Next trip - Sarafovo to Varna

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How time flies. A year has passed, the seasons have changed and again we have returned to extend ourBulgarian travel. This time we took a look at the Black Sea coastline, travelling from Sarafovo to Varna.
Sarafovo is a great little town, just a few kilometers from Burgas and within one kilometer of the airport. We have several Brit and Bulgarian friends living there and so we had the opportunity to spend a little time getting to know the place. It is known locally as the Beverly hills of Burgas as it is a popular suburb for the better off who prefer to live away from the hubub of Burgas just 10 kilometers away. It has developed a lot since my first visit some four years ago and now offers fine hotel acccomodation, good restaurants and a four kilometer beach. Within easy reach of the resorts of Pomerie, Nessebar and Sunny Beach it has a lot going for it.

Anyway, that was the starting point for our car journey to Varna which took us through the some fantastic countryside (this place just gets better and better) to Obzor, Byala, Bliznatsi and finally to our destination. But of course we needed to return the same day, in the dark, but that's another story.

Lissi Vrah Properties

Well it took a few months but I did it!
My earlier blog spoke of a lovely village by the name of Lissi Vrah. This tranquil piece of heaven, one hour west from the city of Varna, captivated me and surprisingly my son. As a consequence, after making enquiries, I established that there was a house for sale and I was more than happy to pay the very modest asking price.

OK it was a bit run down, but it had character and it was seated in a magnificant location. A very large plot with a meadow climbing up behind the house on one side of a valley. The views from the front were magical, looking upon the forest that lined the other side of the valley.

Whilst the visit was brief I was enchanted to meet a neighbour who lived a but a few yards up the road from the property. She was a grand old lady of indeterminate age, dignified and welcoming. Whilst obviously poor in money terms, she displayed great dignity and strength of character. She lived in an age that we had forgotten. I felt humbled by this meeting.

Before long we were introduced the local dignitory, the mayoress, as it turned out to be. A very warm welcome was afforded to my son and I.

The beauty of Bulgaria is overwelming. This oasis of Lissi Vrah, to me, encompasses all that I hold to be missing in my world of limited values.

As we drove away my senses were in high gear, every view brought forth some distant yearnings. Hold on, I'm getting carried away. Just take a look at this lot and you will get my meaning.






Is this heaven or what?

Bulgarian friend - Lissi Vrah

Would you believe it?
Notwithstanding the fact that I recently was unable to find my way back to Lissi Vrah; that piece of heaven deep in the Bulgarian countryside, my Bulgarian friend recently informed me that other expats had found it also. Not only had they found it but had actually purchased property there.
To date, it seems that no less than six houses with land have been bought, some of which are in the process of being renovated. I hope my blog has not started a 'gold rush'!
It seems that 'getting back to nature' must be the dream of many.
At least the locals should benefit from this new influx of money, for Lissi Vrah was somewhat impoverished to say the least. Let's hope that the character of the village, in it's beautiful surroundings, remains intact.

Lissi Vrah

Whilst it is not difficult to be uplifted in spirit at the sheer beauty of so much of the varied scenery that Bulgaria has to offer, from time to time something extra special presents itself.
Such was the case with the small village of Lissi Vrah, translated, I understand, to mean 'Foxes Lair'.
We happened upon Lissi Vrah whilst travelling with a Bulgarian friend on a previous visit to Bulgaria. We had left the main highway running between Varna and Shumen at a junction some eighteen kilometres from Shumen and passed through the small town of Novi Pazar. Thereafter we headed out into open countryside, heading north, through a number of small villages including Pamoukchii, Stoyan Mihailski,Zhilino,Tsarkvitsa and Kriva Reka. Through charming tree lined country roads; this to me was the real unspoilt Bulgarian rural scene. Suddenly Lissi Vrah was upon us, forested hills appeared surrounding this idyllic village. In the valley women were picking rasberries and I recall the sound of bird song and buzzing bees. For whatever reason, I experienced an almost spiritual sensation and felt that this was the spot that I would love to return to and possibly set up home. It was certainly off the beaten track, with limited facilities but that in itself was the magic of the place. The thought of escaping from the outside world and immersing myself in this garden of eden, amongst the local people, was very appealing.
The only reason for this 'find' was due to our Bulgarian friend showing us a little of his countryside and taking the time to divert off the road to Shumen.
On this more recent trip, my son and I attempted to find Lissi Vrah again but became hopelessly lost. Instead of following the trail that we had taken previously and as described above (with the benefit of hindsight and a detailed map) we somehow passed through a village named Pliska, which is very near Novi Pazar. In fact we passed through Pliska, over and over again. The village on a map resembles the hub of a wheel with numerous roads radiating out from the centre. After the sixth return, we
became quite familiar with it's centre but never found our way out. Eventually my son who by now was suffering from 'Deja Vu' fatigue suggested that we should resort to a new approach. Scanning the rudimentary map that we possessed, he observed that if we headed north, keeping the setting sun on our left, and travelled for twenty clicks or so, then we were certain to arrive at our goal. (thank goodness for his boy scout training and Rambo film watching)
What seemed like fifty miles later we stopped on a rise and admired the panoramic moonlit view that presented itself. As we considered our futures, a train suddenly passed in front of us. Something was clearly wrong. The only railway track shown on the map should have been many miles behind us. At this point, we gave up the search.
I telephoned our Bulgarian friend and explained that the village of Lissi Vrah had moved, that it was no longer there. Prehaps it had all had been a dream.

