007 CYCLE TOURING BULGARIA

 

By Eddie Carter

BULGARIA

507 Kilometres – 9 Days

17 August – 26 August 2007

MAP

PHOTOS

 

 006 Bulgaria

507 Kilometres – 9 Days

17 August – 26 August 2007

 

17 August – Oltenita, Romania - Silistra, Bulgaria – 85 kilometres

After a breakfast of fresh tomatoes and paprika from Peter's garden, we hurried towards the Calarasi border to cross the Danube River towards Silistra. I was worried about my Romanian Visa, as I had exceeded the two-day limit stated on it by staying 20 days. However, I said nothing and handed over my passport to the border officials. The officials took my passport and disappeared behind a screen. After a while, they returned and returned my passport without saying anything. I was relieved that everything went smoothly.

I noticed that communicating in Bulgaria would pose a bigger challenge. Bulgarian is a Southern Slavic language that uses the Cyrillic alphabet. It was the first Slavic language to be written, and a new version was standardised after Bulgaria gained independence in 1878. However, I found it particularly confusing that nodding one’s head actually means ‘no’, while shaking it side to side means ‘yes’. It was tough to get used to. I first encountered this behaviour when I was trying to find accommodation. The lady initially shook her head, which I assumed meant no rooms were available. However, she then produced a room key, causing me much confusion.

 

18 August - Silistra - Balchik - 136 kilometres

Bulgaria covers an area of 110,994 square kilometres, roughly the same size as Malawi - a country that I consider small. Eddie and I decided to head towards Balchik, a Black Sea coastal town and seaside resort. We chose this town because of its prime location along the shores of the Black Sea. Our route took us 136 kilometres through farmlands, cornfields, and vast fields of sunflowers.

We arrived in Balchik late in the evening, only to find that the town lacked camping facilities. We had no choice but to cycle another fifteen kilometres to Kavarna, which had a beautiful campsite on the lake's shores. The place was idyllic, and we wasted no time submerging our sweat-soaked bodies in the lukewarm waters of the Black Sea —a blissful end to a long day of cycling.

 

19 August - Kavarna

The next day, we spent the day at the beach and unexpectedly reunited with the Baltic Cycle Group from Bucharest. It was a fun night of drinking and trying to communicate, as almost everyone in the group spoke Polish, and neither Ed nor I spoke the language.

Initially, I mistook the Black Sea for a lake, only to realize upon studying a map that it connects to the ocean through the Bosphorus Strait. The waters of the Black Sea first flow into the Sea of Marmara, which in turn is connected to the Mediterranean through the Strait of the Dardanelles. I was surprised to learn that the Black Sea is a vast body of water, spanning 436,400 square kilometres and reaching a depth of over 2000 meters in some areas.

 

20 August - Kavarna - Kancija via Verna - 96 kilometres

The following day, we continued our journey towards the Turkish border. However, navigating proved difficult as most signboards were written in Hungarian.

Despite this, we found a basic campsite in Verna, which had a decent beach. While there, we again met the Baltic Cycles, who were also in search of an inexpensive place to camp. We had a great time together that night, partying and enjoying the company of these cyclists who were equally good at cycling as having fun. The restaurant owner later offered us Rakia, a potent fruit brandy, along with homemade wine. I guessed the alcohol was offered to help us tolerate the mosquito-infested campsite.

 

21 August – Kamcija

We spent a leisurely day chatting with fellow cyclists. Communication seemed to improve proportionally to the amount of vodka consumed, and they quickly became good friends.

 

22 August - Kamcija - Nesebar - 104 kilometres

We had established a comfortable camping routine of packing up and cycling to our next destination. During our stay at the campsite in Nesebar, we met a 70-year-old German man travelling around the world with his bike and trailer. He had started his journey a year prior to our meeting in Germany and was still going strong. Curiously, his bicycle lacked pedals, rendering cycling impossible even if he wanted to.

The campsite in Nesebar was so good, and we had so much fun, that we decided to spend two days.

 

24-25 August - Nesebar - Yuk Camping - 96 kilometres

I was grateful to the Baltic Cycle Group for sharing their camping location, as it turned out to be one of the best options in the area. On our way, we stopped at Pomorie and Sozopol, which were great places to swim and cool off from the hot weather. While my fellow cyclists moved on, I chose to stay at the beach and work on fading my awkward cycling tan.

 

26 August - Yuk Camping - Border – 75 kilometres

Bulgaria has diverse terrain, including a coastline along the Black Sea and a mountainous interior. Once we moved inland, the terrain grew steep. Since it was August, and thus mid-summer, most days were sweltering, adding to the challenge. Flies also added to the problem. They buzzed in hordes around our heads, strangely reminding us of biking in Ethiopia.

Shortly before reaching the Turkish border, Eddie and I rode into a small village to get some refreshments but decided to stay. Unfortunately, the town lacked campsites or accommodations. However, we were directed to the hospital, which doubled as a guesthouse.

