Zombification in Varshets

July 15, 2011

Traveling with an itinerary (or even a plan for that matter), does have its upsides but the drawbacks are only revealed to those who choose to go without one. If you always leave home with a plan, you will never end up in a great place you had not intended. Less than a month ago, we drew names out of a metaphorical hat and ended up in Istanbul. Now we find ourselves sitting next to a Soviet era, Olympic length (but strangely un-Olympic depth) swimming pool in the mountains of northwestern Bulgaria; nursing beers and hangovers and chuckling quietly to ourselves about the happenings of last night.....

We arrived in Sofia, the capital city of Bulgaria, after one of our worst bus journeys to date. Please keep in mind that we have already overcome, and even enjoyed Asian bus service. Thus, we were unprepared for a bus that lacks both air conditioning and the ability to open a window. Plus, some genius included a sun roof on that very same vehicle. Absolute madness. With a new found hatred of "Metro" bus company, we quickly partnered ourselves with another traveler upon our arrival: a 'book-ahead-type' Australian named Nick, and crashed his intended place of sleep. We spent the next two days meandering the cobbled streets of Sofia, hopping from gallery to gallery, from cafe to market, Sarah admiring the street art adorning the city walls. We found wine available everywhere, and at less than $2/L, my liver was quickly formulating a new-found hatred of me. Our third blurry morning in Sophia took us to the bus station, and at the behest of a local theater celebrity / hostel owner we made for the town of Varshets, about 2 hours north of Sophia.



Pulling into the 'bus station', we glanced at each other quizzically and shrugged. Had we made a huge mistake? The parking area was completely overgrown with weeds, windows broken, graffiti on the walls and no one in sight. The world wide web had insisted there was a local population of 5000, but aside from the bus driver and 3 other people on the bus, no one was around. Sarah and I instinctively scanned the area for crowbars, boards with nails in them, or conveniently discarded revolvers, simultaneously hoping that Nick had played at least one Zombie Apocalypse game. Wishing I'd brought the Zombie Survival Guide instead of the Lonely Planet, we marched off in the direction of the hostel Nick assured us was still operating in the town.
As it turns out there was no zobification in Varshets, just a steady decline in tourism in the area since the 1930's that had killed the local economy. Rest assured, it was in no danger of rising from the grave. We settled into our well priced apartment on the 'quiet' side of town and after a shower to steady ourselves, went downstairs for a beer. Completely out of nowhere, a group of locals had populated the only table at the foot of our building, giving the town a new sense of habitation. With fresh beers, and internet translators abound, we set to making conversation. Ten minutes later we had exchanged names ..... it was going to be a long night. The most talkative of the bunch was the local police chief/fire fighter/school bus driver and self proclaimed 'retiree'. He was unwilling to yield to the pace of typing conversation, so it was left to us to decipher his statements through his son. Some were easy: roads in Bulgaria were 'Afghanistan', while Canada, swimming pools, and the local cucumber soup were all "Zuper!" At dusk, he piled us into his car for a tour of the nearby swimming holes, although at the time we were sure we were headed out for dinner. Splitting time between insisting that seatbelts were not necessary because he was the police, and complaining about the 'Afghanistan' quality of the roads, we made it to 5 different swimming pools within 10 minutes of our accommodation. Strings were pulled at each location to garner a late night tour of the facilities so we could make an informed decision for the next day. Somewhere in passing, we must have mentioned we wanted to swim the next day. We had serious decisions to make: would we go an extra 2 km for a newer pool with towel service but at twice the cost of the public pool ($2.50 instead of $1.25) or go for the extra-lux hotel spa which included a hottub and sauna for $3 more. The tour continued at 'don't worry I'm a police officer' speed while The Chief pointed out the Mafia hidouts to avoid, natural springs to collect free drinking water from, and all the other landmarks useful for the only western tourists in the region.
We decided to patronize cheapest pool in town, just to round out our exposure to modern Bulgarian culture. I don't think we could've done any better: swimming and lazing beside a half-full Soviet pool, with rainbow budgie smugglers (Australian for 'speedo') and bulging waistlines everywhere ... Cheers! ... And here's hoping the hike we've planned for tomorrow into the forests and farmlands around Varshets will provide more photogenic scenery.

Sander