Stara Zagora - Next trip

It was our intention to call in on a person for whom I have great admiration; a person who depite many setbacks and adversities has succeeded in achieving her dream of settling in Bulgaria and starting a successful business. She has written a book on her experiences which for any of you considering a move to Bulgaria would be an essential read. You can find it here:-My Bulgarian Property Nightmare Unfortunately time ran out for us on this trip and so we were unable to make a detour to Stara Zagora where she resides. Her name is Rachel and in my view has setup one of the best websites that I have seen on the Bulgarian property scene. If you require honest information on the many opportunities as well as the pitfalls of investing in Bulgaria - she's the gal.

Blogarama

Vratsa

It was dark when we arrived at Vratsa. We found a very nice hotel - Hotel Hemus and I turned in immediately.
The effects of my encounter with the local raki ensured me of a good nights sleep.
Amazingly I awoke as fresh as a daisy, with no hangover and with my vision and brain function restored to normal. Armed with my camera I emerged early from the hotel and set out to explore.
Vratsa is said to be the most picturesque town in Bulgaria. Situated in North Western Bulgaria on the northern edge of the mountain chain, the Vrachanski Balkan, the area boasts a rich nature, history and culture. This March morning, however, Vratsa was shrouded with a cold mist and the visibility was poor. Through the mist, I could make out the cliffs that seemed to overhang the town. In the centre of the town square stands a statue celebrating the poet and revolutionary - Hristo Botev whilst on the hill behind the beautiful Hristo Botev tourist house overlooks the square. Within these grounds is a statue of a Russian soldier - Petlak the Cossack. The monument known as "
The Herald of Liberty" who at this place on the 9th. November1877 announced the liberation of the town by blowing his battle horn. Each Sunday the battle horn is still sounded.
From this vantage point, on a clear day one would enjoy a fantastic panoramic view of the town but not on a day such as this.
Despite this, the mist lent an ethereal quality to the strange quiet of the scene; devoid of tourists at this time of the year.
Without Vratsa deserves its reputation as a place of outstanding beauty. A place that I will surely return to when time and weather permit.
Returning to my hotel, I was surprised to learn that my son had not as yet risen from his bed. After all it was 6-30am. ;no staying power that's the trouble with the younger generation.
When he finally surfaced, he looked distinctly unwell. He complained of flu like symptons. When I suggested that I would do the driving back to Varna he appeared to rally somewhat.
Seriously though, when travelling I am always armed with my spray bottle of colloidal silver. A couple of squirts around the nose and mouth before setting off on a journey, especially when flying or in close proximity to sneezy people, keeps me free of colds and other nasties.
A couple more photographs of Vratsa before I leave. This journey served to reinforce my feelings of good fortune that I had discovered this great country and its lovely people.

... and on to Vratsa via London's underground system.

