Another Monastery?
Trip Start
Aug 31, 2007
1
47
90
Trip End
Apr 19, 2008
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Plovdiv,
Bulgaria
Thursday, November 8, 2007
Walking to my hostel, I was urgently gestured to the side of the road by a policeman. About ten people were standing there, waiting. For what I wondered? Was there a bomb scare? A drug bust in action? An escaped felon? I contemplated the spelling of SWAT in Cyrillic. Everyone seemed calm, except the policeman, who continued to gesture any approaching pedestrians to the side of the road. After fifteen minutes, the cause of the hold-up was revealed when we were once again permitted to walk down the street - a movie! As I walked the last 100m to the hostel, I passed men and women in 19th century dress, horses, carriages, and of course, lights, cameras, and a man in a director's chair. I think shooting was in Bulgarian, so I doubt I'll ever see the movie, but it was cool anyway. At least at first.
As the afternoon progressed, the movie, occupying the main old town street, thwarted all my efforts to explore the historic part o the city. The annoyance, however, was probably to my benefit as it forced me into the more narrow alleyways and down picturesque streets I probably would not have seen otherwise. There was an older woman, gray hair flowing down her back, carrying a bouquet of flowers home. Two men, wearing faded trousers and woolen vests were engaged in some sort of an argument, and a boy fed stray cats crumbs of leftover bread on a street corner.
Amphitheater
Eventually, it became time to return to the hostel and, growing tired of dodging the film at every turn (the old town's not that large) I adopt an air of important confidence, made sure actual shooting wasn't occurring, and walked straight through the set. I have now travelled far enough south that I can go days without seeing another true blonde, but apparently, my hair has yet to significantly interfere with my ability to blend in.The next morning (after a late night at a bar with a local university student and two Polish girls) I set off for the modern part of town, chancing on Plovdiv's ancient amphitheater along the way. The setting, entirely surrounded by the city, is not what I would have expected, but at 2,000 years, it's the oldest thing I've seen so far this trip, and I snapped a few compulsory photos.
A bit more wandering (yep, I was lost) found me at Plaza Dzhumaya and the start of Plovdiv's pedestrian shopping street. On one side of the plaza is the brick Dzhumaya mosque, dating from 1368. There is a major difference between Romania and Bulgaria in that the Romanians held off the Ottomans for centuries while the Bulgarians were simply conquered by them. Hence, Bulgarian architecture has significantly more Ottoman touches than Romanian.
Rising from the center of the square, on a long Ionian (perhaps) column is a statue of Phillip II of Macedonia. He presides over a market of paintings: religious icons, old town scenes, or modern colorful splotches. I stroll among the paintings, wishing I had a house to decorate, and then head off down the shop-filled street.
Plovdiv's Mosque
I don't need anything, but after the deserted atmosphere of Veliko Tarnovo, it's nice to be surrounded by people again. The street ends in a square with a fountain and too many banks, and I head back to the hostel for lunch.In the afternoon, I travel out to Bachkovo monastery with two girls from northern Alberta. The monastery is the second largest in the country and 1,000 years old. Approaching it, up a valley between more magnificent hills, we pass numerous stalls selling food and souvenirs. The monastery itself is nice enough, but takes only a half hour to see thoroughly. The paintings inside the main church have been so darkened by years of candle smoke that they are difficult to fully make out, though the exterior offers a wonderfully relaxing setting.
Leaving the monastery, we remember to stop and collect mineral water from one of the many natural taps. It is cold, clean, and good. An older woman is there, filling a three gallon jug with the stuff. She jabbers happily at us in Bulgarian, probably relating all the wonderful properties of the water, and it certainly is refreshing.
Heading back to the bus, my eye catches on a simple knife. It appears that I left my good, much-beloved, trusty knife in Bucharest, as I can't find it anyway, so I pick up a cheap replacement. It remains to be seen if I'll leave it in Belgrade to avoid checking luggage on the trip home, but until then, I expect to make much use of it.
