July 27-30, 2023

              Who hasn't been to Turkey, who hasn't been to Constantinople?! Well… me. Hey, it's just a stone's throw away, many of my acquaintances already have it as their neighborhood, but I've only just now experienced the magic of this city of millions with many faces.

THE PREPARATION

I already had certain dates for my vacation, so I started looking for a destination. I decided to use Grabo and an organized excursion as a starting point for all upcoming trips. I wanted to visit everything, I was like a hungry, untied in a bakery (I love traveling, but for many years for various reasons, financial and others, I didn’t have the opportunity to go outside the country, I’ve been to Italy twice, for work and to Romania for a day.). First of all, I looked for Italy, no matter which part. But there was nothing on the horizon during my vacation. I decided to leave Italy for the fall, God willing, and headed for Turkey. I liked the offer of the company “ABV” – a visit to Istanbul and Lozengrad, 2 nights with breakfast, July 27-30. Price – 165 leva. Wonderful.

I looked at the program and saw that there were many additional excursions and activities that were optional and paid for additionally. There were no prices at Grabo. I went to the company's website, decided what I would book (understand everything possible - hahaha) and made a rough calculation of how much it would cost me. I could afford it. I called to ask if there were any vacancies and was informed that if I was traveling alone, I would have to pay an additional 120 leva. I got angry. I started nagging my husband to come with me, but after two weeks of sick leave that same month, he was embarrassed to ask for leave. I called friends, but at the last minute it was clear to me that I was unlikely to find anyone. I decided that I would spend these 120 leva and signed up. First, I paid a deposit of 33 leva. I transferred it to Grabo's account. I received all the necessary documents in my email - contract, invoice, confirmation, etc.... and I supposedly read them. I didn't see a bank account listed anywhere, so I logically assumed it would be the same one. I transferred the rest, confident that I was already signed up. We'll be traveling, no moving around!

Two days later, a lady from Grabo called me and explained that I had to transfer the rest to the tour operator's account. I shuddered... but she reassured me that they would return it to me (after two days it was in my account). A new reading and leafing through of documents began, I looked at it five times (with glasses!!)... finally I saw where I had to transfer the amount. I paid. And I eagerly awaited the day of departure.

I called an operator beforehand – Vivacom to find out how the issue with calls and internet is. They offered me a package initially priced at 5.90 lv, including 200 minutes for incoming and outgoing calls in total and 500 MB – all of this per day. Like every day if they bill me for traffic or a call, a fee of 5.90 lv per day is activated. I agreed. But most of the time I used the hotel's internet, and during my walks I turned off mobile data. They advised me at the border to switch to the Turkish operator Turksel.

DAY 1

The day came. We left on Thursday, July 27, at around 8:30 p.m. from the square in front of the Cathedral in Varna. However, I left with a heavy heart. A few days before that, a… I’ll call him a young man, so as not to litter my story with epithets, had hit three parked cars, two of them belonging to my family. Thank God there were no victims, the culprit was also fine (not that I particularly cared, given the circumstances surrounding the incident). It turned out that the boy had been driving without a license for years, because he still couldn’t pass the test. Naturally, with the knowledge and permission of his parents. He hadn’t slowed down at the pedestrian crossing, nor at the sign indicating that he was entering a road without priority, he was driving at a very high speed, considering that all three cars were smashed and had their parking directions shifted from the impact. At least the tow truck was clean. Our cars – one mine, the other my son’s fiancée’s, a company leased one, were worthless. Naturally, the guy wasn’t detained. I left with anger and resentment in my soul, worried about how I would buy a new car (we were in the process of repairing it, I was going on a trip, and such an unforeseen expense completely messes up my life... as well as my plans for the entire vacation, because I was left without a car). Despite everything, I decided that I would try to have fun. The children wondered if I would be bored alone. I consider myself a sociable person and I fit in quickly (if I wanted to, that is). So I had no problem with not having a friend.

At the appointed time, I was in front of the bus. I looked around at my companions – a colorful bus, mostly female. Two or three mothers with daughters, some daughters with their boyfriends, a family with a boy in 7th-8th grade, two sisters around 55-60, two more sisters, a little younger… The two older sisters started talking to me. When they realized I was alone, one of them said: “So the three of us can move around.” Great. We set off. The tour guide, Jeanette, was a pleasant and kind woman. However, the bus had very densely packed seats, the slimmer ones were cramped, what about us, the “bigger ones”! But not all the seats were occupied and many people scattered to sit alone. From Burgas and Sunny Beach, we picked up three more people in total, we took a short break at the gas station in Burgas… and let’s go to Malko Tarnovo.