 

006 CYCLE TOURING ROMANIA

ROMANIA

959 Km – 19 Days

30 June – 17 August 2007

MAP

 PHOTOS

 

30 July – Szeget, Hungary – Arad, Romania – 78 kilometres

Eddie and I departed Szeget powered by a stiff tailwind that became a near gale force crosswind, making it challenging riding. The road was further congested by trucks and heavy traffic and I feared for my life. Upon arrival at the border, I found my Hungarian visa wasn’t what I’d envisaged, but 2 x 10-day visas (where did that come from?). I thus overstayed and following being shunted back and forth from building to building; I was eventually allowed to leave. Phew!

I was immensely excited to see Romania. It finally felt I was on my way and since a child, I was intrigued by gipsies and understood there were still real gipsies in Romania. Add to that the mystery of Dracula’s castle and place names like Transylvania and I couldn’t wait to explore.

As always in a foreign country, the language remained a significant obstacle, everything (as expected) was in Romanian, and truly little English was spoken.

Arad was reached late and searching the campsite indicated on the map revealed only an abandoned field. By then, it wasn’t simply raining but also dark, and we weakened at the sight of a pension.

 

31 July - Arad – Bârzava – 60 kilometres

Arad was a bustling town, sporting many old buildings, which for the most part appeared to need TLC. Fifty years of communism left its mark. There were numerous apartment blocks, all very unattractive and in a state of poor repair. Arad further appeared an industrial town and a transport hub.

Countries vary tremendously, and just as one became used to the how-where-and-when of one, it’s time to cross the border, where everything is vastly different. Suddenly, campsites were few and far between. Instead, budget accommodation was found at truck stops, who typically served inexpensive food and offered basic rooms.

 

1 August - Barzava – Deva – 100 kilometres

In the morning, I fixed the slow puncture that had been giving trouble for some time and then made our way in the direction of Barzava. The countryside was intriguing and dotted by small communities, real-life gipsies complete with horse carts and elderly ladies dressed in black. It reminded me of something from a forgotten era. However, the gipsies were a tad disappointing as they weren’t dressed like the gipsies I’d in mind. Think long, bright flowery skirts, blouses adorned by gold coins and headscarves.

Cycling was challenging and sometimes downright dangerous as the traffic was hectic and the main road jam-packed by trucks of all shapes and sizes. Nevertheless, the rural villages were quiet, and residents found us as different as we found them. Generally, communities only had basic facilities. Water was collected from a communal well and farmers worked the field by hand. Filling our water bottles resulted in stopping, lowering the bucket into the well and then bringing the full bucket up using a pulley system.

Overnighting was in Deva, situated on the left bank of the Mures River and dominated by the ruins of a citadel perched atop a hill.

 

2 August- Deva - Geoagiu Băi – 27 kilometres

Departing Deva was by following the tremendously busy and poorly maintained main road, making a nerve-wracking ride. At the soonest opportunity, we turned off onto a smaller path. A sign pointed towards a Roman thermal bath, and as it was a mere 12 kilometres down the drag, I thought it worth exploring. Geoagiu Bai was a small but lively town where camping was in someone’s backyard amongst chickens and dogs. The only facility was a rudimentary long-drop as a toilet.

 

3 August - Geoagiu Băi – Blaj – 91 kilometres

The following morning, we proceeded along a dirt track, past numerous small villages, farmlands, cornfields and even vineyards. The countryside was scenic, as the route twisted and turned over wooded mountains and across scenic rivers.

 

4-5 August - Blaj - Făgăraș – 135 kilometres

It wasn’t long before finding ourselves firmly in the heart of Transylvania. The name conjured up images of scary-looking villagers, wooden crosses and howling wolves. This mental image wasn’t entirely incorrect. We often encountered askew graves and wooden crosses where bunches of garlic hung from gates and doors. I was excited as a child to be in Romania and couldn’t wait to go exploring. The country offered fantastic riding through densely wooded mountains, medieval towns and fortresses associated with legends.

Fagaras didn’t disappoint, located at the foothills of the Făgăraș Mountains, it was home to the Făgăraș Fortress.

 

6 August - Făgăraş – Bran - 63 kilometres

Before getting underway, we attempted to find breakfast but at 9.30 am, it seemed too early to eat but not too early for beer. Individuals were drinking beer at pavement restaurants but at enquiring about food, the reply was, “Don’t know at this hour”. The ride was beautiful through heavily wooded mountains and along raging rivers. Upon arrival in Bran we anticipated finding clues to Dracula’s Castle but merely found the ominous-sounding “Vampire Camping”.

