David continues….

Our trip today would be in two parts with two different bus companies. The first leg of our journey is from Eceabat to to the border town of Edirne in Turkey,  and then another company from Edirne to Plovdiv, Bulgaria with an hour connection in between.

The bus from Eceabat on the Gallipoli Peninsula to Edirne was scheduled to take 3.5 hours and departed right on time at 7.30am. It started out as quite uneventful, except for when the girls were almost left behind at a bus station toilet.

All the announcements over the bus PA system were being made in Turkish, and so we had no idea how long the bus was stopping for at each town enroute. One thing has been a constant though: at every stop nearly all the passengers file off the bus at every stop and light up a cigarette. Thinking they had time for a quick comfort stop, and of course with Phoebe ‘busting’ for a wee, the three girls headed for the WC while I remained onboard the bus watching our belongings. After only a couple of minutes, the driver began manoeuvring the bus in the parking lot and headed for the exit. Even some of the locals who had disembarked for a smoke were caught off guard and scrambled to climb aboard through the open door as the bus began to move off. I had to quickly make my way to the driver and did my best sign language to let him know the girls were still at the toilet. The bus attendant shook his head and marched off in the direction of the WC just as the girls came running out back to the bus! Moral of the story: always leave one member of your party on board the bus so you are not left stranded in the loo!

Before arriving at Edirne, I began to notice frost and frozen puddles of water by the side of the road, we were heading north into our first collective European winter. For reasons we still couldn’t fathom even after several research attempts, our onward bus (which originated in Istanbul to the south-east and was ending in Sofia) didn’t stop at the Edirne bus station despite driving right past it. Instead the bus stopped approximately 20km out of town near a service station and hotel.  So, after arriving at the Edirne Bus Station from a south-westerly direction of Gallipoli we had to make our way by taxi approximately 20km to a deserted service station on the northern outskirts of Edirne. Waiting practically on the edge of the motorway we prepared to flag down our bus….

If it wasn’t for some sign language to a guy  that owned the nearby market shop and him making a phone call to confirm that the bus indeed stop here, we would have been feeling a lot more nervous about waiting in a seemingly strange spot.  But alas as soon as it rounded the bend in the highway the driver  indicated and started slowing down, our bags were quickly loaded and we were off again within two minutes.

About 15 minutes later and we were at the large border crossing area with a long queue of semi-trailers  waiting to cross into Bulgaria and the EU.

We alighted from the bus and moved through the Turkish border control, back on to the bus for the short drive to the carpark in front of the very large duty free shops that our fellow passengers disappeared into no doubt getting their quota of even cheaper cigarettes.

Now, if you recall from our time in Istanbul, we had the necessary tax forms to claim the tax back on the purchases of our ski clothes and equipment. All that was required was a Turkish Customs stamp on the receipt to confirm we had left the country. Sounds easy?

Well, it’s NOT!! The forms described in detail how to obtain said stamp at the airport if leaving by plane, but nothing on how to do it at a land border crossing. It was at this point I made two significant discoveries: firstly the tax return help desk located next to the duty free shop at our border post was closed. Secondly, after being redirected back across the carpark, NONE of the Turkish Customs Officers sitting in their booths checking passports and waving cars through have stamps!

Like a ball in a pinball machine, I ran from shop to booth, to Customs Supervisor, to booth, to Customs Supervisor back and forth across the border complex in search of the elusive stamp. Now while all this is happening, the other passengers from our bus have finished their duty free shopping, and are now ready to proceed on their journey into Bulgaria. About halfway through the process, I was becoming acutely aware that it was all taking way too long. In response to my pleas to the Customs Officials, “Please Sir, my bus is waiting for me”, they seemed encouraged to work and move even slower. At one point I told the supervisor that I no longer wanted to go ahead with the process as it was taking too long, to which he responded by sliding my passport into his shirt pocket and saying, “I will keep this until we are finished”.

Upon returning to this same supervisor the second time (I had to go to another office in order to have someone else place his signature on said form), I found that my new best friend had decided there was time for a toilet break. I waited anxiously by the door to the men’s room while he slowly washed his hands and fixed his hair before returning to the ‘help’ desk. It was as though time had slowed watching this guy checking forms and filling ledgers; a second felt like a minute and a minute felt like an hour.

