Now our only target is reaching the next campsite on our roughly sketched itinerary. Today I write from the foot of Mount Olympus. I will repeat that because it is just sound so damn good. Today I write from the foot of Mount Olympus.
But before I get caught up in our Greek odyssey, let me take you back a few days to Bulgaria.
Our first impressions were bad, and as we approached the capital Sofia, where we had planned to stay for two nights, our mood got more morose.
Concrete high-rise, shanty towns and crumbling roads were all around. We had no campsite in mind; indeed we were unsure if any existed on the outskirts of the city and there was little in our guidebook to suggest Sofia was worth a 48 hour stopover.
“Let’s keep going,” I said, “We’ll bypass Sofia and head south towards Greece, we may find something along the way.”
Nigel did as he was told and kept following the E79 toward Blagoevgrad and the road to Thessaloniki.
“We are going to Rila Monastery,” I announced, as Sofia receded from the horizon. “It is Bulgaria’s spiritual home, it is just off the E79 and there are campsites near by.” Thank you Lonely Planet.
Just off the E79 turned out to be 31 kilometres up into the most amazing snow covered mountains, past fast flowing rivers and picturesque houses. We were silent in our astonishment of how Bulgaria had suddenly turned from being a dour, corrupt post-Communist state riddled with concrete into, well, paradise.
And we hadn’t reached the monastery yet.
Rila Monastery was quite simply spiritual. And I speak as a lifelong atheist.
It was established by a herdsman turned priest, St John of Rila, in the first century AD and for centuries has been one of Bulgaria's most important historical and cultural monuments.
Today it is home to 300 monks who, in between prayers, play host to busloads of awestruck visitors.
Even the hordes of Japanese tourists led by a guide and interpreter, both with megaphones, yes megaphones, couldn’t ruin the atmosphere of calm contemplation that pervades the place.
The campsite next to it was down a hill so steep, pitted with so many treacherous rocks and potholes, that we decided to book into a small riverside hotel a few kilometres down the road rather than risk the van’s axle.
Budget, I hear you cry. What budget, I respond.
Our host, a young Bulgarian woman, showed us to a delightful room, with a view of the mountains and told us the restaurant was open until 11.00 pm.
We ate a sun-soaked tomato salad and home made bean soup washed down with an excellent Bulgarian red wine at a table by the river’s edge.
“You must love living here,” I said to our host. “It is paradise,” she said handing us a bill for a few euros.
It is also a great place to run an illegal pirating operation. As we were heading back to our room I peeked through an open door. It was filled with about twenty DVD players, all on and clearly recording. Another young woman was making a fine adjustment to her night’s work when she saw me staring and quickly slammed the door in my face.
Bulgaria, a haven for corrupt officials, organised crime and surly bank tellers…and paradise on earth.
Today it is home to 300 monks who, in between prayers, play host to busloads of awestruck visitors.
Even the hordes of Japanese tourists led by a guide and interpreter, both with megaphones, yes megaphones, couldn’t ruin the atmosphere of calm contemplation that pervades the place.
The campsite next to it was down a hill so steep, pitted with so many treacherous rocks and potholes, that we decided to book into a small riverside hotel a few kilometres down the road rather than risk the van’s axle.
Budget, I hear you cry. What budget, I respond.
Our host, a young Bulgarian woman, showed us to a delightful room, with a view of the mountains and told us the restaurant was open until 11.00 pm.
We ate a sun-soaked tomato salad and home made bean soup washed down with an excellent Bulgarian red wine at a table by the river’s edge.
“You must love living here,” I said to our host. “It is paradise,” she said handing us a bill for a few euros.
It is also a great place to run an illegal pirating operation. As we were heading back to our room I peeked through an open door. It was filled with about twenty DVD players, all on and clearly recording. Another young woman was making a fine adjustment to her night’s work when she saw me staring and quickly slammed the door in my face.
Bulgaria, a haven for corrupt officials, organised crime and surly bank tellers…and paradise on earth.
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