Sofia to Serbia by Hitchhiking

I'm riding a travel high now.  Its 2 in the afternoon, I've completed a 3 hour city tour of Sofia, got laid last night, and I'm convinced I can hitchhike to Nis, Serbia before the sun goes down.

Serbia is to blame for my hitchhiking addiction.  I did my first hitch there 2 years ago and it quickly became my normal way to get around the country for both short and long distances.  My Serbian friends have hitchhiked distances which scare most average people: Serbia to Latvia, Serbia to Belgium, Serbia to Iran, etc...etc...etc...   I don't know if I will ever cover those distances, but I can damn well try.

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After gazing at Alexander Nevski Cathedral for a while, I went with my Brazilian girls, Thor and a few more tourists for a final Bulgarian banista lunch.  We shared future travel plans and hollow promises to see each other again in some other part of the world.  Possibly we will meet again.  Stranger things do happen.

While the other tourists continued wandering around the city, I made a beeline for Hostel Mostel where my backpack and guitar were waiting at the front desk.  I drilled the receptionist for hitchhiking advice to get to Serbia.  With a skeptical tone in his voice, he outlined the quickest route for me to cross the Bulgarian/Serbian border to Nis:

 Lyulin ==> Dragoman ==> Dimitrovgrad ==> Pirot ==> Bela Palanka ==> Nis
  
I had him write the city names in Cyrillic in case I would need to show them to any non-Roman reading citizens.  I would.

"I recommend you take tram first to Zaharna Fabrika. Then another bus to Lyulin where there is bus very cheap to Dragoman."

"And after Dragoman should I hitchhike?"

"Yes.  There is no bus there."

The price he quoted was very cheap and I wanted to get rid of my Bulgarian Lev anyway. There was only one more bus that day going towards Dragoman.  It was leaving in less than an hour.  I factored in the time I would lose wandering around trying to find unmarked stops while asking directions from people who don't speak English...  The calculations made me break a sweat.  Time to haul ass.

With the sun already low in the sky, I hauled ass the few blocks to the tram stop.  There was sign but it was in Cyrillic so I had to refer to my notes to "translate."  All this thinking added to the incredible sweat I was producing due to the heat that day.  Even if I made the tram, I still had to make 2 transfers to arrive at the bus that would take me to Dragoman.  The transportation service here is as reliable as anywhere else in Eastern Europe; which is say not reliable at all.

Sweat. Sweat.  Where the hell is the tram?  More sweat.

I heard it almost before I saw it.  The contact of steel wheels on steel tracks created a piercing whine as a small orange cluster of metal boxes creeped around the corner.  It moved slowly but the driver seemed unaware of my presence since I was the only one at the stop.  I waved frantically, practically throwing myself in front of the little tram.  The driver came out of his stupor and the orange boxes screeched to a halt.  I showed the guy my Cyrillic notes while yelling 'Zaharna Fabrika, Zaharna Fabrika!"  He nodded and indicated that I should sit next to him, so he could tell me when to get off.

We rolled along at a snail's pace.  I feared missing my next 2 transfers.  I was sweating bullets and the curious looks I received from the other passengers only aggravated my tension.  After a seemingly endless time, the driver waved for me to get off and pointed me towards a bridge that crossed over the road.  Through a series of (polite) hand gestures and jumbled Slovak/Serbian/Polish gibberish I figured out that the next bus was in front of a restaurant on the other side of the bridge.

I went under the bridge and saw several buses in a dirt parking lot parked in no particular order.  Time to start the search process again.  "Dragoman? Dragoman? Dragoman?,"  I repeated parrot-like to each bus I passed.  Finally a driver nodded his head left and right, "Da."

Did I mention that Bulgarians nod their head left and right to indicate the affirmative?

The next transfer was far easier. Instead of a random parking lot, I was dropped off at an actual bus stop located in front of a shopping complex.  The sign was still in Bulgarian and my ability to read Bulgarian had not improved despite staring at Cyrillic signs intensely for the past hour.  I looked around for help.

I am very biased when seeking help from people in a country where I don't speak the language.  I look for younger people, since there's a better chance they've either studied English or been exposed to it, thanks to television, internet and the general globalization of USA culture.  God bless America: Hollywood, Facebook, Microsoft, McDonalds, etc.

