България / Bălgariya
Endearing, surprising Bulgaria is a rewarding and all-too-often-overlooked destination. With a prime location at the intersection of cultures—going all the way back to antiquity—it has an unusually rich cultural heritage. Despite (or perhaps because of) the country’s tumultuous history, the Bulgarian people are sweet and soulful—eager to share their homeland’s many underappreciated gems. Travelers who venture here enjoy thriving cities, remarkable ancient sites, a flavorful cuisine, a ruggedly beautiful landscape, and powerful memories. If more travelers realized how impressive (and how affordable) Bulgaria is, it’d be jammed. But they don’t...so it isn’t. You’ll feel like you’re in on Eastern Europe’s best-kept secret.
Where to Go: I’ve arranged this chapter’s destinations in a counterclockwise loop that focuses on the highlights. On a short visit, the culturally rich “second city” of Plovdiv is the single most rewarding choice. With more time, the church-and-museum-packed modern capital of Sofia and the historic capital of Veliko Tarnovo—with its dramatic setting and chatty craftspeople—each deserve a day. With even more time, make a pilgrimage to the stunningly set Rila Monastery (worth the effort) and linger a bit at the Thracian Plain (ancient tombs) and Shipka Pass (modern monuments)—both between Plovdiv and Veliko Tarnovo. And if you have time to spare and want to hit the beach, consider adding the Black Sea Coast.
Getting Around: Trains (www.bdz.bg/en) and buses (www.bgrazpisanie.com) connect the country well—if slowly—and make sense for those linking up the cities. But if you want to explore the countryside, driving is (outside of congested Sofia) relatively easy in Bulgaria. Major roads are in good repair (though back roads can be somewhat deteriorated), traffic is fairly light, and drivers are generally courteous. To use expressways, you’ll need a toll sticker (€8/week, €15/month)—cars rented in Bulgaria typically have one already.
Bulgarian Cuisine: Bulgaria boasts one of the tastiest and most interesting cuisines of Eastern Europe. Similar to Greek or Turkish food, Bulgarian cooking includes plenty of red peppers and tomatoes, hearty grilled meats, crumbly cheeses, and lots and lots of herbs and spices. (The pungent, powdered savory spice mix called chubritsa—used in just about everything—is a great culinary souvenir. The bright-red, tomatoes-peppers-and-eggplant condiment lyutenitsa also packs a punch.) When in Bulgaria, I begin each meal with a shopska salad: chopped tomatoes, cucumbers, onions, parsley, and sometimes red peppers, all with a generous topping of feta-like cheese called sirene. Yogurt (kiselo mlyako) is big in Bulgaria. One of the tastiest ways to try it is in the refreshing cucumber-and-yogurt cold soup tarator—sprinkled with nuts, dill, and olive oil. For the main dish, you’ll see lots of grilled meats; staples include kyufte (meatballs) and kebapche (kebabs). Another beloved dish is sarmia—stuffed grape or cabbage leaves. And the main Bulgarian street food is banitsa—a savory, cheesy phyllo-dough pastry (like a burek or a Greek kopeta) that’s also popular at breakfast. And for dessert, Bulgarian sweets resemble Turkish ones: phyllo- and honey-based (baklava, kadaif) and halva (with sesame or sunflower-seed tahini). Bulgaria produces some decent wines that are worth trying...but not writing home about.
Bulgarian Language: Bulgarian is a Slavic language, closely related to Russian, Croatian, Bosnian, and Serbian. Bulgaria officially uses the Cyrillic alphabet—intimidating at first, but easy to sound out, once you’ve done a little studying (see sidebar). Many Bulgarians—particularly those in the tourist trade—speak some English. In this chapter, I’ve listed both the Cyrillic and “our” Roman spellings for key place names. Some key phrases: “Hello” is Zdravejte/Здравейте (formal) or just Zdravei/Здравей (informal); “Please” is Molya te/Моля те; “Thank you” is Blagodarya/Благодаря; and “Goodbye” is Dovizhdane/Довиждане.
Local Guide: In Bulgaria, hiring your own guide is a great investment. Stefan Bozadzhiev and the gang at Lyuba Tours offer everything from architectural walks of Sofia to fully guided, in-depth private tours around Bulgaria (www.lyubatours.com). Thanks to Stefan and Lyuba Tours for their help with the information in this chapter.
The following sections are designed to get you started planning a trip to Bulgaria.
Bulgaria’s capital, Sofia (locals say SOH-fee-yuh, not soh-FEE-ya) is delightfully livable. Its 1.2 million inhabitants enjoy an airy street plan, fine architecture, lush parks, snow-capped mountains on the horizon, and a relaxed pace of life (www.visitsofia.bg).
