A Jar of Soviet Jam – A Report from a Trip to Bulgaria

This time it’s the same… but a little different. We get pumped up a few months before the May Day holiday, we plan, arrange and exercise to prepare ourselves mentally, physically and choose our fellow travellers appropriately. There are many obstacles along the way that must be overcome before the trip itself. It’s a test, I keep telling myself. If you pass, you’ll pass. We passed, but three other teams unfortunately didn’t. There were supposed to be five of us, but only two showed up.

Two families, two plus two. Others encountered their demons in Poland, and Karol unfortunately in Serbia on the way to. Engine failure, despite a few days of fighting with local mechanics, ended in capitulation. Too bad. I am probably luckier than Karol, because this year I managed to visit Bulgaria twice. The first time I felt a great dissatisfaction and wanted to return there quickly. The second time, on the way to and from Turkey, I had the honor of tasting this well-preserved, sweet, post-Soviet jam again. I had never been to Bulgaria before and in fact I convinced everyone to go, guided by the conviction that „nobody goes there” and that it is beautiful there. I based my convictions strongly on a visit to Serbia, and in particular Stara Planina, which continues through Bulgaria just beyond the border of Serbia. It enchanted me the first time and I am still trying to recreate the emotions that I remember like today. Apart from the magnificent views, wild animals and total peace around me, I felt like a small grain of sand, somewhere thrown in a clearing covered with crocuses. I was not far off. We did our homework, packed our bags and it turned out great. Almost

A good start

 We meet Mariusz in Buda. My favorite part of Budapest. We met Mariusz in Jordan, an intelligent, cheerful and equally crazy guy like me, walking around in pajamas. In Buda we are right outside the old town. We block the entire hotel parking lot with our big cars and without delay we set off on a wandering trip to the opera and back. Tasting good Hungarian wine and magnificent architectural buildings brimming with dignity. The sunset over the Danube adds zest to the whole thing. We are fulfilled. It is time to go in the morning, after all we have to pick up the other half of our families at the airport in Belgrade. On the way we pass the infamous Hungarian-Serbian border crossings, which thanks to Mariusz’s cleverness turned out to be a 15-minute stopover. Time flies, the level of silliness and listening to old hits from the 90s make our journey more pleasant. We replenish supplies and equip ourselves with warm clothes. Yes, the weather will not be in our favor. It will be cold in the mountains, it will rain and drizzle constantly. But now it is warm, we wear short sleeves and do not worry about „what will happen”. Because it will be fine. From Belgrade, with all our people, late at night, we reach the meeting point in Bulgaria in Starite Borove. Tired from the road, we quickly pack into the beds of the guesthouse. It is only in the morning that we discover the beauty of this wonderful place and its owners. Unfortunately, after a simple, hearty and tasty breakfast we quickly have to fly on. We are already in Bulgaria and it is time to start discovering it.

Wine and cave or cave and wine

We start with the Magura caves, because the Magura winery was closed. At least that’s what the red-nosed gatekeeper said about the breath of sour Cabernet. Waiting for the local cave guide, dressed in a tracksuit with three stripes and an earring in his left ear, Mariusz and I are still more interested in the wine we buy in the shop in the parking lot. Good, because it was a very good wine, which later saved us from moral annihilation in the cold and windy mountains. The caves were also cool. Old and large abysses underground, in a limestone massif, which, by the way, gave our drink this wonderful bouquet. We go along the trail in single file and admire the stalagmites and stalactites with an occasional drip of water on our foreheads. Sometimes the tracksuit guy shouts something at us, probably not to take pictures. So we take more pictures to immortalize the moment. We are heading to Belogradchik, a name I still can’t get my head around and every time I mispronounce it, which annoys even me a lot. Belo, Belo, Bolo…gardchik? Before we visit the spectacular rocks and the fortified castle built into them, we head for a wonderful meal in a nearby restaurant. We try local Bulgarian and Serbian delicacies. The leftovers from the large portions end up in car refrigerators, which we later treat to as good snacks at quick stops. We hurry to the fort located on an amazing rock formation. The view is breathtaking, especially since the weather is nice for now and we have full sun. We climb up long stairs to reach the top of the fortress and at the same time walk along the rock shelves that form one whole. In addition, a thick defensive wall surrounding the front part of the fortress. On the other side, a precipice. It won’t be so easy further. We leave civilization. We are breaking through an overgrown trail that probably hasn’t been ridden for a good few years. It is completely overgrown, we can only see leaves and branches. We hear shuffling, scraping and squeaking. I am used to it, but I don’t know if Mario in the G-class is equally indifferent. He nods yes, but I know he is lying. His Bulgarian features will stay with him like the stripes on a cave guide’s tracksuit. After an hour of riding, we were both not so happy anymore. The route is very technical with numerous river crossings, tight passages and a torn road here and there. There was still no end in sight, the sun was slowly fading, the saw had already thrown the chain several times. We were sweaty, pricked from the undergrowth and cleaning the trail. With the last of our strength we reached the clearing where we spent the night. Wild horses and a beautiful sunset greeted us. It was a beautiful, full and long day. Nevertheless, the prospect of returning the same route the next day quickly mobilized me to look for an alternative. Apart from finding a wide and easy descent from the clearing to the valley; we also find a much better campsite three hundred meters higher. Oh well, next time. During the day we head towards the Ogosta reservoir where we have lunch.Then we head towards the peak of Kom through the town of Berkovitsa.

