In addition, we went out to a couple of bars in the evenings with people from the hostel.

So far, I've gotten to know the fewest people on this stop. I'm curious to see if that will change in the next few days before heading to Thessaloniki.

Tag #43

Friday, June 12th.

From somewhere near Gramatikowo to Beypinar

Country: Bulgaria / Turkey

The night was relaxing and apart from scaring a deer once, everything was calm.

Due to the exposed location, I start to pack my sleep gear early, afterwards it's a bit more relaxed.

And I can lay out the solar panel in the sun for now.

Additionally, I take my time during breakfast to tend to my bike a little.

It's urgently needed.

The fact that, in addition to the regularly passing border police, Frontex also stops by, highlights how isolated the border is.

Regardless of yesterday's encounter.

First, there’s a nice descent and then the next border post.

I mistakenly assign the two dogs to the officers and am surprised when they rush at me.

And then it happens, one of the mutts bites me in the calf.

Fuck!

While I examine the wound, the Frontex guy speaks to me in German.

Probably just on suspicion... who else is crazy enough to ride a bike around here.

He's trying to help me but doesn't have any disinfectant or anything like that.

For the wound care, I take my first aid kit.

Maybe the dogs seek the company of the officers, hoping to also get a uniform and finally be someone.

Who knows.

The officer from the Lower Rhine claims to know that the biting dog was recently vaccinated, as a colleague had taken it to the vet.

One who is definitely vaccinated is me, and so I can continue riding fairly relaxed with a bandaged calf.

And from now on there’s only one direction, up towards the border, which lies in the mountains above.

And while I’m still managing my remaining water, a water source appears just in time.

It’s already a familiar sight to see locals standing here with their canisters.

During a mid-ride descent, I hear a nasty clacking sound from my rear tire.

It takes me a moment to find the cause, and I panic slightly, fearing something could be wrong with the axle.

Fortunately, it's just a piece of dirt, hard as a rock, that’s resting on the rear tire and is stuck there.

A remnant from the day before yesterday that got dislodged from the rattling.

It's too bad I disposed of my wire yesterday.

So I remove the bag to get to the spot and with a piece of wood, the operation begins.

Finally, the foreign body can be removed, and the patient is fine.

Then it's finally here, the border to Turkey.

Before that, I have to rummage for my ID several times.

The first time, just to be able to leave Bulgaria at all.

Fortunately, it is confirmed that I am who I say I am.

Then comes the actual border

My advantage is that as a cyclist, I receive the signal to ride past the waiting cars.

I hand my ID to the Turkish officer, and along with a stamped piece of paper, I get it back.

The luggage inspection is also incredibly straightforward.

The next officer taps once on my luggage roll and asks me where I'm coming from and where I'm going.

For that, I receive a fist bump and I’m off.

At a barrier, I want to pass, under the assumption that I have completed all the formalities, but the guy in his booth has something against it.

It’s clear he’s yelling at me.

Okay, here please show your ID and the stamped paper, then the barrier goes up and I can continue riding.

Isn't travel freedom wonderful?

After the border crossing, the asphalt is a dream, I take a moment for a break as I urgently need something to eat.

I want to find a nice spot for a proper break afterwards.

The guardrail is only conditionally comfortable.

But it turns out differently, instead, the clouds drive me forward.

The sky keeps getting darker, it’s getting really dark, and beside me, I hear thunder getting louder.

Fortunately, the actual storm just barely misses me.

The landscape is completely different compared to the Bulgarian side.

Beautifully, I ride through the mountains, past jagged rocks, fields, and through small farming villages.

As the rain starts, I find myself in a wooded area that is nearing its end, so I decide early in the afternoon that today is a wrap.

The day was quite eventful enough.

First, I set up the tarp and then lie in the hammock.

And for an hour, I do absolutely nothing.

Well, except check the map and the further route.

Otherwise, just existing.

At 20:52, the sun sets. Announced by the calls from the minaret.

By that time, most of it is already done, and there’s still dinner from my remaining supplies since there was no chance to shop today.

And after I could still let Jenni know that I'm doing well, I drift off to sleep gently swinging to the sound of the rain.

