Bulgaria: A Paradise Worthy of Dionysus Strangers & Stamps

I despise hiking. I really do. It’s one of those activities where the reward decides whether or not I partake in this dreary, sluggish homage to pain. One cannot imagine me happy on a hike, unless enticed by striking nature, vibrant hues, and a healthy fear of missing out within the depths of my soul. I may have booked this on TripAdvisor without realising there was hiking involved.

As geographic neighbours, Bulgaria also hosts a handful of interesting Greek myths. One of the cooler stories tells us about Orpheus and Eurydice. You’ve probably heard it before. He was a rousing musician. She was seraphic. They’d fallen in love. She descends into the underworld (ie. symbolising the changing of the seasons), and he journeys there to retrieve her. Hades is moved by his musical talent and lets her return, on the condition that Orpheus cannot look back, but he does and everything is ruined. Eventually, Dionysus gets his girl gang to tear him apart for not loving them enough.

Sorry there was no spoiler alert. It’s 2,500 years old.

Something else the country is famous for is its script. Cyrillic, created by students of Cyril and Methodius, is a semi-Greek writing system that had helped spread Eastern Orthodoxy amongst the Slavic people.

Also, Spartacus.

I was asleep on the train because I’d decided earlier that day to have Melnik for lunch. It’s a delicious black grape native to Bulgaria, and the resulting wine turned out a little too intense for a summer’s lunch. Don’t tell me what to do.

If you find yourself in this country and aren’t quite sure where to start, try Melnik. This was Winston’s favourite tipple, and represents the guy pretty well: it’s burly, unrelenting, and reminds you of the scents of leather and cigar in your uncle’s sophisticated parlour. Have it for lunch on a scorching day; Dionysus would be proud.

There’s a guy playing the harp near my train station. I think I prefer lyres, just ’cause they look cooler than harps. And you know, mythology-wise it fits a little more nicely here.

On the brighter side, it would be tough to pick my favourite grape from the Balkans. Maybe it’s not Melnik.

Anyway, the aesthetics and traditions of former Eastern Bloc countries have always invoked a curious sense of foreignness in me. Yet, I’m starting to realise that it’s probably also closer than it seems. Does this painting have a little Van Gogh in it? Does the furniture in this restaurant smell a bit like my neighbour’s house? Does the collective joy of parents celebrating the end of summer holidays take me just a touch closer to home?

I was on a walking tour to learn a bit more about Plovdiv’s history one morning. A middle-aged man who spoke no English rests beside our gang. He seemed to be doom scrolling on his phone, but really has armed himself with speech-to-text and Google Translate. Absolute stroke of genius. Truly inspiring.

Here’s a general overview of my experience overall.

Day 1: Culture shock
Day 5: Oh my gosh, sunflowers!!! 🌻

I was wrong, this hike is great. I’d brought my headphones, my proverbial lyre, and through it plays a collection of bewitching folk tunes. You know the chanting in Dune? Traditional Bulgarian music feels kind of like that, except there’s no official connection to Dune. One of their songs, Излел е Дельо хайдутин (Izlel ye Delyo Haydutin), made it to the Voyager Golden Record and is currently hurtling through interstellar space, representing the best of us in case we ever come in contact with the outerworld. This piece comes from the Rhodope Mountains near the Greek border, where Orpheus is also native to. Symbolically it makes sense, because hurtling indefinitely through space would probably feel a bit like his own, terrifying, lonely, self-serving odyssey.

Mine is similar but different, filled with lakes and mountains, a chalet with warm tea waiting for me when I am ready. My Eurydice is here. Edenic, estival, ephemeral. Don’t reminisce too hard on it. Don’t look back.

It’s the end of harvest season, and it turns out that the sunflowers that are still hanging around, are really just leftovers that the farmers would use to feed livestock. Oh, by the way, it’s rose and lavender that we excel in, but you’ve missed them by a few months. Go north next time; Kazanlak and the Valley of Roses are deserving of their own divine myth.

I share my travels with my hometown friend. By the way, here’s a link to “9 Picture-Perfect Places to Go Sunflower Picking in Australia“, she types back. I can hear her cackles through the screen.