Jam. Yum.

 On the way we observe small Bulgarian deserted villages and towns. We are still far from drawing final conclusions, but one thing is certain, that the population of Bulgaria is small and aging. As are the buildings and infrastructure. Parade grounds with marble slabs, large roughly hewn monuments, cannons and guns, and Soviet „slogans” calling for a „common goal” through work and sacrifice decorate many villages and towns. Often we also see wide roads divided into separate arteries leading nowhere. Sometimes we see administrative buildings of state-owned enterprises, sometimes they may have been schools or something else.

Most of it is empty and abandoned. We find shops that sell bread, butter, beer and ice cream. There is also a saleswoman and of course at least a couple of beer connoisseurs outside. We don’t see any children, we don’t see many people in their prime. It all looks like someone left it all many years ago, for later. They pressed the pause button on the remote control. Big cities are different of course, we already have kitschy modernity and „coca-cola”. We bypass it skillfully and enjoy the sweetness of grandma’s Soviet jam. Yum.

Mountains here, mountains there

Okay, we’re going up Kom. One of the higher peaks with beautiful views and the immediate vicinity or on Stara Planina. Everyone is sleeping in their cars. As always, they synchronously decide to drop out at the same time. Mario and I are silent on the radio, because they are also sleeping there. It’s rocking quite hard, then there are precipices, scattered rocks on the route and snow. We deftly make our way through all the obstacles. At the top it almost rips our heads off our bodies. The wind is merciless, a few moments ago we were in short sleeves, now we are in jackets and hats. May Day. We are looking for shelter for the night, a little lower down, among large hundred-year-old oaks. Mariusz even tries to ram one of them but unfortunately he did not win this fight. We collect a lot of wood for the fire, which does not warm us up very well. We are glad that we have a parking heater, which of course stops working. This is another expedition where this Eberspecher crap does not work. I howl with anger silently, inside myself. The water heater is on, but no one dares to take a bath in this weather. Our beloved Offlander tent is also on. We have plenty of space for four of us, and the hard shell can withstand anything it encounters on the road. And it encounters a lot of inconveniences. In the morning, we are greeted by thick fog, we quickly pack up and set off. Rain or drizzle joins the fog, it’s hard to tell. Visibility is minimal. I’m crying inside, because my beloved Stara Planina is invisible. We reach the top of the pass somehow from the side of Petrochanka, we meet first the border guard and then the park guards and we nod that under no circumstances will we ride on the forbidden paths. We continue, like fog through the mountain pastures. The grass and rocks are slippery, but we ride at an even pace, avoiding difficult muddy climbs. Today none of us feels like fighting. The weather is starting to let up and sometimes we see a bit of grassy grey abyss to the left or right. I help myself with my imagination and it is beautiful. We go down to the valley and eat at a restaurant above the Lakatnika waterfalls. We decide to spend the night in Vratsa because it is pouring again. The accommodation base in Bulgaria, in this region and period, is very small. We do not complain or grumble, we are happy with the roof over our heads in a charming guesthouse and quickly decide to talk over wine and the laughter of children rummaging in their rooms.

