Last day in Istanbul, winter is waiting for us in Sofia. Days 114-118

 Days 114-118:

Galata Tower and the Golden Horn

Sunday, the 12th of December. Eyes opened around 13:30. The room is a mess and our heads are fucking hammered. We left the hostel a bit embarrassed, but fortunately, the staff is used to see this things. In our last day in Istanbul, we visited the Spice Bazaar and Suleymaniye Mosque, and stopped again in Galata bridge, this time to eat some fresh mussels. The day is sunny, but really cold. After eating our last kebap, we continued walking up to Galata Tower, and Istiklal street all straight ahead, to catch the bus at Taksim Square. There were too many people for only 2 buses, so everybody went crazy when the door opened… We had to elbow our way inside, no choice! We landed at Sofia airport around 9:30 pm, and the intense trip finished. 

Galata bridge. Istanbul

But our last days in Bulgaria were not going to be boring… On Monday, once recovered of our Turkish trip, Sofia appeared completely white!! Absolutely covered with snow. Great news for us, because we wanted to see (and feel) the real Bulgarian winter before leaving. Suddenly, going to class turned into a little adventure, with the streets full of snow and ice, and temperatures below zero. Something new for Spanish guys…  

Communism monument in Borisova Gradina, Sofia

During these days we enjoyed the snow in the city. Everybody there is really used to it, but we felt like a child with new shoes. We explored in detail the big park near city centre (Borisova Gradina). It is like a forest, but with bizarre surprises inside: communism monuments, old football stadiums (CSKA Sofia), ice-skating park, deserted restaurants... We also met with some Spanish Erasmus friends to say good-bye (they were leaving) and drink some beers, and precisely then, the Bulgarian TV interviewed us in the street! We appeared in a TV programme in the public channel. That was funny...

Last days in Bulgaria... and time running out to go to Borovets for some snowboarding... We started to plan it with Rositza. Another little events: we visited the superb Laguna (ice-creams and much more) with Eli and Miriam (their favourite!), and on day 15, Tuesday, was Daniela's birthday (Iva's cousin), so we all met with her to have a drink. Hurry up! This experience is ending...

Auto-gifts from Istanbul: 3 Gutis!

And here is our particular TV show... Business All the time!!!

Veliko Tarnovo. Day 79

Day 79:

I remember when some bulgarian told me: “Trust me, you have to visit Tsarevets Fortress, it`s the most amazing thing you´ll see here in Bulgaria”. It's maybe an exaggeration, but it's true that Veliko Tarnovo’s fortress, symbol of their ancient prosperity and final resistance against the Ottoman invaders, is a “must-see”. Partially reconstructed, the stronghold was erected on a hill from where the entire surroundings are under a 360 ͦvisual control, and is also extra-protected by the river basin.

Tsarevets Fortress

The Asen Dynasty Monument

The skies continued their alliance with us, and we could enjoy a day full of sun while we walked along the medieval traces of the Bulgarian Empire. Interesting and rare pictures inside the upper church.

With that burning sun and a light hangover over us, we walked from Tsarevets to the other side of the historic centre of the sloping village. A big statue with 4 bulgarian kings (remembering the foundation of the Bulgarian Kingdom) attracted our childish attention for a while (as well as the uncommon accumulation of cute girls in this city did).

After a quite afternoon, we drove back to Sofia following the most direct way, which goes over a highway in its last kilometers. Once in the capital, we decided to give ourselves a little reward (or punishment, it depends on how you look at it) having dinner at KFC. The day ended with a Real Madrid-Atletico match in the “Malagueños” house, who are always available to this events!

Veliko Tarnovo

Shipka and Veliko Tarnovo. Day 78

Day 78:

Temple of the Birth of Christ.Shipka

Destination: Veliko Tarnovo. Shining day. Although we had met at 7:45, we finally got moving at 9:15 (Spanish punctuality). The team was quite promising: The newcomers (Charli, Luisma and Saul), The “malagueños” (Adri and Josemi), Monroy, Pacas and me. We drove heading East, with only one stop for a coffee in a isolated place. Stara Planina mountains were at our left side all along the way. Almost in Kazanlak, we took the deviation to Shipka, a historic place surrounded by mountains. There are a wonderful church there, vividly colored and quite beautiful. We found a little restaurant in the village in which we had a nice homemade lunch, accompanied by the first beers of the day.

