the place has had to be rebuilt many times. The buildings are a mix of classic communist concrete, modern glass and ornate Art-Nouveau. Most of the marks of war are gone, but, the scars of the NATO bombings of the 90s are still present, with one blown out building still (barely) standing on one of the city’s busy streets. This place fascinated me, I found it to be a beautiful memorial and an ugly reminder all in one. Personally, I am interested by the history of this region and being that I don’t actually know much about it, I decided to try to educate myself. As I have mentioned before, I am becoming addicted to free walking tours and in Belgrade it is no different. I thought this would be a good chance to learn more about how Serbians see themselves. Our lovely guide took us through a number of places, she even gave us Serbian food and drink to try, but when she spoke I felt like I wasn’t getting the whole story. She discussed the NATO bombings, but not why they happened, or even that they weren’t UN sanctioned. The next day we paid for a ‘communist tour’ that promised to be focussed in historical events. On this tour we visited the House of Flowers, where communist leader and ‘President for Life’ Tito is buried. Not only is it his mausoleum, but also a museum filled with gifts he received from all over the world. Considering the size and expense of many of the gifts, not to mention the fame and influence of their givers, I gather Tito was a pretty popular guy. The mausoleum is set in a park on the outskirts of the city and was a real highlight. After the Tito-love fest, we continued on in Serbia’s history. Again, we heard only some of the story. The wars about the break-up of Yugoslavia were mentioned in passing. She left out a lot of stuff about Milosevic and his vision and ethnic cleansing campaigns. Maybe it is too raw, too recent, but for me it was a massive oversight. I remember how impressed I was in Berlin with the Germans’ ability to face up to a past they are not proud of; maybe this is the direction the tour guides and museums of Belgrade should think about when the past doesn’t seem so recent and the hurt isn’t so painful.

The now destroyed military HQ.

The city has a very social atmosphere. The pedestrian street Knez Mihailova is buzzing with cafes, bars, restaurants, shopping, street performance, singing One Directioners (seriously), vendors, tiny dogs, dolled-up Serbian women in towering heels, music, groups of friends and a hundred places to get ice cream. We walked down here everyday for food, drink and people watching. The wide street was clean and the atmosphere was friendly and relaxed, day or night. Close by is the old bohemian quarter Skadarlija, once a home for artists and poets, now the place to get authentic food and have a 5 piece band serenade you with Love Me Tender in Serbian while you dine. The people here love to get out an about and the streets are crowded regardless of the day of the week. The people also gather up on the top of the hill where the Kalemegdan Citadel stands. By day the fortress is is a tourist hot spot where you can enjoy views that overlook New Belgrade and where the Sava river meets the Danube. By night it is a haunt for locals who sit and kanoodle on the benches or sit in large groups and discuss the world loudly. There was even a guy playing the universal guitar song, ‘Wonderwall’, while all his friends and a few others (Including me) had a sing-a-long.

Night time at the fortress.

The social atmosphere has meant we have done a lot of what the locals do: sitting in cafes, strolling along the streets and of course, eating lots of ice cream. But there has been plenty of time to act like tourists. We explored The Nikola Tesla museum, about the inventor of the AC electricity supply system. We wandered around the inside of the world’s biggest Orthodox cathedral, which although unfinished, was a grand spectacle. We admired the colourful and often very beautiful street art. We explored the fortress and its many levels, gates and bridges. We sat in the park and watched the world go by.

Day time at the fortress.

I am not such a local when it comes to the Dinar, the local currency. As 100 Dinar is about $1.20 AU, My feeble mathematics brain struggled to figure out the thousands and thousands of dinar I had to deal with at many meals and sights. Luckily, yet again, the Serbian people working in places that take my money have been so accommodating in helping me as I foolishly walk sort through wads of bills that probably only amount to $20 or so.

In case I haven’t been clear, they love ice cream!

Besides the stress that comes from my inability to count, which follows me everywhere, I felt so relaxed and calm here Maybe because Belgrade didn’t feel like a place full of hustle and bustle. It is a social place where people eat, drink and are merry most nights of the week. The kindness of the locals and the was everyone seems to be up for a good time (or at least an ice cream) has made my visit to Belgrade a wonderful one.

Brasov: Hunting for Vlad.

Brasov is quiet, easy-going, quaint, Saxon and seemingly vampire-free.

On top of Tampa.