Song of the day:

Heaven Shall Burn - Trespassing the Shores of Your World

Day #42

Thursday, 11th of June.

From Kraimorie to somewhere near Gramatikowo

Country: Bulgaria

[Note from the editor: First, there was no internet in the Bulgarian mountains, and then came Turkey.

Nicko has generally prepared well. Except for Turkey, and then he was without internet due to roaming. But how he managed to resolve that is another story]

The night was wonderfully quiet, and I sleep very well until I am gently awakened by the sun.

I take my time for breakfast; the view through the trees onto the water is just too beautiful.

I gladly accept the delay.

Shortly after starting, I reach the sea.

There are plenty of potential camping spots here, as all the people with their motorhomes think.

So it was a good decision I made yesterday to call it a day.

Only in theory do I know where the Black Sea got its name, it shines turquoise blue again. Like the dream of the Caribbean.

A place where I can reach the beach also comes soon, and with the prospect of being able to swim, I gladly push my bike through the sand.

Super flat, it goes into the refreshing water, and I swim back and forth a bit, which is super refreshing.

After that, I let myself dry off in the sun, and with a heavy heart, I continue driving.

Beach vacation can wait for another time.

On the way, I encounter a construction site on an incline, where one direction of travel is alternately cleared.

This means for me to pedal hard before the oncoming traffic comes.

It's sweat-inducing, yet that’s how it’s most relaxing for me.

Later, I ride along the sea again, and just before heading into the mountains, I find a spot on a cliff to rest a bit.

The view is too fantastic and overwhelmingly impressive for me to capture it in a panoramic photo.

To my left is the coast and a bay, in front of me a peninsula, to my right a small harbor and more coastline, behind me a chapel and a fishing village.

Fortunately, I can attach photos to this report; otherwise, I would get lost in attempting to describe it adequately.

But even here, I have to move on at some point, so I say goodbye to the bay of Burgas and hello to the mountains where the border to Turkey lies.

As I labor up the mountain, I’m circled by flies that remind me more of a swarm of fish.

Yet, I even went for a swim today.

Maybe I have a slightly fishy smell?

They are definitely annoying.

After conquering the ascent, I am rewarded with a winding descent before heading steeply back up on the other side.

Over a stretch that I would hardly dare to call a road. Too much asphalt has crumbled away for it to still be called potholes.

Somewhere along the way, I meet border patrol, who make it very clear to me that there would be no further progression.

That’s understandable even without a common language.

The further communication, which is anyway quite one-sided, goes through Google Translate, so there was hardly any content.

The clear statement was that there are other colleagues; they will also send you back.

So, I take the brutal bumpy road back down, and what was previously a wonderful descent...

Thank you for this ridiculous route suggestion; the route over the regular road is practically the same length.

It’s basically shocking how many border patrols there are here.

This started long before I approached the border.

Somewhat frustrated, I finally reach the top of the mountain and follow the somewhat decently paved road.

And while I’m still considering where I want to spend the night, as I am in or near a nature reserve, I find a shelter by the roadside.

And luckily, the hut is on the inside of a curve.

People usually look in the direction they are traveling and rarely to the side.

Moreover, there is underbrush that shields me further.

So it's all a bit hidden and perfect for me.

And I have another stroke of luck since there’s a movable bench with which I can extend my sleeping area and don’t have to worry about falling off the bench.

And so, in the end, everything comes together.

Who knows where I would have ended up otherwise.

After dinner and brushing my teeth, it's off to the made 'bed'; by now, it’s already pitch dark.

So much for my day, which I also want to use to thank all the people who make this journey possible:

First and foremost, that’s definitely Jenni.

Thank you for your willingness to let me go.

That you agree with me being on the road for so long is something special, just like you.

After all, you have patiently endured my planning for months.

And every day I have my conversation with the wind.

Thank you to my family, with whom I made my first cycling trips at an early age. I know where it comes from that I’m currently hanging out in the woods.

Thank you to my employer, who makes it possible for me to take such a long leave to gain all those experiences and fulfill my long-held dream.

