Bulgaria-Day 3

After a long sleep-in brought on by my lack of somnolescence following the virtuoso performance by the Globally Famous DJ Sash at SB's Den Glade Viking, I took one look at the pool area and its collection of aging Germans and tattooed Brits, and then call again for a road trip.

Yesterday's trip, to Nessebar, a small but cute Bulgarian seaside town of Romanesque provenance was pleasant if predictable. Lots of souvenir shops, everything at the relatively modest but high for Bulgaria tourist prices.

Today's trip, Burgas, was the real deal. An old school Black Sea port cum beach town, with a resort atmosphere set in authentically ex-commie digs.

One thing that's always struck me about ex-commie places is the sheer numbers of buildings with multiple layers of peeling paint. I first noticed this in Rugen, a Baltic resort that once catered to Erich Honecker and the heavies of the old DDR (East Germany for those who never saw the classic, Goodbye Lenin). Rather than marking eyesores, the peeling paint speaks to these buildings being witnesses to history, as the history in these parts was turbulent over the last 70+ years.

Bulgaria's history is interesting enough. A Nazi ally which nonetheless saved its 50,000 member Jewish community, Bulgaria switched sides to the USSR in 1944 and later embraced communism to such an extent that it asked to be annexed to the USSR in 1973. They must have dug Brezhnev's eyebrows, I guess.

Today, Burgas at eventide is bustling if not ostentatiously prosperous (guys in t-shirts driving late-model Mercedes notwithstanding). Streetside cafes are about half full. Prices are a little cheaper than in Sunny Beach, menus in Cyrillic and either English or German, depending on the place.

Cyrillic is fun. Invented by Bulgarians Cyril and Methodius, who were later sainted for their literacy-spreading deeds, it is at its most fun when Westerners mangle the pronunciation of letters like B, C, H and P, which have differing sounds in the roman alphabet. As was once said of a Moscow dining establishment, "I once thought that 'PECTOPAH' meant 'restaurant'. Then I ate there, and realised that in fact, it really meant 'PECTOPAH'.". To be fair, in Bulgaria, restaurant means 'PECTOPAHT'. I haven't had a bad meal yet, to be fair.