After our prolonged stay in Popitsa due to me sampling our neighbours excellent raki and wine, we set off towards our final destination - Vratsa. Unfortunately, the navigator - namely me, had by this time lost the thread. Instead of returning to the main road at Byala Slatina and taking the road N013 to Borovan and then the No15 straight into Vratsa, I chose to indicate to the driver, my son, that we should continue straight ahead. It soon became evident that the road surface had deteriorated somewhat, as due to the many potholes, it was necessary to constantly zigzag from one side of the road to the other. Already feeling the effects of our neighbour's hospitality, whilst discussing the intricate workings of a rusty lock, (see last post) together with the passage of the car, I found that the map kept leaping out of my hands. Everytime I retrieved it to give further directions to the driver, it took on the appearance of the Piccadilly line in London's underground system. At one point I could have sworn that I saw a herd of buffalos crossing the road in front of us. The next moment, I swear I saw John Wayne walking towards us, leading his horse.

Oh - that RAKI!
We continued our meanderings for some considerable time until my son, a teatotaller, lost his patience, grabbed the map and changed directions. At this point I fell into a deep slumber. When I awoke, I was convinced that I was going blind as the daylight had been replaced by the darkest night. In fact, a mighty storm had developed, someway ahead over the mountains. A fantastic display of nature's power. Take a look at these photographs. Click to enlarge. Allow me to show you something of Vratsa in my next post.

Veliko Tarnovo to Vratsa

We continued along the E772 passing Sevlievo and on to the small town of Ablanitsa where we diverted north on the road designated No. 35 to Pleven. The leg from Veliko Tarnovo to Ablanitsa offered magnficant views of the snow clad mountains to the south of us.
We had arranged to meet the estate agent, through whom we had purchased our yet unseen house, in a hotel in Pleven. Good to his word he arrived on time and after taking light refreshments in the Orbital Palace Hotel, we set forth to the small village of Popitsa, some sixty kilometres away along the No.13 road.
Incidentally the hotel Orbital Palace is situated in a most beautiful setting; an elevated position in a nature park amongst forests and lakes. I wished that I could have stayed longer but the agent who appeared to be in a hurry instructed us to follow his car and off we went. Now my son, who had up to this point been driving, is not a slow driver but the agent whose Bulgarian name probably translated to Michael Schumacher, left us standing. Within seconds, his vehicle was a rapidly diminishing spot in the far horizon.
Somehow we managed to stay with him and by more luck than judgement, finally pulled up behind him in front of our new house. Immediately, a friendly neighbour, grazing nearby, came over to welcome us into the neighborhood. After unlocking the property and showing us around, the agent sped off to his next 'Grand Prix', leaving us to lock up. The front gate was secured by a chain and lock and whilst the lock, which was heavily rusted, had opened with little difficulty, there was no way that it could be re-locked.
After wrestling with it for a while I had to admit defeat. Minutes later, the next door neighbour arrived on the scene. He had probably witnessed my efforts and heard some choice expletives; fortunately he was unable to understand a word of english. Taking the offending lock from me, he indicated that I should accompany him into his house. The fellow must have been, or certainly looked to be, at least seventy years old and was propped up by a pair of crutches. Shouting some words in Bulgarian, his wife and who I took to be his father, emerged from the house. The very old man, got to work on the lock with some lub oil whilst the wife produced some glasses and two bottles of drink. One contained home made raki and the other home made wine. My son politely refused as he was driving. They therefore insisted that I should drink his ration as well and before long I was as well oiled as the lock. What hospitality. These villagers have little wealth but their hearts are generous and I felt humbled at their sincere kindliness. After several farewells and several 'one for the roads' we finally got underway. We needed to reach Vratsa before dark.

Tarovishte to Veliko Tarnovo

Some nine kilometres out of Tarovishte we passed through a particularly pretty area, winding roads through the steep wooded hills of the minor mountain range called the Preslavska Planina.
Approaching Veliko Tarnovo we caught sight of the train that runs from Varna to the capital city of Sofia, far to the west. Even my Bulgarian friends advise that train travel within Bulgaria is not to be recommended; slow with uncomfortable seating. No doubt with it's new found prosperity Bulgaria's railway system will be given priority modernisation.
Evidence of the quickly changing times, since communist days, could be seen as we passed through Veliko Tarnovo. Sprouting like mushrooms, new buildings were seen, growing amongst the old blocks of flats. This transformation can be seen throughout Bulgaria.
All this travelling makes me tired. Time for a break and to relax with this piece of haunting music from Bulgaria.