Thank you to my colleagues, who cover my absence.

Thank you to all my friends and the people who supported me in my preparations.

Be it through ideas, stimulating questions, or concrete tips, like instructions for repairing my bike.

Thank you to Dave, who accompanied me for the first part of my journey.

This made the start easier.

Thank you to my family and Juri with family, who came over for a joint breakfast on the morning of my departure to say goodbye.

Thank you for the positive feedback on my travel reports; it gives me motivation, and I’m glad when others can share in my experiences.

Thank you for allowing me to experience this journey right now.

And for every thank you that I forgot:

42

Song of the Day:

1.

Close to Freedom - Simply say thank you (maybe still available on youtube)

2.

Rage - Lord of the Flies

Tag #41

Wednesday, June 10th.

From Rudnik to Kraimorie

Country: Bulgaria

The proximity to the main road is clearly audible, as I occasionally wake up from the sound of a truck.

Otherwise, I've slept well and leave the graveyard of tires well-rested.

Some have been disposed of here in the forest.

It’s a quick descent towards the sea, which I can sometimes see between hotel complexes, before I turn back into the mountains.

This seems to be the most sensible route, even though I'm taking quite a detour.

The alternative route is only marginally shorter, and cycling is prohibited for a few kilometers. I have no desire to push my bike.

I had similar signs yesterday, but I deliberately ignored them as my route was already set.

The ascents are hefty, and I'm making my way up laboriously.

In one of the villages, I want to refill my water.

The supposed shop turns out to be a community center, but the lady goes around the corner with me and opens the mini market.

The two obligatory guys sitting outside are back as well.

There’s a brief confusion while paying until she recognizes one coin as a Euro.

Bulgarian has not been part of the Eurozone for even half a year, so this currency is still new to the people here.

The higher I climb, the worse the roads get, and soon I'm only riding on gravel.

Maybe one day there will be a proper road, it seems likely.

One can only hope.

Encouraging shouts come from oncoming vehicles, and I even understand the 'Dawai Dawai,' which definitely motivates me.

Then my GPS leads me onto a kind of dirt road.

Unfortunately, there's no alternative because the 'road' goes in the wrong direction.

So, I follow the route.

And it’s getting increasingly difficult.

From the field, I enter the forest, and now I understand why all the forest vehicles I encountered earlier have such big wheels and are so high.

The ruts are abnormal, and everything is extremely muddy; in some places, it's just one big puddle.

At first, I try to ride, but so much mud clings that it becomes too laborious, plus I keep slipping away.

So, I'm condemned to pushing after all.

Damn.

Eventually, I make it, and sweaty, I'm on the other side of the mountain.

Here, the ground gets firmer again, and eventually, asphalt starts to appear cautiously.

I take a break; the view into the valley and at the distant sea is incredible. Sure, I'm high enough in the mountains.

Moreover, I need to get rid of the mud that has collected on the brakes and under the fender, almost blocking the rear wheel.

Fortunately, I find a piece of wire, which I bend to shape, and start scraping it off.

Once the worst is gone, I can tend to my supplies.

The sun shines down on me, the view into the distance is splendid, and the wind carries the sound of cowbells to me.

I'm indeed in the mountains.

I finish writing the text from yesterday, and thus the break turns out to be significantly longer than planned.

Almost two hours later, I continue on.

At least for a short stretch, as something is still dragging.

So, I stop and scrape off more dirt.

I wisely packed the wire.

Interestingly, a lot more comes off than expected.

Now, I finally head down to the sea.

At least I’m getting close and sometimes can even see it between the hotel complexes.

I’m steadily getting closer to Burgas.

The asphalt is smooth, and I’m making good progress for a change.

Over a road that can best be described as a highway.

Two lanes in each direction, separated by a guardrail.

Speed limit is 90, effectively way above that.

However, there is no shoulder.

Full concentration and go.

The city announces itself with the first cyclists, then comes a promenade full of people.

Nice impressions of a bustling port city, but I want to move on quickly.

It’s already evening, and I need to find a camping spot.

After leaving the city behind, I’m lucky on the second attempt and find a path towards the water.