As luck would have it, the youngest person at the stop was a cute 20-something university co-ed who was studying in Sofia and heading back home for the week.  Or possibly I just wanted to talk to the girl.  She spoke English better than anyone else and she was able to explain where I had to get off the bus in order to hitchhike to the Serbian border.

When I say her English was better than anyone else on the bus, I mean she understood, "Hello, can you help me?"  When we got to explaining directions she stared blankly and drew a map:

"Here is gas station.  Go there.  Then go to Serbia."

Simple enough.  She drew a gas station, the highway and "Serbia" with a large arrow pointing down the highway.  She also drew two stick figures holding hands, a ring and a question mark.

  ...Am I married, darling?

I was at the gas station.  I bid yet another beautiful Balkan lady goodbye and got off the bus.  My exhaustion was incredible so I walked into the gas station to buy a few million Red Bulls (see, isn't globalization great?)  Time to hitchhike.







  

Ancient Subway Tour of Sofia

Many of Sofia's Metro lines date back to the 3rd Century B.C.  Justinian The Great would use it to voyage through his northern territories.  It is said that even Jesus found some of his earliest converts during his morning daily commute on the Blue Line...

Seriously the Metro is recent, but while it was being constructed many ancient ruins were discovered underneath the city grounds.  Rather than cover the ruins, the designers decided to incorporate the ancient walls and buildings into the metro construction.  We saw parts of the old underground during the free Hostel Mostel city tour we took of Sofia the day after the pub crawl.

Justinian the Great frequently commuted on the Red Line

I had arrived alone, but was now touring the city with my Brazilian lady, a friend of hers and another American nicked-named 'Thor' due to his resemblance to the character from the movie which was currently out in theaters.  I cannot for the life of me remember his real name, but this is one of the sad things about backpacking.  Like Maria from the Lviv train, I meet a million people in my travels, and its impossible to hold on to all of them.  Names fade while memories remain.

Here again is a point where if my notebook hadn't been stolen, I could've given you many minute, interesting details of the tour.  For now I can simply recommend this Hostel Mostel tour and tell you that our wonderful tour guide (whose name I also don't remember) was spectacular and full of humor and information about a city which is not frequently touristed.

We began on the stairs of the central Court House and headed to Sveta Nedalia Square.  Here you can find Sveta Nedalia Church, one of the largest Orthodox Churches I have seen so far.  It dates back to the 10th century and has been frequently reconstructed due to many attacks.  It was wood for a large part of its history until people realized that wood burns very easily.

Speaking of burning... 

The sun was brutal that day and our tour guide noticed.  She diverted our group underground to the caverns to explain the subway history and keep us from burning up.  When we emerged from the underground we were in front of a Muslim mosque.  The Banya Bashi Mosque is Sofia's only functioning mosque.  It's located over thermal springs and there is a charming story about it regarding the Muslim population and the Orthodox folks.  Additionally, it contrasts pleasantly with the McDonald's located across the street.

We were in the heart of Sofia, and it seemed every street was lined with verdant trees and large historic buildings.  We wound our way through one of the large parks until we were in front of the Ivan Vazov National Theater.  Our tour guide went on a long explanation of the importance of Ivan Vazov, Bulgaria's 'national poet' and one of the countries most important literary figures.  In addition to literature, he also was a political figure and played an important role in the revolt against the Ottoman Empire.  She finished his story by stating with a giggle that his death was probably not due to natural causes...  Indeed, as a great poet he was popular with the ladies and at the ripe age of 71 was reported dead by his 20-something mistress, most likely due to an exhausting night with her.  We should all be so lucky.

We were near the end of the tour.  We walked up the wide Tsar Osvoboditel Boulevard to Sofia's crown jewel, the Alexander Nevski Cathedral, our final stop on the trip.  The massive cathedral glistened in the bright sun and I pulled out my camera in anticipation of the event.  When I turned it on, it flashed a low battery sign then instantly went dead.

I am no professional travel writer.  If you really want pictures, they're all over Google Images. 

I'm quite used to anticlimaxes and never expect the best moments to happen during guided tours anyway.  My travels are marked by wild, unforgettable stories and not by historically significant buildings and pretty scenery that's recommended in Lonely Planet.  The country of Serbia still awaits and based on my past experiences there, it will eclipse anything I've done so far in my travels.   I was ready to see if I could a set a new hitchhiking record: Nis, Serbia before sunset.