BULGARIA – BANGING WINE AND BUMPY ROADS

Or, where COVID caught up with us.

We had been hearing for the last couple of months that Europe was experiencing a second wave of COVID infections and that various countries were locking down again on the arrival of winter. Thus far, however, we had not been particularly affected by these events (other than curfews in Kosovo and Serbia, which were not particularly problematic). I guess that lucky streak could not last forever. We cycled into Bulgaria very happy to be able to get in easily on our passports (not something that is easy for everyone at the moment) and promptly learnt that Bulgaria had entered into a partial lockdown that same day and all hospitality and museums, etc, was due to be closed for the next three weeks at least. While disappointing, we were still permitted to move about, churches remained open and takeaways were possible. So, not a total disaster, but certainly somewhat dampening given that the weather was not really ideal and the museums in Bulgaria really do seem rather worthwhile if you are into that sort of thing. We are.

We cycled to Sofia in very cold weather and, on waking up on our first full day in the city, the entire place had been covered in a blanket of snow. This was truly a fantastic development. While it remained freezing, at least we got to see the city decked out in amazing winter splendour. We spent a few days bundled up (read: wearing every layer we had with us) and walking about the various sites covered in this frosty blanket.

The mix of Bulgarian revival architecture (lots of it built after the Ottomans left in the late 1800s), many Bulgarian Orthodox churches, monumental soviet era constructions alongside some more unique spots such as the gold onion domed Russian church, the sole mosque left in Sofia, and an impressive sephardic style synagogue made for some very impressive meandering. We did just this – and, as we could not go in anywhere other than the churches (which were pretty spectacular inside as well as out and were typically covered in the most sensational frescoes through the interior), we were very grateful that at least everything looked so lovely from the outside.

Our time in Bulgaria after leaving Sofia can be split into two general sections. No surprises, these comprise of two key red wine regions in the country (at this point I am seriously contemplating renaming this blog to something along the lines of “Cycling in Search of Wine”). The first area we visited was the Struma Valley in the south west of the country. This was not really en route at all and, as it was something of a side trip and still stupid cold, we put the bikes on a train for part of this section there and back to Sofia. This was rather less stressful than the same activity in Slovenia. The second area, the Thracian Plain, runs conveniently straight through the middle of the country en route to Turkey. It is also, as the name would suggest, rather flat – a nice plus for our route planning for sure (almost 6,000km into our trip over various mountain ranges, and we have not yet embraced hill climbing in any real way).

There were two key sites for which we visited the Struma valley: First, we wanted to see Rila Monastery. Apparently this is the most important monastery in Bulgaria and the largest (also one of the few tourist attractions that remained open). Second, we wanted to head to Melnik. Apparently the smallest village in Bulgaria and the heartland of Melnik wine, an indigenous grape going back hundreds of years.

Rila Monastery was truly fantastic – neither of us had really appreciated just how fantastic it would be. The monastery consists of a massive compound in the woods, the outer walls of which are made up of the monastic living quarters in the form of three stories of black and white arcaded galleries. The living quarters surround a fantastic church in, I guess, Bulgarian style – domed, colourful and sporting floor to ceiling frescoes on both the outer and inner walls depicting all sorts of religious events and some pretty gory depictions of hell of which Tom and I are always particular fans in any religious building. We were especially happy that this was open and worthwhile given the 20km of rather steep incline we had cycled to get there and the absolutely bitterly cold temperatures at the top.

Melnik was somewhat less of a success. We had a lovely cycle down to this town with some reasonable sunshine (woop!).

However, on arrival, we quickly established that everything was closed (even for takeaways). We also quickly established that while there were lots of little shops in the town flogging various Melnik wines, from what we could gather, none of the proprietors knew a thing about what they were selling and the few bottles we bought ranged from bland and uninteresting to pretty much barely drinkable. And, let’s be honest, while we certainly enjoy “good” wine, we definitely do not have a particularly high bar in terms of what we consider to be “drinkable” wine (case in point, Tom drank the wine in Ethiopia, which needed to be mixed with coca cola to be palatable – I did not quite manage this cultural experience, but you get the idea). Suffice to say, if we determine something to be barely drinkable, you best believe it is pretty much vinegar laced grape juice. The high water mark of our distaste for this town came when, at the one tasting place that was open, the man in charge informed us that only people that produce wine can really appreciate the stuff, so he would not be selling certain wines to us because we would not have the requisite knowledge to understand such wine. No surprises, the wines we were permitted to taste fell solidly into the barely drinkable category (and I remain suspicious that any of his wine would have actually been an improvement on this). Admittedly, our foray into trying to gain some appreciation for Melnik grapes was somewhat saved by a visit on our way out of town to a winery that did actually produce some pretty excellent wine and which had a shop overseen by a lovely and very knowledgeable proprietor. Sadly, this successful visit was followed by rain for the rest of the day and some serious mud before we managed to retire to an apartment for the evening. Suffice to say, notwithstanding the partial success at Villa Melnik and the excellent couple of bottles we bought there, I would definitely not recommend bothering with a visit to Melnik should you find yourself in this area (you can buy Villa Melnik wine at most good wine shops in the country (there are many with knowledgable and helpful staff) and the wineries are very much more worthwhile than the town itself).