I love reality TV. I know that’s not the coolest admission, but sometimes there’s nothing I like more than sitting down, switching off and enjoying the latest in cooking competitions, Geordies getting drunk and attention seekers buying wedding dresses. Although I haven’t caught up on the last few seasons, I like watching The Amazing Race. It combines a few of my favourite things, travel and heavily edited reality drama. A few years ago, the teams travelled through Romania to complete challenges and yell at each other. I watch the show with my regular interest, but there was something really captivating about the location this time. I was interested in the culture and the place looked amazing on camera. Stunning, actually. So I knew from that point that any trip to Europe needed a Romanian leg, especially a trip to Brasov. I guess it’s not so strange, a lot of my travel destinations have been informed by popular culture, just maybe not as low-brow as a reality show. It would have been more impressive to be inspired by a piece of high art or literature, but whatever!

Hollywood glamour.

The train from Bucharest was an easy one. I caught the metro to the main station and started the journey to Transylvania. The ride was very picturesque. Misty mountains, rushing rivers, tall trees and all manner of things with alliterative adjectives. Also, in the tradition of Eastern Europe there was also children playing barefoot and disused items on the roadsides, some with plants growing through them because they have been left so long. You can see why Bram Stoker chose to set his novel here, the scenery is beautiful. It’s beautiful, mysterious and a little bit spooky.

The Black Church.

I’m 4 months into my trip and luckily, I have only been scammed once in Brasov. When you go abroad there are so many warnings about scammers, pick pockets and a myriad of unsavoury types that I have been quite vigilant. Soon you realise that you need to be, to borrow a phrase I despise, ‘alert and not alarmed’. I was warned about Eastern European taxi drivers and their delight in extorting and over-charging tourists. When I arrived in Brasov the hostel was in a location that meant a taxi was the cheaper and easier option, or so I thought. I walked to a cab to get me to the hostel and I did all the right things: I checked his rates on the side of the taxi, I asked him how much, I told him to switch on his meter and I made polite conversation in the hope he would like me enough not to scam me. He switched on the meter and to my horror it started at 5 Euro and went up constantly by dollars every minute. Then he took me the long way, 4 kilometres instead of about 2. With all of those things in play, I paid 25 euros. To put this in perspective, on the way to the train station to leave, I paid 10 lei (about 3 Euros). I told the second driver about it and he was dismayed, at the end he joked, “So are you going to pay me 25 Euros?”, I said I’ll avoid it if I can and he said “Unfortunately I am not a scammer”. It was not a good start.

Hiking through the forest.

One of the main reasons people come to this part of the world is to see Bran castle. The castle is perched on a hill that overlooks the very small town of Bran. Bran is about 30 minutes by car from Brasov and most people stay there and take day trips out to the castles in the area. Due to the popularity of Bram Stoker’s Dracula, based on real guy Vlad the Impaler, people come here in droves. But, they have Bram to thank for the influx of tourists and purveyors of vampire related souvenirs as it’s possible Vlad never set foot in the place, let alone slept over. He was too busy impaling Turks on sticks to rest his head, I guess. I think the castle’s curators have realised this and much of the information inside is about the Royal Family of Romania who lived in the castle in the early parts of last century and the myths of Vampires. Unfortunately for me the castle was underwhelming. It was small, and although well maintained and decorated it was not as grand as one expects when visiting a castle. After seeing palaces like Versailles and the Hermitage, this place really doesn’t compare. It wasn’t bad, it just wasn’t great; but I’m glad I went. Plus, in a shocking turn of events, no one was wandering around dressed as a vampire and charging for photos. Opportunity lost. So no vampires here.

Bran Castle.

Back in Brasov there is stuff to do, but the pace is slow and quiet. This is not a bad thing. For me, it was so nice to be out of the city and to go somewhere that isn’t ‘go go go’ all of the time. On my first day I took a hike up the Tampa Mountain. Brasov sits at the bottom of it and the mountain is home to its version of the ‘Hollywood sign’. It takes about an hour to climb up and not only do you get amazing views for kilometres over Brasov and Transylvania, you can get much closer to this sign than the one in Hollywood. It was great and you’ll all be happy to know my fitness is no better than when I huffed and puffed my way up the mountain in Monterosso, Italy. Down at sea level there is a lovely old town with a vast square surrounded by beautiful, brightly coloured buildings to sit in and watch the world go by. Much of the beauty of the buildings on this street is because of the Saxon merchants who took over the city as a trade point between the Austro-Hungarian and Ottoman empires. The Saxons built city walls, created trade guilds, organised the education system, changed the Catholic Black Church into a Lutheran one and of course, kicked all the Romanians out beyond those freshly built walls. There is a church so large that it doesn’t fit within the frame of my camera. Inside the so called Black Church there is a large collection of Turkish rugs that were given as gifts from Ottomans to Saxon traders and a painting of The Virgin Mary that was destroyed by fire, except for her white skin, which remained untouched by the flames. There is also a citadel to visit, guard towers and a long pedestrian street lined with food, drink and shopping. Here, the Vampire theme continues with places named after Drac and more vampire souvineers. Again, no real vampires to speak of.