But before leaving the place, we were REALLY intrigued about a strange construction in the top of a nearby mountain.

-What’s that???

Sofia-Veliko via Shipka Pass

-“An artificial viewpoint!”, said someone.

-“No, a watchtower”, said other.

-“No, no, no, it must be a meteorological station!”, replied another one.

-“An UFO??, Superman?? … What the fuck?"

Ceiling: Hammer and sickle

Definitely, we had to investigate that. It was so strange, and we would have awesome views from there! But we asked some villager how to get there, and nobody knew exactly (or at least they said that). Finally we *the road back, and took a deviation which headed to the mountain. We found a hard slope upwards, and after a few kilometers, the reward! We reached the Buzludzha monument, which has a really interesting background, explained in Nikola Mihov’s webpage: “The House of the Bulgarian Communist Party is the largest monument in Bulgaria. It is located on mount Buzludzha (1441 m) in the Balkan Mountain. It was erected for the 90th anniversary of the Buzludzha congress, where the Bulgarian Social-Democratic Workers' Party, the predecessor of the Bulgarian Communist Party, was founded. It took military construction units almost seven years to complete the monument. Altogether more than 6000 workers and experts took part in the construction work. More than 20 leading Bulgarian artists, worked for 18 months in order to complete the interior decoration. Verses of “The International” and “The Worker’s March” were inscribed on the entrance of of the meorial. The interior used to be partly covered in marble. The staircases were decorated with red cathedral glass. In the 15 meter-high main hall of the memorial a 500 sq.m. fresco present portraits of Marx, Engels, Lenin and the Bulgarian communist leader Todor Zhivkov. The dome of the structure was covered with thirty tones of cooper. Two 12m stars of ruby glass was built-in on the top of the 70m high pylon of the monument that symbolizes a waving communist flag. Buzludzha stars were made in the Soviet union, and they were three times bigger than those in Kremlin. On 10th of November 1989 Zhivkov stepped down after 35 years in power. Immediately afterwards, Politburo ordered the removal of his portrait from the memorial. In 1991 the monument, which still belonged to the ex-communist party, was ceded to the state and was abandoned, looted and left to self-destruction.”

Inside the Buzludzha monument.  Completely abandoned.

Pacas & Charli (Navy Seals)

We were there for a couple of hours, absolutely amazed by our lucky discovery. The most exciting moment came when we found a hole in the main building and we entered inside. Wow!!! It was like travelling 50 years back to the past, but with a sense of mystery and destruction really intriguing. The building was absolutely abandoned and you could enter everywhere (on your own risk). There were stairs going down to the building basement, but they were absolutely dark and we hadn’t torch to light it. Anyway, it would have been so scary!!

Once we had visited all the sinister “UFO”, we took the road and continued to the North, across Shipka pass (1.200 m). There, in the top of another hill, it’s erected The Shipka Memorial, which remember those who died for the Liberation of Bulgaria during the Battles of Shipka Pass in the Russo-Turkish War of 1877-78. More stops in a small ethnographic village called Etara, and in Sokolsky Monastery.

Adri and The Shipka Memorial

Well done folks!!

We finally arrived Veliko Tarnovo by night, and we went to Hostel Mostel, a nice hostel in the earth of the city. They gave us an (unbelievable) welcome, like heroes coming from the battle. The dinner (lentils!) was included in the price, pretty nice extra. They invited us to drink a beer in the main living-room, with SPECTACULAR friendliness. All this flattering treatment resulted to be dangerous: Adri and Monroy started to feel like in their own home and went to a supermarket to buy Vodka and Rum. A calm living room transformed progressively into a hardcore party, with Monroy half-nude and Adri destroying some furniture. The situation went out of control for the staff there, and they finally called the boss, who came and throwed us out to the basement, where we would not disturb. But incidents followed and the boss appeared again to invite us to leave the Hostel definitely, thing that happened at around 1 AM. It was crazy, I’m not proud of that, but to be honest I’ve to said that it was very funny… We continued partying in Organza Club (3 floors, very big and full of people) until 3:30 AM. Long day, too much activity!!!

