Day 62 Stara Zagora, Bulgaria

Stara Zagora Train Station

"Why are you here?" is the most frequently asked question followed by, "Tourists don't generally come here." - no guided tours, no tourists shops, but people eager to talk. Stepping out of the hotel, a man with his two kids quickly approached us and in good English, "Is there anything I can help you with?" Seeing that we weren't sure why he would be volunteering his services, added, "My wife works at the hotel and told me you were here." The man had returned to Stara Zagora, his home town, after living in Houston, TX, for seven years and seemed excited by the opportunity to talk to a couple of Americans. A retired woman sharing our compartment on the train, after twenty-two years of living in the Queens, had just moved back to Bulgaria. "It's not as expensive here," she said. She too was surprised that we had picked Bulgaria to visit. Actually, when we got off the train, faced with a desolate and delapitated train station, I wondered what the heck had we gotten ourselves into and was glad that Nick was with me - no hotels or signs of a city or old town to invite us, just a park across the street and a few buildings on the train side of the street. A clerk in a fast food joint next to the station gave us the names of the "best" two hotels in town and for $2,50 a cab driver took us there, where, to our surprise, we found a very nice three-star hotel with wifi, breakfast, air-conditioning. There was no old town but we were in the downtown area, from which we could comfortably stroll the pedestrian walkway - a relaxed friendly atmosphere prevailed. It wasn't such a desolate place afterall.

Day 61 Sofia, Bulgaria

Alexander Nevsky Cathedral

Stray dogs everywhere - barking all night long; drivers racing through pedestrian right-aways; otherwise, what's most unusual about Sofia, for this part of the world, is its normality - relaxed, cosmopolitan, clean, with some interesting museums, churches, and historical sights; but no throngs of tourists. It's a city without airs, and sadly, from a wanna be roving anthropologist's perspective, without any apparent irony to whet one's intellectual curiosity. It's hard to find something to write about under these conditions. Nick and I made it over to the Archaeological Museum and learned how far back and rich Bulgaria's contribution to civiliation extends. Nick had some work to do, so I continued on to the International Museum of Art, interesting and enjoyable, but, with the exception of some Hokusai prints, without any recognizable artists. Consistent with the "no airs" atmosphere in this capital city of over one million there are remarkably few restaurants. We found one, though, just a couple blocks from our hotel. We were their only customers and enjoyed a modest meal of roast lamb with a very fine bottle of a local Cabernet.

Day 60 Skopje, Macedonia

Hotel Continental

When you go to Skopje, do not stay at the Hotel Continental. Too tired to inspect the room or care that the TV and the air conditioning didn't work, I fell asleep only to wake around three with an upset stomach. As I sat down on the toilet, it shifted under me and almost tipped over. It had broken off from its foundation. Balancing the stool under me, I was able to finish my task but then found it wouldn't flush. Returning to bed, I noticed the sheets I had been sleeping in had blood spots from a previous resident(s). I checked my computer to see if it had charged, it hadn't - none of the electrical outlets worked. Upset, I went downstairs to the front desk. The clerk was puzzled that I hadn't reported this earlier but nevertheless, on my insistance, gave me another room. Over a breakfast that was inedible, Nick reported that his toilet was also broken and that his shower hose had broke off after turning on the water. We decided to catch the next bus out of town.

Gypsy Girl

Hotel Continental symbolizes a third world culture that I had not as yet experienced on this trip. Outside the hotel, filth, and poverty abounds. Under a highway overpass, between the hotel and the bus depot, a community of gypsies, amidst the squalor of heaps of garbage that they had either collected themselves or others had brought in for them, had set up a couple of scrungy tents and a hut made of cardboard, tin, and loose pieces of lumber. I tentatively approached a family of four huddled around a small fire, black smoke rising from the burning rubbage. I held out some money. The father got up and took the money and motioned that he wanted more. I shook my head, "No more." His son, no more than six, shouted something that must have meant "money." I took out my camera indicating I wanted to take a picture. Seeing the camera, the dirty, but very cute, three-year old, with mud on her face, ran to me and started posing. I snapped a couple of pictures wishing I could take her with me. Had this always been their life and would it always be this way?

Skopje Street

Before the bus left, Nick and I had an hour to walk around the town center - broken down shops and buildings, trash strewn streets, a mixture of minarets and steeples, and no McDonalds. Groups of men sat around drinking coffee - maybe talking politics. They looked at us suspiciously but were also anxious to engage in conversation. "American," one pointed at me. His buddy, toothless and smiling, "Obama good!" The first one countered, "Obama bad, Bush good." A third added, "America bad!" As we continued our walk, an older man started talking to us in German. "This is a good country. The weather is good but the people are poor. They're bad too. They use drugs." At the bus depot an older man, speaking English, eagerly volunteered information on exchanging money, buying tickets, and getting to the right platform. Although our stay in Skopje was short and brutish, I doubt if I'll ever forget the experience. Would Paris have been more fun?