The trip was a pain in the ass. Was it because I was a little cramped or because I set off in a bad mood… I put on my headphones and immersed myself in the audio book world of Storitel. I don’t remember what time they told us to prepare our documents. Tourists with ID cards received a piece of paper with a stamp upon entering Turkey, which they had to keep when leaving the country. I had a passport. We left Bulgaria very quickly, the inspection took a cigarette. But entering Turkey dragged on. The total time at the border was about two hours. The border policeman in Turkey stamped my passport on the middle page, provided that all the others were blank before that (I have a virgin passport and they dishonored it). I am a tidy person and such things annoy me. I went to make a remark to him (I wonder who's in my right mind), but it "happened" to me that I was on the border, there were armed people around me and I wasn't in a position to teach them order and discipline right now. Besides, his face was sour and arrogant... And I calmed down with the others. During the trip, Jeanette wrote down who wanted to attend what events and collected the money.

We entered Istanbul. I started to look around curiously. What struck me first: the buildings – they had a different architecture; and the mosques – they were everywhere. Not the fact that there were mosques, of course in a Muslim country there would be no churches under the road and above the road; but there were many and everywhere. I have never seen such a dense number of churches in one settlement, neither in our country nor in any other Christian country. We reached the old fortress walls of Constantinople and entered the old city. Our hotel, called “Nanda”, was located in the commercial part of the city, in a quiet street on Laleli district. Quiet – early morning… We arrived around 8am and the rooms weren’t ready. We checked in and to my surprise our passports had to stay at the reception until we left. I protested, I prefer to be responsible for my important personal belongings myself, but there was no other way. They gave us a small hotel card for identification. I reluctantly agreed… where am I going.

Coffee, toilet and we set off on our first excursion. Panoramic tour of Istanbul, free time. Neat streets, colorful buildings, noise from the traffic of people and cars. It was pleasant. We skipped Taksim Square for obvious reasons – there were protests and it was not a good idea for us to be there. They took us to the Bulgarian Iron Church of St. Stephen, on the shores of the Golden Horn - a channel between the mainland and the BosphorusThe canal is so called because there is a legend that a golden treasure is hidden at its bottom. But no one has found it yet... and if they have, they have kept it for themselves.

A nice church with a beautiful iconostasis. Restored with iron sheets after a fire. There is the only icon on which the Holy Virgin and Child stand in the poi of the Holy Brothers Cyril and Methodius. Of course, I bought such an icon, a tiny one. Then we went to the most colorful and colorful Balat district – everywhere was colorful, colorful, but not obtrusive: hanging colorful umbrellas, colorful steps, colorful buildings…

The interesting thing was that they combined us with two other groups. Since not all of the three groups, traveling with different companies, signed up for each excursion, they had put us together on one bus. There, we were picked up by the local tour guide Sema – a middle-aged woman from Dobrich, with perfect Bulgarian, a very subtle sense of humor, and a wonderful storyteller. I met more people. We sat in a neat cafe in a small street to drink coffee on the sand. Several people went to eat the famous banichki and other pastry delicacies, but I wasn’t hungry yet and settled for the special coffee and something refreshing. The heat was already being felt. While I was waiting for the coffee, I went to the toilet. It turned out that in order to relieve your purely human needs, it is desirable to have taken a basic mountaineering course. Still, the need pressed me and somehow I managed to climb the numerous steep and narrow steps, in places crooked and creaking menacingly. The toilet had beautiful faience… dirty and disgusting. It was a good thing I had wet curries in my handbag. The descent down the stairs was preceded by an “Our Father” (I recited it in my mind)… and with my clumsy feet I didn’t even manage to stumble! Bravo to me.