Mountains here, mountains there

Okay, we’re going up Kom. One of the higher peaks with beautiful views and the immediate vicinity or on Stara Planina. Everyone is sleeping in their cars. As always, they synchronously decide to drop out at the same time. Mario and I are silent on the radio, because they are also sleeping there. It’s rocking quite hard, then there are precipices, scattered rocks on the route and snow. We deftly make our way through all the obstacles. At the top it almost rips our heads off our bodies. The wind is merciless, a few moments ago we were in short sleeves, now we are in jackets and hats. May Day. We are looking for shelter for the night, a little lower down, among large hundred-year-old oaks. Mariusz even tries to ram one of them but unfortunately he did not win this fight. We collect a lot of wood for the fire, which does not warm us up very well. We are glad that we have a parking heater, which of course stops working. This is another expedition where this Eberspecher crap does not work. I howl with anger silently, inside myself. The water heater is on, but no one dares to take a bath in this weather. Our beloved Offlander tent is also on. We have plenty of space for four of us, and the hard shell can withstand anything it encounters on the road. And it encounters a lot of inconveniences. In the morning, we are greeted by thick fog, we quickly pack up and set off. Rain or drizzle joins the fog, it’s hard to tell. Visibility is minimal. I’m crying inside, because my beloved Stara Planina is invisible. We reach the top of the pass somehow from the side of Petrochanka, we meet first the border guard and then the park guards and we nod that under no circumstances will we ride on the forbidden paths. We continue, like fog through the mountain pastures. The grass and rocks are slippery, but we ride at an even pace, avoiding difficult muddy climbs. Today none of us feels like fighting. The weather is starting to let up and sometimes we see a bit of grassy grey abyss to the left or right. I help myself with my imagination and it is beautiful. We go down to the valley and eat at a restaurant above the Lakatnika waterfalls. We decide to spend the night in Vratsa because it is pouring again. The accommodation base in Bulgaria, in this region and period, is very small. We do not complain or grumble, we are happy with the roof over our heads in a charming guesthouse and quickly decide to talk over wine and the laughter of children rummaging in their rooms.

Yum.

We walk around and decide that today, no matter what happens, we will sleep in the campsite. In fact, this will be our last campsite together, tomorrow we will drive our families to the airport in Sofia. This decision was made earlier while chewing cutlets. We arrive at the campsite just before sunset. We set up camp on a hill not far from the town. The view is excellent, as is the location. In the evening, we serve ourselves a large and warm bonfire. We teach ourselves and the children how to recognize different animal poop. There is a lot of it everywhere. Flat cow poop, round horse poop, goat balls. We are visited at night by the perpetrators of the pancakes. A herd of wild cows comes within a few meters of the campfire, in total darkness. Bulgarian cows are great. In the morning I get up to take a few photos, to restart the “Eberszajs” parking heater that has been stalling. I go out and freeze in place. Wild horses are right next to us. What a beautiful ending. Not really. Of course. End of the beginning It starts to rain, we slide down the mountain peak in mud for most of the morning. It rains constantly, good thing we managed to pack up the camp in time. We experience one of the steepest descents on the entire trip. Sharp rocks help to gain traction between muddy sections and rustling bushes. A morning „coffee instead”, eyes wide open. Ewa is already sighing. We reach a closed bridge. But what now? Back up? We reach Sofia and after a quick goodbye to our families in front of the airport, we sit down with Mariusz for a meeting. Which way is best to go? We decide to return through the Petrohan Pass, but this time on asphalt. In the evening, with the last of our strength, we land in the only free room in the only hotel in Balo…Belo. Belogradchik. The rocks covered in heavy clouds look completely different. Prettier and more majestic. We return to the same restaurant, it is also shrouded in a cloud of cigarettes. We both nod with headaches, the ban on smoking in public places is a good idea. At night we do not snore in sync, because neither of us snores, especially after 12 hours on the road. The weather is excellent, we climb the nearby hills. We pass a few places we had missed earlier, after crossing the border with Serbia we turn into a „shortcut”. I have driven a few routes in Serbia, we will only jump here and there. After two hundred and forty kilometers, one hundred and thirty of which off-road, we have literally had enough. That day we drove through forests, a million puddles, a tunnel, muddy off-roads, rocky and grassy off-roads. Fields and forests. We saw waterfalls, a strange monument in the shape of an anus and a quarry. It was great until I smashed the rear bumper. Mario must have overheated the power steering pump. It did not stop us from having a great camping trip at the end of the world. The remains of Bulgarian wine and a campfire soothed us after this long day. Then only asphalt. We say goodbye to Budapest. See you soon.

A few months later

I have the honor of visiting Bulgaria again, this time I am traveling alone with my children to Turkey. Hence the name Bulgaristan, which we see on the return. I will leave what happened during this trip for a separate story. Nevertheless, we spent a few days in Bulgaria on the way there and especially back. Visiting the Buzludzha Monument, which I longed for, and fulfilling my dreams from the May trip. Yes, it is as wonderful as I thought. Situated on a hill at about 1400 meters, it resembles the Katowice Spodek of smaller dimensions with a high column. The view of the surroundings from every side. The kitsch and functional senselessness of this building are incredible. Once, the ideological thought and seriousness of the construction of this building, in the name of the party, was blatantly important. We continue climbing the peaks of this mountain range towards Romania. Later, we admire this building once again from a distance, in perfect alignment with the Freedom Monument on the Stoletov peak. We take the last photos and head to meet the bears.