The path is gradually turning into a trail that I can still follow.

Perfect.

Just in time for the sunset, I start setting up my camp, and I enjoy my dinner overlooking the bay of Burgas.

But I’m too high up, and the terrain is too steep for swimming.

Hopefully tomorrow.

Once, I hear people seemingly searching for their dog, but they are far enough away, and I sink undisturbed into my sleeping bag.

Song of the day:

The Toy Dolls - Nellie the Elephant (three years ago today was our wedding celebration)

Day #40

Tuesday, June 9th

From Kawarna to Рудник

(... all clear ... Rudnik. Luckily, place names are listed twice)

Country: Bulgaria

This morning, for the first time, I am surprised in my camp.

That happened to Juri and me on our last trip too, but we had already packed everything up and were just standing with our bikes in the woods.

Now my whole camp is still set up and I just got out of bed.

However, it is interesting to see how late the mushroom collector discovers me.

Since he talked non-stop, I noticed him quite early.

He looks puzzled, we greet each other, and everyone goes back to their own activities.

The map material has loaded, so my efforts from last night paid off.

Maybe it’s because I turned the device off yesterday and restarted it now.

Anyway, the result counts, and it's practical that I can see side roads and paths again.

Shortly after departure, I have a beautifully curved descent that takes me to the coast.

The view is incredibly beautiful with the sea on the left and eroded rocky edges full of greenery on the other side.

The water is so turquoise that it's hard to tell it apart from the sky.

I pass through a vacation camp and am right by the sea.

Of course, I take advantage of this and happily push my bike through the sand.

I need to go for a swim and refresh myself.

Enjoying and taking in the moment is why I'm out here.

Where it goes down... it also goes back up.

And this up and down accompanies me all day long.

At the end of the current ascent into the mountains, there is a water source where I can cool off again and refill my water bottles.

A business-savvy taxi driver offers me his services.

Thanks, since I'm already (almost) at the top, I want to take the descent to Varna as well.

He also advises me to visit the rock monastery we're currently at.

I still ride up to the entrance of the area but decide against a visit since it's already afternoon.

I still need to go through Varna and make some distance until I can find a place to sleep for the night.

First, it’s necessary to go shopping again.

It's handy that I pass by a tobacco shop.

And they have my preferred type. Perfect.

And with full pockets, which unfortunately happens too often, it's back to uphill again.

I have to revise my statement from yesterday about considerate driving around me as a cyclist.

It's very exhausting and uncomfortable to ride on the main roads.

The women of the horizontal trade at the roadside probably rejoice over such a large potential clientele.

Around 7:00 PM, I reach 100km and call it a day.

I just got over one last steep section and take a short break, then I can go right into the path next to me.

Crazy, I'm standing in the woods, and yet it's a challenge to find the two suitable trees.

It takes a while before I can decide.

The distance must be right, no disruptive plants between the trees, and preferably without an ant path, which can be found on almost every tree around here.

The forest is alive.

Full of mosquito colonies who think I’m their dinner.

For some, it is the case, others I catch and hope that the blood on my hands comes only from myself.

Unpleasant.

After washing up, I can spray myself with anti-mosquito spray, and it gets significantly better so that I can enjoy my own dinner.

Something is really bothering me.

By now, it's almost dark, and flashes keep flickering between the trees.

Oh, there are fireflies here as well.

After a long time, I hear a deer again. Thankfully, I know how they sound and can lean back relaxed.

Song of the Day:

Stillbirth - Baptized in Blood

(was already confirmed at the beach, fits perfectly)

The provincial town of Petrich in the far southwest of Bulgaria is, for many, a kind of pilgrimage site. Until 1990, the town was located in a military exclusion zone because it bordered NATO-member Greece during communist Bulgaria's rule. Petrich could only be visited with a special permit. However, this did not prevent countless Bulgarians and even visitors from abroad from making the pilgrimage here to be close to Baba Wanga (1911 to 1996).

On October 23, 2025, we visited her home in Petrich, where, in a cozy garden, a bust of the seeress sits on a stone pedestal among lemon trees.