The coffee arrived. Served on a special board, with a small glass of water, two Turkish delights and three candies. It was pleasing to the eye. I noticed two miniature Coca-Cola bottles on the table, filled with white and brown. The establishment was not for eating and I decided that these were cinnamon and powdered sugar. God, forgive us, the ignorant! I took the cinnamon to sprinkle a little for taste. At that moment, the waiter shouted “No, no” and in an attempt to stop my hand, slapped it… and my coffee became cinnamon-flavored. “Nothing,” I told him in English, “I love cinnamon, it’s good for you.” And he grinned and informed me that it was black pepper. My companions couldn’t help but shake with laughter, and the waiter said that it was actually good to sprinkle black pepper, at least against evil spirits. Yes, but a little… not like half a pan of rice, for example. He asked me if I wanted another coffee. I refused. I shouted, I'll drink it like this, at least I'm protected from evil forces. With three lumps of sugar, the saga ended well. By the way, in Turkish restaurants, sugar is always in lumps: in a sugar bowl or wrapped in paper, but there is no loose sugar.

Next stop Istiklal Boulevard. We looked outside Galata Tower, the queue for tickets was kilometers long. We also entered the St. Anthony's Catholic Church. Then we went for a walk around the bazaar. I bought my husband a wide copper cezve because he makes the coffee in the morning – we never bought a coffee machine in 25 years of marriage. We love coffee brewed in a cezve or schwarz. I also found a wonderful painting of dancing dervishes. I spent 800 liras, but I don’t regret it. On the way, I liked two “zaptiyeta” and decided to take a picture with them. They agreed. A few years ago, I took a picture like this with two carabinieri in Italy. I’m starting to collect police uniforms – hahaha.

A couple more dings and it was time to head to the assembly point. And there was confusion and panic: where exactly were we supposed to gather!? Under the Galata Tower you could mean down by the entrance or down on the boulevard under the tower towards the bridge, according to what we remembered from Sema's explanations. We decided it was the latter and headed down the steep street. It was me and the two sisters who talked me into leaving. We reached a fork, asked where the bridge was, got completely confused and decided we had to turn back because one of them had spotted a few girls from our group up by the entrance to the tower. The minutes were already racing against us, and we didn't want to be late and have a whole group waiting for us. We rushed up the hill, steep, warm, motorbikes and people passing by all the time… we almost made it when the family with the boy caught up with us and convinced us that we had to go back down and look for the bridge under the tower, as we had supposedly understood. Let’s go down again, being careful not to be run over by anyone. During all this walking, I called Jeanette, our tour guide, but I couldn’t get through. At one point, while we were going down the second time, she called me back… and I duly informed my companions that we were still going up. It was funny, tiring and very warm. With our tongues hanging out, we climbed the hill for the second time and we already saw Sema waving that specific tourist flag as a landmark and a few people from the group. So, even though we got lost, we were on time, unlike the ladies who were late enough to make everyone nervous.

We went back to the hotel, checked in. My room was clean and nice, very narrow and with a disgusting view. But I was only sleeping there anyway, it wasn't a big problem. I usually collect those mini soaps and shampoos from hotels that you "put on". There were dispensers here full of shampoo and shower gel. Too bad. I freshened up and went down for the next walk. As I got out of the elevator, I was stunned by the view in front of me. It was Friday. A day for special prayer. Dozens of men had spread their prayer rugs right on the road (the pavement) and were praying while the imam was chanting. I carefully stepped out onto the sidewalk, trying not to disturb them. I looked around - it was the same on the other streets. It was like stopping on June 2nd when the sirens were going off, only for a longer time and you were kneeling in the street. I didn't dare take a picture of them, but it would have been an interesting photo.

The destination was Aqua Floria Mall and Istanbul Aquarium. The mall didn't impress me at all, but I decided to go into the aquarium. Before that we visited Emelda leather clothing store"They gave us a private fashion show. We felt like Carrie and company from "Sex and the City". I had no intention of buying, the clothes were too expensive for me, and I went out in front of the entrance. I was chatting with Sema and the tour guide of the other group. The topic was "teenage daughters". Mine is already grown up, independent and beautiful, but she had a hell of a puberty (and so did her brother). We exchanged experiences and found out that teenagers are the same everywhere, no matter whether they are from Bulgaria, Turkey or England - I also shared impressions about my niece, who has been living in a different environment for six years... they are all the same, and it seems like they are trying to figure out how and with what words to oppose us - the mothers. I reassured them that they will have a few more years to grind their teeth. It was fun and relaxing.

And the aquarium was wonderful. And huge. 17,000 species of marine flora and fauna – the extremely rare lemon sharks, poisonous stonefish and all sorts of other species. There was also a section with penguins and an imitation of the South Pole, an imitation of the Amazon jungle and an old, sunken ship. 600 pounds well spent. When I left the aquarium I had enough time to go around the MOL, but I had neither the strength nor the desire. There was no one from our group around, so I looked for a place to eat. I was already feeling very tired and wanted to sleep. I wanted to take a horizontal position for at least an hour.

