Flying across the length of Africa by night there are no signs of lights or civilized life below, until ten hours later the orange glow of Cairo appears. Soon we were across the mediteranean ocean. It was the day after Christmas. At forty one thousand feet we flew just above cloud ceiling, a white woven pattern of cloud as far as the earths’ edge, it seemed. Below us were the Balkan Mountains, Bosnia, Serbia and names such as Sarajevo and Kosova went through my mind. The nose dropped and we were in a steep descent into a white out cloud for what seemed like endless time. The aircraft pitched and banked as we headed for earth, continuously buffeted by turbulence. This felt like some kind of military bombing sortie, this pilot had to have been ex-military. The Russian woman seated next to me had now become very quiet. Having spent years in the Air force, I thought of how absurd and ironic my situation was. Having spent thousands of days in a unit whose purpose was to shoot down Soviet Mig fighter jets from our African skies, I knew all too well that one of our Hilda or Cactus missiles (acquired from Arab countries through obscure ways) were capable of bringing incoming Russian fighter jets down. Here I was, flying over the northern hemisphere in an aircraft filled with ex-communists !
My thoughts jolted back to the present as we broke through cloud at almost ground level. Below the wing tips lay the pine forests, mountains and valleys, with clusters of small villages tucked away in the snow clad hills of Bulgaria. The undercarriage met the icy runway, and with all reverse thrusters shuddering in protest we eventually came to a stop.
Inside the terminal I frantically looked around for the contact person who had promised to meet me Soon realizing this was not to be, I bid farewell to the Russian woman, and stepped out into a foreign winter.
With the ground temperature reaching minus thirty degrees, my arctic coat offered just enough protection. I had travelled from the African summer heat of thirty degrees plus. A difference of sixty degrees overnight. Clothed in layers of thermals, gloves and boots, I made my way along ice covered road surface. It would be seven days before my next contact person would meet me in a town hundreds of kilometers away. A young woman named Zdravka, in a town I had never heard of. Outside the airport I was confronted be a yellow sea of taxis, all arguing where they would take me to. Within minutes I was bundled into a taxi by the most convincing driver, who spent what seemed to be too long driving me around Sofia. As the city lights faded behind, the car skidded to a halt, and I was unceremoniously dumped on the outskirts of town. The driver had yelled at me and snatched fifty euros from me. Lurking beside this dark road and railway track was another group of drivers. I gathered my thoughts while they laughed and jeered…the game was on. The main wiry looking villain opened a knife and slowly cleaned his nails, spitting on the ground. It was apparent that my fate lay in their hands…I had been set up. Thirty hours of travel had left me tired and annoyed, any fears I might have had were dispelled by this rough bunch of thugs’ behavior.
Further down the dark icy road, a group of striking girls dressed in fur coats and boots looked like a fashion parade on the run. Stupidly, I asked them if this was a dangerous area. After a long, hard stare one of them replied “Thiz iz Bulgaria”. So, perhaps my appearance was obvious as a foreigner, but I quickly reminded myself that I had grown up in Africa, in a land where danger is all around by day and night.
My cellphone had no reception, and rapidly the city was disappearing into darkness. Within minutes one would freeze to death outside. I took my second chance with the oldest looking taxi driver. A rough, old man with a different look in his eyes. This man drove me out of the predicament and dropped me off at a small hotel. Another fifty euros in his grubby hands, but I was grateful to him.
As I collapsed on the hotel bed I thought of how far I had come, but still faced the journey ahead to reach my ultimate destination high up in the north central Balkans.
Within a few hours I was out on the road again. The attractive blond girl loading the bus looked completely out of place, and would have appeared more fitting on a Parisian ramp. She frantically shook her head from side to side, repeatedly shouting “Da!” as I enquired whether this bus went to Veliko Turnovo. The bus pulled away, leaving me up to my knees in the snow. I had just missed the bus, in my mentally exhausted state I had forgotten that someone shaking their head here meant yes!
Later that day on the next bus, it climbed through mountains and tunnels, passing dozens of villages along the way. The entire country was covered in a thick white blanket of snow. We arrived in Veliko Turnovo that night, a beautiful city with medieval streets and a walled castle.
Once off the bus, the little yellow taxis ground slowly through the snow. The guest house where I was booked to spend the next few days waiting for Zdravka was full. Not again! The owner yelled something about it being Christmas and drove me across town to the old soviet era blocks, grey unpainted concrete apartments with rusting metal. Within minutes she was demanding more money from me for this apartment, as well as costs for her guest house room, and then swiftly departed.
The entire city was snowed in, with no sign of shops or let alone food. As I sat alone in this old communist building, I contemplated how I would venture out in search of some sort of food. In the event of getting lost, there would be no one to assist. Communication was impossible, not that there were any people crazy enough to be out on the streets anyway. My body was screaming from exhaustion and hunger, and felt as though it was shutting down. The only sound at night was the howling of dogs outside in the frozen elements. With all the last strength and will power, I ventured outside, slowly walking up the icy road, climbing over snow piles and I eventually found a café and long needed food!
A few days later I met Zdravka, who gave me a warm welcome and introduced me to her Bulgarian culture. We then continued the journey north to the village were my newly purchased house awaited.
Who would have believed that I would spend the following year travelling repeatedly in and out of this distant country!
Regards
Sean
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