Sozopol: Our first true European stop

We arrived yesterday in Sozopol, a little coast town on the Black Sea, absolutely exhausted. It was the perfect place to rest up and relax and an ideal first stop in a new chapter of this journey. The Middle East and Turkey, as fascinating and enjoyable as they were, have now been left behind. I breathed another sigh of relief, welcoming the more familiar and less exotic scenery.

Sozopol, according to our guidebook, is a little town with a population of 4650 located on a jutting peninsula in the south of Bulgaria. In the early morning hours of our arrival, the population seemed to have been closer to 100 than nearly 5000. Having wandered through the entire town I could have counted on my fingers the amount of people I came across. The absolute quietness gave this cobblestoned town with its century old wooden houses an eerie yet peaceful feel and if not for needing to find some form of accommodations, the quietness would have been a welcome change after Istanbul.

Even in the afternoon the town did not become much livelier. We stumbled on a handful of tourists around some corners; there would be the elderly grandpa doing some gardening in front of his home; a grandma heading back with a small bag of groceries from the corner store; some kids playing in the streets or some men repairing the boats in the small port. But there were no crowds. Most of the stores remained closed, most bars and cafes were empty and the beaches were virtually desolate.

The town was nevertheless pleasant. It would have made a great summer retreat and we suspect that most of the population total is comprised of families who simply have summer apartments in the town but in reality live elsewhere.

In all respects, there could not have been a starker contrast between our previous days: the crowds were gone, the five time daily call to prayer was no longer to be heard; the skyline was free of all minarets; there were no bazaars; there was no hassling or haggling; communication was virtually limited to Bulgarian and not the plethora of languages spoken by most in Istanbul; the alphabet had reverted not to the indecipherable Arabic squiggles, but nevertheless to an equally indecipherable Cyrillic; and most importantly the feel had changed: the town was truly European as was the countryside.

We spent the day soaking all this in with the intentions of catching a 6am bus to Veliko Tarnovo. Unfortunately it proved impossible to get the girls out of bed on time and we opted for the later 1:30am connection.

Now at 2pm I’m sitting in the bus, looking out over gentle rolling green hills occasionally dotted with orchards and pastures. White fluffy clouds dot the crystal clear blue sky throwing moving shadows over the hills. Julita said that the town reminded her of Poland, and in a way she’s right. Both the towns and the countryside have that Eastern European feel to them. They are little villages where life’s requirements are simply the necessities of life. It is not to say that time has stood still here contrary to the impression I got in Cappadocia, but anyone who has lived in Poland or traveled through these little Eastern European towns, will immediately know the character which I’m now trying and failing to describe. Although France and Germany might have such little towns and similar countryside, there is something a bit different about them.

Funnily enough Julita says she doesn’t like it, I, on the other hand, feel at home. Even the Bulgarian is at times sounding an awful lot like Polish. Now if only I could master their alphabet, I might choose to stay here longer.

PS: On an odd note, at dinner in Sozopol we watched the sun set over the water. In the morning I sat on the beach in Sozopol watching the sun rise over the Black Sea. Go figure.