Sunset at the Citadel.

Speaking of food, I got to indulge my favourite past time, eating, while I was here. I ate from a bakery named Gigi most days. Here I could pick up a Covrigi, a bready snack much like a German Bretzel for 1 lei each (about 30 Australian cents). I ate Romanian paprika pork stew with polenta and drank the local beers. A few fellow travellers and I bought a watermelon from a Roma roadside store on the way back from Bran to Brasov. We picked the smallest one, it was still 6 kilos, but it was the best watermelon I have ever eaten. There is a farmer’s market that runs everyday right near the hostel, so this meant I was able to chuck in with other backpackers and self-cater many nights. We filled the BBQ with grilled meat and veg, ate the freshest fruit and it was delicious. Also at the Farmer’s market was two men selling 2 litres of wine from their farm for 10 lei (almost $4AU), so needless to say I had way to much of that too. Speaking of the backpackers, I have to say I think this was far and away the most social hostel I have stayed at so far. There was always someone to have a chat with. My favourite travellers from the US, Canada, The UK, Ireland, Denmark, Belgium and of course Australia (we are everywhere abroad) meant that sitting down in the kitchen or sharing a meal was just as fun as getting out into the town and sightseeing. After 4 months on the road I am not homesick, but I do miss my family and friends. I felt this hostel was a good remedy for that as I made fast friends with some really great people who were happy to come with me to the castle, to cook dinner, hike up mountains, walk around town and share a slice of watermelon. And we did finish all 6 kilos before I left. Of course, all this social interaction has to take place somewhere and unfortunately much of it happened at a dive bar/nightclub on the pedestrian street in Brasov. I am not a clubber by any means, but I do enjoy a bit of dance floor action. I just really didn’t like the fact that it was like the dark days of 2003 here and everyone smokes inside, As a non-smoker I hate this as by the end of the night my eyes sting and all my clothes stink. At various stages of the night sheets of toilet paper fell from the roof and covered the dance floor, which stuck to your shoes and made you look silly. Also, I struggled with the g-string clad dancers who were gyrating on stage and not only making me feel horrible but setting back the feminist cause 100s of years. Plus, they couldn’t dance, but I suppose they didn’t get the job for their dance training. Luckily the people I went with were so lovely that all this nonsense and cigarette smoke didn’t ruin the fun.

FOOOOOD!

I had time to relax and take stock in Brasov. Luckily for me I got to do it with great people who made me forget about the constant threat of vampires.

Bucharest: “never boring”.

Bucharest is contrasting, commercial, sprawling, overwhelming and trying desperately to be Paris.

B-dul Unirii.

When you’re travelling the main topic of conversation with those you meet is travel. In fact I have told people my travel story so many times I feel I need it tattooed on my face. In this time people feel it necessary to give their opinions on your destinations, usually in the form of hostels to stay at, land marks to visit and places to eat and drink. When discussing Romania’s capital city, Bucharest in these discourses with my fellow travellers the discussion was always the same: “Oh it’s sooooo dangerous there” and “You won’t have to stay long, it’s boring” were common catch-cries. After several of these discussions while stealing breakfast food to eat at lunch, I became quite apprehensive about my trip to Bucharest. Fortunately for me, I rarely trust other people’s negative opinions on destinations and I had to come and see the place for myself.

Contrasting styles.

