“Bulgaria Bound”

• September 7, 2020
• By Daryl
• 0 Comment

There is a mysterious calmness, and the air is idle. With not a cloud in the sky and haze abounded around us, there are no signs of Gypsy tail winds, no rain; not a drop. Something is amiss, as we head for the border only miles away. We exchange all our Romanian money for Bulgarian money. Things are not the same as past cross-country border trips. 

We drive to the border and bridge toll booth, and we did not have any Romanian leu to pay the toll. Bunny dug in the suitcase for change. We are then confronted with a penalty for not paying a road tax of some kind. She was told it can be paid at gas stations, before leaving the country. She said she would go back, and was told she could not leave. A 250 Euro fine was accessed. Bunny talks them down to less than half that in US Dollars, and was not given a receipt. It felt like extortion. A chill comes over us, but we got back in to Bulgaria without a COVID-19 test.

ROAD WORK PERSISTED, and we were diverted into a small village with Lady of the Maps protesting loudly. We slashed her vocal cords with a touch of a button. Relieved, we creep forward past the brown dry corn stalks that rule the farmland. The recent harvested sunflower stalks are being mowed down in preparation for fall crops. 

Following close behind a truck with a dust filled path, Bunny holds back the mutable stallions until that fleeting moment when we can dash ahead unimpeded.  Her hands red with anticipation, we are behind a tiny car pulling a trailered car. Again the mighty stead’s are called into action. In a flash we pass to meet our next truck seemingly sauntering without a care of the road.  

On the edge of a cornfield, a hawk swoops down, it hesitated with three flaps of its wings then latches ahold of a small rodent. The screams of terror could be heard by the hawk alone. 

Our detour of 67 miles cut off 3 miles of our unimpeded path. On the bright side, I did get to see the mighty hawk in hunting fashion.

Two bugs flying in formation hit the dead zone just at eye level on our windshield. Bunny mused “those bugs won’t have the guts to do that again!” A joke her Dad said hundreds of times on long drives. 

We made quick time to Madara, Bulgaria, to a relief carving on the side of a mountain. Walking up to this ancient site, we heard a strange noise that had an almost choral sound. Between the wind blowing through rough barked trees and some pulsating bee-swarming sounds, the  two combined energies made a malefic  sound.   

The carving was one of awe and contemplation as to how they carved at such a lofty height. 

We left to search out a hotel and after several attempts we stumbled upon an oasis amid the chaos of local abodes.