Visiting Sofia: Most of the sights mentioned here are in the easily walkable town center; a slick two-line Metro system and extensive tram network make longer jumps easy.
Sofia’s ▲▲▲ Alexander Nevsky Cathedral is one of the largest Orthodox churches in Christendom—and the only national church I can think of that’s named for an important saint of a different country: Russia. (The Bulgarians feel a Slavic kinship with Russia, who helped liberate them from nearly five centuries of Ottoman rule. The church is dedicated to Russian soldiers lost in that fight.) Built at about the same time as the Eiffel Tower, it’s newer than it looks—with a steel frame clad in limestone veneer, and invisible buttresses that hold up its cascading gold and copper domes. The church is a pan-national creation: designed by Russian architects and decorated with Venetian mosaics, Slovenian oak doors, and Bohemian crystal chandeliers.
Inside, you’re immersed in a rich aroma of incense and beeswax candle smoke. Shoulder-level candelabras represent prayers for the living; knee-level ones are for the deceased (buy candles in the entryway). Every available surface is slathered with gold-mosaic icons—depicting 247 saints and 25 scenes from the life of Jesus. In front of the marble iconostasis are two marble thrones: One for the czar, and the other for the patriarch (head of the Bulgarian Orthodox Church). Per tradition, the czar’s throne is bigger—demonstrating the Orthodox belief that a divinely ordained monarch has supremacy over the head of the church (the opposite of Catholic tradition). And yet, the czar’s throne faces the pulpit, where an eagle (symbol of the Church) hovers in judgment over a lion (symbol of the czar)—a none-too-subtle reminder that the czar may call the shots on earth, but the final reckoning comes later. On the smaller iconostasis to the left of the main altar, a cheeky Czech artist infused his saints with personality rare in Orthodox church art. Mary looks like a real mom, tenderly kissing the arm of her Baby Jesus—who’s not a serene cherub, but a fidgety toddler.
Across the street is Sofia’s most historic church, and its namesake: the ▲ Church of Sveta Sofia (“Holy Wisdom”), with an austere brick basilica floor plan. The core of the church was built by the Byzantine Emperor Justinian in the sixth century. Underfoot sprawl lovingly excavated mosaic floors (now a museum). Outside, the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier is guarded by a stone lion—the national symbol—who looks not proud or fierce, but sad...suggesting the Bulgarians’ generally pacifistic attitude after a grueling 20th century.
From this area, enjoy the parks, squares, and streets of Sofia’s mellow downtown. Sofia even has an actual yellow brick road. When Austria’s Emperor Franz Josef visited Sofia in 1907, he had to trudge through muddy streets. When he was invited back, he donated these bricks—made from a vivid-yellow limestone—to pave Sofia’s streets.
A few blocks to the west (just follow the yellow brick road), you’ll run into Independence Square (Ploshtad Nezavisimost)—ringed by an ensemble of severe communist-style governmental buildings called the Largo. The former Communist Party House—with its bold spire—faces a 65-foot-tall pillar that was once occupied by Vladimir Lenin. Today that pillar is topped by a statue of Sveta Sofia (Holy Wisdom). Near the pillar, head down into the Metro underpass to see Roman ruins dating back two millennia. Archaeologists are constantly finding, excavating, and thoughtfully displaying fragments of the Roman town of “Serdica”—a reminder that an ancient world sprawls beneath the feet of modern commuters.
Just to the right of the former communist HQ is a little square fronted by the president’s residence (featuring an extremely modest changing of the guard out front) and—housed in a huge former mosque—the ▲ National Archaeological Museum, with an exquisite collection of golden jewelry from ancient Thrace (www.naim.bg).
One block north of the Sveta Sofia monument is the central market hall, a great place to pick up a snack or some picnic fixings. Tucked just behind the market, Europe’s third-largest synagogue—designed by an Austrian architect in the early 20th century (www.sofiasynagogue.com)—feels like a celebration. Bulgaria was one of the only countries in Nazi territory that refused to turn its Jewish population over to Hitler. All 49,000 Bulgarian Jews survived the Holocaust.
Across the busy street from the market is the elegant, early-20th-century Central Mineral Baths complex, now renovated and gleaming (and home to the city history museum). Sofia prides itself on its natural springs, which attracted the first settlers here in ancient times. Poke through the park on the left (near the tram stop) to find a bunch of perpetually-flowing public taps, where locals fill up big jugs of warm, mineral-tasting, supposedly very healthy spring water.