Romania.From Sibiu to Sofia across Danube.Day 73

 Day 73:

1 November 2010. We had a very long journey ahead of us, but we woke up without hurries (around 10). We stopped a few km from Sibiu, in a shabby fast-food local (so tasty) full of workers having a rest. That was one of the few stops in the entire day… Ah yes, of course, another one was when the Police stopped Miera’s car (the fucking ugly long Clio) and fined him for exceeding the speed limit (120 leis – around 30 € paid at that moment). 

Heading South...

Near Ramnicu Valcea

We continued following river Olt in its way to the Danube through Turnu Rosu Pass, passing Ramnicu Valcea, Dragasani and Slatina villages. So we left Transylvania to enter the region of Wallachia again. Nothing really interesting in those villages, apart from the wonderful environment (mountains, forest, river…). Craiova (very ugly) was the last big city before the frontier, but there were still lots of kilometers, so we stopped to have lunch in a forgotten and dirty village somewhere in the middle of nowhere… Suspicious at the beginning, but a good decision after all! We ate some nice chicken steaks with peppers and chips for a few Leis. 

 

Once back on the road, we drove through moors and isolated villages. That part of Romania (south-west) was absolutely different to what we had seen before in the country. Calafat is the last Romanian village before Bulgaria. 

In the middle of nowhere. South-west Romania

 –“Ahh… at last Calafat!! Uhmm… let’s go to the frontier pass”, I thought. 

We drove through the village for a while, looking for any signal or indication. Nothing.

-“What the fuck? Where is the frontier???”, I started to desperate, because we hadn’t seen any signal to Bulgaria. We asked two or three people around there for the frontier, but they didn’t know. They only knew where was the port. -“I don’t need to know where is the fucking port!!”, I thought. I started to suspect that something unexpected was about to happen, we were there (in Calafat) following ViaMichelin instructions, but we hadn’t any other info. 

  

The route. Almost 10 hours...

It was getting dark and that strange village seemed to be an unpleasant place to stay overnight (no people on the streets, no lights, no restaurants, no hotels, no life), so we finally went to the fucking port. A barrier and a man in a cabin. I stopped and tried to explain our situation. The man didn’t open his mouth, he only looked at me, angrily. Monroy came to help me and the man finally gave us (with bad manners) some papers to fill up: “Number of passengers, Number of cars…etc”. Yeah, it was clear that was possible to cross the river by ship! But everything was so strange… no info, no signals, nobody around… At that moment I noticed that there is only ONE bridge between Bulgaria and Romania, Fuck! 

It was completely dark when we finally move the cars inside the port. There was a police control. A bastard policeman spent like 1 hour with us, checking our cars, our ID, papers... At least it was funny when he was checking Viga’s photo, comparing it with his face. The policeman in front of Viga for 10 minutes, “scanning” Viga’s face one and another time… Viga smiling… the situation was very freak! That man was really bored there, I think…

We had to pay 64 € to pass, and moved ahead to the end of the line. Several trucks were waiting there too. That normalized the situation… we weren’t alone! Our mood had passed from worrying to funny. We (the trucks and our two cars) got on board in a small ferry. I was the last one, and the back of my car was –literally- above the water. Absolutely full! We enjoyed a lot the trip to the other side, and got out of the car to take some photos on the deck. Unexpectedly, we were crossing The Danube in a foggy night with our cars. Exciting! 

 

On the deck. Pacas, Marcos, Miera, Moly and Viga

Once in Bulgaria, the Police (AGAIN) held us for half hour. They asked us lots of things, I suppose it’s not common to receive two Bulgarian cars full of Spanish in that frontier at that time… We were doing a very rare thing. After all the mess, we finally arrived to Vidin (where there is an interesting fortress that we finally could NOT see). We had still 4 hours to reach Sofia… and we entered into a DENSE fog. VERY DENSE. We only could see 5-7 meters ahead, so we had to slow down a lot. 

Golf lights didn't help so much...

