The Bosfor Express

Inside the Bosfor Express

The once daily, overnight Bosfor Express is our only way out of Bulgaria into Turkey by train. The alternative, by bus, Elena tells us, may well be quicker, but the quality of roads in Bulgaria, the age of the buses often used, and the tendency for buses to be cancelled without warning, means that we need to get the train to be sure of getting there before I have to fly home!

Hostel Mostel’s Todd

As there’s only one train a day, we check the time and price straight away, and decide it’d probably be a good idea to buy our tickets as soon as possible so we don’t miss our connection. Todd at the hostel shows us on the map where the international ticket office is in Veliko, but when we get there we are told by the Tourist Information next door, that it’s closed till the end of the week and we have 2 options – first is to take a bus to the next town, Gorna Oryahovitsa, which takes 40 minutes, find the international ticket office at the railway station there, buy our tickets, and come back on the bus. Or, we can get a Bulgarian ticket to the border, get off the train (although she’s not sure how long it stops there), and go to the ticket office there to get the rest of our ticket into Turkey. Not an option that fills us with confidence, especially as it’s a sleeper and we know the border crossing happens around 1am, so we opt for a trip out to Gorna – at least we get to see a bit more of Bulgaria.

On the minibus

We set out to find the right bus, manage to flag it down and we ask for Gorna Oryahovitsa. We’re waved brusquely onto the bus, which is seems to be a minicoach from about 1981, and a conductor sells us a ticket. The journey to Gorna is uneventful, but the day is sunny and we get to see the Balkans surrounding Veliko fade back into the flatter area around Gorna, as well as see the rustic old buildings of Veliko disappear to be replaced by the more small-town urbanness of Gorna.

Bus stop back to Veliko

We’re not sure where to get off the bus though so as it looks like we’re on our way out of Gorna again we try and get off – but suddenly realise there’s no bell to ring and neither the conductor nor driver speak English! Fortunately standing up and moving towards the door seemed to work as I shoved Dave out of his seat, and we made the short walk back into town, and managed somehow, despite the ticket lady speaking no English either, to get approximately the right tickets for our last train journey, taking us towards the other end of Europe.

That’s a sink there. Yup really, bottom left. The thing that looks like a table.

When we get on the train, it turns out our sleeper carriage was booked as a couchette cabin (for 6 people) when we had requested a private 2-person berth so we could get some sleep. To be honest I think this was probably down to me nodding and shaking my head too eagerly in the wrong places at the ticket lady, but for €15 each we were allowed to upgrade, and we were let into a dark wood-veneered (but I suspect still not hugely expensive) and brass-painted cabin, with a fold-down sink, carpeted ladder to the top bunk, and small mirrored cupboard! I feel very Agatha Christie, and we settle down and wait for our 1am customs call at the Turkish border…

To Turkey!

…which keeps us on tenterhooks all night. We don’t know exactly when we’ll be reaching the border, all we’ve been told is maybe 1 or 2am. We think we’ll need to get off the train to get our Turkish entry visa but we don’t know the rest of the procedure, or when or where to go so we decide not to sleep until we’re in Turkey so we know we don’t miss anything. Midnight comes and goes with the train standing in a Bulgarian station (no station signs remember!) for a whole hour – all we know is it’s not the border. We think.

1 am and 2 am also come and go, but finally at just before 2.30, Bulgarian passport control get on the train, and we’re told that in 35 minutes we’ll be in Edirne, the Turkish border town, where we’ll need to get off and get our visa, show our passports, and have our bags prodded by Turkish customs. It’s a big relief to see the friendly train guard come and tell us to get off the train, and to get constant knocks on our door from Turkish border guards coming to check our things, because now we know we’ve not missed anything, there won’t be any more things to think about, and we’re safely in Turkey. Even if it is 3.30am and completely dark outside when we set off from Edirne to our final destination – Istanbul.

Days since leaving the UK:  11

Kilometres travelled so far by main train journeys:  2951 + 359 = 3310

Countries travelled through so far: 9

Cities visited: 8

Ratio of stray animals:  Cats > Dogs

Weather:  It’s dark outside, I’ll let you know.

Rustic Peace and the Biscuit Drink

Welcome to Veliko

The reason Veliko Tarnovo is on our itinerary is because it was listed as a stop on our Bosfor Express train timetable, because it was roughly in the middle of Bulgaria, and because Sofia was too much of a detour. A lot of the research for this trip was done in a hurry as this has been a bit of a last minute adventure, so I’m ashamed to say I’d never even heard of Veliko beforehand (having said that, no-one I mentioned it to in the UK before leaving had heard of it either).

