A cold schlep north

Here is the story of the past two days.

It began with a 7 a.m. departure Wednesday, Sept. 21. The party included my counterpart Rosie, geography teacher Naska, history teacher Tanya, Tanya's twin 12-year-old boys, the driver Ivan and myself.

The weather threatened to be cold and rainy for the whole of the excursion, but at the moment it was just a moody dawn. As soon as we began our climb up the first ridge of the Balkan Mountains at Hain Boaz (the Turkish word for The Pass of the Hans) however, the moodiness began to work against us. We stopped briefly at a river called "Stinky River" vue to the sulfur in the water. It is so sulfuric, in fact, that one can light it on fire...And we did.

That task completed, we headed on towards the Kilifarevski Monastary. It was lovely, old...Once we had exhausted the views there we went to Arabanassi, a small historically-preserved village near Veliko Turnovo. There the rain was heavier in addition to busloads of German tourists, but the Nativty Church in town was one of the most intricately-painted chapels I have ever seen...There were literally thousands of paintings all over the walls. When we'd had our fill (of the German tourists, not the paintings), it was on to Veliko Turnovo itself.

The first order of business there was to pick up an inflatable mattress I was inheriting from a COSd PCV. Her boyfriend had kept the thing, and it was from him I purchased it. Once it was procured (a transaction that took all of 5 minutes and left me 20 leva poorer) Rosie, Tanya and I headed up to Tsarevets, the ancient fortress in town.

I am in no humor to try to describe to you how beautiful and interesting Veliko Turnovo is...Just go see it for yourself. I will be curious to see it in the sunshine, as it was so cool and atmospheric in the gloom.

But we had places to go...After a few hours in town, we boarded the bus and made our way to the Dryanovski Monastary. Again, beautiful, old, and surrounded by massive stone crags.

Back in the bus, off to Pleven. Search for hotel. Sleep...or try to sleep. Беше ми много студено. Wake up next morning. Coffee in the hotel. And out in the cold rain once again.

Pleven is a very important historical town not just for Bulgaria but for the word, though not many know it. It was here that the unraveling of the Ottoman Empire became fatal after a 3-month seige that pitted against the invading Bulgarian/Russian/Romanian army tried to caputre the town from the resident Turks. As such a town, there are many, many, many monuments to the war fallen. The most impressive of them was our last stop in Pleven -- the Panorama. It is, in essence, a painting, but it is so much more...I think they said 60 meters around, 15 meters high, a perfect circle with a real 3D simulation extending out the bottom towards the railing behind which gawkers stand. Again, something you just have to see.

After our look it was on to what I call "30 Minutes in Lovech," (I will have to go visit the PCV there later...) then some time at the Troyan Monastery (the third-largest in the country) and a small amount of time at some folk art exhibit nearby. Back on the bus...This time south towards Etura...an "Open Air Ethnographic Museum."

Oh, the profound cold, damp air there. I was put in mind of Scotland on a cold day in November. Profound gloom. Profound gray. The redeeming factor, however, was the warmth from the artisan shops that make up the replica 19th-century village. The stipulation for artisans to have shops there is that they must make traditional crafts in traditional manners with traditional tools. I bought a mug...My splurge for the trip (a wapping $4!). Once back in the shelter of the bus, it was on to our final destination: the Shipka Pass.

The Shipka Pass' history is linked to (and therefore just as important as) Pleven. While the seige was going on in Pleven, it was the small band of farmers from the town of Shipka who were driving back the 10,000-strong Ottoman reinforcements. It is rumored that when the farmers, who were camped in the pass, ran out of bullets, they began to throw and shoot rocks, clothing and even farm animals at the invaders. They held the pass, and because they did, reinforcements never reached Pleven and the Turks there were forced to surrender.

I was excited to see this pass...Up the mountain we climbed, up and up. It was a winding, narrow road. And as we climbed furthur and furthur, the 30-year-old microbus lurching inch by inch, a profound fog set in. By the time we reached the summit, we could not see the hood of the car. The pass, a sign read, was closed.

(I was not too dissappointed, however, as I was assured I could accompany the first graders when they make their pilgrimage there this spring...)

So, we descended. We drove out of the cloud and soon found ourselves on a ridge facing the Valley of Roses with Sredna Gora in the distance (another, smaller mountain range). Below the storm the sky was blue over the plain, and very windy. We decended into the town of Shipka and found our way to the Russian Memorial Church, another thing of beauty I will not attempt to describe. (see below photo).

And that was that. We went home. I'm sorry for being abrupt, but I have an early train to catch tomorrow and I want some shut-eye. Ciao.