Byzantine Crumble

As much as life resists being reduced to a set of rules like "X is good, Y is bad, do A to be happy and B to be sad", I do have a few little guidelines that I try to live by. One of them is "Never eat anything bigger than your own head". Another is "See one country each year that blows your mind".

For the last six years I've managed to keep to this second rule, though not always in a neat, well-organised way. 

This year was always gonna be a tough one, 'cause I worked a lot, I didn't really have a summer break, and I was mainly focussed on seeing a bit more of KZ. In fact, the calendar almost ran out before I had the chance to reel like a head-slapped fish in a country I'd never visited before.

And then, at about 8am yesterday morning, I looked out the window of my hostel and saw this:

Tsarevets on A Foggy Morning

Veliko Turnovo, Bulgaria, 10.11.11

The "this" in question is the Tsarevets fortress in Veliko Turnovo*, a town of about 70,000 people which has the twin distinctions of being a) Bulgaria's medieval capital, and b) one of the coolest places I've been for a long time.

I try to avoid overloading these pages with too much rapturous prose, 'cause if you write super-enthusiastically about everything, it tends to lose its force after a while. But when discussing Veliko Turnovo, this is quite difficult. When I dragged my bag into town and started to take in the scenery here, I really felt like I'd arrived in the 'Balkans of my imagination'.

Sleepy Alleyway

Veliko Turnovo, Bulgaria, 09.11.11

Even the town's basic layout helps to maximise the effect: rather than clustered on one hilltop, Veliko Turnovo is spread over three or four. They're separated by deep valleys, plunging downward like a daring neckline to the Yantra river below, and affording panoramic views from one neighbourhood to another.

In the central part of town, sleepy alleyways paved with huge, uneven cobbles wind up and away from the main tourist strip, flanked on either side by vine-covered houses that cling to the slopes. Some of these streets have followed roughly the same course since this region of Bulgaria was part of ancient Thrace ... and even as I write that, I'm aware of how much I sound like a travel brochure.  

And yet, there's more ...

Main Street of The Old Town

Veliko Turnovo, Bulgaria, 09.11.11

In the mornings, mist hangs over the valleys and the air fills with the smell of local bakeries, baking soft warm breads with nuts, apple or sheep's cheese inside. The days are sunny, and in the evenings, as the chill closes in, you can retire to any number of great cafes and restaurants to sample local wines and traditional Bulgarian cuisine, both of which have held some very pleasant surprises.

Finally, making your way home at night, the mysterious silhouettes of cottages peer out of the darkness as you walk through dimly-lit backstreets, enjoying the odour of wood smoke and trying to track the shadowy movements of the local cats.

Cafe and Accordions

Veliko Turnovo, Bulgaria, 09.11.11

So you see, in light of all this, trying to find something negative to say about Veliko Turnovo (or indeed, something that doesn't make me sound like I work for Bulgaria's National Tourism Autority) is really quite a challenge. 

Let's see ... um, interruptions to the local water supply are fairly regular, and your shower head can suddenly start throbbing violently while you're standing under it ... and, er ... well, some of the bars on the main street are a bit tacky, and ... hmm, what else ... nope, that's pretty much all I've got. 

The rest is just great. I love this place.

Ok, time to rant a little about the Tsarevets, which is the thing sticking out at the top of the hill in the first photo. It's the third fortress built on this spot; the first appeared in ancient Greek times, to be replaced much later (5th Century AD) by a Byzantine stronghold. That one didn't last long though, because in the 7th Century Slavic peoples invaded the area and made Byzantine crumble out of Fortress Number Two.

Five centuries later, Veliko Turnovo's burgeoning population had made it one of Europe's more significant medieval capitals, and a full-blown citadel was built here. The scale of this one was extremely ambitious; walls snaked across one of the main valleys, encapsulating almost all of the town.

Tsarevets Walls

Veliko Turnovo, Bulgaria, 09.11.11

Most of the building is in various states of ruin today, but quite a lot of the medieval walls are still standing, and you can find traces of the earlier constructions here and there. Walking around the grounds, you occasionally come across the foundations of a basilica or the broken base of a column. These mysterious bits of stone masonry tell no discernible stories (though they might, if you were there with a knowledgeable guide); they just lie around between ruined walls, saying "Go on then; see if you can guess how old I am!"