Luckily there were 3 other people from the hostel heading to Bucharest so I had some company for the journey. So after I spent the last of my Bulgarian leva on delicious cheese filled pastries, we set off on the 6 hour journey. The train ride from Veliko Tarnovo was a long one because of the quality of the train and tracks, but it was a nice way to catch up on some sleep and reading. My first impressions of Bucharest were that is a large and intimidating city, bigger is better and the more grand a building is the more pleased they’ll be. In addition to this, it is such a strange mismatch of styles it is oddly beautiful. 19th century lodgings with wooden roofs stand next to ugly stucco concrete housing blocks covered in billboards and layers of grime. Close by is a gorgeous Parisian style 5 story hotels with spires and intricate detail. Next to this you will find an ultra modern glass office buildings that look like they belong in the most cutting edge city. Hiding behind all of them were tiny churches and monasteries painted in beautiful bright colours. I found myself captivated by the fact that I never knew what was around the corner. Well, actually, one thing is ever-present on the streets of Bucharest, commercialism. The old communist apartment blocks are now giant ads themselves (Oh the irony). Perched on top of or draped across the buildings are large adverts and billboards. Consumerism is in in Bucharest and the streets are lined with designer labels, the ‘old town’ is a mass of restaurants, bars and cafes and has nothing ‘old’ about it. I suppose that’s why they call it the ‘historical centre’ instead.

Billboards.

The mish-mash of styles are all attempts to be different things at different times. To be ‘Little Paris’, an independent communist state, the centre of the Roman empire, a powerful trade route off the silk road and now to be a modern capital. It doesn’t have the effortless elegance that its hero Paris does. It doesn’t have the vibrancy of other European night-life hotspots. But oh how it wants to be those things. Its gentrification is happening before my eyes. Bucharest is trying to be so many things, it left me wondering who the city actually is. The dissimilarities are so huge that it is the contrast that has become the trademark.

Parisian meets Communism.

Many of my wanderings around the city took me down the The B-dul Unirii. This boulevard is the Champs-Élysées of Bucharest and is deliberately 30 cms wider and 6m longer than the street it was designed after in Paris (way to show ’em, Bucharest!). The communist leader at the time even made the city’s river, Dambovita, run underground for his boulevard to be completed to his size and specifications. But this was just one of his strange decisions. At the end of the 3.2 kilometres of the B-dul Unirii is the second largest administrative building in the world (and you get the feeling if they knew how big the Pentagon was, it would be the biggest) Formerly named The People’s House, now, The Palace of the Parliament. The place is stunning to look at, it is so large, white and grand that it takes over the landscape. Speaking of white, it is definitely more that just white in colour, it is also a white elephant. 1000s of rooms remain unused and many areas around it like fences and roads are in a state of disrepair. I was told that in a vote to decide on Bucharest’s most beautiful and ugly buildings it topped both lists. Many locals hate the place because when it was built not only did the government knock down homes for it, the people starved to pay for the massive construction.

The People’s House.

I am really enjoying taking free walking tours in the cities and towns I am visiting and I must say the tour I did in Bucharest was the best one so far. It was led by a former anthropologist and current all-round funny dude. He explained to us much of the communist past and present day realities of living in Romania. He was by no means complimentary of the former regime and was open and honest about his dislike for the House of the People and the way churches were destroyed and moved during the period. He did all this with plenty of gags and knowledge to back it up. All was running smoothly on the tour when suddenly, out of nowhere, a women came up to the group. She was passionate and angry. She told us that life was better under communism; her main points were about education and worker’s rights and how they have been forgotten since the revolution in 1989. I have never seen that before, a local approaching tourists to enlighten them of the ‘truth’. Or her truth at least. I for one was glad to get two sides of the story as I don’t really understand what the people here feel about their past.

A monument to victims of the regime.

I spent a morning exploring Herastrau Park, which although not the best maintained park, was very relaxing. You can hire a bike for free and cruise around the park at your own pace. The area is a weird mix of recreation activities and sculptures that look like they belong at a local garden centre. Interestingly, one area of the park had an area dedicated to literature so there was busts of Shakespeare, Tolstoy and Hugo amongst others. No Romanian writers. The flowerbeds were filled with weeds, the pavement was cracked and the roses are floppy, but it was still nice to be there and escape the incessant traffic on the city’s streets.. Maybe I’ve been in Eastern Europe to long, but I am really finding beauty in the decay.

Herastrau.

Certainly, it seems my travelling companions were wrong. I have been fascinated by Bucharest’s attempts to be Western and recreate a little Paris. It is strange and in many ways quite endearing. As for danger, I’ve seen more unsavoury types on the streets of Madrid, Paris and Rome. There is no problem here. I have barely seen a beggar, which is more than I could say when I was in Western Europe. I tend to believe my guide and Bucharest local when he said to me “Bucharest is a lot of things, but it is certainly never boring”. I couldn’t have put it better myself.