From this area, the pedestrianized, shop-and-restaurant-lined Vitosha Boulevard runs to the south. This lively people zone is where the people of Sofia promenade, nurse a coffee, and catch up with their friends. It leads to the communist-era National Palace of Culture and a surrounding park—with Sofians enjoying their city while ignoring the boldly socialist-style architecture. At the northern end of the park, notice the partly dismantled monument. All over Bulgaria, controversy swirls around rusting communist monuments like this one—how long should they stand before being torn down?
Those interested in the communist period can track down some other intriguing artifacts. Just to the northeast, in Knyazheska Park, stands the Monument of the Soviet Army, honoring the Soviets who helped liberate Bulgaria in World War II. One panel on the side of the main plinth is regularly (and creatively) defaced with pointed political graffiti.
To see more statues that once intimidated the cityscape, head about three miles southeast of the center to the ▲ Museum of Socialist Art. You’ll see—preaching their message to each other in an empty field—the Lenin that once topped the pillar in the center of town; Georgi Dimitrov, the “Bulgarian Lenin”; the red star that capped the Communist Party HQ; and several stoic soldiers and workers.
Two more important sights are in the Boyana district, in the foothills of the Mount Vitosha, about five miles southwest of the center. The humble brick ▲▲ Boyana Church contains a treasure trove of stunning 13th-century frescoes, combining a strong Orthodox faith with very early Renaissance Western European styles (think Giotto). The Boyana frescoes are unique in their early use of basic perspective, fluid motion, natural rather than stiff poses, subjects with real human emotions and personalities, and the skillful use of bold colors to suggest three dimensions—you can practically see bodies moving around under the subjects’ clothes (www.boyanachurch.org). Nearby, housed in a particularly boxy old communist-era palace, is the ▲ National Historical Museum, with a fine collection of fragments from the full span of Bulgarian history (www.historymuseum.org).
Sleeping in Sofia: Two good options in the walkable town center are the professional, upscale $$$ Crystal Palace Boutique Hotel (www.crystalpalace-sofia.com), and the simpler $$ Arte Hotel (www.artehotelbg.com).
Eating in Sofia: It’s easy to simply stroll Vitosha Boulevard, which is lined with tempting options. Along here I’ve eaten well at Shtastliveca (Щастливеца, long menu of traditional Bulgarian dishes in a kitschy mod-traditional setting, at #27, www.shtastliveca.com). A pocket of fun, trendier eateries is just west of Vistosha near Karnigradska and Solunska streets. And for a youthful, fast-changing foodie scene, explore the streets just east of the City Garden (behind the National Theatre). In this area, Raketa Rakia Bar is a trendy, communist-kitsch-themed nightspot with Bulgarian cuisine and more than 100 types of rakia (Balkan firewater; at Yanko Sakazov 17). Nearby, the Club of the Architects is the spot for a genteel dinner of international fare in a big yellow mansion, or (better yet) in its serene garden (Krakra 11).
Bulgaria’s spiritual heart and soul reside about 80 miles south of the capital, deep in the Rila (REE-lah) Mountains. Here you’ll find Rila Monastery—a fortress on the outside, spiritual sanctuary inside. The monastery was founded in the 930s by Bulgaria’s patron saint, St. John of Rila (or Ivan Rilski, as Bulgarians call him), who came here seeking a hermetic way of life. During the Dark Ages, monks at Rila kept the faint embers of Bulgarian Orthodox thought glowing. Later, during a period of Ottoman occupation—when conversion to Islam was strongly encouraged—remote monasteries like Rila became lifeboats for the Bulgarian faith, language, literature, and cultural artifacts. Today, Rila is a place of pilgrimage for Bulgarians, who consider it their faith’s single most important site. And tourists are amazed by its pristine setting (tucked between mountains and forests), the reverent spirituality that fills its stony courtyard, and the vivid art that decorates its church.
Visiting Rila Monastery: The monastery is best for drivers, who can reach it in about two hours from Sofia (mostly on the slick A-3 expressway). It’s also possible to reach by public bus, or—better—on a dedicated shuttle bus (also stops at Boyana Church—described earlier, reserve ahead, www.rilamonasterybus.com).
Stepping from the parking lot through the hulking outer wall, you emerge into a serene courtyard facing a red-and-white-striped church and a mountain backdrop. The stout Hrelyo Tower is the oldest part of the complex, from the 1330s; this was the place of last refuge in case of attack.
The complex’s centerpiece church was built in the 1830s, after a fire. The walls and ceilings of its porch are slathered with sumptuous, colorful frescoes—all crammed with details and symbolism. You’ll see biblical stories, angels, devils, saints, and sinners. One elaborate scene shows the 40 days of trials your soul goes through after death, as a guardian angel accompanies the soul—represented by a small child—through a gauntlet of temptations.