 

7 August - Bran

The following day was spent in Bran where a visit to Bran Castle revealed its real history. I learned the castle was constructed in 1388 and built atop a cliff offering panoramic views of the nearby hills. The castle served as a customs office and a fortress and was used to stop the Ottoman Empires expansion. Although the castle had many owners, it did indeed belong to Vlad Dracul or Vlad the Impaler, the inspiration for Bram Stoker’s vampire named Dracula.

 

8 August - Bran – Campulung – 59 kilometres

Eddie and I biked over the scenic Carpathian Mountains via Bran Pass. A stunning ride and the dividing line between Transylvania and Valencia. The language remained a problem. Not solely did I buy yeast instead of butter but a fountain pen without ink instead of a ballpoint pen and cream instead of yoghurt. The learning curve was indeed a steep one. Towards the end of the day, accommodation was at a pension in historic Campulung. Virtually all the places encountered had a long and fascinating history. Campulung was no different and had a multitude of beautiful buildings dating to the 13^th century.

 

9 August - Campulung – Targovista – 65 kilometres

The route towards Taragovista, home to the Chindia Tower built by Vlad Dracula in the 15^th century came with a brilliant descent. Reaching Targovista was early, but we considered it better to overnight instead of continuing to Bucharest still about 80 kilometres away.

“Pension King” became home that night but it turned out not much of a palace as the name indicated, as it was situated in the back streets next to a scrapyard.

 

10 August - Targovista – Bucharest - 98 kilometres

Biking into Bucharest was hair-raising, as is the case with nearly all cities, and came with horrendous traffic, especially on a Friday afternoon. However, a helpful taxi driver gave us directions to a campsite, located on the city's opposite side. Unable to find it, we popped into an internet cafe and found the campground. This meant retracing our steps to where we came from. The campsite was lovely but mozzie infested - at least it had plenty of trees.

Another look at my passport revealed my Romanian visa was granted for two days (valid for three months) and not three months as envisaged. There wasn’t a great deal I could do and intended to deal with it once at the border. Lesson learned, always check your visa. Who gives a visa for two days, anyhow?

 

11 August – Bucharest

Casa Alba Campsite had a convenient location and we did the usual, shopping, laundry and a tad of sightseeing. Included in our wonderings was a visit to the city’s iconic landmark, the massive communist-era Parliament building with its 1100 rooms, said the world’s second-largest building. Far scarier was we learned more than 10000 people were bitten by stray dogs in Bucharest each year.

Bucharest is a fun city with a long and fascinating history and a crazy mix of communist-era, neo-classical and art deco buildings predominantly adorned by oyster shell-shaped canopies. The hundreds of grey high-rise blocks of flats from the communist era were of particular interest.

 

12-15 August – Bucharest

I used the time to apply for both my Bulgarian and Turkish visas. Upon returning from the city, I found the campsite invaded, by what looked like hundreds of little tents. It turned out the well-known Baltic Cycle group, on tour from the Baltics to Cypress. They mostly spoke Polish, except for one Brit and one lady from New Zealand.

At the Turkish Embassy, I was informed a visa application had to be made in my home country. After phoning my sister Amanda in SA, she returned with the news that the Turkish Embassy in SA promised to contact the Embassy and I should try again in the morning. The next day I returned to the Turkish Embassy, and by 5 pm, I’d my visa. Hallelujah! I further phoned the Bulgarian Embassy and, yes, the visa was granted, and I could pick it up the following day.

 

16 August - Bucharest – Oltenita – 98 kilometres

The next morning, I was at the Hungarian Embassy at ten o’clock sharp, where I found a crowd of people milling about. There seemed no rhyme or reason in the procedures. After a while, an official pointed at me and took me to the front of the queue, where I was handed my visa. A 15-day visa was granted fair enough and by noon Eddie and I were on our way to the border. Instead of taking the highway to Giurgiu, we opted to cycle to Oltenita via a much smaller path. Still, we found no immigration office as indicated on our map. It seemed we couldn’t get out of Romania.

In the process, we met Peter, a Romanian chap, who invited us to stay at his house, a tiny 2-room wooden shack without a bathroom or kitchen. One could, however, take a wee in the garden amongst the chickens. But, unfortunately, I couldn’t quite figure out what to do about the bowel movements.

 

17 August – Oltenita, Romania - Silistra, Bulgaria – 85 kilometres

After a breakfast of fresh tomatoes and paprika from Peter's garden, we hurried to the Calarasi border, before the veggies kicked in. Luckily a ferry operated across the Danube river to Silistra, Bulgaria. As can be expected, I was apprehensive about my Romanian Visa dilemma. By then, I was in the country for 20 days instead of the two days indicated on my visa. I didn’t say anything simply handed over my passport to border officials. They disappeared behind a screen and later reappeared and returned my passport. All without a single word. I was relieved, to say the least.

I could tell straight away communication in Bulgaria would be an even bigger problem as Bulgarian uses the Cyrillic script. Add to that Bulgarians nod their heads for no and shake it sideways for yes—I anticipated a few misunderstandings.