Ancient Column Base

Tsarevets, Veliko Turnovo, 09.11.11

I couldn't help thinking that, if this thing were located further west, it would be excruciatingly famous. In a way, it's nice that this is not the case, because on the day when I was there (yesterday) I shared its extensive territory with maybe 20 people. A whole freakin' medieval fortress, almost to myself! It was grand :-)

The tall pointy thing at the top, btw, is a church called 'The Holy Ascension of Jesus'. Not being a huge fan of churches (with a few exceptions), I sort of coaxed myself in there, and I'm glad I did. Every inch of wall space was covered floor to ceiling with extremely striking artworks like the one below, commissioned in 1981 and painted by a Bulgarian artist called Teofan Sokerov.

Crucifix

Tsarevets, Veliko Turnovo, 09.11.11

The paintings depicted key episodes from Bulgarian history, throwing in just a little biblical stuff for good measure – and they're about as far from the usual sadistic, poorly-painted catholic Death Marches (oops, I meant "Stations of The Cross"), or flat-as-a-tack Orthodox icons, as you can get. 

Of course, in a move that shocked precisely no-one, the church authorities refused to re-consecrate 'The Holy Ascension' when they saw the work that Sokerov had done inside it. So now it functions only as a museum. 

Oh well ... their loss :p

Anyway, my little sojourn in Veliko Turnovo ended in a fairly unremarkable but extremely pleasant way: one more evening walk through the lantern-lit streets, one more delicious Bulgarian meal (this time at a place called The Happy Man ... which I certainly was after trying their food!), and one more sunrise over the Tsarevets.

Now I'm back in Sofiya, having spent a second day unsuccessfully hunting for caves (which seem unusually determined not to be found). 

Things went a little pear-shaped when I left V. Turnovo: the bus company sent me to a place called Yablanitsa, which was a rather horrible near-ghost town. Or at least, it seemed horrible until I made the brief acquaintance of a few locals, who were just warm and lovely and did everything they could to try and help the itinerant foreigner who'd arrived in their town. This brought back a thought I'd had earlier in the week: namely that, if everyone in the world was as nice as Bulgarian people, it would be a far more pleasant planet than it is!

Unfortunately, though, this comment only applies to the human residents of the country. It says nothing about the canine population, every single one of which wanted to tear me limb-from-limb when I finally reached the town of Brestnitsa (where the bus company should've sent me in the first place). It was only 10km from Yablanitsa, but it took me about four hours to a) work out how to get there, and b) actually get there.

Admittedly, the first 40 minutes of that time was spent standing pathetically on one side of a highway trying to hitch – an endeavour doomed to failure, when every car that passes is a smallish sedan with a grandpa and grandma in the front seat, looking at you as though you were a smouldering piece of spaceship wreckage, their back seat too full of junk to accommodate you anyway. 

But even so ... the town-to-town link proved extremely difficult to discover.

When I finally arrived in Brestnitsa it was getting late, and I suspected the cave (which is 4km distant from the town) was on the verge of closing for the day anyway. 

But I was here now, so I approached the only place I'd seen which looked like it might contain people who could help me, hoping to get some information about transport or opening times, or anything else useful.

I was about 50 metres from the front door when three stray dogs, who had been separately milling around near the main road, suddenly came together and formed a pack. The leader started running at me with bared teeth, making his intention to eat me pretty clear. 

"Oh shit!", I thought. "Dog-related emergency in a deserted town. What now?"

As the others fell in behind their new pack-leader, things began to look extremely grim, and I took the only escape route I could think of: I ran into the oncoming highway traffic. 

As the cars swerved around me (thank gods!), I managed to put distance between myself and the baying hounds, and they eventually lost interest in my violent death. I made my way back to a bus shelter at the other end of town, where a gypsy guy hit me up for money and cigarettes. At this point I decided that enough was enough, and flagged down a coach back to civilisation.

Not my best day.