We returned to the hotel, took a short break, refreshed ourselves, put on clean clothes and were on our way again. According to the program, we had (the ones we signed up for) dinner on a boat with a program and a short night walk on the Bosphorus. Here again we were a mix of the three groups. We were taken on by another local tour guide – Berg. He was sweet-talking, gave us a lot of practical advice for our stay in Turkey – how to protect our bags from pickpockets, what to expect in the evening… They served us some kind of mix of appetizers, which were balls of different… I’ll call them salads (like “Snow White”, “Kyopoolu” and the like). It was delicious. Apart from the lumps of sugar, the other thing that impressed me was the free bread and water in the restaurants. Here they gave us packaged bread and water in a plastic cup like pudding. On our stomachs. We had a fixed dinner – 90 lv (dinner, transfer from and to the hotel, the boat trip, the program). We had a choice of fish or a mixed grill (including beef meatballs and chicken steak). I chose the fish, sea bream with a garnish of arugula and onion. It was delicious… and with a lot of bones.

The program: first a dervish came out and to the sounds of enchanting music he performed his impressive dance. How could he not be dizzy… After him, three young men and two girls came out several times, their number was Turkish folk dances. Ah, how similar they were to ours! Both in rhythm and in movements… at times I felt like I was in Pirin, then in Thrace. A beautiful couple followed, who led us across the ocean to the rhythm of Latin dances. Everyone danced with a passion that captivated and touched the guests. And of course, belly dancing. A beautiful lady, with huge, blond hair, began her rhythmic dance, and I wondered the whole time if she had springs in her stomach. The skilled dancer had an affinity for the audience and just as skillfully won over a few couples (several men took pictures with her, they danced together with a woman from our company).

The program was going at full steam, the ship was rocking slightly, and I wondered if it was the water that made me dizzy or the glass of white wine (absurd! ... after a few shots of tequila, I don't get dizzy like that). I went out onto the terrace for a breath of air, it became stuffy inside. The view was beautiful. I was a little sorry that there was no one close to me at that moment to share it with, but on the other hand I enjoyed it to the fullest with all my senses. Night, moon, a light breeze, the rocking of the ship with the muffled sound of the waves, pleasant music... and in front of us the incredible view of the city lights. It was magical. After the program, we danced too. Berg kept an eye on us the whole time and took care of us - how we were feeling, if we had everything served... We went home after midnight to sleep until the next morning and the next walks.

DAY 2

We went down for breakfast around 7 o'clock. There were products that we eat here in the evening – fried peppers, stuffed bell peppers… I ate some patties and a pancake. The coffee in the hotel machines is not good. But there was nothing else. Around 8 o'clock we gathered in the hotel lobby and headed for the bus. We had an organized boat trip on the Bosphorus. The weather was wonderful, clear and sunny, perfect for nice landscape photos. Beauty… on the ship there was normal coffee and soft drinks, waffles and sweets – for a fee, of course. We were with Sema again. In the distance we could see The Maiden's Tower – a tower perched in the sea like an island. According to one legend, a sultan (I forget who) imprisoned his daughter there because at birth he was predicted that she would die at 16 from a snake bite. On her birthday, the girl received a basket of fruit, from which a viper crawled out and the prediction came true. This story reminded me a lot of “Sleeping Beauty”. Another legend tells how the king’s daughter was isolated in this tower, but every night she left a lantern in the window so that her lover could visit her. One night there was a thick fog and the young man drowned ingloriously. Sema told us about the buildings and landmarks that had perched on the shore. When we passed under the Bosphorus Bridge, we threw coins for wishes. I made three wishes… hopefully they would come true.

