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My last day in Sofia was very lazy, I don't think I got up until midday, and so I eventually left Sofia rather later than I should have done. Sofia train station was a vast grey labryinth of Cyrillic signs and communist architecture. I had a quick flap as I couldn't find anywhere selling tickets to Plovdiv. Fortunately, I had my trusty Rough guide to hand which informed me that they could be purchased in the basement.

Conned by a disarmingly frıendly Bulgarian Restauranteur

James Taylor
2006-08-23 11:20:32

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My last day in Sofia was very lazy, I don't think I got up until midday, and so I eventually left Sofia rather later than I should have done. Sofia train station was a vast grey labryinth of Cyrillic signs and communist architecture. I had a quick flap as I couldn't find anywhere selling tickets to Plovdiv. Fortunately, I had my trusty Rough guide to hand which informed me that they could be purchased in the basement.

I arrived into Plovdiv as darkness was approaching, which is never the ideal situation when trying to find some obscure address in a strange town. Most provincial cities in ex communist countries seem to have very constrastıng sectıons, but in Plovdiv the difference was more pronounced between the lovely old town which was perched on a hill and the predictably grey newer section.

My hostel/BandB was just on the edge of the old town. After about half an hour of walking through dimly lit streets, I could tell I was in the right area, but I had no idea specifically where to go. I wandered around trying to align the map in my guidebook with the scene in front of me with
directions to tourist sights as my only clue. Just as I was about to give up and search for a taxi driver, I turned around and there it was. I think I must have walked past it a couple of times.

It was a nice family run place with a friendly atmosphere, although ıt wasn't too lıvely. While the hostess searched for the key to my room, and filled out my passpot form, her husband, who was chatting with a friend, gestrured for me to draw up a chair, and poured me a a glass of paint -stripper -lıke Bulgarian spirit. It was so strong that ıs tradıtıonally drunk wıth a specıal salad to absorb the Alcohol

Plovdiv is very much on the Eastern European backpackers trail. On the high street, I ran into an American girl who had been workıng in the hoste I was stayıng at ın Sofıa. And then seconds later ran ınto the Amerıcan ...