Still, despite the less-than-wonderful doggy denouement, I'm going to feel a little sad when I leave Bulgaria tomorrow. I've just loved what I've seen of this country so far, and after ten days of travelling in it, I'm in no doubt that I've barely scratched the surface.

Luckily I've got two companions here who have just poured me some rakia (a clear Bulgarian spirit made with plums or grapes, sipped slowly like brandy), so I can round off this entry with a toast. 

Hmmm ... let me see ...

Here's to my future return to Bulgaria!

(* Sometimes spelled "Tarnovo", due to ambiguities concerning the correct transliteration of the Bulgarian vowel "ъ" into Roman letters.)

Socialist Republic of Scooterville

The display on my mobile shows 6:15am, and the city is buzzing. At least half of the shops have already opened, people are congregating on the cluttered pavements for breakfast, and food vendors are laying out tiny plastic chairs – no more than about 30cm high – for their customers.

Not far away, foul-smelling three-wheeled garbage carts lurk in grey herds, waiting sullenly for their chance to devour whatever falls from the breakfast table.

At one edge of the throng are small groups of men, also lurking. Depending on when and where you are, they either stand expectantly waiting to spring into action, or lean back casually on their motorbikes, nursing cigarettes in their hands and calling "Hello! Xe om?" or "Moto?"* to passers-by. 

Xe Om Drivers Wait Outside A Temple

Ha Noi, Viet Nam, 11.09.10

If you show interest, they helpfully produce a spare helmet, which is usually just about strong enough to protect your head from a stiff breeze.

Picking your way through the chaos, you pass enormous chickens standing terrified in their bell-shaped cages, hoping not to be on today's menu, while fish, shrimps and yabbies swim in filthy plastic buckets. Dogs and cats stand tied up outside shops (or sometimes caged inside), and occasionally a rat can be seen dashing bravely through the field of engagement, from one piece of cover to the next.

The traffic, meanwhile, has yet to hit its horrible peak, but already it's thickening like blood in an unhealthy artery. 

Even at this early hour, a foreigner could be forgiven for doubting that so many motor-scooters actually exist on Earth, and suspecting that there are just 10,000 or so going around the same block on some kind of endless loop. The fumes are intense, and you're starting to understand why so many people opt for those ridiculous face masks – which, btw, are available here in an extensive range of colours, patterns, novelty shapes and Hello Kitty prints.

For all of this mad activity, though, the city has yet to officially begin its day.

Advanced Waste Management System

Ha Noi, Viet Nam, 24.09.10

As six-thirty rolls around, something new pierces the airwaves. Beatific music is blasted from lo-fi loudspeakers around the city, carried on cushions of polluted air to the ears of every citizen. 

As the music wraps up, a voice begins talking: urgent, shrill, and incredibly annoying. It continues for about 15 minutes, then dies away and allows the army of scooters to once again take pole position in the race to corrode your eardrums.

And so ... welcome to another day in Ha Noi, glorious capital of the glorious Socialist Republic of Viet Nam.

*cough, wheeze, splutter*

But why (you might just conceivably be thinking) am I telling you about early morning street life in Ha Noi? 

Well, the reason's pretty simple: I now live here.

I arrived in Viet Nam on September 10th and signed a nine-month contract, which of course means that it ends next June. Thing is, though, after two weeks of life in the city I'm already having serious doubts. I seem to spend a lot of my time trying to convince myself that I don't, y'know, utterly loathe and despise the place ... and so far I'm not making much headway.

Atmospheric Alleyway

Ha Noi, Viet Nam, 10.09.10

To be fair, there have been some good bits. For the first few nights, I stayed in a hotel hidden in a maze of alleyways, which was fun to explore. The colours were pretty amazing; I just walked around going "Wow, look at those reds, yellows and greens!", and pointing my camera at the kinds of things that tend to make local people question your sanity. 

("Why would anyone take a photograph of a dingy alleyway? Foreigners are all mad, I swear!")  

In general, though, my first few days in Scooterville saw me inundated with relentless, deafening noise, drenched in sweat (the temp was about +30, but the humidity was just incredible), repulsed by the never-ending bad smells – especially those which emanate from the city's stomach-churningly putrid waterways – and wondering what the Hell I was doing here.