There were several private schools and a university on the shores of the Bosphorus, naturally very expensive and difficult to access. You could pay for your education, but you still had to take an exam and prove your knowledge (or lack thereof). There were also several beautiful mosques. One part of our mixed group had also booked a visit to Beylerbeyi Sultan's Palace  – the most exquisite summer residence of the sultans, located on the Asian coast. Unfortunately, it was forbidden to take pictures inside the palace. We wandered around on the shore and in the garden. The palace was a combination of luxury, wealth and sophistication. I don’t remember how many rooms there were just for visits and receiving high-ranking guests. There was a marble bathroom with a toilet, heavy carpets and massive furniture. Sema gave us special headphones and told us that when someone wants to visit the sultan, they are received in the palace, accommodated in the guest rooms and sometimes it can take weeks before they are received. During this time, the guest undergoes training – how to behave with the sultan, how to speak, etc. She told us something similar about the harem. In the harem Only non-Muslims, never Muslims, were admitted as concubines of the sultans. For a long time, they were trained to serve the ruler in every aspect – sexually, emotionally, intellectually… Young girls received a small salary while in the harem and were also taught foreign languages, to sing, play the piano and draw… oh, you are a hanum in a harem (just kidding). Some girls may never reach the ruler’s bedroom. At a certain age (meaning 30 years old) they were “retired” and often taken as wives of beys and pashas, viziers. For these men, it was a prestige to take as a wife a girl from the harem – already trained in refined manners… and virginal.

Sema continued to tell. Roksolana - a Christian, who ended up in the harem and became the Sultan's favorite. The woman quickly realized that there was no escape here and decided to get the maximum benefit for herself by forcing the Sultan to marry her, and not just be his next mistress, albeit one of the favorites. And what did she do? She converted to Islam. So that she could not be a concubine, as the law dictates. Then the ruler - Suleiman the Magnificent took her as his wife (second or third in a row, I don't remember) and she gave birth to an heir. Roksolana's real name is Alexandra Lisovskaya and she is of Ukrainian origin. One of the most powerful women in the history of the Ottoman Empire and the most important figure during the period known as the "Sultanate of Women". She achieved great power and influence in the politics of the Ottoman Empire and played an active role in the state affairs of the empire.

In general, the harem was practically a kingdom within the kingdom, with its own specific laws and rules. Every intercourse of the ruler with any wife or concubine was recorded in a special book. Because if she gave birth to a boy, he became a potential heir and the day of conception had to be known... lest she accidentally got pregnant by someone else (despite the death sentence afterwards).

We went back to the hotel by bus, because the boat took back those who did not want to visit the palace. On the way we passed by the other famous sultan's palace - Dolmabahce, a beautiful building from the outside, with a very high fence from the harem part (so that no one steals the hanums). We also passed by the clock tower. And after a short refreshment we went to the largest mosque in Turkey – "Çamlıca". Beauty of architecture, style and sophistication. A huge courtyard and white elegance all around. I predictably wore a scarf to cover my head. At the entrance they gave out – scarves and skirts for ladies with shorts, but who knows who had used them before. We took off our clothes, but we carried our shoes in our hands – so that no one would recognize them. The floor was covered with a soft carpet of predominantly blue color. The mosque was a huge room, on the wall opposite the entrance there was something like… I will call it an altar. It was full of people, some sitting down to pray, some to talk. Families, mothers with children who were running around and making a cheerful noise, girls in a circle telling each other something and laughing… On the side of the entrance there was a special room for women, who at certain times are obliged to separate from the men during prayer. I climbed the stairs (my soul knew it was high, and I was already very tired), but to my disappointment there was nothing interesting. The same atmosphere – spaces surrounded by wooden fences, covered with a blue carpet. Just places for solitude without unnecessary objects. A cozy corner where you can be alone with yourself and God, without being distracted by the vanity of our material world. There was also a gallery with an exhibition and a shop downstairs, but I realized too late, while I was walking around the courtyard looking for water. The mosque is high up and the view was incredible.

Next stop – modern Asian Atasehir district and Water Garden with the singing fountains. A round, open garden, round, with a fountain in the middle, and around it were clothing stores and restaurants. I personally wasn't particularly impressed by the fountains. Perhaps the fatigue factor also played a role. My legs and lower back were already seriously hurting and I was dreaming of lying down. Every hour on the hour, the fountains were turned on, in different colors with pleasant music, and fire came out of some openings. There are singing colored fountains in Plovdiv, and in Varna in front of the Opera House they built a similar attraction years ago. But it was beautiful and pleasant, there's no doubt about it.