-“Bah… I’m sure this fog will disappear soon, it’s too dense and it will not last so much”, I thought. Heh!!... 3 HOURS OF MADDENING FOG! I didn’t know that fog could expand in such a BIG extensión (around 140 km, I estimate). Fortunately, I like challenges (and that was challenging), and I had VERY good company inside the car (Monroy and Pacas), so it was funny. We improved our fog driving skills fast, and soon we were driving at around 50-60 kmph. The trick is to maintain an absolute concentration in the central road line, and react very quickly in the curves or when other cars appear. The second car has a more relaxed driving; it’s as easy as follow the red lights, so we changed the position from time to time. 

It was madness… but we finally reached the highway to Sophia, where we arrived after 10 hours of car. Tired!! But not enough! We went to Dybaka to re-fill our stomachs, and later to Rockanrolla to drink a beer and celebrate that finally everything went well!! Long day… 

Romania. From Sofia to Bucharest. Day 70

Day 70:

We had met at 10 in the morning, but as it was predictable, nobody had woken up at that time. So was necessary to wait a bit more until all the people were stand up, including myself (usually the leader of the Lazy…). Continuing with our SICKLY PLANIFICATION of the trip, we did our bags and bought some food as we went along. While I was going to take a rented car (a shitty long Renault Clio, in Sara Rent) for the newcomers with Iva and Miera, Pacas was offering an AMAZING TOUR EXPRESS around Sofia city-centre (Cathedral, Russian Church, touristic market…) to Moly and Viga. Nearly ready, we had lunch before depart, and did a BOTCH reparation in the VW Golf motor (only with my hands, teethes and some rubber...McGyver is a newbie). Yeah, we were finally ready to drive!

Ooouachh.... Good weather this morning in Sofia!

 

ON THE ROAD: FROM SOFIA TO BUCHAREST

Having in mind that we had booked night in Bucharest, and it was 14.00 on the clock when we started the cars to move on… ok, we wouldn’t have so many stops that day… Fortunately, a hot sun was rising above us, and the first kilometers were over one of the few highway stretches in all the country (from Sofia to Varna). It relaxed the driving at the beginning, while crossing through Stara Planina mountains (a loooong range from west Bulgaria to east Bulgaria). There we could enjoy some nice views and the snow in the road verge. The traffic was quite heavy, and from time to time, a crazy Bulgarian driver passed us with violence. Usually, a big black 4x4 BMW or Mercedes. Mafia? Yeahhh...

Once out of the highway, we found the authentic Bulgarian roads, with its lovely BIG holes. That pavement was much more older than my car, but anyway, we enjoyed the long west-to-east northern lands crossing. That is an area that we rarely would have the opportunity to visit again. It was interesting to see this forgotten Bulgaria, with isolated villages and industrial cities in the middle of nowhere (Pleven). A bus which was driving in “beast-mode” entertained us for a while. It passed us like a crazy devil, and was doing the same with the rest of the cars. Overtaking from the right side or from the left one, no matter at all!. In a straight or in a curve, who cares? We tried to follow it as hard as we could, seeing its madness. But some passing was impossible to replicate… it disappeared in the horizon… crazy fucking bus!! The newcomers were very surprised after seeing that, but I think it was because they were exactly that… newcomers!

North Bulgaria, a few km from Pleven

We arrived to the city of Ruse at night. Danube river it’s there, marking a big natural frontier with Romania. We paid 6 € to cross the long bridge, and 3 € in Romanian taxes. Not so expensive. In Romania the roads surprised us: perfect pavement, wide, clean and signposted. Why is SO BIG this difference between Bulgaria and Romania??? Maybe are true all those rumors which say that the European funds are controlled (or strongly influenced... as you want) by the Mafia in Bulgaria, and they use them to their own benefit. I can’t know exactly what the reason is, but it’s really strange.

One hour later we entered to Bucharest. We simply followed the road until we were in the middle of the city. Once there, we stopped and asked for the street of our Hostel: “It’s just there”, said a young man, pointing the other side of the street. “It’s impossible to be so lucky… there are 2 million people in this place, it’s impossible…”, I thought. But yes, we had stopped just in front of our Hostel, less than 100 meters. We, lucky bastards!!

Bucharest at night:

Good morning with Kamenitza!