Veliko Tarnovo: pretty as a picture.

Veliko Tarnovo is historic, colourful, picturesque, deceiving and my favourite Bulgarian city.

Veliko Tarnovo in the hillside.

After 2 weeks on the farm I have rejoined the travelling community. I travelled from the Black Sea and the town of Varna to the mountains of Veliko Tarnovo, or VT as it is affectionately known. I think this is easily my favourite destination in Bulgaria, it had much to keep my interest, like captivating street art, quiet streets, a renaissance old town, A medieval fortress, Bulgarian ice-cream and a UFO just an hour away.

Tsarvets Fortress.

After another bus ride of watching American films with Bulgarian subtitles on mute, I arrived in the hostel. Again I found a friendly environment to enjoy. There is always someone to have a chat with, share a meal with or go an adventure with; even if it is just to the ice cream stand. The draw of the town is the former palace and fortress Tsarvets, which sits on a hill above the town. In fact, hills and mountains are the main feature here and much of the city is built into the side of a mountain. On the street side some building appear to have 4 floors and as you walk down the hill you’ll find in fact there are 10 as the rest have been built into the side of the hill. But back to the fortress, the medieval palace is now some well-preserved ruins. When you enter you are greeted with the chance to wear medieval armour and have your photo. On top of the hill is a church, Patriarchal Cathedral of the Holy Ascension of God, which was one of the strangest churches I’ve been to on this trip, and believe me I’ve seen A LOT of churches on this trip. Painted only in black, white, grey and red, gaunt figures suffering under oppression and violence filled the wall, not the usual mosaics, gold and pictures of Madonna and child. It was quite creepy actually. The ruins themselves were interesting to explore, but it was the view back of the city perched on the hill that was the most amazing part of the ticket. It was stunning. The houses built into the hill, the river flowing below and the houses in the valley all looked amazing.

The strange art of The Patriarchal Cathedral of the Holy Ascension of God

The rest of the town is an interesting mix of old and older. Again, the concrete is abundant, as it is for all of the former communist states of the Balkans, but there are also old buildings from the renaissance to the mid 1800s lining the cobblestone streets too. Of course, many of these buildings have fallen into disrepair and in the grand tradition of Bulgaria there was lots of potholes on the pavement. But there is something infinitely more charming here than in Sofia and Varna. Monuments to Bulgarian heroes who fought the occupying Ottomans take up the whole side of a building and are complimented by beautiful street art. Interestingly there was very little in way of tags, but there was a lot of gorgeous faces, political comments and colours adorning the walls, bins and pavement around the city bringing colour and interest to many a flat surface. The terracotta roofs sticking out of the side of the hills down to the river and an amazing monument that is lit up at night add to the atmosphere. It is just great to look at.

Street art.

I took a free walking tour around the city to learn more about its life as the former capital. We had a funny, young guide with some jive talk – when describing interactions between the occupying Ottomans and the Bulgarians trying to start a revolution he’d come up with things like “he said, hey dude! Whatchya doin’ with this army?” Which was quite charming, until he started being just a little bit racist. It was at that point I tuned out. Just like his compatriot at the border, the young man had deep prejudices against ‘Turks and Gypsies’ and wasn’t afraid to tell the rest of us all about why. I know there is a lot of history here, but I would hope the younger generations are more open to tolerance. Disappointingly, it seems I was wrong.

There are lots of stray cats around VT.