Most of my companions were also at the limit of their strength, we didn't even feel like eating. We sat in an outdoor restaurant in the shade and waited for the departure time. Here I will talk about people. Throughout my stay in Turkey, I discreetly observed and looked around at the people around me. There were all kinds. Asian types here and there, mostly tourists, many black people, most of whom were supposedly permanent residents, some of them veiled. The men – normal-looking young and old people, dressed in European style, with beards, without beards… well, normal men. The children – the same thing. The little girls with ribbons and curly dresses, the little boys with blouses of favorite children's characters from Western movies. The women: most of them veiled, i.e. with their heads covered and faces uncovered. Here and there we met someone completely in black, wide robes, where only the eyes were visible. Sema said that these were mostly Arab tourists, not locals. The rest: one part with typical European clothing like a T-shirt and jeans, but with their heads covered, most with their specific wide trousers and long shirts and headscarves and scarves of all kinds. But colorful, modern and pleasing to the eye. I noticed several types of veiling: with a headscarf like our grandmothers used to wear, with a turban wrapped around the head, and a few more that are hard for me to describe. Except for the clothing as something different from us, the rest was the same. Men pushed strollers or rocked screaming babies while mom drank coffee or chatted with a friend… somehow it smelled of respect and equality, if I may put it that way. And the other women, who were in tank tops and pants or skirts, more revealing than covering, no one noticed them; I mean, I didn't see or feel any reprimand in a look or movement from the others. A colorful world in every sense, where everyone dresses as they want and no one bothers them.

Finally we got home. A few people went to dinner, I was too tired and went to the hotel alone (the bus always stopped a few blocks away, due to traffic and parking regulations in the area). I got into the elevator, I was alone, and when it stopped on the third floor, the door wouldn't open. Eeeeeee, for once I'll get on by myself and get stuck! Up until now, my two sisters and I always got on together, that's what happened. I kept telling myself I'll move this elevator. I went down to the ground floor, it stopped, the door - tk. I tried to press the alarm, but something stopped me. I went up again - nothing. That door wouldn't move. I decided to go down to the ground floor again and knock on the door in the hope that the guy at the reception would hear me, and I wouldn't wake up the others. So I did. And the moment I reached to knock lightly on the door, it opened!! But not automatically as I expected, but because I pressed it... I laughed at my stupidity and remembered that until now I've always been the first to enter the elevator, the nurses after me and then they open it... and I obviously didn't notice that it opens manually, because in our country I'm used to new elevators having sliding, automatic doors. Good thing I didn't ring the bell... I'm going to be embarrassed, hahaha.

I had bought a sandwich in case I got hungry, and before I went back to the hotel I found a shop that sold beer (everyone smokes cigarettes and throws cigarette butts away, but alcohol is hard to come by). I took a shower and went to bed, my mouth stuck in my phone. I put on a short cotton nightgown and was left without underwear, because I decided to put on my last clean bikini in the morning. At some point I decided to eat. Beer goes well with a cigarette at such a moment. There was an ashtray in the room, but I didn't want to stink up the air. I opened the window - the mosquito net was like it was built into the window. The thing that hardly resembled a terrace to the restaurant where we had breakfast was closed, so the option was down in front of the hotel. It was after 10 p.m., the street was deserted, only the receptionist was dozing off and clicking on the internet. Before I went down I realized that my nightgown was a bit short. It didn't look like a 45-year-old woman to be walking around like that, even if there was no one around. I took the raincoat out of the bag that covered my knees, took my phone, cigarettes and beer and went downstairs. I asked if I could still drink in front of the entrance (the cigarettes were no problem), the boy just smiled and said "of course". I left the phone and the pack of cigarettes on the table inside. I was just bending down to put my can on the ground to light up, when a bus stopped, two men got out, my back was to them, slightly bent over... and I remembered with horror that I had no pants! Instead of getting off, I squatted down, lit a cigarette and when I stood up I zipped up the whole raincoat. The guys were from the service staff and didn't pay me any attention, but I clenched my knuckles and squirmed, wrapped in plastic until they left. I finished my beer and went to sleep.

DAY 3

It was time to leave. We had breakfast, checked out of the hotel, and headed to the alley where our bus was supposed to be. Our schedule had a stop at Lozengrad for about an hour. Nothing special in terms of atmosphere. I bought some baklava, nuts, olive oil and other local foods to treat myself at home. A few perpetually grumbling ladies almost argued with Jeanette – they wanted more time to shop, but she didn’t give in. Her motive was that a Romanian and a Ukrainian bus had already passed us and we were in for a long wait at the border. For me, that one hour was enough for shopping, a toilet and coffee. I put the purchases in a small blue bag that I was carrying and put it on top of the big bag – dark green. We were just about to leave when a woman from a nearby supermarket ran towards us and screamed. It turned out that the mother, who was traveling with her daughter and her boyfriend, had not paid for the bag, only the purchases. It happens… the woman returned the bag and put her things in other bags. I immersed myself in Viktoria Beshliyska’s “Heart” and didn’t notice when we reached the border.