We left our things in the Hostel and went to the old city centre, surprisingly beautiful at night. We had been recommended to go to a specific restaurant: Caru Cu Bere! Opened in 1879, it’s a marvelous building with impressive furniture and decoration. Classic and luxurious. But we weren’t lucky this time: it was absolutely full. Finally, we found another place were we could taste local food (mainly meat) and beer (Ciuc, Silva…). Around 10 € per person, more expensive than Bulgaria, but still far cheaper than Spain, considering we are just in the center. After the feast, we had some drinks in downtown local pubs (3 € per “Cubalibre”, aprox.). Viga and some other rebel tried to extend the night as long as our money could last, but the fact is that we returned to the Hostel around 2.30 AM. Wise decision, because it would have been a trench warfare with unknown consequences!

Greece. Thessaloniki and return to Bulgaria. Day 66

Day 66: 

Alejandro!

Our day started at 11.30, with an interesting hangover crushing us. We all were fucked –in general-, but Adri was worse. Sergeant Téllez was an authentic zombie. We left the hotel and went to the streets looking for some repairing meal. Feta cheese again. Cheap & tasty. On Monday morning, the city is full of activity. People and cars everywhere. And 4 phantoms roaming. Of course, we wanted to do some sightseeing, so we took the car and went to the seafront. I parked in a forbidden place, but Adri (absolutely knocked) stood in the car while we were walking around there. 

The White Tower

Thessaloniki is the second Greek city after Athens, and has a long (more than 2.000 years) and complex history. Macedonians, Romans, Byzantines, Ottomans… all them ruled the city along the time. The first big thing we saw was the White Tower (a prison during the Ottoman period), just beside the sea. We walked for almost an hour along the seafront, and took some photos around Alexander The Great and his statue. 

Josemi in Thessaloniki's seafront

Sgt. Téllez protecting the car with bravery

The day was really grey, and our heads absolutely black. Strange fruits in a nearby park captured our attention more than the historic remains of the city. Those fruits –fuck! What were they??- were really intriguing for 3 dummies like us. They were green and with strange smell and touch. We finally decided to use them to play baseball, and was quite funny. Once back in the reality, we remembered that a dying Sergeant Téllez was alone in the car, and he had no way to phone us if necessary. Shit! We went back and fortunately the car was there with a body inside, and there wasn’t a paper on the windscreen. But what would have happened if the police had come? Nobody knows, but I’m sure that Sgt. Téllez would have done it right. He is a soldier, used to be in the frontline! Later, we tried to visit other parts of the city, going there by car. The traffic was horrible and we were stucked most of the time. We only could see some old churches, interesting, but  completely surrounded by new and ugly buildings! Driving around there was stressing and we couldn’t even find a place to park! Result: Way Back to Bulgaria around 2 PM. Highway direction North. We only stopped to have a coffee –beer for Ronnie- in a Greek village, the rest of the trip was calm. 

Yes! We're spanish! But don't worry, we are not dangerous!

 Once in Bulgarian lands, 10 km past Dupnitsa the car engine suddenly stopped. What the fuck? I parked in the verge as I could. What happened?? I was afraid of it… No petrol!! Well, at least it wasn’t a breakdown. The car hasn’t pilot light for this matter, and I forgot to check the meter… 

-“Ok, ok… let’s go to do something before darkness. I’ll try to do hitchhiking and go back to Dupnitsa for some petrol”, said Ronnie. He tried it for a while and nobody stopped. The isolated place where we were didn’t help him. Just in case, I started to walk the way back to the village. 20 minutes and a few kilometers after, a car stopped for me. There were Ronnie and two gypsies in a very old car. They spoke some spanish because had been working in Spain, in the country. Once in the petrol-station, Ronnie said me that things like these proof that, in the end, poor people usually are the most humane. Nobody stopped except them. 

Not again!! :)

We bought a bottle of water and filled it with petrol. A rich couple in the other side of the road was “assaulted” by us, and they -of course- had to accept us in their car. Way back to the Golf and Adri-Josemi. 1,5 litres of petrol and another return to the petrol-station in Dupnitsa to fill up the tank. We arrived Sofia around 8 PM, really tired, but happy after all! The Greek experience had been good, varied and intense! Unforgettable trip! 