The church interior is gloomy and atmospheric—air heavy with candle soot and incense. Next to each important icon hangs a small towel, used to wipe off smeared lipstick from reverent kisses. The right transept holds the heart of Czar Boris III, who capably led his country through World War II. Boris preserved Bulgarian sovereignty by politically allying with Nazi Germany. And yet, the czar defied orders to send Bulgaria’s Jewish population to concentration camps, and refused to formally declare war on Bulgaria’s biggest historic ally, the Soviet Union. Because Hitler needed easy access to Bulgaria’s Black Sea ports—and lacked the resources to invade—he put up with it...until the summer of 1943, when Boris died mysteriously after a private audience with Hitler in Berlin. Many suspect a slow-acting poison, and Boris remains revered by the Bulgarian people.
Behind the church, find the museum holding treasures that devoted Bulgarians have donated or created to honor their most hallowed site. The highlight is the Rafail Cross, with 23 panels (each smaller than a deck of cards) depicting 36 Bible scenes populated by 650 toothpick-sized figures, all on a cross about the size of a hubcap. The monk who carved it over the course of 12 years literally went blind in the process—yet another remarkable act of devotion in this place that specializes in it.
Sleeping and Eating at Rila Monastery: While Rila is an active monastery (with resident monks), some of the $ cells have been converted into rustic accommodations for pilgrims and tourists (www.rilamonastery.pmg-blg.com). Just outside the north entrance to the monastery (opposite the parking lot) is a popular window selling fresh doughnuts and a good sit-down restaurant. Additional hotels and restaurants line the road between the monastery and the expressway.
If you visit only one city in Bulgaria, make it Plovdiv (PLOHV-div). The country’s “second city” (with about 340,000 people), Plovdiv has it all: excellent sightseeing, a charming Old Town, and a bustling New Town (www.visitplovdiv.com). It’s fascinating to explore and easy to enjoy. And people have enjoyed it for a very long time: Plovdiv claims to be one of the oldest continually inhabited cities in the world. The ancient Greeks dubbed it Philippopolis (for the father of Alexander the Great), and the Romans called it Trimontium (for the “three hills” it was built upon). Today you’ll see a ruined acropolis, a well-preserved ancient theater, gorgeous 19th-century homes filled with the art of local painters, Bulgaria’s most thriving pedestrian boulevard, and a hipster zone with creative restaurants and even more creative graffiti.
Visiting Plovdiv: Plovdiv has two parallel worlds, just steps apart and equally worth exploring: The Old Town (draped over a hill) and the New Town (filling the flat valley below). The city is compact—you can easily see everything on foot.
The Old Town blankets the slopes of some of the many hills that make up Plovdiv. Its rustic streets—with ankle-wrecking river-stone cobbles—are lined with dozens of homes in the eye-pleasing Bulgarian National Revival style. In the mid-19th century, when the ruling Ottoman Empire was in decline, the Bulgarians sought to celebrate their culture with this unique style: wooden-beam construction with upper floors that bulge outward, tastefully painted in vivid colors.
Today, many of these buildings house museums, including the ▲ Hindliyan House—dating from 1840 and decorated to the taste of its merchant owner. It still feels lived-in, with opulent sitting rooms, a starburst-painted ceiling, a Turkish-style hamam, a rose water fountain, and “souvenir” wall paintings showing off some of the merchant’s far-flung business travels, from Stockholm to Venice.
Another house contains an art gallery celebrating a little-known but supremely talented Bulgarian painter. ▲▲▲ Zlatyu Boyadzhiev (1903-1976) was already a well-established artist when his health took a terrible turn. In 1951, he suffered a stroke that rendered his right hand useless. Boldly embarking on a second act, Boyadzhiev’s left hand began painting scenes that looked nothing like the ones his right hand had produced. Over the next 25 years, he reveled in bright colors with a childlike exuberance, slapping thick, Van Gogh-like brushstrokes onto the canvas. Boyadzhiev’s best works feature timeless slices of peasant life: People praying not in temples, but under trees. Locals sitting around a public fountain sipping glasses of wine. Peasant women clustered around a fire, knitting as they eke out warmth. A fattened pig being slaughtered for Christmas; above the victim, each weathered face could tell a story.
Boyadzhiev also had a subversive streak. In Public Prayer, scrawny villagers come together to pray for good fortune; everyone is skinny...except the fat priest. In The Orphanage, a motley collection of disabled beggars (and their disabled pets) huddle behind their larger-than-life chieftain. Boyadzhiev was also captivated by the Karakachani, a nomadic tribe that herded their wooly sheep throughout the Balkans until the communists ended their way of life in the 1950s. Boyadzhiev worked under the communist regime, but managed to buck the predominant Socialist Realism style. Because he glorified peasant life, without threatening any of the communists’ sacred cows, Boyadzhiev was allowed to carry on. This makes Boyadzhiev the rare artist who thrived under communism...and also had real talent.