Wangelija Pandewa Dimitrowa, later known as Gutschterowa, was born in Strumica in 1911. The region dramatically reflects the tumultuous history of the Balkans: Strumica belonged to Bulgaria, to Byzantium, back to Bulgaria, then 500 years under the Ottoman Empire, after its downfall back to Bulgaria, then after World War I to the newly established Kingdom of Serbs, Croats, and Slovenes (later Yugoslavia), back to Bulgaria during World War II, again to Yugoslavia after the war, and finally, with its breakup, since 1991 to the Republic of North Macedonia.

How Wanga Went Blind

Wanga's childhood was marked by poverty. During World War I, her father fought in the Bulgarian Army, which entered the war on the side of the later losers—the Germans and Austrians. Her mother died young. The event that would shape her entire life occurred, according to tradition, when she was twelve years old. During a storm, she was caught by a whirlwind and thrown away. Days later, she was found severely injured with sand in her eyes. Since the family could not afford medical treatment, she subsequently became completely blind.

Between 1925 and 1928, Wanga attended a school for the blind in Zemun, Serbia, where she learned knitting, cooking, and Braille. After the death of her stepmother, she returned home to take care of her younger siblings. In 1942, she married and moved to Petrich. From 1947, she lived for almost 50 years in the small town house that her husband Dimitar Gutschterow had built for her. He passed away in 1962.

Baba Wanga's career as a healer and seer began during World War II. Visitors sought her out for information about the whereabouts of missing soldiers and relatives or for treatment of illnesses. Soon, politicians and heads of state also came to see her: In April 1942, Bulgarian King Boris III visited her, and Wanga soon gained immense popularity among the Soviet elite as well. Soviet leader and party chief Leonid Brezhnev sought her counsel.

Ljudmila Shiwkowa, the daughter of Bulgaria's long-standing communist dictator Todor Shiwkow, was the Minister of Culture and had a penchant for esotericism. She became a close friend and protector of Wanga, ensuring that the seeress was officially legitimized and financed by the state.

The officially recognized Soviet writer, poet, and mystic Valentina Mitrofanowitsch Sidorow, who developed a spiritually esoteric worldview, visited Wanga multiple times in the 1970s and 1980s. His later books and reports about these meetings significantly increased Wanga's cult status in Russia. Another highly decorated Soviet writer, Leonid Maximowitsch Leonow, also visited Wanga several times in Petrich.

Power Place in a Volcano Crater

Outside of Petrich, in Rupite within the crater of the extinct Kozhuh volcano, Baba Wanga established another residence around 1970, where people queued daily until her death in 1996, hoping to be addressed by her. The house was later converted into a museum. Rupite was far more than just a residence for Wanga; she referred to it as a power place, built the Church of Saint Petka there, and her grave is also located in Rupite.

It is probably no coincidence that the mayor of Petrich, Dimitar Brachkov, chose Rupite to speak to our journalist group: Besides the wine from the “Sunny Valley” in the Petrich countryside, Baba Wanga—“Baba” simply means “grandmother”—is the most famous thing the region has to offer. Incidentally, there are also hot springs in the crater where people bathe in swimwear in its muddy waters.

According to legend, Baba Wanga was a kind of modern-day Nostradamus. In her house in Petrich, we hear that she predicted the Chernobyl disaster in 1986, the collapse of the Soviet Union in 1991, the death of Princess Diana in 1997, the September 11, 2001 attacks in the USA, and Russia's war against Ukraine. However, she was also said to have foretold the outbreak of World War III in 2010, which, as we know, did not occur.

How much of these tales is fact and how much is legend, I do not know, although I admit that I am, by nature and due to my decades-long work as a journalist, clearly among the skeptics. Critical observers point out that many of the predictions attributed to her were published only after the actual events occurred or were so vaguely worded that they could be interpreted retroactively. Furthermore, there are numerous lists of alleged prophecies on the internet that have been proven to be faked.

Either way, Wanga is still revered today like a saint. Her house in Petrich and her operating site in the Kozhuh crater keep her memory alive and are popular destinations, especially for Bulgarians and Russians.  

