Jan 30 - 31: Ihtiman and Kostenets

I was up and packed by dawn (7:30) on Friday. It's not that I was in a hurry ‎to leave the wonderful people I had just met the evening before. I wanted to spend some time with them before I started walking again, and so I got myself pulled together and headed downstairs.  Unlike the evening before, there were no kids in sight. I don't know what time school starts in this part of the world, but I guess it's earlier than I realised. I chatted a bit with one of the mothers and left my Facebook info for the young woman who'd been translating for me the evening before. Somewhat sadly, I took my leave of Novi Han.

As I started walking, I noticed that the tops of the hills to my right were obscured by clouds, with the hint of some heavy weather. "Glad I'm not headed up there," I thought to myself. And then a few minutes later, the road bent south and started to climb. 

Once again, I was reminded what a difference a few hundred metres in altitude can make. I had started walking wearing my basic layers: merino t-shirt, lightweight longsleeved shirt, and my vest. I soon pulled my merino blend hoodie on, and by the time I reached an elevation of 800 m, I'd added my windproof shell. It wasn't all that cold, although there were small patches of snow in the woods where the shade was constant, but the wind was strong and I was walking through the cloud cover. There were very few cars on this stretch, but there was also nowhere for me to sit and take a break. 

Eventually I spotted a large building to my right, with a guardhouse and a set of gates. ‎I figured it was some sort of government installation, but the gates were open so I decided to try my luck and see if I could find a dry place to sit out of the wind. As I walked on to the property and approached the guardhouse, there was a sudden flurry of movement and a very large man burst out and said something to me very firmly in Bulgarian.

"I'm sorry, I don't understand Bulgarian." Then I switched to English, accompanied with some pantomime. "May I sit down inside for a few minutes?" There was a brief consultation through the open door of the guardhouse, and then I was ushered in. Warmth, a desk with a uniformed guard sitting behind it, a split-screen security camera monitor‎, a TV, and a couch with some coats and a very business-like rifle on it. A large map of Bulgaria on one wall completed the scene.

I rattled off my memorised introduction in Bulgarian, and was soon offered an energy drink‎ to quaff while I sat on the couch. The conversation was a little rough at first, but between Tony's broken English and my broken German, we could have kept talking for quite some time. (Tony had been a long-haul trucker for twenty years, and had snippets of every European language between here and Russia.)‎  The facility that they were guarding is the first (and still functional) radio transmitter capable of broadcasting to the entire country. It was built in 1938, and I guess this sort of infrastructure does need protection.  Tony was also able to reassure me that Ihtiman, my destination for the day, had both a hotel and a motel.  When I left, the blowing‎ wind and the enveloping dampness didn't seem nearly as cold as it had just a short while before.

The road began to descend shortly after I left the friendly armed guards behind, and I soon found myself below the cloud cover again. I'd been following the old Highway 8 for the past two days, and up until now it had remained fairly close to the new Autobahn 1. After the next village, all the (very inconsequential) traffic diverted on to the A1, leaving me with a road that was more pothole than pavement. That suited me just fine, especially since the A1 then veered north well out of earshot.

The rest of the day was quiet and peaceful. The only noteworthy event came in the late afternoon when, with Ihtiman in sight and a little more traffic on the road, I was flagged down and asked to help push a van out of the mud. It was only after two more guys, passing by on a horse-drawn cart, added their shoulders to the task that we were able to push it free. I was offered a ride to Ihtiman, which I declined with a nod of my head and a "Ne, blagodarya."

The folks at the first gas station on the edge of town told me the hotel is closed, but that the motel on the A1 was open. The last few kilometres were uphill, but the weather was quite warm by now (well, for Bulgaria in January) and the wind had died down. By the time it picked up again, and the rain started, I was already snug in my room finishing off the Novi Han post.

Because of this, it was rather late when I got to bed, and since breakfast wasn't available until 8:00, I decided to sleep in. I had spent some time during the evening going over possible destinations for Saturday, and searching for available accommodation. (I've noticed that people are generally really bad at estimating distances. At the gas station, they told me the motel was only 3 kms away, when actually it was five. And the motel clerk had suggested Pazardzhik as a possible destination, being only 35 kms. Except it's fifty-five. There are a few exceptions to this: professional drivers (like Tony), bicyclists, and other walkers.) 