The Old Town hillside also has some ancient sites. Up at the very top of town, the scant remains of the acropolis offer grand views over the modern skyline. And partway down the hill is a remarkably intact ▲▲ ancient theater. This 5,000-seat theater—built by Emperor Trajan—wasn’t discovered until the 1960s. Now excavated, the theater’s wall is mostly intact, the stony seats are still etched with their original numbers, and the acoustics remain perfect. Plays are performed here regularly.
Just below the theater, an underpass below the busy main thoroughfare leads to the New Town. The twisty streets straight ahead constitute the district called Kapana (“The Mousetrap”). Not long ago, this was a dreary, deserted, and dangerous quarter. But a recent initiative to pedestrianize and cobble the streets has turned the area into a hipster paradise. The streets are lined with bars, cafés, and creative galleries (look for PLOVEdiv, with prints that put a whimsical pop-culture spin on old communist icons). This zone also has more than its share of creative, government-subsidized graffiti. Local authorities figure that street artists will tag buildings anyway—so they might as well focus all that creativity, and pay them to do it.
A couple of blocks south, you’ll pop out at the ▲ Dzhumaya Mosque. Dating from the 1360s, this mosque is one of the few that remain of the dozens that filled the streets of Plovdiv during Ottoman times. Renovated in 2006, today the evocative mosque is an active house of worship serving Plovdiv’s substantial Muslim population. Outside of prayer times, visitors are invited to step inside.
Directly in front of the mosque, they’ve excavated the seats at the end of a long and skinny ▲▲ stadium built in the first century A.D. You can walk down to see the seats, or just enjoy a drink at the café. On some evenings, outdoor movies and other events fill this space.
From here, the ancient racecourse runs (unseen) beneath Plovidv’s main walking street (officially named Knyaz Alexander I Street). Lined with cafés and busy shoppers, this drag is a delightful place to simply stroll. Partway down the street, at the grand staircase, look for the big blocky footprint in the middle of the street—marking what was the far end of the stadium. Those stairs lead up behind the burgundy-colored National Theatre; along its back wall is more city-sponsored graffiti (facing a rocky cliff with graffiti of Bulgarian VIPs).
Back on the main drag, continue heading south, past the American fast-food chain Макдоналдс. Soon after, the street opens up into an inviting fountain square. Just beyond is the giant, blocky, communist-era post office, anchoring the vast Central Square (Ploshtad Tsentralen)—which still has intimidating echoes of communist times, from the elite communist-era Hotel Trimontium (now a more run-of-the-mill Ramada) to the conceptual sculpture-fountain. Sprawling on your right is the gorgeous Tsar Simeon Garden, a well-used public park with footpaths, fountains, playgrounds, and the people of Plovdiv enjoying their city.
Sleeping in Plovdiv: In the Old Town, $$ Hebros Hotel fills a cozy old Bulgarian National Revival mansion with characteristic rooms and a great restaurant (www.hebros-hotel.com). The smaller $$ Hotel Renaissance, between the Old and New Towns, is also a good choice (www.renaissance-bg.com). At the other end of town, $$$ Hotel Trimontium—once the top-of-the-top communist-era hotel—is now a comfortable Ramada with easy access to the New Town’s main drag (www.wyndhamhotels.com).
Eating in Plovdiv: The Kapana (“Mousetrap”) district has several trendy bars and cafes, and the excellent Pavaj (Паваж) restaurant, which updates Bulgarian classics and international dishes with a hipster/foodie aesthetic (Zlatarska 7). The recommended Hotel Hebros restaurant has an upscale (but still affordable) vibe, with well-executed upscale Bulgarian dishes in a classy dining room or a leafy patio (www.hebros-hotel.com). On or near the New Town’s main walking drag, consider the Vino Culture wine bar (Otets Paisiy 5); the tacky but popular Happy chain (basically the Applebees of Bulgaria, Vasil Levski 2, www.happy.bg); the more upscale-feeling Hemingway (Gurko 10, www.hemingway.bg); or the kitschy-touristy-traditional Dayana (Даяна, three branches—most central at Knyaz Al. Dondukov-Korsakov 4, www.dayanabg.com).
Nearby: About a half-hour south of Plovdiv, in the Rhodope Mountain foothills, is Bachkovo Monastery (Бачковски манастир). It plays second fiddle to Rila—with a less romantic location and less dramatic frescoes—but for those based in Plovdiv, it’s far easier to reach. Come here for an accessible look at a soulful Bulgarian Orthodox monastery. The two-story ossuary has some particularly fine frescoes from the 11th through 14th centuries.
