My Big Bus Adventure from Armenia to Bulgaria and Back Part III

For part II of this series, please click here.

My friend Elaine and I took an overnight train from Sofia, Bulgaria to Burgas, Bulgaria. That was an interesting experience, especially since no one at the train station seemed to speak much English and neither Elaine nor I knew any Bulgarian beyond "hello" and "goodbye". Nevertheless, we managed to buy tickets, unaware that we also needed to purchase reservations for seats. Luckily, our train wasn't full.

Compared to taking the bus, the train was fairly luxurious. There were comfortable bench seats and the ride was smooth and peaceful. I still didn't sleep much, but we did end up chatting with a couple of locals. We arrived in Burgas at about 7:00 in the morning. From the train station, we found out where we could get a minibus to Sozopol.

Sozopol... a charming ancient town by the Black Sea

Our Peace Corps Bulgaria friends had given us the scoop on Sozopol, a charming little town that sits right by the Black Sea. As more and more people discover Bulgaria's charms, I feel fortunate that Elaine and I visited Sozopol in 1996, before it really started to get overrun with foreigners. Our minibus, which had taken us the 35 kilometers from Burgas, dropped us off near the old town and before we knew it, we were approached by a young woman whose family owned a house in Sozopol. She and her parents were looking for people to host!

As the young woman took us to her parents' house, she apologetically explained that they weren't able to stamp the white tourist cards that were given to us by the Turkish bus company that had brought us to Sofia. Normally, a hotel would be able to take care of this little legal detail for us, but these people were not actually running a hotel. We told her it was okay that she couldn't stamp our cards. Our friend John, the Peace Corps Volunteer in Sofia, had gotten us registered with the police for the entire time we were in the country.

As for the house we stayed in, it was located right next to the beach and the young woman and her parents charged us the princely sum of $3 a night to stay there! We had a plainly furnished room. It had two beds and a balcony that gave us a marvelous view of the beach and the Black Sea. There was also a shower, though it was located outside. Luckily, the warm and sunny weather made this a non-issue.

Elaine and I got settled, then took a walking tour around Sozopol. The old part of the city was very charming, with its wooden timbered homes and well tended yards. There were a number of tourist oriented businesses in the downtown areas. The restaurants often had pictures of the food to help out those who couldn't speak the language. On our first night, we stopped by the Neptun Restaurant, a lovely place situated on a cliff by the water. We had a rather elegant meal, considering our budget, and toasted the town of Sozopol.

Hitting the beach

The next day, we ventured down to the beach. It didn't cost any money to go there and was teeming with families with small children. I laid my towel down on the sand and then looked up to see a sight I wasn't familiar with at the time. A woman was sunbathing topless. Gazing around the rest of the beach, I noticed that several women were sunning the upper portions of their bodies, sans bikini tops. In fact, I also saw a number of elderly women wearing bikinis. I found the sights rather refreshing!

The water was nice. The surf was gentle, and I remember feeling very fortunate to be at the beach. Never in my lifetime did I ever expect to be enjoying sun and surf in Bulgaria, particularly since the country had been closed to Westerners for so long.

That night, Elaine and I went out to dinner and bumped into a couple of women who were visiting from Norway. They sat down with us and compared notes. They told us they loved Sozopol, particularly since at that time in 1996, it was very cheap to visit there. Of course, at that time, it was also obvious that communist rule had very recently ended. I'm sure Sozopol has since become a lot more cosmopolitan.

Disappointing the border guard

We were sorry to leave Sozopol after three refreshing days, but we needed to get out of the country because three days were all we had allotted on our police registration cards. At that time, the police registration requirements and time allotments were strictly enforced. Since our visit, Bulgaria has joined the European Union. Visitors are still required to register with the police, but I understand the law is a bit more relaxed.

Nevertheless, Elaine and I caught a minibus back to Burgas, where we waited a few hours for another bus that would take us to Istanbul, where we could catch yet another bus to Izmir. Elaine had a hankering to visit Ephesus, the ancient site of a lost Greek city very close to Izmir.

We waited around the Burgas bus station for awhile. I distinctly remember passing the time by watching a rerun of Little House on the Prairie, dubbed in Bulgarian. Soon, we were on the bus, heading south. Once again, we were the only Americans on board. When we got to the border of Turkey and Bulgaria, everyone was asked to get off the bus and see the border guard.

When the guard saw that Elaine and I carried American passports, his face lit up. It seemed that most Americans came through this border unarmed with properly filled out police registration card. Not having those cards meant that the guard could hit us each with a $100 fine. But Elaine and I were prepared, and when the guard saw our stamped passports, his face kind of fell. He stamped us out of the country and soon we were back on our way to Turkey. Unfortunately, we had neglected to buy a multiple entry visa on the way into Turkey, so we each had to cough up another $20 for a new visa. The price has since gone up.