Even during my stay in Switzerland in the summer and autumn of 2025, I did not want to completely give up traveling. So I was on a press trip from October 22 to 25. We flew from Zurich to the northern Greek city of Thessaloniki and then took a bus from there to Petrich in the southwestern tip of Bulgaria.

Just a few years ago, Bulgaria was a little-known country behind the Iron Curtain. Today, the capital Sofia, Plovdiv – European Capital of Culture 2019 – Veliko Tarnovo, and other places are considered exciting travel destinations. Plovdiv's old town is one of Europe's best-preserved historical quarters, and Veliko Tarnovo is famous for its intact old town and Tsar fortress.

Bulgaria is also gaining significance as a destination for beach vacations. There are, at least in the summer, direct flights from Germany and Switzerland to Varna on the Black Sea. “The country impresses with an excellent price-performance ratio, pleasant temperatures, and a rapidly developing hotel infrastructure,” say travel brochures. In classic Mediterranean destinations such as Italy, Spain, Greece, and Turkey, prices have increased significantly in recent years. The Varna region is currently considered, along with Albania, the cheapest destination for beach holidays in Europe; demand has noticeably increased in recent times.

Unknown “Sunny Valley”

In contrast, the southwestern part of the country is located away from tourist paths, with the Struma Valley, also known as “Sunny Valley” due to its 330 sunny days a year. Petrich, a provincial town that includes 26 surrounding municipalities near the Greek border, has about 50,000 inhabitants. However, there is plenty to see in this region.

Take the village of Dolene, for example. Dry stone walls rise up, interspersed with colorful floral carpets and a view that stretches into the infinite expanse. “We have rebuilt all this in the last ten years,” says Borislava Lipiyska. Her father, Stefan, hails from the village, which once lay on a trade route and was a significant market place with up to 4,000 inhabitants.

The village, situated in a remote part of the Petrich municipality, was nearly deserted when father, daughter, and dozens of volunteers began to breathe new life into it. Houses were renovated, walls were rebuilt, and every year 80,000 flowers are planted. There is a restaurant, shops for regional products and plants, where cheese and meat products can also be tasted, the healer's house with an impressive offering of medicinal herbs, and of course the 19th-century church of St. Mary. Currently, only four people live permanently in Dolene. However, as a tourist destination, the village offers insight into the former life in rural Bulgaria.

This place is full of history and stories. There has been a fierce rivalry between Greeks and Bulgarians since time immemorial. Near Kljutsch, close to Petrich, we visit the historic fortress of the Bulgarian king Samuil, who is immortalized here in an expressive statue. Samuil waged war against Byzantium for decades, was defeated in the Battle of Kleidion in 1014, and died shortly thereafter. Bulgaria fell but was reestablished in 1186 with Tarnovo as its capital and fell under Ottoman rule until 1908 at the end of the 14th century.

Long before, in Greek and Roman times, there was a large city in the Struma Valley, Heraclea Sintica. It was destroyed by an earthquake in the 6th century AD and buried under the debris of a flood. It is now being gradually excavated. In the small Historical Museum in Petrich, well-preserved Roman statues from Heraclea Sintica can be seen. The museum is located in a renovated former barracks.

Wine and Healing Water

Like Tuscany, which the gentle hilly landscape of the Struma Valley resembles, the region is primarily known for its wine, which has been cultivated here for at least 5,000 years. Many wineries are prepared for visits. Villa Melnik, for example, a property owned by Lyubka and Nikola Zikatanov, produces about 200,000 bottles per year on roughly 30 hectares, almost exclusively from indigenous varieties like the white Sandanski Miskit or red wines from local Melnik family varieties.

Nikola is an exceptionally friendly older gentleman and presents himself modestly. He doesn’t reveal to us that his winery is the only one in Bulgaria to make it onto the list of the 100 best wine producers in the world. Additionally, Lyubka and Nikola Zikatanov provide us with a snack that tastes good and is so plentiful that we hardly have any appetite left for dinner afterward. However, we will be dining in the cozy restaurant of Motel Rozhen near the town of Melnik, hosted by the impressive and friendly chef Blago, who celebrates traditional Bulgarian cuisine and offers a wide selection of local wines.