Defined by Bulgaria’s two major mountain ranges, the Thracian Plain was a busy funnel of trade throughout ancient times. This was the home of the Thracians (explained in the sidebar), who left behind tombs filled with ancient treasure.
Kazanlak (Казанлък, KAH-zahn-luk), with around 50,000 people, is the main town of the Thracian Plain. The workaday town—with a broad main square and a low-rise, communist-concrete aesthetic—is mainly of interest for sights relating to the Thracian Tombs (www.muzei-kazanlak.org).
In the town of Kazanlak itself, the Kazanlak replica tomb demonstrates how even in the afterlife, the deceased would be surrounded by colorful slices of Thracian life. You’ll squeeze through a narrow passage, then crouch under a dome painted with vivid scenes: The eternal banquet of the Thracian who’s buried here, flanked by servants, musicians, and horses.
Three more interesting tombs are within about a 10-minute drive of Kazanlak. At Shushmanets (Шушманец, SHOOSH-mah-nets), you can see how a single, stout column supported a heavy load. You’ll also see a block with a well-worn hole, illustrating how the double stone doors could swing open and closed on a pivot. Nearby, Ostrusha (Оструша, OS-troo-sha) began as a temple. The entire block-like structure was carved out of one gigantic chunk of rock. That’s 60 tons—triple the size of the blocks used for the Egyptian pyramids—transported here from the mountains 12 miles away. And then they had to carve it without cracking it. On the ceiling inside survives a fresco of a ghostly, enigmatic face—showing how Thracians were usually depicted as redheads. And Kosmatka (Косматка, kos-MAT-kah)—the tomb of Seuthes III—lets you peek into a multichambered tomb like the Kazanlak replica.
For a look at some of the breathtaking items found inside those tombs, back in Kazanlak, visit the ▲ Iskra-Kazanlak Historical Museum. The museum includes a room of Thracian artifacts: an intimidating helmet, with an attachable wreath of gilded leaves; a double-handled golden wine cup, or kylix; a solid-gold clamshell case; and some finely-detailed jewelry. Red-and-black Greek vases were likely obtained in exchange for Thracian copper ore and gold.
Kazanlak is also the capital of Bulgaria’s rose-oil industry. (This area is known as the “Valley of the Roses.”) Each May and June, hardworking laborers rise early to pick the delicate roses that have bloomed overnight, then take them to a distillery where they can be converted to fragrant oil. (It looks—and smells—like they’re making very rosy moonshine.) Shops around town—and all over Bulgaria—sell the final product. It all culminates in Kazanlak’s Rose Festival, usually in early June.
Sleeping in Kazanlak: The accommodations here are nothing special; $ Hotel Palas is central, just a short walk from the main square (www.hotel-palas.com).
Between the Thracian Plain and Veliko Tarnovo run the Balkan Mountains (which gave their name to this entire peninsula). Crossing over this range, you’ll pass several worthwhile sights. For a visual orientation, scan the mountainous horizon from the valley near Kazanlak and try to pick out three big landmarks: the flying-saucer shaped Buzludzha monument; the blocky Shipka Pass monument; and—down below that—the glimmering golden domes of Shipka Church.
▲▲ Buzludzha (Бузлуджа, BOOZ-lood-zhah)—an abandoned monument to the Bulgarian Communist Party—is easily worth ▲▲▲ for those captivated by Bulgaria’s communist heritage. This gigantic conference hall was built in the 1980s, in the waning days of communist rule. With the end of the Cold War and the arrival of capitalism, Buzludzha was abandoned. Today, you can drive up, up, up into the mountains and stand before this decaying souvenir of a failed system. The lyrics of the international communist anthem are literally falling off the walls. And the Coke-aping “Enjoy Communism” graffiti makes it clear who won the Cold War. You can try to find a way inside the structure (while officially closed, some intrepid visitors shimmy through gaps to get inside; this is—I cannot stress enough—at your own risk). The interior is an eerie, crumbling world of vandalized propaganda, muddy asbestos, a roof that’s barely held up by its hammer and sickle, and disintegrating mosaics—once so proud, and now just a humble artifact. The monument is a twisty, 20-minute (each way) drive from the valley. To find the road up, look for the turnoff along the main road between Kazanlak and Shipka (marked by the stoic communist-era statue standing by a pillar).
The sumptuous ▲▲ Shipka Church sits on a hillside above the simple town of Shipka. The church—completed in 1902 by some of the leading Russian architects of the day—is exuberant “Muscovite-style”...over-the-top Baroque-meets-Byzantine. It’s dedicated to the Russian and Bulgarian troops (now buried in the crypt) who fought fiercely to defeat the Ottomans in 1877 (see next). Stepping inside, you enter a world of glittering icons, a rich haze of incense, and hundreds of tall, skinny candles. The 175-foot-tall steeple, flanked by bulbous golden onion domes that shimmer in the sunshine, holds a giant bell cast from discarded artillery cartridges after the battle.
