I make a slight detour on my path because I insist on getting to know another Bulgarian city—one that isn't appealing to most travelers just because of the beach—and for that, I chose Plovdiv.
I fell asleep shortly after arriving at the train. However, I woke up in the middle of the night and didn't fall asleep again. The train arrived at 6 a.m. as scheduled. I must confess I feel exhausted; I would have preferred it to arrive late, I certainly would have slept more. I want to sleep—why the hell hasn't anyone invented, as far as I know, hotels that operate 24 hours a day where you can pay by the hour? There are coworking spaces; I've already confirmed there's one in Plovdiv, but it only opens at 9 a.m. I wanted to sleep now. What can I do other than visit the city while it's still asleep?
I pass by a small garden with trees covered in snow—relax, I promise not to go on another monologue about the snow—but they look so beautiful, the trees, like this: naked, black, and lightly covered in snow. I wanted to sit in this garden to read the news and rest my body, but the benches were too damp. It's only 7 a.m., some cafés are starting to open. I'll try something sweet at that Bakery Art. I order a kind of éclair without much conviction. Before she picks up the pastry, I warn that I don't have cash with me, that I can only pay by card. The place doesn't accept cards. I make the employee—who speaks a little English—understand that I'm sorry, but it doesn't suit me to go to the ATM right now. The woman understood, wrapped the éclair on paper, and offered it to me. How nice! It has crème pâtissière with quality chocolate! It was the best éclair I've ever eaten.
It's still snowing... But I already feel much better; I take the opportunity to walk through the city center. Two hours later, I need to rest, so around 9 a.m., in a café that seems cozy, I order a green tea to warm up, write a bit, and look for a hotel—preferably one that allows me to take a short nap before check-in.
The next day, I went running on two of Plovdiv's seven hills. The Romans wanted them to be just three and gave the city the name Trimontium. I didn't count them, but they are real hills, not just small inclines. From the top of Dzhendem Tepe, the highest, you can see how big Philippopolis—the name of the city in the Greek period—has become.
The hill of Nebet Tepe, smaller and in the city center, houses most of the museums. And so many churches per square meter! I think I've never seen such a concentration of churches. Gorgeous, open to the public, though they ask for donations—I made the sign of the cross to simultaneously feel like an Orthodox Christian for an hour and also to avoid tipping the ladies in charge of the church. Sharing photos saves the reader from reading the description, and me from writing it.
Still, I wanted to emphasize that the presence of each church is very strong. In many churches, taking photos inside was prohibited. The center of this city is full of terraces with different colors and styles. I don't find any symbolic square, but several streets that intersect. I pass through the same places unintentionally but from different entrances. Each café, bar, and restaurant seems to carry a strong personality. I didn't get to visit the archaeology museum because many archaeological sites remain alive, integrated into the city...
I sleep in Kapana, a kind of Lisbon Bairro Alto neighborhood with less steep but even more winding streets, easier to get lost in. I got into the habit of walking over the Roman amphitheater whenever I need to go to the supermarket. I've slept in over fifty hostels and I think I've never seen one so small. It has only three rooms, a kitchen, a living room, a small balcony, and two bathrooms. In total, there were about eight people sharing the apartment. Half were Bulgarians, the average age higher than mine. There's clearly a climate of help, and the vibe is more sociable than festive. For the first time on my trip, I imagined myself living here. Not as a tourist, but as someone who has their group of friends, who knows the store hours. It was a brief thought, but not superficial.
The next day, I went back to Bakery Art to eat an éclair and offer the lady a small flower. I told her that the éclair I had eaten had been one of the best of my life. I know that this kind of small stories depend more on people than on a people's culture; nevertheless, there are places where this kind of human magic is more expected to happen.
.jpg)
I've talked to some locals today, more than yesterday, and I realize that this people's life is not easy. Despite having joined the European Union, they are apprehensive about the significant inflation of prices in the last year. Supermarkets are clearly cheaper than in Portugal, for example. Fast food restaurants too. On any street, we find machines that serve coffee for about €0.50. However, slightly fancy cafés or a normal restaurant, the prices are similar to those in Spain... I continue to like exploring Plovdiv, but I must say I have Latin blood. I like to feel that the street is the city's living room. Going to a café is a natural extension of our homes. Hospitality in Plovdiv is equal to Portuguese or Romanian, but encounters between strangers are not a habit. The city is welcoming but doesn't vibrate as I would like. In Plovdiv's suburbs, you feel a genuine community atmosphere, but the buildings are rundown and I don't feel the same sense of safety. I wouldn't do what I'm doing right now—writing directly on the computer in a square in the city center, next to a historic mosque in Kapana. Despite it already being Friday and the cold finally bearable, the city center is practically empty. You can tell that many people at the end of the day retreat home to drink, having nothing else to do—not just in Plovdiv, but it's a common practice throughout Bulgaria. Even people with decent salaries like doctors or lawyers. It's sad. This people is no less welcoming than the Portuguese, carry the same melancholy, the same fatality, but they don't even stay in cafés to socialize.
I'd like to spend a day visiting villages in the Bulgarian mountains, but I don't want to delay any more. I leave tomorrow, Saturday night, for Istanbul. It was a bit hard to say goodbye to the hostel crew, but it had to be done. I spent the afternoon in Tsar Shishman Garden, a bit to work, but above all to watch Bulgarians strolling with their families. Young teenagers also walk around. I even caught two groups with a speaker playing loud music. At least, they were playing metal. There are many pines here, which keep a green color in the garden. Today's weather is mild. Still winter, but the cold isn't so bad anymore, the snow won't come back, many women have taken a skirt out of the closet for the first time this year. Some couples exchange kisses... This afternoon of February 14 has a spring-like air, but winter is still halfway through; it's only 4:30 p.m. and the sunset has already begun.
Ah... today is Valentine's Day. That's why so many people are carrying roses, so many couples went for a walk. It tires me a bit to see myself always in the same clothes; I have my dandy side that demands I have at least one stylish piece of clothing with me. I haven't found a hat that I like, and I also don't know if I should go for a winter one or a summer one. I take the opportunity that I'm in the mall to look at the windows. Finally, I bought a brownish blazer that can serve me in winter as well as on spring days. I forgot my running shoes at the hotel. I no longer have time to go back to the hostel. No big deal, they're old and worn out.
Plovdiv was a very revitalizing break. I keep in my memory the winding streets of the center and that delicious éclair as a souvenir.
No comments:
Post a Comment