Gurko “The most romantic street in Europe”

But oh my goodness am I glad the Bosfor express stops there! VT, as the locals often refer to it, has been the most peaceful, tranquil and picturesque stop on our journey. The old town, where we’re told everything is (the new town is nice but mainly just residential), is made up of a mediaeval fortress, monasteries and churches, and higgledy piggledy hillside homes, cafes and shops, interspersed with firs and what I like to think could be olive trees. Oh and lots and lots of grubby stray cats, plus the odd stray dog.

Miaow!

There’s a very Mediterranean feel to it – well, what I imagine a sleepy Mediterranean town to look and feel like, as I’ve never been, unless you count four days in Barcelona one October when the nearest we got to the sea was the cocktail bar.

Veliko and the Yantra

VT is set at the foot of the Balkan mountains, with houses nestled into the hillside that twists round the Yantra river flowing through the tree-lined valley in the middle of the city. In the summer we’re told, it’s impossible to see the river as there are so many trees and plants making the place green and vibrant.

Veliko

Greek and Turkish influences in the architecture are obvious – the cyrillic script was based on the Greek alphabet, and in fact VT was initially a Thracian settlement, then Slavic, then Byzantine, before Veliko Tarnovo was crowned the capital of Bulgaria when Bulgaria was independent in the 13th and 14th centuries. There is an evocative mediaeval fortress, Tsaravets, whose current incarnation dates from this time, and no shortage of monasteries. I had an entertaining morning exploring the ruins, which have loads of precarious ladders provided with refreshingly no more health and safety provision that some notices telling you to be careful.

Tsaravets Fortress

There’s a long history of invasion and occupation in Bulgaria, and our English speaking Bulgarian friends at the hostel explained how the most hated period was the harsh Ottoman occupation, or enslavement as it’s generally known in Bulgaria. It only ended in the late 1800s after 500 years, thanks to revolutionaries like national hero Vassil Levski, who was hanged for his part in orchestrating the revolution. There’s a statue to him in Veliko, which we found by accident but worked out who it was by deciphering the cyrillic inscription, a bit of an achievement for us after less than 24 hours in Bulgaria!

Bulgarian National Hero Vassil Levski

The Bulgarians here cheerfully mind their own business, and don’t seem suspicious of us or annoyed that tourists are in town. I wonder if this might be because Veliko is so off the beaten track and poorly served (by Western standards) by public transport, that they know we’re here because we’re interested, and not because we want to invade their way of life – or whether it’s just a natural Bulgarian tendency to take everything in their stride. Everyone we’ve met has been friendly and even though only a very few have spoken English (and we have only managed to learn yes, no, hello, thankyou and goodbye in Bulgarian in our 2 days here), we’ve had some genial, if confused exchanges.

Elena!

One oddity about Bulgaria which adds to the confusion, is how they shake their heads for yes and nod for no. One of our new hostel friends, the lovely Elena from Sofia, explains it’s quite easy for her and most Bulgarians to switch though, and that we will probably still be understood – but when we go into a shop to see if they have something, this still doesn’t stop me thinking for a good few seconds that we’re being told it’s not possible, like a dodgy car mechanic trying telling you how much your repairs will be. Nor does it stop me nodding my head eagerly when we’ve managed to explain to someone what we want, and then being given the wrong thing after all!

We did manage to sample some traditional Bulgarian food though, including salad (extremely popular here in Bulgaria – we had the staple Shopska variety), a huge portion of Tsatch, a meaty cheesy vegetably dish (you choose what exactly), brought to your table still sizzling in Tsatch (the heavy iron plate it was baked in) – and of course some Bulgarian red wine, served with a lemon!

Bulgarian Sach

We also tried the Banitsa (a cheesy pastry), the Aryan (a drink which comes from Turkey originally made from the traditional Bulgarian runny yoghurt, which tastes, funnily enough, like liquid natural yoghurt) and the revolting-looking Boza (also Turkish in origin), which despite looking rather like runny vomit, is actually a sweet suspension of what tastes like ground up Rich Tea Biscuits.

Boza and Ayran. Nom! Sort of…

For now I’ll leave you with some pictures of this breathtaking and slow-paced city (not that I think my photos do it justice), including some snaps of the “most romantic street in Europe” Gurko, a narrow winding cobbled street with rustic houses and drinking fountains, all overlooking the valley memorial park.