Meantime, back at the bus, the driver and the attendant were more than a little peeved and anxious to get going as everyone had returned to their seats and were waiting, except for yours truly. Sally had lost track of where I was having seen me zig-zag back and forth across the complex, so she didn’t even know where to start looking and didn’t want the go too far from the bus as all our worldly possessions (and kids) were of course on it. At one point, Sally had to stand in front of the bus to stop them leaving without me. Finally, out of breath from all the running but feeling like the guy in first place at an Olympic marathon with the finish line in sight, I made the final dash to the waiting bus with Sally jumping up and down on the spot to hurry me on. I’m sure I got some dirty looks from the other passengers, but was just too exhausted, annoyed, frustrated, breathless and relieved to notice. Moral of this story: if you want your tax back – leave the country via an airport not overland!

Sally continues ….

The remainder of the journey to Plovdiv was almost boring by comparison starting with a nice welcome at the Bulgarian border by the official who ‘stamped’ us in.  I daresay he doesn’t get that many Australians passing by this way (or ones with kids anyway) and he gave us a big smile and asked why we were coming to Bulgaria – when we replied to have a white Christmas as the girls had never seen snow he then called over his assistant to tell him and show him our passport – in broken English he asked whether it was summer at home now and finished by genuinely saying he hoped we would enjoy our stay.  Not many border officials give you that kind of welcome any more! Or maybe his surprise was because he couldn’t believe that people would willingly trade a warm sunny country for a freezing snow covered one and was questioning our sanity?!  By the time we made a scheduled stop in Haskovo, the girls were excited to see patches of snow by the side of the road.

After an additional 3.5 hour bus trip, and considering the drama at the border crossing, we actually arrived in Plovdiv 20 minutes early! A short taxi ride into the heart of the ‘old city’ and we arrived at our hotel just after 4pm. The streets of the old city are paved with large stones smooth and the bumpy finish acts as a speed restrictor as cars rumble their way along. Our taxi driver cursed quietly as he drove further into the old city looking for our hostel – the newly renovated and not long opened 144 year old Renaissance house, named ‘Old Plovdiv’.  However, despite having a confirmation email from what I thought was the ‘Old Plovdiv hostel’ they were not expecting us!?

We were stunned (and a little confused at first) to discover that although we thought we were emailing and talking to the ‘Old Plovdiv’  it was in fact another hostel around the corner. We eventually discovered this was the fault of the website designer who had inserted the incorrect email address on the new hostels site, which we had subsequently used. The names of the 2 hostels were so similar that we did not notice the mistake.

Nevertheless, the friendly and hospitable desk clerk was so keen for our business that we were invited to ‘name our own price’ for the huge quad room and included breakfast. So I was quick to suggest 30€ per night for 2 nights, which was down on the 40€ we had been quoted at the other place via email, and as he was happy for the business, agreed instantly. As this was the hostel we wanted (we love the chance to stay in any old building with character over a new modern one anyday) we considered ourselves lucky and completed the check-in procedure.

The girls had disappeared back outside to play as there was a little park next door with a Christmas tree and scattered Roman ruins lying in the snow. Finally they were getting to touch snow for the first time!! The look of pure delight when I got out to join them was priceless and they were already forming snowballs ready to throw at Dave when he joined us a few minutes later.

Described as “probably one of the most sophisticated hostels in Eastern Europe” The ‘Old Plovdiv’ Hostel was truly a national monument of culture – a traditional Bulgarian house where the upper story extends over the bottom story, thereby increasing the living space.  The wooden columns are made of Lebanese cedar, there is marble from Greece and granite from Turkey.  The wooden floorboards are really wide and the ceilings are 4 metres high with everything furnished with wonderful un-matching antique beds and wardrobes. Although being a hostel meant shared facilities, everything was spotlessly clean and we only saw one other guest during our time there.  It was located in the centre of the historical old town, a rough cobblestoned street, but within walking distance to the city’s vibrant pedestrian street in the modern part of town.

After a really nice dinner at a nearby tavern we were relieved to crawl into bed and call it a day!

Smooth seas do not make skilful sailors. ~African Proverb