Musala (Montañas de Rila). Día 50

Día 50:

Comienzo de la ruta...Borovets

Me despierto a las 8 de la mañana con un mensaje de Lubo en el móvil: “Marcos, al final no voy. Pásalo bien.”. He de decir que leer esto, aunque era esperado, me alivió. Lubo es un gran tipo, de eso no cabe duda, pero me daba cierto yuyu emboscarme con él en esta ruta, en estas condiciones. Tras una hora de carretera, a las 9.30 estoy en Borovets, la más concurrida estación invernal de Bulgaria (junto con Bansko). Casi todo está cerrado aquí, y no hay gente por las calles. Aparco junto al que creo que es el comienzo de la ruta, que no está señalizado. Está situado a 1.300 metros de altitud. No hay ningún coche alrededor, lo que indica que probablemente no me encuentre a nadie en el camino.  La pista está muy marcada, ya que es la que usan los vehículos de la estación de ski para el mantenimiento de las pistas superiores. No hay pérdida. La primera hora y media de caminata es bastante lúgubre y fría, ya que transcurre en un apabullante bosque de pinos que bloquean los rayos de luz varios metros por encima de mi cabeza, donde sólo veo niebla y copas de árboles. El bosque es tan profundo y espeso, que se agradece que el camino sea una pista forestal y no un estrecho sendero. El suelo tiene una fina capa de nieve, que en su superficie es auténtico hielo. 

Y por fin comencé a salir del frondoso bosque...

Cuando (¡al fin!) comienzo a salir del bosque, el sol lo ilumina todo repentinamente. Esto, por tontería que parezca, me animó muchísimo, pues hasta ese momento no tenía muchas esperanzas de que fuese posible llegar a la cima del Musala. Realmente tenía muy pocas, incluso de llegar hasta el refugio, situado a 2.450 metros de altitud. Y es que una vez que dejo a mis espaldas el frondoso pinar y la espesa niebla, todo parece más fácil de repente. Paso cerca de la estación superior del telesilla Yastrebets, que es el punto más alto de la estación. Unos operarios están cambiando unos cables cerca de allí, así que aprovecho para preguntarles si voy en la dirección correcta. Ellos se quedan bastante sorprendidos de verme andando por aquí, aunque para mí supone otra bocanada de ánimo que me confirmen que voy bien. Paradójicamente, a partir de este momento pierdo de vista el camino, y sigo simplemente ascendiendo la ladera de la montaña en la dirección que intuyo correcta. Durante bastante rato sigo unas pisadas de perro que se van colando con habilidad entre numerosos arbustos y charcos de fango-nieve. Tal vez las huellas eran de otro animal, pero yo en ese momento preferí pensar que eran de perro por mi propia tranquilidad (aunque tiene chiste… ¿qué va a hacer un perro por aquí, sólo?). 

Poco antes de encontrarme con los trabajadores... las rodadas eran suyas

Musala Hut... según le ví

Cuando llego al Musala Hut (refugio), a eso de la 12.15, hago mi primer descanso en toda la mañana. Aprovecho para entrar dentro, donde me encuentro a los dos guardas jugando unas cartas junto a la lumbre. Me miran con cara rara, sin decir nada. Trato de entenderme con ellos, pero no hay forma, sólo hablan búlgaro. Trato de preguntarles (por señas) si hay alguien más de camino a la cumbre, pero no me comprenden. Me conformo con pedirles un cuchillo y una Coca Cola, y me hago un buen bocata. 20 minutos después vuelvo al camino, ahora sí, bien marcado y directo a la cima. A medida que subo la visibilidad es menor a causa de la neblina que envuelve al macizo, y la nieve más profunda.

Pasando junto a uno de los varios lagos que hay en el camino... el Musala se divisa imponente en la izquierda

Dejo atrás el refugio Everest (cerrado a cal y canto), construido en honor al primer búlgaro que alcanzó el techo del mundo, y que desgraciadamente murió en el regreso. El último tramo es precioso, ya en el mismo cono de la cima. Me recordó un poco al Paso de Caradhras por el que se empeñó en ir Gandalf (sí, en estos momentos de soledad la mente se monta unas películas que no veas…).  Finalmente a eso de las 15.00 h. llego arriba del todo, donde para mi sorpresa me encuentro un pedazo de refugio y estación meteorológica. Sabía que aquí había algo, pero no me imaginé esto (estamos a 2.925 m.). Le quita bastante encanto al lugar,  que es el punto más alto de todos los Balcanes. Además, un grupo de unos 20 macedonios estaban allí haciendo fotos y tomando té. Se interesaron por saber de dónde venía (ellos habían subido por la otra vertiente) y cómo estaba el camino de bajada. Me invitaron a un té y se mostraron bastante sorprendidos de encontrarse con un español aquí (supongo que no es lo más habitual…). Al final no hizo tanto frío como se preveía, el termómetro marcaba -8 grados, y afortunadamente no hacía nada de viento.