View from the hostel

Veliko’s Memorial Park

Steps from Gurko

Days since leaving the UK: 10

Kilometres travelled so far by main train journeys:  still 2959

Countries travelled through so far: 8

Cities visited: 8

Stray animals: Cats > dogs

Weather: Snow on the ground but sun in the sky!

Yorkshire Cyrillic

Welcome to the Republic of Bulgaria!

If the scenery down to the southern Romanian border was a bit lack-lustre, once we’d crossed the Danube into Bulgaria things become noticeably more interesting to the eye. First of all there’s the huge colourful border notices, and of course the abandonment of our familiar Roman alphabet in favour of the native Bulgarian cyrillic alphabet (note Bulgarian, and not Russian-invented!)

Our first Bulgarian Truck!

The warnings we’d had about lengthy and complicated border crossings were unfounded, certainly until we arrived at Gorno. 15 Mins at the Romanian border and half an hour at the Bulgarian border town of Ruse and we were on our way again.

Yup, definitely in Bulgaria!

This is only the second border we’ve had our passports checked at (not counting when we left the UK), but never fear Daily Mail readers! I’ve been reading up, and a substantial number of EU countries have also signed up to the Schengen agreement, which removes border controls between signatory countries (the UK, Romania and Bulgaria are not currently signed up). The removal of border controls actually makes a lot of sense – having spent a week trying to spot similarities between languages and cultures to understand what’s happening around us, and it’s incredibly obvious, even after just a week, just how much of a continuum there is between language and culture in Europe.

Northern Bulgaria

Bulgaria soon becomes green and undulating, with twisting rivers, deep valleys, cosy-looking villages and green fields with sprinklings of snow dust (it’s not snowing today but it is still pretty grey outside). The rolling scenery in fact reminds both of us of the Yorkshire Dales.

Northern Bulgaria (again)

There are plentiful level crossings and the odd horse and cart waiting in the small queue of cars for us to pass. Fortunately we’re not cold in our carriage as the (we assume) compulsory Eastern European practice of turning train compartment heating up to 30 degrees C.

Villages!

It’s certainly worth heeding the advice of travel guides if you’re coming to Bulgaria by train, and bringing a map of the country and train route with you. We didn’t know for certain what our expected arrival time was going to be (although our tickets suggest, in Romanian, 1805), there are no on-train announcements or conductors to ask, and there’s only one sign at each station, which you will only see if you are in a coach that stops opposite the station building – so if you don’t know where you are expecting to be then you could easily miss your stop.

The last big stop before Veliko Tarnovo was at Gorno, so we rang Randy our hostel host for landmarks to look out for. While we were waiting for the train to set off again, some “undesirables” we were warned against finally got on board, and predictably plonked themselves in the compartment next to us, yelling aggressively over each other for the last half hour of our ride. On leaving Gorno, we looked out especially hopefully for Randy’s landmarks. “Look out for a ghost station, and Veliko is the next stop, I’ll be waving at the station so you won’t miss me!” Sure enough the scenery changed pretty abruptly from Yorkshire-reminiscent dales, as the train trundled through dramatic Byzantine mountains and dense and spooky snow sprinkled forests. Then – at last! We saw Randy’s abandoned town, its train station – and then at the top of a gorge, we saw our first Turkish-influenced towers of Veliko, followed by the twinkling house lights of the streets at dusk covering the hill that Veliko is set on, and finally Veliko station itself. Still screaming at each other, we snuck past the “undesirables” to freedom, and to Veliko Tarnovo!
Days since leaving the UK: 9

Kilometres travelled so far by main train journeys:  2824+135 = 2959

Countries travelled through so far: 8

Cities visited: 8

Hours spent on a train today: 10.5

Hours spent travelling from Brasov-Veliko:  13

Border checks completed so far: 3

Concrete Blocs

Brasov Rail Station

Aaaaand we’re on a train again. I’m actually really sad to be leaving Brasov and especially our host Angi. Even though three days isn’t enough to know what somewhere’s really like, the time we have spent here has been very welcoming and a welcome change from the capital cities we’ve been to so far.

Dave’s instax of Angi – she says: “Still trying to get wiser”

But it’s time to move on to the next leg of our journey, and head for Veliko, the ancient capital of Bulgaria. As we’re now going straight from Brasov and not Bucharest, we had a quick look to see if there was a more direct way to get there than changing in the Romanian capital, but it turns out not. In fact type into google “how to get to Veliko from Romania” and you will get a host of forums urging you to avoid the daily Veliko train from Bucharest (actually the sleeper that goes right through to Istanbul) and take the bus instead – apparently it’s quicker, more frequent, more comfortable and less full of undesirables (no prizes for guessing which ethnic group gets the blame for this).