Higher up on the road to Veliko Tarnovo, you’ll pass a turnoff for Shipka Pass (Shipchenski Prohod/Шипченски Проход). It’s worth a quick detour to the monument marking the summit. A long staircase leads up to the boxy tower that honors the pivotal 1877 battle—fought right here—in which elite Russian forces came to help homegrown Bulgarian troops put an end to the nearly five centuries of Ottoman rule. This was a key turning point in Bulgarian history, and led directly to the creation of a modern, fully independent Bulgarian state. It also gave Bulgarians a soft spot for their big ally, Russia (unlike in most of Eastern Europe, where Russia is seen as an unwanted bully). This is partly why, a century later, Bulgaria was the most docile of the Soviet satellite states.
Descending from Shipka Pass on the north (Veliko Tarnovo) slope, you’ll coast into the town of Palauzovo. Here you can turn off for a 30-minute drive to ▲ Tryavna (Трявна, tree-AHV-nah), a touristy village with an abundance of traditional Bulgarian National Revival-style homes. Stout stone bases support whitewashed walls and heavy slate roofs, and each door seems to lead to a souvenir shop. While you can also see a version of this style in Plovdiv and in Veliko Tarnovo, Tryavna is a pleasant stretch-your-legs small-town option. From here, you can simply continue north (via Tsareva Livada) to rejoin the main Veliko Tarnovo road.
If you skip the Tryavna turnoff, you’ll pass through the big, gritty city of Gabrovo (Габрово). Filling an isolated valley with heavy industry, Gabrovo is the butt of many jokes for its people’s thrifty ways. But these days, Gabrovo has the last laugh as the home of a museum called the House of Humor and Satire (you’ll pass right by it on the main road, www.humorhouse.bg).
One of Europe’s most dramatically set cities, Veliko Tarnovo (VEH-lee-koh TAR-noh-voh) bunny-hops through a misty gorge at a sharp bend of the Yantra River. The town’s hillsides are blanketed with both traditional homes and dreary concrete housing blocks. In this town that’s more vertical than horizontal, going for a walk around the block feels like climbing a ladder. Tarnovo was the capital of the Second Bulgarian Kingdom, which was the medieval high-water mark of Bulgarian civilization. Today—with 70,000 inhabitants, and a prestigious university with around 18,000 students—it’s called Veliko (Great) Tarnovo to honor its illustrious past. Aside from its stunning setting and rich history, Veliko Tarnovo offers the chance to meet some craftspeople, scramble around a ruined castle, and side-trip to some worthwhile sights (www.velikoturnovo.info).
Visiting Veliko Tarnovo: Perched on the rim of a gorge, Veliko Tarnovo is shaped like a natural amphitheater. And center stage—dominating a little peninsula defined by the tight river bend—is a giant sword thrusting skyward, ringed by fearsome horseback warriors. This monument commemorates the Asen clan, who ruled over the Second Bulgarian Kingdom (13th-14th centuries). According to legend, these brothers planted their sword on this spot and said, “Here shall be Bulgaria.” While Bulgarian history can be obscure to outsiders, the Second Bulgarian Kingdom really was a big deal—an era when the Asen dynasty dominated the Balkan Peninsula from Ukraine to Greece. Their decline ushered in the Ottoman rule that would dominate Bulgarian history for nearly five centuries. You can circle all the way around town to find the bridge that goes out to the monument (and the art gallery just behind it); the best views from afar are along the charming, cobbled Gurko Street (near Hotel Gurko).
Veliko Tarnovo’s town center lines up along Stambolov Street, which follows the curve of the river a few very steep blocks uphill. Branching off from this main drag is the town’s most appealing lane, Rakovski Street—which I think of as ▲▲ “Craftspeople Street.” Along this cobbled street are several talented artisans who enjoy inviting visitors to watch them create traditional crafts. Do some window-shopping, and drop in on any shop that grabs your attention: Silversmith Todor Kushlev creates intricate filigree jewelry by hand—or, in the case of his blowtorch—by mouth. Nina and her son create pottery with patterns dating back centuries. Miglena operates an old-fashioned loom. Rumi carves wooden items. Rashko painstakingly paints icons. And Greti carefully pours a thin stream of dough on a spinning griddle to create delicate shredded wheat-like strands for the honey-soaked treat, kadaif. (She doesn’t sell the kadaif, mind you—just the strands. B.Y.O. honey.)