Rowing by Foot

Tam Coc, Viet Nam, 12.09.10

On my first weekend I decided to get out of the city, which gave me a break from the noise, but in every other way it just confirmed the ickiness. 

I went to Tam Coc: a place about two hours from Ha Noi, where you cycle through villages and countryside to a town beside a river, then row down the river, which goes underneath several mountains. The scenery there was rather beautiful, but again, the villages were ugly, with construction materials lying everywhere and reservoirs of stagnant water that stank so badly it made me want to bring up breakfast. And the weather was appalling. I lost a few litres of liquid just on the bike ride (which was only about 6km ... i.e. no distance at all, compared to my recent 'cycling days' in Finland).

Sacred Offerings

Ho Lua, Viet Nam, 12.09.10

Still, at least I got to see foot-rowing, a skill that I was previously unaware of. Oh ... and inside a Buddhist shrine in a place called Ho Lua, I found out what Vietnamese people consider to be a suitable offering to the Gods. Not sure that, if I were a divine presence, I'd be so thrilled to receive half-a-dozen cans of coca cola. Then again ... maybe along with the vodka, it would help pass some time in the Otherworld ;-)

Back to Ha Noi for the second week, and it was more of the same: noise, smells, problems with food. I'd initially enjoyed the Asiatic flavours in some of Ha Noi's cafes and restaurants, but as I stayed longer, I noticed restaurant staff doing some really dodgy things, like sticking their hands into the middle of a dish to 'fluff it up', and handling food with filthy fingernails. 

Perhaps the worst thing I discovered, though, was the tendency of restaurants here to 're-use' food. This means that, for example, if you don't finish your soup, they'll take the leftover portion into their kitchen and pour it back into the pot. Result: the next customer gets part of your soup.

I'm fairly sure this happened to me once in a beer hall restaurant near my hotel. The waitress recommended chicken soup to me, then a few moments later went to clear a big table where several people had been eating what she'd recommended. A few minutes after that, my bowl of chicken soup appeared, looking unnaturally thick and ... I don't know, somehow just 'wrong'. 

I ate it anyway, 'cause I figured it was just 'Vietnamese-style'. But then afterwards I put two and two together, and came up with "Euuuwww!!!".

Fashionable 'Kissy' Face Masks

Ha Noi, Viet Nam, 24.09.10

Later I asked a couple of people about this, and they said "Yeah, you have to be careful about re-used food here". Great.

So that compromised one of the few things I was enjoying about the city up to that point. Which left ... er, my boss (who's awesome), the friendliness of Vietnamese people (who are incredibly smiley and keen to say "hello"), and ... well, the coffee. The coffee here is beyond all expectations. I'm gonna tell you about it in a separate entry, because it really deserves a page of its own on The Manor.

So anyway, that was my first two weeks in the city which (thanks to my boss) I've come to think of and refer to as "Scooterville".

Of course, I know that Viet Nam is under no obligation not to be crappy, and you could even argue that it has a kind of 'special dispensation'. I mean, it was only 40 years ago that the whole country was virtually annihilated, when the US put Operation Destroy an Entire Nation For No Good Reason And Fail Disastrously into effect. They dropped more bombs here than were dropped in the whole of WWII, and the chemical constituents of some of those explosives were absolutely ruinous from an agricultural point of view. So the fact that the country still exists at all is a frikkin' miracle. 

In that sense, it isn't Viet Nam's fault that it's kind of an unpleasant place to live, and I'm trying to keep that in mind.

It also has to be said that not every foreigner who comes here feels the way I do about it. I've met a couple of people who absolutely love Ha Noi and wouldn't be anywhere else, and others who say it was "difficult at first" but they "got used to it" and now "quite like it".

As to whether I'll stay ... well, of course I'm gonna give it some more time. Two weeks is not enough to judge how you feel about a city. That said, I have a sneaking feeling that I won't be seeing out my contract.

More about this soon, no doubt.  

Bye!  


* Xe-om / Moto = motorbike taxi