During my stay I was lucky enough to take a day trip about an hour and a half away from Veliko Tarnovo to the infamous Budzludzha monument. Heading with 2 car loads of backpackers from Austria, Poland, Norway, Sweden, Switzerland and, of course, Australia, we headed off in 2 hire cars through the countryside and avoided the pot holes all the way to the mountains. Standing on top of the mountain peak of the same name, the monument was built by the Bulgarian Communist regime to commemorate the formation of the party in the mid 80s. It was once a grand hall filled with mosaics and artworks. After the fall of communism the Bulgarian government ignored the monument and after being raided by looters, it has fallen into a state of disrepair. Now abandoned, it has become an amazing sight. It was only built in 1981, but the place is falling apart so badly it looks as if the roof or the floor (or probably both) will fall in very soon. The receptionist at the hostel tells us the people of Bulgaria hate it and what it stands for, however he didn’t live here during that era, so to him it is an interesting look back at the past and a pretty awesome abandoned building too. I agree with him. It is a shame that it has fallen into the state it has, but I did not live through an oppression (or even understand what it is like to be oppressed) like some Bulgarians do. Their ‘let it rot’ attitude is understandable, but a shame considering how interesting and different this monument is. At the foot of the mountain there are 2 giant hands holding torched with flames flicking towards the sky. Beyond that interesting image is the monument itself, a UFO shaped egg with huge windows and a giant tower sporting the infamous red star. It is hard for me to fully express how much this sight took my breath away. I’ve truly never seen anything like it. As we climbed the mountain it became even more impressive, but also the disrepair became evident. The monument is enormous, glorious and concrete. I actually feel like I can’t do it justice in a description or photo. But I’ll try.

Budzludzha.

I was hoping not to walk away with regrets from this trip, but unfortunately, I have one. As the building is in such a state of disrepair the main entrance has been shut. Please note I said ‘main entrance’, Budzludzha enthusiasts have made a new entrance, a small hole in the wall where you can pull yourself up and over a massive drop down below to enter the main hall. I couldn’t lift myself into the building so I missed the inside with it’s collapsing roof and detailed mosaics. I was also to embarrassed to ask for help to get in so I went an sat outside on the mountain top with the wild horses (Yes, wild horses) who live at the sight. This has taught me a very valuable lesson, never be afraid to ask for a boost; and I never will again.

Budzludzha.

On the way back from the monument we drove through the vast sunflower fields and blink-and-you’ll-miss-it villages. We stopped at a beautiful swimming hole where young Bulgarian men showed off by jumping off a small cliff into the water. Here there were a number of small waterfalls and rock pools where locals sat, sunbathed and swam. It was a great spot with lots of wildlife like snakes, frogs and a butterflies. I sat with my feet dipped in the water and watched it all go on around me, including a snake swim by (!) I think it was then I moved to a different spot to dip in my feet.

The swimming hole.

There was so much to do in and around Veliko Tarnovo that I was never short of things to do. There was always new ice cream flavours to try from ‘Raffy’ the ice cream stand whose owners will be able to send their children to university with my contributions to their coffers. There was mountains, lakes, rivers and fields filled with wild flowers. There was gorgeous old buildings, monuments and street art. Something for everyone. Not a bustling city, close to nature but with tonnes of history to sink your teeth in to. This place was most definitely a favourite of mine.

WWOOFing: Konstantinovo, Bulgaria.

The wide open spaces of Green Bird Farm.

For those of you who have read my ‘about me’ page or spoken to me about what I want to do this year, the common theme for my year is to ‘try new things’. That is what this portion of my adventure is all about. 2 weeks of working on a farm in rural Bulgaria is not something I would ever do. In fact, if you told me this is where I’d be 12 months ago I’d probably have laughed at you. I have a friend to thank for introducing me to the program and putting the idea in my head to get out here and try. Those of you who know me would probably have a bit of a giggle at the prospect of me getting my pasty skin outdoors, lifting things and being ‘outdoorsy’. But that is exactly what I have done here. However, if you’re looking for a ‘WWOOFing changed my life’ post, I suggest you look elsewhere. I am and possibly will always be a city girl, but that’s not to say I didn’t take a big, deep breath of all that country air during my 2 week stay on a farm in Konstantinovo, a village 15 minutes from the seaside town of Varna  (check out my visit to Varna after the jump) in Bulgaria. I learned a lot about what goes into running a farm and also, a little bit about what I am capable of too.

Ostrich and village.