Next up, the Thracian Plain and, again, we remained thwarted by the COVID restrictions. We headed first to Plovdiv, a lovely city with an incredible old town smack in the centre of the region. We really liked Plovdiv (even in the rain) and struggled to leave. This was compounded by the fact that we rented a really cute apartment filled with antiques (including, importantly, crystal cut glassware and a decanter from which to sample the local grape). We settled in quite happily. We also found a couple of great family run wineries with shops in town, so filled a fair amount of time engaging in bike maintenance, cooking up a storm and indulging in expanding our knowledge of the local Mavrud and Rubin grapes without having to go to very much effort.

After a couple of days, we determined that we should probably take advantage of a day of sunshine and check out the Bachkovo monastery about 35km away. We duly hopped on the bikes and spent a lovely morning cycling over. The monastery was open (yay!) and rather lovely with a domed church and the spectacular frescoes we were coming to expect in any church in Bulgaria (although, I would note that I thought this one was particularly excellent). On deciding to head home, we figured we would cycle a slightly different route. While we noticed that we would be crossing tracks, rather than roads, for a short section, we did not consider this to be much of an issue – particularly as we were not loaded at the time. However, promptly after taking this route, we encountered the worst mud either of us had ever experienced – it did not look bad, but it was so sticky, it clogged the tires and it was impossible to roll the bikes along, let alone cycle. We ended up spending hours of extra time and carrying the bikes across the fields until we found a reasonable dirt road on which to continue. Eventually, we cycled back into Plovdiv in the dark (never a particularly fun activity on Bulgarian roads) and quickly decided that we would stay yet another day in the town as we could not be bothered doing anything necessary to get ready to leave that evening!

We took a brief side trip by train to Veliko Tarnovo – the old imperial capital of the Tsars of Bulgaria. The weather was really rather average, so it was hard to capture the loveliness of the place. That said, we were quite impressed. The town skirts some steep hillsides along a winding river and is filled with lovely old Bulgarian revival architecture. One of the bends in the river is occupied by the old fortress of the Tsars. There is admittedly not much there to see, but the views are somewhat jaw dropping nonetheless. It was a pity (both in Plovdiv and Veliko Tarnovo) that the museums were closed as they seemed like they would have been quite spectacular – lots of old revival houses kept in style, which we typically are quite into.

After returning to Plovdiv and being reunited with Bertie and the Bat Cycle, we decided it was time to head towards Turkey and see what the COVID restrictions and weather held for us across the border. We already knew that there were some curfews and that over new years there would be a full lockdown, but we figured that we may as well try get ourselves into a comfortable position in order to sit it out if necessary. So, we eventually took off from Plovdiv, a few bottles of wine heavier than we had arrived and cycled across the Thracian Plain towards Turkey. We had a couple of quick overnight stops, but the couple hundred kilometres were achieved with relative ease (other than one morning of intense mud and a lot of hike-a-bike with which I was less than impressed) and we crossed the border to seek the next leg of the adventure in some very weak, but very welcome, winter sunshine.

Wine. As you have probably gathered from this post (if you have gotten this far), we were big fans of Bulgarian wine. They have been growing wine here since Thracian times and have a lot of indigenous grape varieties that we had not yet come across (always rather fun). One of the reasons we liked the wine in Bulgaria (not dissimilar to the Balkans generally) is that there is a strong culture of red wine production and their reds tend to be very strong, unfiltered and oaked – of which we are big fans. In terms of the indigenous grape varieties, the most encountered include Melnik (a few different types), Mavrud and Rubin – all of which are really very good. They also grow indigenous whites and all the typical grapes one is used to seeing, but we admittedly did not really focus our attentions on these.

Overall, we were both really pretty impressed with Bulgaria. Given that we visited in the middle of a COVID lockdown and the middle of winter, Bulgaria’s ability to leave such a positive impression notwithstanding all the factors working against a typically enjoyable tourist experience speaks volumes in terms of it being a very special place.

December 2020