I'd settled on Kostenets, even though it was only 16 kms distant. At the hostel in Sofia, I'd flagged this as a possibility. Even though it would be a short walk, I knew there'd be accommodations, and it would leave me within a long day's walk of Pazardzhik. Short day, early night, ba-da-boom-ba-da-bing.

And so here I am in Kostenets. I went shopping and bought supplies for breakfast, and as I was leaving the supermarket I heard the church bells pealing. It took me a few minutes to find my way across the river to the other part of town, but I made it to Vespers for the Publican and Pharisee. It was all in Bulgarian, of course, so I missed out on the great texts for this preparatory service, but Lent is coming!!! :-D

I'm tempted to stay another day and go to Liturgy‎ in the morning and then wait out the rain which has already started, but I am eager to keep walking and build on my  momentum. I passed the 1500 km mark yesterday, but I'm going to have to pick it up if I want to walk through Turkey. By all accounts, that will be long and challenging. I may end up flying from one of the regional airports to Haifa and missing out on Cyprus entirely, but I'll make that decision once I reach Istanbul.

At Home in Novi Han

I knew, with my two days in Edessa and four days in Thessaloniki and the recovery‎ from my illness in Sofia and the two train rides between these three cities, that it had been some time since I've actually walked from one town to another over the course of a day.  It was only when entering the specifics for my "Daily Stages" stats page that I realised I haven't walked into a town since January 16. I began walking again on the 29th. It's amazing how easy it is to lose track of time, although to be fair, I lost two days in Sofia to fever dreams and muscle aches as I lay in my bunk alternating between chills and sweats.

For Thursday, I set my alarm a little later than I normally do when I'll be walking, but I'd already packed almost everything the night before‎ and moved it down to reception. I had a larger than usual breakfast, chatted a bit with the three other guests at breakfast (two Lithuanian giants and an Irish schoolteacher), settled my account, checked Google Maps one last time on the hostel's computer terminal, and set out. 

(If ever you need a place to stay in Sofia while on a budget, Hostel Mostel is worth checking out. www.hostelmostel.com All the staff I interacted with were wonderful, the facilities were kept clean and in good repair, good food, free WiFi... it's just a really well run place. I am older than the demographic they seem to be targeting, but I was by no means the oldest guest there.)

Sofia is a very sprawling city, and most of the buildings were between four and eight storeys high. It was pleasant walking with the morning crowd on their way to work even though the day remained overcast and chilly.‎ As I made my way farther from the city centre, the wind picked up a bit since the buildings were no longer densely packed enough to block it. After an hour and a half of walking, I paused to put on another light layer of clothing. From this point on, I always had the southern range of hills in view to my right, with the northern range visible across the very wide valley to my left.

It was something like 14 kms from the hostel to the official city limits, although by the time I passed the exit board there hadn't been a café (or even a place to sit) for quite some time.‎ The one nice thing about following the highway was the full-width breakdown lane plus shoulder which separated me from the traffic. Once the highway veered to the south of the route I was taking, the road got narrower and much quieter. Still no place to stop and sit, and the wind was getting progressively stronger throughout the afternoon.

Finally I came across the Sofia Studios Complex beside the road. Of most immediate interest to me was the large sign out front, which had enough room for me to set down my pack and myself. It wasn't protected from the wind, but at that point I didn't care. I wolfed down an orange, some nuts, and some chocolate and pressed on. 

According to my GPS, I was less than an hour from Novi Han.‎ Before I left the hostel, I'd asked if they knew of any accommodations at my destination. The answer was vague but reassuring.  The folks at the first gas station at the edge of town were far more specific. "No hotel. Elin Pelin." Elin Pelin is only eight kilometres away, but that 8 kms is at right angles to my direction of travel, and I would have to walk back again in the morning. I do not like to detour or backtrack, so next I asked about a church in Novi Han. Everyone seemed to think that was an excellent idea. Encouraged, I pressed on. (Cultural note: I am used to nodding my head to say yes and shaking my head to say no. In Bulgaria, they do the opposite. These culturally ingrained habits are tough to overcome in the course of a day or two, but it's helped me become more aware of what I'm doing.)