Firstly, for the uninitiated, WWOOFing stands for Willing Workers on Organic Farms; which has then been turned into a verb. The exchange is simple, you give your time and in return you are given food and a place to rest your head. You can begin WWOOFing by joining an association, either the international WWOOF association, or like I did, a regional network. WWOOFing worked for me because it gave me several things: time away from ‘travel’; a chance to save a little bit of money; a place to spend a couple of weeks while waiting out my 180 Schengen days and the opportunity to do something I would never do in the ‘real’ world. My first placement gave me all this and more.  I began contacting farms while I was in Latvia about a fortnight before I hoped to arrive in Bulgaria. The only problem was, most of them didn’t bother to get back to me. Luckily, I did get a reply from a couple of farms, but one ceased communication right before we confirmed my place, the other, is the one from which I type this entry, so it worked out well. I would have thought people would have been very keen to reply, but it seems that it is not that simple. My willing work was for an ostrich farm. Yes, an ostrich farm. But it’s not as outrageous as it sounds. ‘Green Bird Farm’ is run by a young English family who have been working the land here and raising ostriches for a range of purposes for 5 years. Also on the farm love their 3 dogs, 2 cats, 2 rabbits, a set of ducklings, chickens, 2 miniature ponies and a range of colourful birds in a aviary. They also employ 2 locals. The two men are like night and day: one is a quiet reserved type who is methodical in his work. He is quiet, gentle and cares about his work deeply. The other is a man in his 60s who is the fittest guy I’ve ever seen. He is as strong as an ox and like a bull at a gate (and many other bovine analogies). He taught me a few Bulgarian phrases and when he says hello it sounds like he is singing it to you. They usually take volunteers two at a time and we hang around for a few weeks minimum. In my time here I worked with a pair of Ex-pats (French and British) who had come up for the weekend from another village in Bulgaria and a lovely young French guy at the beginning of a big adventure across Europe, or ‘Europa’ as he calls it. Ha! Those French are so fancy.

Sunset.

My work wasn’t all ostriches, I also worked in the garden, clearing weeds and unwanted plants, I painted a chicken house and rabbit hutch, I varnished wooden furniture, I cooked, I cleaned, I sanded away chipped paint, I looked after miniature ponies, vacuum packed meat, washed and brushed the pets, cleaned and packed eggs and I played a seemingly endless game of fetch with one of the family dogs. But it was the ostriches that were my favourite. I gave the adults water and fed them and collected their eggs every night before they have the chance peck them and eat them (!). I helped hatch babies, hand fed newborns, played with the little ones and of course fed and watered them too. I named them silly names, I spoke to them as if they could understand me and I pretty much morphed into a crazy ostrich lady. I felt connected to the place very quickly because of the warmth of my hosts but I think being given so much responsibility was a great thing. It meant I really care about what goes on here.

Oscar says “Fetch forever!”

Konstantinovo the village is a quaint and small town. As expected there are huge potholes to be avoided on the road, there is also old burned out cars and disused tractors lining the streets. People walk on the road because there is no footpath. There are only a few small shops. The school raises both the EU and Bulgarian flag, yet the concrete basketball court is more cracks and gaping holes than pristine playing surface. My host says “In Bulgaria it is easier to ask forgiveness than permission”, and that is evidenced in the town where people use space for whatever they please, be it raise goats or store old military vehicles amongst other things. The farm is on a hill on the outskirts of Konstantinovo, so after the working day is done and dinner is eaten there is not a lot to do. I loved this. It was so nice to relax. I had a lot of time to think, I read book one of a Song of Ice and Fire in 3 days, I wrote, I slept, I thought about the people I am missing, thought about people who I haven’t thought about in a long time, got horrible, random songs I haven’t thought about in years stuck in my head (‘Butterfly’ by Crazy Town, anyone? How about ‘How Bizzare’?) and I took a break. It was so refreshing.

Konstantinovo.

That’s not to say I didn’t work really hard. I have never pushed myself physically like I did while I worked here. As I swung my gardening ho, as I lifted hundreds of bags of Ostrich food and as I baked in the Bulgarian sun I couldn’t help but think I did much better than I would have ever expected myself to. And I have actual blisters on my palms. Maybe that’s what I can impress upon people who are reading this – I am really proud of myself. I’m not rushing to quit my job and live off the land when I return to Australia, but I am really happy I tried it.

Baby ostriches, fresh out of the egg.

So my first foray into WWOOFing was a success and a really worthwhile way to spend my time.

Day tripping: Varna

Varna Beach.

After days wishing all I could do was jump in the water to escape the heat, I finally got my wish in the form of a day off from my farm work and a trip to the beach. Just 15 minutes drive from the farm where I have been WWOOFing is the sea side town of Varna. Set against the black sea, the town is an interesting mixture of development, tourism and poverty. I don’t think I have experienced culture shock at any point of this trip, but there was something so different about this day at the beach that it actually left me with a lot to think and write about!

Cobu.

