...today I visited the building (it looks like a UFO) where the Bulgarian communist party was formed. And I peed on it.
The Lonely Planet, plus several actual Bulgarians, say that you have to rent a car here. Interesting things are spread out, and hidden, and not served by public transportation, etc. The idea scared the crap out of me, for a few reasons, so I thought I better do it. Some moral support/translation from Nick at my hotel and 30 lev (about $20) later, I was the proud renter of a Fiat Punto with 216,000km and a manual transmission. Definitely a good idea. I drove the little Punto, not necessarily in the right gear, to the Dryanovo monastery, and the Gabrovo Museum of Humor and Satire, and through the Shipka pass. (Because they have a Museum of Humor and Satire, I forgive the Bulgarians for not thinking it's hilarious when I confuse Shipka, a town/mountain pass, with shopska, a traditional Bulgarian salad.)
My only gripe about car rental in Bulgaria is that when you pick up the car it has no gas, the idea being that you'll return it with an empty tank, which encourages a stupid game of chicken that might leave you (well, me) stranded in north central Bulgaria with no gas, no sense of direction, a flaky cell phone, and no language skills. I got more gas than what the rental car guy had recommended based on my route and the little Punto's alleged gas mileage. But still the low fuel light came on less than halfway through the trip. The light probably comes on a while before you run out of gas, and it seemed entirely plausible to me that the gas gauge is unreliable on hilly bumpy roads (because of the gas sloshing around in the tank). And these were the pot-holiest roads ever. But, it also seemed entirely plausible that my crappy driving was fucking with the little Punto's gas mileage. (Should the transmission usually be at 1000 or 2000 rpm? I just couldn't remember and there was really no way to find out.) Plus, I was realizing that I didn't really know how to get to the UFO communist building, and getting lost would not help the gas situation. This was all coming to a head while the little Punto and I were in the middle of nowhere, and I stressed myself out enough that I had to make a longish detour out of the middle of nowhere for more gas. On the detour I found an empty Russian church and got to wander through the crypt, so it wasn't a total waste.
Anyway, there was also a war monument (the Russo-Turkish war of 1877-78, where Bulgaria became independent of the Ottoman Empire and was supposed to become Russia's big pawn but then the Great Powers intervened and it only became Russia's little pawn), and a big dramatic bolt of lightning, and some hail. Joder. I definitely didn't take the most direct route to the UFO communist building, but I never got lost lost, either. The building is entirely abandoned and in the middle of nowhere and, as far as I can tell, Bulgarians don't want to talk about it. But it's history, and abandoned buildings are cool. It's not open, but you can climb in through a broken window. It's all dark and drippy and spooky and I didn't last too long inside, but I'm glad I went. (I only peed on it because there was nowhere else to go.)
The other good thing about the gas detour was that it put me at this yogurt stand at exactly the same time as this older Bulgarian man who, when he heard me failing at trying to ask whether the yogurt was sweet (it wasn't), asked if I speak Spanish. He was based in Spain as a long-distance truck-driver for a while and was so happy to have someone to speak Spanish with that he bought me some salami. Pretty much the cutest thing ever. And, in today's installment of mildly sexist but hilarious comments made by Bulgarian men, when I told him that I suck at driving he told me "Los coches son como los mujeres: todos son diferentes."
No comments:
Post a Comment