Vistas hacia el Norte, de donde vengo. Junto al tercer lago (el más lejano), está el Musala Hut, y más al fondo el valle hacia Borovets

Tras un rato de descanso y unas fotos, comienzo a bajar con los macedonios. La bajada la hago rápida y directa. Paré en el refugio Musala, donde en principio tenía previsto quedarme a dormir, pero viendo que me quedaban más de dos horas de luz para bajar hasta el coche, seguí para abajo. La última parte, la del enorme bosque, se me hizo larga, dura y pesada. Las piernas a reventar, en días como hoy me doy cuenta de lo vitales que son los palos de treking, si no los llego a tener no aguanto. Sobre las 18.00 h llegué al punto inicial, seriamente reventado… y es que de hecho fue una de las mayores palizas que recuerdo: 3.300 metros de desnivel acumulado y unos 25 km en 8 horas casi sin descanso.  Me queda 1 hora en coche hasta Sofía, durante la cual casi me quedo frito conduciendo, tuve que parar dos veces a por cafeína.

Creo que esto era el antiguo refugio del Musala... pero no estoy nada seguro

Al final... ¡Devastado!

Pero como siempre...pese a todo el esfuerzo físico, la experiencia fue finalmente muy gratificante. No es lo ideal subir a la montaña en solitario, es seguramente más aburrido (y arriesgado si surgen complicaciones), pero al mismo tiempo es una sensación diferente, interesante. Hubiese sido perfecto de no ser por las nubes y neblina que me impidieron disfrutar plenamente del maravilloso paraje que son las montañas de Rila, y me ocultaron por completo las vistas hacia el Sur mientras estuve en la cima.  El resto del fin de semana fue de PAZ (y PES) en el piso de Monroy-Pacas.

Hoy me despido con ...

Alice in Chains  y su Last Of My Kind

Serbia (Belgrado) y reencuentro en Sofía. Día 31

Día 31:

Partizan Playground

Me levanto alrededor de las 9.30 y voy corriendo a comprobar que el coche sigue en su lugar y sin “papelito”. Ok, ha habido suerte, pero llevaba un par de horas en situación irregular. Una multa hubiese detonado por los aires todo el presupuesto del viaje, que a estas alturas anda muy delicado. Nos despedimos del hostel, y nos dirigimos al centro de la ciudad. Belgrado es el mayor núcleo urbano por el que vamos a pasar en este viaje, con más de millón y medio de habitantes. La mezcla religiosa y étnica de Sarajevo deja paso a un ambiente más puramente europeo y el cristianismo ortodoxo como máxima influencia en Belgrado. Pese al largo dominio otomano que sufrió Belgrado con el comienzo de la Edad Moderna, no hay vestigios demasiado visibles.

Belgrado

Nuestro tiempo aquí es bien limitado, así que buscamos primeramente la Fortaleza de Kalemegdan que se erige en lugar privilegiado del centro. Por allí paseamos tranquilamente, disfrutando de perfectas vistas sobre el resto de la ciudad y viendo alguno de los edificios y monumentos que contiene (Torre del Reloj, el gran pozo, mausoleos, puertas de entrada en los muros…). El museo militar, desgraciadamente cerrado los lunes, me quedo sin verlo aunque me consuelo con las cosas que hay expuestas en el exterior. Una vez fuera de la Fortaleza, un paseo por la zona de la ciudad que queda a su sureste nos muestra el Belgrado más histórico. Muchas iglesias, algún que otro palacio, teatro, museos… etc. Me quedo con las ganas de visitar el dedicado a Nikola Tesla, el famoso inventor de etnia serbia.