Very very early Bucharest ticket

So filled with a bit of doubt about the train but blessed with a couple of hours in Bucharest (due to leaving Brasov at the ungodly hour 0526, the only train to get us to Bucharest for any of our connections – you can imagine my horror!) we decided to give the coach a try, which would also mean we get to see a little bit of Bucharest. We checked the coach times and the connections, got Angi to check it as well, and got an early night for our stupid-o’clock start.

CFR coach to Bucharest

There wasn’t much to report from the early train to Bucharest, apart from a genial taxi driver, a grumpy lady at the Brasov ticket office, and waiting on the platform for our “daytime coaches” (with seats not beds) to arrive at the station and be coupled up to the Bucharest sleeper train we were going to be part of. Inside the carriage is functional, and looks like it was made in the 1980s. We share it only with 2 others, who the ticket lady has  has decided to book into seats next to us despite an otherwise empty coach.

Kinda greeny brown…

We are on the slow train so our journey takes us nearly 4 hours (as opposed to the 2.5 hours by express). We are at each stop for between 2 and 10 minutes though which gives us the chance to see locals in casually walk through industrial estates, across the railway tracks and up the train steps – and gave the locals the chance to hop off the train for a crafty fag.

Concrete industrial chic

Along the way the scenery becomes ever more industrial-looking with grey/green/brown manufacturing plants, yards, and grubby 60s pre-fabbed flats (although that could have something to do with the murky diesel film that coats the train window). We also see clusters of ramshackle corrugated-iron-roofed dwellings interspersed with richer, newer and freshly painted homes in pinks, yellows and oranges, about the only bit of colour we’ve seen on our train journeys since leaving Austria.

As we near Bucharest, we return exclusively to buildings with the regulation concrete colour stereotypical of the communist regimes. We take the tube to the square, Piata Unirii, where our coach goes from, but when we arrive, we realise this isn’t going to be easy. It’s not just one square but a network of 4 huge squares each with 4 or 5 lanes of traffic; the Unirii Boulevard bridge across the Dâmbovița river, leading up to the still-unfinished Palace of Parliament, or People’s House; and huge imposing concrete-coloured 8 storey apartment buildings – basically looking like pre-fabs but with strange attempts at ornate balconies made from concrete apparently bolted onto the frontages. Have an explore here – it’s the biggest square in Bucharest.

All in all, Piata Unirii is a pretty overwhelming place, especially when you’ve been up since 4 in the morning, all you want to do is work out how to get to Bulgaria, and you can’t find the right bus stop. The hotel the coach was supposed to go from knew nothing about the service, neither did tourist information next door. In a last ditch attempt to combine breakfast, a toilet break and some useable transport information, we ended up in MacDonald’s (never, ever my restaurant of choice but we were lost and knew we wouldn’t look conspicuous there). The manager was very helpful and tried his best to find our coach stop for us, but with no luck, so with 45 minutes left to get back to the rail station for the dreaded Veliko train, we legged it back onto the M1 metro.

Line M1 in Bucharest is one of the cleanest metro lines I’ve ever seen, but this may have something to do with 2 burly security guards, armed with substantial looking truncheons, who patrol each train. I’m not sure whether to be reassured that they are there to prevent unrest, or worried that there is enough unrest to warrant security. Or in fact that the regime is so paranoid about unrest that they employ such visible security guards for show. Reassuringly though the M3 line trains were crammed and covered in graffiti – I can only assume fewer dignitaries may use that particular line.

Our compartment to Veliko

With relief we made it onto our Bulgarian train, and guess what? It’s very nice! We had an 8 seater compartment shared it with a very pleasant Romanian gentleman in his late 50s/early 60s from Giurgiu (on the southern border). Again the coach is functional, but it’s comfy and cosy, with space for our luggage, and Dave and our new friend, who we eventually work out is called San Dubretto, have two hours of entertainment as Dave tries to learn Romanian and Bulgarian from him. No mean feat as we have only translations for yes/no/please/thankyou, lots of gesticulating, and lucky guesses with a smattering of Italian and Spanish.