Novi Han is not a large town, but it's big enough that I couldn't see the church. When I walked past the post office, I could see people staring at me through the window, so I decided to go in, ask for directions, and learn a few more words of Bulgarian. One postal worker drew a rough map for me, but it wasn't really necessary. Once I knew that the church was on a side street to the left, it was just a matter of checking for a cross and a dome.

I'd been looking for a church, but what I found was much more than that. The structure had formerly been a monastery, that much was clear. The sign over the large gate was good clue, as was the inner courtyard with a church‎ surrounded on all sides with connected buildings. Kitchen, living quarters, work area, check check check. The satellite dishes and toys I could see on the exterior balconies are not standard features of monasteries I've been to before, and the multiple pieces of large and brightly coloured playground equipment (not visible in this photo) were also surprising. In addition to several small children playing in the courtyard, there were three men patching a concrete sidewalk.

Once I made it clear that I was looking for a place to sleep, there was only one question they had for me: how long would I like to stay? Never mind about my nationality, religious affiliation, or even my name. (Introductions happened later, during a communal dinner.)‎ I was shown to the office and invited to sit down while someone fetched linens and got a key, and then I was shown to my room.

I was given a cell on the second floor of the west wing. The door from the main corridor opened into a small antechamber, about three metres wide and two metres deep. There was storage space and shelving to the left as I walked in, while immediately ahead was another well-sealed door, this one with a window. The next section of the cell had a small washroom sectioned off from the narrow corridor. That lead to another door, the third between the toasty warm bedroom and the unheated corridor. It was quite clear that there had been some redecorating since the monks moved out, as the walls were bright pink and there was a plastic tiara hanging on one of them. There was a single bed on one wall with shelving built in to the wall at the head, a small table, two chairs, and an old treadle sewing machine which had been converted into a desk. My guide left me to settle in, pausing only to point in the direction of the kitchen.

After unpacking, I headed downstairs for a look around. The church was locked, so I drifted into the dining area where  a few people were sitting. I introduced myself and apologised for not understanding Bulgarian, but several of the people spoke English. Kids started drifting in, and each of them practised their English greetings with me. (I'm afraid I've already forgotten most of their names.) One lad produced his grade 5 English textbook which I leafed through.

Dinner was simple, but tasty and filling. Afterwards, the singing started. I guess "We Wish You a Merry Christmas" is on the school curriculum, since everyone knew it. Then I decided to entertain them and sing for my supper. "I Know an Old Lady" is always fun, and for this rendition I included actions and sound effects. One of the young ladies provided a running translation, but there's so much repetition in the song they caught on pretty quickly. The kids vanished soon afterwards, and following a little conversation with the adults, I headed back to my room and started composing this update. I fell asleep mid-sentence several times and finally just saved it and turned out the lights.

As I was approaching Novi Han in the afternoon, I had no idea where I'd be spending the night. I couldn't have found a better place in a town ten times the size! ‎ This was a most excellent adventure.

My Last Day in Sofia

This morning I was up early. I dressed quietly, crept out of the dorm room, and made my way to St Nedelya in the first few minutes of daylight.‎ I arrived a few minutes before 8:00, lit a few candles, and settled in to wait for Liturgy to begin.

As I waited, I noticed something I've never seen before. On entering, many believers paused directly below the central dome and stood stock still for more than just a few seconds before moving on to light their candles. (Pau had attended Liturgy at St Alexander Nevsky on Sunday and asked me about this while we were walking on Tuesday. At that point, I hadn't observed the behaviour myself, and could offer no explanation. Still can't.) 