We went through passport control. At one point, the driver told us four names, including mine. They called us to a second check, at the counter for entering Turkey. Hmm… It was me, the boy who was with his girlfriend and her mother, the father of the family with the boy in 7-8th grade, and another blonde woman. A routine additional random check. OK. However, somehow by chance, one of the customs officers, already entering the Bulgarian border, headed straight for the suitcases of the blonde boy and the father. Of course, everything was fine. The same woman with the unpaid bag turned out to have forgotten her bag with personal belongings at the checkout in that supermarket. She was generally distracted and distracted the whole time. As pretty as she was, she was also carried away. She asked one of our companions, who spoke Turkish, to call the store, but they were unable to get through. The woman then got off at a gas station after Malko Tarnovo, where her boyfriend was waiting for her and they were probably going to return to Lozengrad or look for a way to send the bag to them.

We entered Bulgaria. And after Malko Tarnovo – hop!, baton. Gendarmerie. Someone said there was an operation these days. Another standard check, for migrants, on a random basis. Yes, but again I accidentally see them taking out my green bag. I knock on the window and with my hands “ask” the policeman if I should get out. A young, smiling blond boy motioned for me to stay. He rummaged through the luggage without disturbing it and let us go. I was lost in the novel again… until the bus stopped again very soon. This time military police. And of course my luggage again, this time the small bag. I was getting too carried away by coincidences… My companions started laughing, and I said “If he spills his boob on me, I’ll skin him alive”. “If he doesn’t shoot you point blank first” – someone from the back seats calls out and we all join in chorus. In fact, the boy was pushing my purchases around more carefully than I had arranged them.

We quickly crossed the border, but there was a kilometer-long queue on the way out of Bulgaria. I called my daughter, she and her boyfriend were returning from the island of Thassos through the Makaza border checkpoint. The same thing there. Most of the cars in our country had Turkish license plates. Apparently, those working in the West were returning for summer vacation… they had to wait… On the way, the child called and informed me that they were near Dalgopol (of course, they hadn’t returned yet) and gave me instructions that she had organized a family meeting at the neighborhood restaurant: grandfather, uncle, aunts, etc. But it made me laugh. “Wait – I shouted – let me go home first.”

In Burgas, Jeanette got off, informed us that we would be resting at Sunny Beach and asked us to count ourselves there. We said goodbye and continued. At Slunchak, at the gas station, we took a 30-minute break. Coffee, a toilet and we continued. The woman tasked with counting the refusals was joking. I shouted, "Okay, I'll count you, but you should know that I have a B in math." One, two, three... one doesn't come up with the number by one. I start over, this time from the back seats, and the others laugh. It still doesn't come up... At one point, one woman leans out of the front seat - she's dozing off, her head can't be seen...

At around 7 p.m. on Sunday, July 30, we arrived safely in Varna. I had asked my husband to come by car, I didn't feel like lugging two bags on the crowded city buses. He gets off and I'm shocked - his lower lip hangs to the side, and his whole appearance is like he's about to die. I got worried. He caught the summer virus with diarrhea and vomiting, and a separate wheezing cough from before I left, untreated properly... I scolded him and after a lot of insistence on my part, saying, "Oh, I'm fine, I'll be fine," we went to the emergency room in Okruzhna. There they diagnosed the beginnings of bronchitis, we bought medicine and went home. I went to the family gathering (alone, the sick one stayed in bed) and both Deni and I shared impressions of our vacations. They laughed a lot about the incident with the elevator and how I was moving him. And for the smoking without pants, I waited for my father to leave (Dad, don't read this! Hahahaha).

The vacation is over. And the rest of the vacation will be spent painting rooms and arguing with insurance companies… and looking for a new car. Oh… and vomiting.

Here are the photos (the links are to posts on FB)

Coffee on sand with black pepper against evil spirits

We guard with Effendi

The many-faced Istanbul; the iron church

The aquarium

Like in "Sex and the City"

Dinner with a program on the Bosphorus

A crazy city with order in chaos

Walk along the Bosphorus, Beylerbeyi Residence and Camlica Mosque

The singing fountains at Watergarden and the sights along the way

© 2023 Iliana Dechkova