You’re now leaving Romania…

Out of the window I can see small tree-like crops in the distance, but little else (unless you like flat brown farmland) – but I’m hopeful these are vineyards and look forward to sampling their produce. As we near the border, San points out his hometown of Giurgiu, where we say goodbye to him. Then it’s just a 15 min passport check, cross the majestic Danube river, and next is our penultimate country – Bulgaria!

The Danube between Romania & Bulgaria

Days since leaving the UK: 9

Kilometres travelled so far by main train journeys:  2586+166+72=2824

Countries travelled through so far: 7

Cities visited: 7

Weather: Still quite chilly. And grey.

Hello World

This is a rather long-overdue post. Which I blame partly on Christmas and mince pie eating, partly on me doing a fair bit of other writing work in December (I’m putting all my written work on my portfolio now and keeping this blog for posts about travel and other generally cool experiences), and partly on spending time trying to co-ordinate madcap adventures – which I can proudly announce today I have just about finalised!

Reykjavik city centre will have to wait…

Some of you may know that spending 6 months volunteering in Iceland was my original plan for February, but unfortunately there’s been a problem with funding and the place I was promised has fallen through. I’m still hoping to go in May for a 4-6 week stint volunteering but that’s yet to confirm still.

But May’s a long way off right? Yup. Am I going to sit in my flat waiting for May? Nope….

I’m a big fan of slow travel, a concept embodied nicely by the Slow Travel Berlin Website. Take the time to soak in your surroundings, experience the culture and quirks of where you are, find out about what makes it tick, and enjoy yourself. So in this spirit I and my lomography-mad friend Dave are embarking on a 2-week train journey from St Pancras to Istanbul, via Brussels, Vienna, Budapest, Transylvania, Bucharest, and Veliko Tarnovo. Probably. From Budapest onwards we’re going to play exact timings by ear and explore the mystery and uniqueness of Eastern Europe. We plan to keep a photo blog on the trip in addition to my own entries here, although as Dave uses film a lot this may not be practical! I shall post details when I have them of course.

St Pancras to Istanbul. Click through for the original on seat61.com

But 2 weeks won’t keep me occupied for long, so in addition I have applied to live and work with the Maasai people of Kenya for 6 weeks. I will be working teaching kids at primary level and doing some blogging for them to help promote the Maasai culture (although this all could change of course). I’ve been anxious about making plans so different to my original ones, and have been agonising about where I’m going, why I’m going, how long to go for (and whether to keep my flat on or put everything in storage) and who will look after my cats (I’ve found them a fantastic holiday home with my other half Jamie’s best friend and his wife – phew! Their last cat lived on roast chicken though, let’s hope they don’t lose their taste for cheapo biscuits when I get back. At least I know I can always win Tinker over with a bit of broccoli and some cat crack (aka Whiskas Temptations in Salmon flavour…)).

Apparently there are elephants in Kenya

Most of all if I’m honest I’ve no idea what Kenya will be like – while a lot of people I’ve come across have either been to or done voluntary work in Africa, or at least have a burning desire to visit and meet the locals, I’m a bit Africa-naive. It’s always been the northern and baltic countries I’ve been drawn to – Russia, Scandinavia, Eastern Europe, Japan. Even central America has had more of a draw to me than Africa has, which is odd because it’s undoubtedly a stunningly beautiful and diverse continent. Perhaps it’s because I had family in Kenya when I was a kid, so even though I never went to visit nor was in much contact with them, it somehow seems not as mysterious, and consequently not as interesting . Or perhaps I’m wary of the legacy that white meddlers from just a few generations ago have left and I’m just not sure what my place would be. Yet.

MEAC volunteer with some of the Maasai

This has been part of the reason I have chosen to volunteer with an organisation run by the Maasai, for the Maasai, called Maasai Education and Advocacy for Change (MEAC) – rather than a Western organisation working with local Africans. The Maasai in particular are an intelligent and proud people with a pastoral heritage who have been marginalised by even their own Kenyan and Tanzanian governments, and denied use of their ancestral lands which have been designated game reserves for tourism. I like an underdog and I think that’s another reason why this particular organisation appealed.

Satellite image of Kimuka in the Ngong region. Click through for the original interactive GoogleMap

So I’m now booked and paid up to go as of today, and I’m starting to feel more confident and excited about my adventures. I think it’ll be a pretty fast learning curve over the next few weeks until I go (I’ve managed to order 11 books and novels on Eastern Europe and Africa which will at least keep me occupied for a while), but I think it’ll be worth it. If anyone has any questions, tips or advice then please feel free to ask and either way it’ll help!