There was a short peal of bells at 8:00 and I stood, expecting the service would commence shortly.  One woman went forward, and a priest heard her confession beside the relics of the Serbian king St Stephen Milutin (1253 - 1321) on the south side of the iconostasis. I heard someone reciting the Trisagion Prayers, but I couldn't tell if it was emanating from the altar or from the Sacrament being enacted at the front of the church. I sat down again and pulled out my prayer rope while I waited.

There are timeless moments in life, when nothing in particular‎ happens. With nowhere to rush off to, and some very appealing iconography and a beautiful iconostasis to contemplate, I was quite happy to be silent and watch the flickering of the candles and the steady prayerful movement of people in the church. Eventually the priest left the altar and walked to the back of the church, glancing in my direction as he passed. Finally I realised that either I had misunderstood the woman at the candle stand the evening before, or she had been mistaken about there being a Liturgy every morning at 8:00. I took my leave of the church and headed back to the hostel for breakfast.

Following an extended breakfast and conversation with the two Lithuanian giants I'd met the night before, I headed to the trolley bus stop nearest the hostel. (Public transportation in Sofia is pretty amazing. They have subways, streetcars of various vintages, and "trolley buses," which are powered by overhead electric power lines like streetcars, but have regular bus bodies and chassis. {What's the correct plural of "chassis"?} No tracks, so no problems for other traffic to use the lane.) Stan from the hostel had given me good directions to the National Historical Museum and the Bojana Church, and told me to buy a combined ticket to save a few Leva.

I spent a little over three hours at the museum, which had been recommended to me by a Bulgarian co-worker of my father's. From there, it was a half hour walk to the late 10th century UNESCO World Heritage Site at the Church of St Nicholas and St Panteleimon in the suburb of Boyana. (Another of Milko's suggestions. Благодаря!)

Visitors to the church are limited to groups of no more than eight people, for no more than ten minutes at a time. Since it's the low season, the guide had only two visitors to shepherd, and the other one left after looking around for a few minutes. I, on the other hand, gazed intently and deliberately at everything. I was particularly struck with the fresco of the Theotokos and Christ over the entrance to the original (late 10th or early 11th century) chapel. It was brilliant. I spent far longer than ten minutes inside, and struck up a conversation with the guide which went far beyond questions about "Who is this?" Snejana was beyond generous in sharing both her knowledge and her passion for the masterful iconography in the church.‎ She is an artist herself, trained in the same school which produced the iconographers whose work we were immersed in. (And perhaps she enjoyed interacting with a visitor who already had some iconographic literacy. She gave me her email address and promised to send me photos of two of the icons. {Yes, photography is prohibited inside.} Unless I have permission to share these images online, though, I'm afraid the only people to see them will be those who see me in person.)  There are a few ‎images from this amazing church embedded in the Wikipedia article about it:

‎https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Boyana_Church

After tearing myself away, I headed back downhill to the transit stop in time to see a trolley bus pulling away. To my surprise, it wasn't the one I needed to catch. My ride was sitting at the end-of-line layover, so I hopped on board and settled in for the evening rush hour ride across the southern expanse of Sofia. I wound up opening my GPS app to track our progress across town and ensure I didn't miss my stop. (Worked out well.)

When I got back to the hostel, the laundry I'd left at reception in the morning was ‎clean, dry, and folded. I packed it away and then headed out to top up my food supplies and buy dinner, which I ate in the common room of the hostel. After several hours of pleasant post-dinner conversation, I excused myself and packed up, leaving only the essentials in my room. Everything else is waiting for me to pick it up from the baggage storage at reception when I check out after breakfast. No matter how quietly someone tries to be, packing in the dark in a room full of sleepers tends to be a relatively noisy affair, but this should allow me to slip out without disturbing anyone.

And tomorrow I finally start walking again! It's been almost two weeks since I've walked from town to town, and it's high time I resume my nomadic ways. I'm not sure where I'll wind up tomorrow night‎, other than 20 or 30 (or 40) kms closer to Istanbul -- and ultimately, Jerusalem. 

Journeymen Apprentices

http://flic.kr/p/qVrGK3

St George, Serdica (Sofia)

http://ift.tt/1Cw7Yo1 http://flic.kr/p/qXE9JC