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Burgas
By mcdog | July 27, 2007
Walking to the bus station was very pleasant in the cool of the morning. There was a bus at the stop, and it was the bus to Burgas; or is it Bourgas? Nobody seems to know, both spellings are widely used, sometimes on the same document. The bus had air-con but I was surprised that it did not have blinds to block the sun from the passengers, though the journey was comfortable and blinds weren’t needed. The conductor didn’t look as though she was on her way to a day on the beach, unlike the conductor on the bus we had got to Nesebar.
We travelled through a few villages separated by fields of wilting sunflowers and acres of dark green vines. In places there were many trees, obviously a few years old, growing amongst the vines, so some of the fields may be neglected.
The bus route terminated right in front of the entrance to the port so looked easy to find for the return journey. We turned uphill and changed some money at a convenient bank where the teller was dressed as if for a night on the town. Bulgaria must have a different dress code from the UK, though if conductors in the UK dressed the same as on the Nesebar bus then the hospitals would be overflowing with exposure patients.
We had a leisurely breakfast in a quiet, tree-shaded square and indulged in a little people-watching. Nobody seemed to be in a hurry and almost everybody that we saw was well-dressed. A well-endowed lady passed, closely followed by a smiling man with a large tripod and a very large bag; presumably a photographer and model on their way to a shoot. At the next table eight people were combining a business meeting and breakfast. We eventually tore ourselves away from the cafe and wandered out from the shade into the sunlight.
The plot was to visit a few estate agents, to find some decent-sized mugs for tea and to find the beach. Despite walking around several streets in what we took to be the right part of town, we never saw a single estate agent and abandoned that search. By this time it was very hot and we went to look for the beach. Heading downhill again we found some mugs in a 1 lev shop, the local equivalent of the pound shop, though not everything in the shop cost a lev.
Reaching the port entrance again we turned to our left and walked along a wide dual-carriageway shaded by large trees. We may have been in the shade but we certainly didn’t feel any cooler and when we reached what looked to be a large carpark and a deadend we decided to retreat to the bus. Arriving once again at the port entrance we found a street map of Burgas on display. If we had walked a little further we would have found the beach and the popular park just behind it, the deadend was all in my imagination. Too late, a bus was at the stop and we took it to Sunny Beach, the conductor was male and looked a little like Danny De Vito. Shame.
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