North to Bulgaria

We left Marmaris late afternoon on an overnight Metro bus to Istanbul.  The trip was reasonably comfortable with the usual good Turkish bus service of drink and snacks provided by a steward and stops every two hours at clean facilities where the traveller can stretch ones legs, have a comfort stop and buy gifts or food.  We managed to get snatches of sleep and I was relatively rested by the time we arrived at the huge Istanbul Otogar.  The bus station had close to 100 bus bays and shops and cafes all around the circumference but was looking a bit worse for wear and could definitely due with a bit of a renovation.  We had some breakfast and caught the 9 am bus to Plovdiv, Bulgaria.

Now the adventure begins into new territory.  We were travelling through the ancient land of Thrace, today a rich agricultural area of undulating plains.  The fields of newly planted winter wheat provided a verdant backdrop to the bare winter trees.  The land seemed to be raptor heaven.  Looking out the window I would see a beautiful hawk or eagle (name – Look up) sitting in a bare tree or on top of a fence post close to the highway.  I must have seen at least 50 along the way just causally glancing out the window.

This is the common buzzard which looked like the birds I saw

About midday we arrived at the border crossing into Eastern Europe.  I was feeling quite excited and Bob kept humming the tune to 39 Steps (yes I know that was Vienna but it was one of the iconic early post-WWII Iron Curtain films.  And yes I know the Iron Curtain fell 30 years ago but was so much part of the political intrigue in our formative years).  Alas the immigration check point was a staid, routine affair.  Bob and I reminisced about some of the more colourful border crossings in Asia where camel carts would pass or where chickens were scratching in the dust outside of the ramshackle corrugated iron immigration office.

Mulling around at the border checkpoint

Once in Bulgaria the plains became more undulating and we could see snow covered mountains in the distance.  Less seemed to be planted in the fields and fewer displayed the lush green of winter wheat.  The village houses were a different design than in Turkey and all the villages had derelict buildings.  Often it was difficult to distinguish the inhabited dwellings from the derelict abandoned ones.  The highway turned into a two lane bumpy track and we began to wonder about the wisdom of coming to Bulgaria.

A blurry view of the mountains taken from the bus