Istanbul bus station, part II

We endured another short stint at the Istanbul bus station while we looked for a way to Izmir. Our second experience was definitely more complicated than the first one was, since we didn't buy tickets from a travel agency. Elaine and I hustled around the very crowded Istanbul bus station. I remember it being very hot, crowded, noisy, and dirty. Luckily, we weren't there for long, since we found a bus heading to Izmir within the hour. We climbed aboard and were soon headed south for a nine hour trip.

Abscessed in Izmir

Heading south to Izmir required our bus to take a ferry across the Sea of Marmara. This was an unexpected treat. I guess we had not thought of how we were going to get across that big body of water. The ferry was probably the best part of our journey to Izmir which, for me, was a bit of a nightmare.

Our ride to Izmir was very uncomfortable for me, not just because it was a nine hour trip. Unfortunately, I had developed a very painful abscess near my right armpit. I suppose it happened because my skin was invaded after I shaved my underarm. Nevertheless, the wound began to swell while we were on that hot bus. As time went on, the pain became substantial. I tried to take my mind off of it by watching the country fly by and listening to music, a lot of which I had picked up on the road. I still think some of the best souvenirs to purchase in exotic countries is locally produced music.

The bus stopped at a market so passengers could dismount and use the toilet or buy some food. As the abscess under my arm continued to grow more and more unbearable, I found myself purchasing a small hatpin with the Turkish flag on it. The hatpin had a very sharp point that I was very tempted to use use for some ill-advised amateur surgery.

We arrived in Izmir in the late afternoon and were dropped off at a very rundown and scary looking bus station. And, as it was in Sozopol, it didn't take long befor someone approached us, offering us a place to stay. Elaine and I were amazingly trusting and allowed the young man to drive us to the pension which, as it turned out, was run by his family.

The woman who was the proprietor of the pension spoke excellent English and told us that she had rooms on two different floors of the the building. She took us to the top floor and told us to make ourselves at home. Indeed, we did feel like we were in someone's home. There was a communal shower that was basically a "wet room"-- no stall-- just a shower head. The home wasn't air conditioned, but we were allowed to take a soda from the refrigerator if we wanted to. And then, we saw the very large balcony/terrace, which was very cool. The proprietor had allowed backpackers from around the world to paint on the white metal panels that made up the walls of the terrace.

Elaine happens to be an excellent artist, so she painted a picture of an Armenian church. I tried a less challenging artist rendition of a view of Mount Ararat from the Armenian side. Our paintings in red and black joined those done by people who had come from Europe, the Far East, and Canada.

Unfortunately, my arm was still really hurting because of the abscess on my underarm. It hurt so much that I asked Elaine to go to Ephesus by herself, because I wasn't sure I could stand to sit on a bus all day. In fact, I worried that I would need to see a doctor. So Elaine went to see Ephesus and I walked around Izmir, taking in the sights of the Aegean Sea and the hot, dusty streets. I wish I could say I remembered a lot about that day, other than being in a lot of pain and wishing I could get rid of the abscess that was causing me (and probably Elaine) so much misery.

Releasing the pressure

Elaine came back from Ephesus later that afternoon, raving about the history of the ruins. I wished I could have gone with her then, and since I haven't yet gone back to Turkey, I almost wish I had ignored the pain in my arm and tagged along. That night, as we laid in our beds in the hot, sultry room in our pension, I heard the call to prayer coming from the mosque outside. My arm was still killing me and I couldn't stand it anymore. I grabbed the hatpin and went into the bathroom. There, I punctured the abscess and released the pressure. Within a few minutes, there was sweet relief and quite a mess.

Fourteen years later, I'm a little horrified that I took the chance that I did, using that hatpin to rupture the abscess and allow it to drain. That could have been a disaster, given that the hatpin wasn't sterile. On the other hand, the abscess was so painful... I just wanted the pain to abate. Luckily, it did, and there were no more problems.

Heading back home...

Elaine and I had lofty ambitions to explore more of the Balkans and perhaps see more of Turkey, but we'd already been gone for a couple of weeks and were getting on each other's nerves. And my experience with the abscess made me want to be somewhere I could get some medical attention. The idea of taking a bus all the way back to Armenia left us both feeling a little peaked, so we caught a taxi to the Izmir airport with plans to try to catch a flight going east.

Stay tuned for Part IV, as Elaine and I get stuck on the border of Georgia and Turkey!