Bulgaria-Day 2

I have started to realize why I am growing to like this place so much. Unlike Greece which oozes Greekness, Italy which overwhelms with la dolce Italiana and the overwrought pungence of baked Parmesan, and Turkey with its addictive mix of Ataturkian ultranationalism, chilled-out Islamism and the dynamism of the diminutive Sezen Aksu, one of her iconic stars; Bulgaria does not attempt to have its visitors take it ultra-seriously.

Indeed, according to Lonely Planet, the national dish, Shopska salad, was manufactured by the Bulgarian Tourist Office in the 1970s to create some distinctive Bulgarianness on menus that even in Commie days tended towards bland internationalism. I've avoided it as I prefer the glorious local tomatoes without the adulturation of sheep cheese, raw onions, of which I am no fan, and cucumbers, which are equally tasteless everywhere.

Unlike in other holiday locales, where locals are keen to exult their nation's patrimonies and glories, Bulgarians express surprise at the interest of visitors. No more so in the case of the exceedingly rare Yanks on these Black Sea shores."Long flight!" said one Black Sea publican, expressing amazement that an American would venture here, and spreading his arms out for effect. I then told hime I actually lived in Brussels. What I left out was that the 3 hours en route aboard the aging 767 employed for Jetairfly flight 7147 brought me closer to The Creator than any recent transatlantic trip on an Airbus 330.

Immediately, my publican friend tells me about his relative in Chicago, and why the Bulgarian mafia sucks so much. I didn't argue. And, after watching the second half of the taped Romania-Uruguay rugby test match on Eurosport 2, I made a point of tipping well.

Bulgaria indeed gets very few Yank tourists. The main Black Sea airport at Burgas is nearly inaccessible, serviced mainly by charters from the UK, Germany, the Nordics and the Benelux, with twice weekly commuter flights from Sofia to connect with the global scheduled network. A round trip from a major Midwestern city that isn't Chicago costs about $3500.

By comparison, a week a one of my Riu's sister properties in the Dominican Republic costs a hell of a lot less than $3.5k. And they probably serve better beer and caipirinhas. I have only two complaints about the Riu two days in. One--they serve Bulgaria's worst beer on the all inclusive menu, Boliarka, and don't even offer a paid upgrade to the likes of Bulgaria's competent Zagorka or Kamenitza. And the watered down lemon Koolaid called a "Caipirinha" should spur inspired outrage from offended limes everywhere. Yuck!