Farther south, Stambolov Street passes above what many consider to be the first parliament of Bulgaria—today the Revival and Assembly Museum. With the 1877-1878 expulsion of the Ottoman Empire (with Russian help), Bulgaria was free to create a modern nation. The National Assembly convened right here for the first time in 1879 and ratified a constitution. Today you can see the original assembly hall, and peruse a fine museum with vivid photographs documenting the Bulgarian National Revival movement and the creation of the modern Bulgarian state (www.museumvt.com). The building itself was designed by Kolyu Ficheto (1800-1881)—Bulgaria’s leading 19th-century architect—who is honored by a statue out front. On a little crest just above, the striking, green-domed Cathedral of the Nativity of the Virgin (Rozhdestvo Bogorodichno, also designed by Ficheto) has a terrace with a great view over the gorge and castle.
Just over the ridge, the ruins of ▲ Tsarevets Fortress mark the site of the heavily-fortified Asen headquarters. While little survives, tourists enjoy aiming imaginary arrows from the bastions, taking in the views, and tiptoeing up to the so-called “Execution Rock”—where no ax or gallows were needed...just a firm shove into a deep gorge. The (reconstructed) church at the summit has unusual modern decorations. These were commissioned by Lyudmila Zhivkova (1942-1981)—the communist-era President of Art and Culture (and daughter of the Bulgarian dictator)—who, after surviving a car wreck and getting into yoga, used her influence to try to merge communist ideology with counterculture art and New Age philosophy. (She was being groomed as her father’s heir apparent, and it would have been fascinating to see what direction she’d have steered the country...if she hadn’t died—mysteriously, some say—of a brain tumor at age 38.) An elevator zips sightseers up to the steeple’s crenelated top for the best high-altitude views in town.
Sleeping and Eating in Veliko Tarnovo: Friendly $$ Hotel Gurko enjoys an atmospheric Old Town setting (www.hotel-gurko.com). They also have a decent restaurant, but I prefer to hike (essentially straight uphill) to Shtastliveca (Щастливеца); ask for (or reserve) a table on the little cliff-hanging terrace with breathtaking canyon views (Stambolov 79, www.shtastliveca.com).
The village of Arbanasi (ahr-bah-NAH-see), which overlooks Veliko Tarnovo from an adjacent ridge (about a 15-minute drive away), is a handy side-trip. The main attraction here is the ▲▲ Church of the Nativity, with magnificent frescoes in a dark, claustrophobic, wonderfully historic-feeling space. Typical of modest 16th- and 17th-century Orthodox church architecture (under Ottoman rule), it feels like a hay barn inside. The L-shaped gallery curves into the nave—and all of it is covered in still-vivid frescoes. Nearby, the Konstantsalieva House re-creates life here during Ottoman times. Also in Arbanasi, perched overlooking Veliko Tarnovo is the Arbanasi Palace Hotel—the former residence of communist dictator Todor Zhivkov, who ruled Bulgaria for 35 years (the longest of any socialist dictator in Europe). While definitely faded, the hotel still enjoys the same grand views over Veliko Tarnovo that lured Zhivkov here—and you can sleep in his presidential suite.
With more time, consider venturing to the eastern edge of Bulgaria: the Black Sea Coast, a popular budget beach destination for in-the-know Brits and Europeans. While I’m more drawn to Bulgaria’s cultural treasures (and beaches are better in Croatia or Greece), the Black Sea Coast has its fans, and helps round out your Bulgaria experience.
The main coastal city is Varna (Варна, VAR-nah, pop. 335,000). Varna has a skyscraper core; long, sandy resort-lined beaches; the lush and sprawling Primorski (“Seaside”) Park; ancient ruins, including a second-century Roman bathhouse; beautiful churches; and the excellent Varna Archaeological Museum, displaying the oldest jewelry in the world (from the fifth millennium B.C.), discovered in a local necropolis (visit.varna.bg).
The small-town alternative is Nesebar (Несебър, neh-SAY-bar, pop. 15,000), connected to the rest of Bulgaria by a narrow isthmus watched over by an iconic windmill (www.visitnessebar.org). This little town has an unusually rich cultural heritage, with artifacts from ancient Greek, Roman, Byzantine, Ottoman, and Bulgarian National Revival times. Nesebar is known for its many fine, partly ruined, striped-brick, Byzantine-style churches. It’s also an enjoyable place to simply let your pulse slow, hit the beach, go for a boat ride, and get to know some real, working fishermen. And, for a little more activity, Nesebar adjoins the hard-partying, aptly-named Sunny Beach (Slanchev Bryag/Слънчев бряг) resort—as popular now as when it was purpose-built in communist times.