Perro posando en un parque de Belgrado

Desde la Fortaleza. Ríos Sava y Danubio

A la hora de comer volvemos a la crepería que me había enamorado la noche anterior, muy cerca del Museo Nacional. Un último paseo, aprovechando que hace muy buen tiempo y que el periplo balcánico enfila ya sus últimas horas, y volvemos al coche y directos a la autopista. En uno de los peajes recogemos a un serbio que nos acompaña hasta la ciudad de Nis, y con el cual mantenemos una entretenida charla en la que nos explica algunas cosas interesantes sobre la actitud de los serbios tras lo sucedido en la década de los 90. Después de la citada ciudad (por cierto, lugar de nacimiento del emperador romano Constantino I El Grande), la cómoda autopista llega a su fin y deja paso a una bonita carretera que se sumerge entre un largo desfiladero que por momentos me recordó al que tenemos en Cantabria.



Conduciendo por el sur de Serbia



En la frontera con Bulgaria, nos piden… bueno, tal vez “pedir” no sea el verbo adecuado, pues la pregunta vino después de la acción. El caso es que se introdujeron en los asientos de atrás del coche dos señoras, trabajadoras de la aduana, y después un hombre nos dijo que si nos importaba llevarlas hasta Dragoman (ciudad búlgara a medio camino de Sofía). “Bueno oye, ya que están montadas, no les hagas bajarse”, qué le voy a decir. Las señorucas fueron todo el rato hablando de sus cosas, sólo les faltó sacar hilo y aguja y ponerse a hacer punto allí mismo.



Entre las montañas cerca de la frontera Serbia-Bulgaria

Y por fin, tras más de 2.000 km de viaje, llegamos a Sofía anocheciendo. Sentí una extraña sensación reconfortante al volver a sentir esas carreteras empedradas y esos fascinantes baches de medio metro de profundidad. “Ahhh… por fin en casa”, exclamé tras el primero que me comí. Yo creo que hasta el Golf lo echaba de menos… ¡un poco de acción, coñe!. Tras todos estos días, resultó muy curioso abrir la cartera y ver una vez más ese caos de diferentes monedas que uno ya no sabe ni a qué país corresponden. De hecho, no sólo hubo que utilizar el dinar serbio, sino también el marco bosnio, la kuna croata, el lek albanés, y el dinar macedonio. Aparte del propio lev búlgaro, y el euro, que es la moneda oficial montenegrina. Hasta siete tipos de monedas en mi cartera, que ocasionaron numerosas tropelías del estilo de intentar pagar en Bosnia con monedas de Albania, y cosas similares. Muchas veces lo que hacía era enseñar al dependiente el montón de monedas y que él mismo se sirviese, era lo más rápido.

Y Bulgaria de nuevo...

¡¡Reencuentro!!:

Al fin el trío junto...

Al llegar a casa, allí nos están esperando (tal y como estaba planeado minuciosamente) Pacas y Monroy, ¡¡al fin el esperado momento!!. Tenemos muchas cosas que contarnos, pero lo primero que sale a la palestra fue el relato de sus primeras horas en Sofía, bastante confusas. Llegaron sobre las 2.30 de la mañana y un taxista bastante chungo les llevó al Hostal que yo les había reservado en el centro. Al parecer el tipo fue un buen rato en dirección prohibida por calles de sentido único, lo cual ya empezó a escamar a los recién llegados. Posteriomente la bienvenida en el Hostal no fue mejor, pues parecía absolutamente vacío, hasta que un somnoliento recepcionista se levantó de pronto de entre las tinieblas y les saludó en el “familiar y cercano” idioma búlgaro. Subieron por unas escaleras de madera medio podrida a la habitación, donde unas cuantas cucarachas les estaban esperando con los brazos abiertos. El recepcionista les hizo entrega del sobre donde se contenían las llaves de mi piso, las cuales utilizaron a la mañana siguiente para instalarse allí y pasar una noche más. Aunque ellos ya tienen controlada el área periférica a mi piso, y sus principales tugurios de pizzas y kebaps, yo les quiero llevar cuanto antes a que conozcan el gran Ugo, donde nos damos un buen atracón y una buena ingesta de Kamenitza. Esta noche dormirán por última vez en nuestro piso, ya que es mañana cuando hemos quedado con la casera para alojarles en su nuevo hogar.