Friday, January 2, 2009 – Pavlikeni, Bulgaria

The cold wind is blowing into my face. It’s early in the morning, not a living soul on the road. I walk through the village, hesitating of making any pictures. No, when I strip off my gloves, it’s getting even colder on my fingers.

At the end of Pavlikeni you find yourself between some flower fields, no trees, nothing to hide from the wind. I place my backpack on the road and wait. And wait,….

Maybe ten minutes pass, when the first car is approaching. An old Wartburg 353W “Tourist” is driving around the corner, passes by and stops some meters behind me. This is Bulgaria! I try my new Bulgarian vocabulary, “За Велико Търново?” He nods his head, what means no in Bulgaria. Anyway, I want a ride in that amazing car, so I get in for the 5 kilometers towards the next village.

Several rides follow this day, old man discussing about something following by young drivers listening to awful techno music, and at some point Petyr stops. He’s a “manager” in his fence sport-car, driving 160 km/h on Bulgarian roads while calling with all the business. He’s trying to convince me to join his side job, looking for some good German cars back home to transfer them to Bulgaria. We drive some 200 km until the gates of Sofia, free coffee inclusive, when he hands me his business card. Call me, when you found something. Sure. 

Sofia for hitchhikers is always a bit tricky. You have to get around the whole city for the road in direction Serbia, but the highway just ends behind the first crossing. I stand near the bridge, waiting for Turkish trucks coming from Edirne traveling up to Western Europe. Normally, they take the northern Route around Sofia. Only a few approach, but they don’t stop today. Several Bulgarians stop, but I don’t know which villages they go to, as I have no map with me, so I turn some rides down. After maybe 40 minutes, I have enough, and walk in direction where the highway ends. This seems to be only after 2 km, and of course, there the police is collecting some “donations” from drivers. Just before they see me, a Bulgarian truck stops. I get in, and the two dudes bring me towards a town just 10 km before the Kalotina-crossing for Serbia. Nice! All the time they talk about a “Scheibe”, which is the card old trucks use to record the driving hours and speed. When I leave the car, the driver gives me one of these, telling me I should show it to fellow truck drivers to get a new ride much faster.

Some trucks approach, I try his trick, but no-one stops. I give up fast and go back to oldschool hitchhiking – showing my thumb. While waiting at this crossing, I nearly see some “oh my god, that’s tight” car crashes. Drivers tend to drive horrible here, but somehow nothing happens. A miracle. Later on another Wartburg 353 stops, and I get a short ride towards the Kalotina crossing.

At this crossing I stayed a whole night in summer 2007. I first got drunk with a security guy some 50m away from it. He then back in time invited me for Rakia, after watching me unsuccesfully hitchhiking at 2 o’clock in the night. Later I slept behind a small service station, just 30m away from the crossing. Even the traffic police guy back then didn’t wanted me to help. Now I know why.

The evening before I left Pavlikeni, Miro told me that this is the most dangerous neighbourhood of Sofia. In Bulgaria, they say, if you’re grown up here, you’re lost. No surprise then for me that the petrol station owner locks his door when I walk towards the shop for buying some water. Of course they have no water, “voda, nee, nee”, she’s telling me from behind the bars.

Anyway, it’s just 3 p.m., so I have some time to get away from here before it’s getting dark. Maybe spending the night in Dragoman, or at the border. And hell yeah, it’s Bulgaria, and it’s the most dangerous part of the country, but within not even one minute a car stops. Two Bulgarians on their way to England –  London! I’m already dreaming about being in Germany before midnight, but then they tell me they’re picking up some friends at the border in Kalotina, so they only can give me a ride towards there. Uhm, too bad, but I’m happy I get to the Serbian border. It’s dark at 4.30 p.m., and even with being in another time zone now, my plan is to stay at the border restaurant until the next morning, in the meanwhile looking around for a Turkish truck going up to Austria.

But hitchhiking always is about coincidence and little miracles, so next time more about the night and following days.

Tags: Bulgaria, Serbia