Day 59 Skopje, Macedonia

Skopje Airport

Nick worked on a client contract while I sought ways to get us out of Montenegro. I learned quickly that leaving this little country was not going to be easy. The political tension and hostility within and across the former Yougoslavian countries as well as with the neighboring countries; Greece, Bulgaria, Italy, Rumania, and Hungary, has created havoc with the transportation system. No matter which direction, or which country you choose, the transportation is either non-existent or extremely restricted. To go by bus or train, if either actually exists, just a couple hundred kilometers, can take twelve or more hours, which is what it took us to get into the country from Belgrade. Going south to Albania would have been nice, but to get there, you have to take a taxi to the boarder, walk across the boarder, and take another taxi to the nearest town; hopefully there you can catch a train or bus, but not too far because the same problem you had in Montenegro, you'll have in Albania. Unwilling to spend another twelve hours on a train, I decided we needed to fly out of the country. But similar to ground transportation, the options were very limited. There were no flights to Albania, Bosnia Hercegovina, Kosovo, or even to the capitals of the other major countries in the area: Sofia, Budapest, Athens, or Bucharest. One can fly to Belgrade, Serbia, or Skopje, the capital of Macedonia. Since Skopje was the only destination in the direction of Varna, I opted to get tickets on that flight. After four hours, I announced to Nick our next move. Fortunately, I didn't have to do much convincing.

Day 58 Kotor, Montenegro

Kotor, Montenegro

Spectacular - all of Montenegro! I don't believe I've used that adjective yet. On the expansive shores of Skadar Lake between Podgorica and and Petrovac we found the remains of a castle - Nick and I had it to ourselves to explore. In Bar, along the Adriatic, we treked around the crumbling ruins of the old town at the foot of Mount Rumiza. In Budva, with its sandy beaches, we discovered its old town built on an island that was originally connected to the mainland by a sandbar. In Sveti Stefan we weren't allowed to visit the majestic hotel complex that covers an island reachable by a promenade over a sandbar - it's reserved for the rich and famous. In Bigovic, a peaceful fishing village, accessible through a rugged winding single lane road, we lunched. Nick had squid and I seabass - delicious - our favorite dishes. In Kotor, we gawked at the fortress walls running for miles around and up the steep mountain cliffs. We decided to huff and puff a third of the way to the top before it started to rain, but not before we snapped lots of pictures of the fjord below ringed by mountains percipitously rising out of the sea. A little further down the road in Perast, the mountains continue to rise straight up from the sea serving as a backdrop for this fishing village where a church has been built on an island a few hundred meters out in the bay. Shifting down into first and second gears, Nick powered our way up the 1749 meter-high Mount Lovcen. It started to rain again, but not until we were able to take pictures of the sea, fjords, and mountains shrinking below us. We had almost reached the top when an approaching car signaled us to stop. "You can't get through. There's been an accident." Mifted, but glad that we had discovered the natural beauty of this area, we turned around; through miserable driving conditions, we returned to Podgorica via Budva.

Day 57 Petrovac, Montenegro

Nick Calling Home

Nick and I rented a car, drove to the Adriatic, saw some incredible natural and man made sights, and found a quaint little beach town (Petrovac) within a small cove along the Adriatic where we decided to stay. I could bore you with all the exquisite sights we took in but I'd rather tell you about a couple we met this morning in Podgorica. Until then we hadn't seen any Americans and the hotel clerk had told us we were a rare commodity. But then, as we were about to sit down for breakfast, an American couple greeted us, "You're the American gentlemen from San Francisco?" "Yes, and you?" "San Francisco, Mission District." "Southbeach." "We work there." "Where?" "At Wallgreens, Fourth and Townsend." "You're kidding. We shop there all the time. What do you do there?" I said. "I'm a Pharmacist," the man said. "We get our prescriptions filled there." I said. "What's your name?" the Pharmacist asked. "David Beck." "I don't remember that name." "How about Debra Robins?" "Oh yes," he exclaimed. "She's definitely one of our top ten customers!"

Day 56 Podgorica, Montenegro

View from Train

We were on the sleeper train 12 1/2 hours 4 1/2 hours longer than scheduled. "Did we take the wrong train?" I asked a fellow passenger. "No, all the trains run late. On the single tracks through the mountains, they have to wait for other trains to pass before proceeding and when those trains are late, everything backs up." Nick on meds was able to sleep through much of it but I could not. Our luck though was to find a hotel Hemmingway would have loved just a few meters from the train station in this remote part of the world. Podgorica with 200,000 is the the capital of the six-year old country of Montenegro, a country of one million. The city is not beautiful but the surrounding mountains give it a special isolated charm. Like the rest of former Yougoslavia, the country is conflicted. The population voted for independence, but many want to be a part of Serbia. Our hotel clerk is quite vocal, "We need to be one country with Serbia." But with respect to the Croatia, "I hate the Croatians. They're all liers." And on Kosovo, "No, they should be a part of Serbia - definitely. It's your fault. You're the boss," referring to the United States. The hotel can rent us a car and we can drive to any of the neighboring countries but Croatia. "No, they will see the plates, and destroy the car," the clerk exclaims. Although Montenegro is not a part of the European community or the Eurozone, they have adopted the Euro as their currency. Prices are low. We should save some money here.