Arriving at the beach, there is no moment when you see where the water hits the sand, instead you are faced with high concrete walls. The development on Varna’s main beach is so plentiful that you have to walk through a ‘beach bar’ or restaurant to find your patch of sand. I found this really strange. In Australia, we wouldn’t dare touch our beaches and bars, eateries and even our surf clubs would only exist on the grass off the sand. In Varna it is a different story. The beach bar we sat in front of called ‘Cobu’ took up so much space with it’s wicker furniture, large market umbrellas and folding chairs that there was only a couple of metres of bare sand to actually enjoy before the water. The story was the same as you looked along the headland. Bars, umbrellas and masses of people all the way along. Locals and holiday makers from all over Europe come to Varna to lay on the sand and frolic in the turquoise (or close enough) waters of the Black Sea and with them comes the money that Bulgaria so needs. It makes sense that they would use this asset to their advantage. Unfortunately, for me, who loves that natural state of beaches, it felt kitsch and over the top.

The packed beach.

Speaking of those holiday makers, to say the people watching opportunities were endless would be a gross understatement on my part. People of all ages, shapes, sizes and states of undress frequented the area around the little patch of sand where I set up shop for the few hours I can be in the sun without getting burnt. No rash vests, hats and floaties for the little ones, if you were under 10 you were swimming in the nude. Many older men were so tanned and glistening that they looked like they had just been dipped in gravy. All the girls seemed to have the exact same style of bathers: strapless bandeau bikinis. Seriously, the only difference in them was the colour. I felt like quite the prude in my sensible one piece, and I drew more than a couple of odd looks from some women on the beach. Many of whom were wearing exactly the same bathers as their friends. I guess they didn’t realise bathers came in a different style! It reminded me of when I was in Brazil and a perplexed group of locals asked “why is there so much material in your swimsuit?”, I guess it’s the same here. If you’ve got it, flaunt it and even if you don’t, have a crack anyway. Sadly, through a number of factors with self image (though probably no more than most) I really lack this body confidence that seems to come so easily to our European and South American friends. When I think about my female friends, I think many of them feel the same way about themselves. Little niggles, parts of their bodies they hate and just a general feeling of dislike towards your body are commonplace where I am from. The build up to go to the beach and be in bathers in front of actual people is a daunting prospect for many women. But why? Women double my size were getting around in bathers that had about a quarter of the material of mine with limitless confidence. This made me think – what are they teaching these Bulgarian girls about loving themselves that we are not getting over on my side of the world? Why are Europeans so happy to get their gear off to achieve the ‘all over tan’ I saw many people attempting? I don’t think I have the answers to these questions, but it really made me think. Hopefully some of that confidence will rub off on me and I’ll get the opportunity to really embarrass my friends in a string bikini on our next trip down the coast. But probably not, I do love my one piece.

Varna Beach.

Away from the beach Varna is very contrasting. The main street that leads to the beach is a wide pedestrian avenue with stores, eateries and food carts. This is obviously a place for tourists. It didn’t really look like Bulgaria. It was to gentrified and clean. Walk a street over and you’ll find hordes of labourers working feverishly paving the ground to achieve the same look as they have on that pedestrian avenue. Walk over another one and it will begin to look more like Bulgaria again; you’ll find those same potholes, cracked pavement, dilapidated apartment blocks and stray dogs. So, while the beautiful people tan themselves by the Black Sea and while I buy another Snickers ice-cream from the ice-cream cart, just a few streets away is the reality of the town. Walking away from the crowd has become my favourite past time on this trip. Sure, it means I get lost a lot, but I feel like it helps me understand a town or city better.

Downtown Varna.

So far across Bulgaria, I have found the people kind and helpful. Directions, helping me with my bag and even little kids are charming me at the bus stop have been commonplace. I have found the people here to be nothing but lovely. In Varna, however, I came across my first piece of rudeness. 2 people decided we were sitting too close to them on the beach and told us to move away from them. Even though we were sitting under one of the bar’s beach umbrellas to protect the small child we had taken to the beach from the sun while she played in the sand and they were sitting out in the open next to the umbrella. It was very strange. There has been so little in way of jerk-ish behaviour so far on my trip I was quite affronted. Well, I suppose you get them everywhere.

In Varna there is a beautiful old Cathedral, market stalls on the street and some interesting monuments in the parks and gardens. But that is not why the tourists flood the town. This is certainly a beach town, so unless you want to achieve that all over tan there isn’t much to do away from the sand. But believe me, down there it’s very interesting.