On the new Aya Estate, an organic winery owned by two bankers and their families, modern art, viticulture, and esoteric prices are combined. The barrels are arranged star-like on gravel, rather than stacked as in other wineries. And on the roof of the main building, a Japanese garden has been laid out. Moreover, a hotel is planned for the site. Two other facilities, a horse hotel and the five-star Zornitza Family Estate, a member of Relais & Châteaux, are also included.

Less futuristic is the Orbelia winery, where traditional wine varieties are maintained. Finally, at the Zlaten Rozhen Winery of the Ossikovski family, in addition to viticulture, there is a museum with a remarkable collection of historical automobiles and motorcycles. Among rare Mercedes models from the 1950s and powerful communist state limousines stands a rather clumsy-looking but exclusive light blue off-road vehicle known as ARO 304, only three of which were built in Romania in 1981. In one of them, Romanian communist dictator Nicolae Ceausescu was driven, and in another his Bulgarian dictatorial counterpart Todor Zhivkov.

The “Bulgarian Tuscany” is a lovely area blessed by the sun. Tourists, however, are still quite rare, as hoteliers and politicians lament. Nevertheless, the Struma Valley would be an ideal year-round destination, insists Dimitar Brachkov, the mayor of Petrich. Especially since, in addition to wineries, ancient sites, monasteries like that of St. George, which is called the “Devil's Monastery” due to its frescoes, there are also hot springs bubbling up, whose water is said to have healing properties.

“We are ready for international tourism,” says Brachkov. I, on the other hand, selfishly, am glad that it has not yet arrived.

To avoid getting low blood sugar, we headed straight to the nice café around the corner. Cafe Nedelya (= Sunday). The friendly staff even spoke a bit of German.

Beans in a clay pot, homemade bread, lamb Dzuhumuri, and for dessert, strained yogurt with honey and walnuts.

With a view of the Danube, we also caught a glimpse of daylight. The sun was shining, and the sanitary facilities were calling for us. Since we didn’t know if and when we would have such an opportunity again, we unpacked the entire cutlery set. I won't need to worry about my hair again until I am back in Turkey.
Afterward, we enjoyed another fantastic coffee in the sunshine. Meanwhile, we chatted with our new neighbors from Osnabrück about travel routes and less about the horrendous toll fees. They are also traveling on two axles while returning from Greece. In the meantime, one of the little cats actually managed to get into the Benz, which was supposed to be out of reach for her. Thanks to the tip from the Osnabrückers, we were alerted to this and did not accidentally separate the animal from its siblings and take it to Bulgaria.

The first part of today’s stage required Kadir to use all his skills at the wheel of a 4x4. As many probably know, he already mastered the route from Huchting to Walle AND back at the age of 15 in Uncle Ismet’s Granada without a Falk plan, so I felt safe on the bumpy and rutted tracks at all times. After about 80 km, we then headed onto the perfectly flat highway towards the southeast, while occasionally crossing the Danube.

The closer we got to country group 1, the lonelier the perfectly paved road became. Apparently, not that many want to go to Bulgaria. However, they probably prefer to use the free side roads.
At the border, we of course chose the slower of the two queues. The Serbian officer greeted me, who was driving and handing out the papers, friendly in Turkish, as he first held Kadir’s passport. We then moved a few meters further to the Bulgarian colleagues. After the usual check of identification cards and registration documents, the gentleman ordered us a few meters forward and came from his booth to our vehicle. Then came the somewhat surprising question for us: “ARE YOU GOING TO WAR?” Um, what do you mean? At that moment, the guy enjoyed the effect of his statement and grinned widely, and we quickly made the connection to the military Benz. He waved us off with a cheerful “DON’T SHOOT ME” to the next control point just a few meters away. With the colleague there, we only had a short but friendly exchange about goods to declare or items to report. Since we of course did not carry either and he believed us, we were allowed to enter his country.

From that moment on, we were in the grasp of the Cyrillic script, but still in our beloved country group 1 :-) We immediately took advantage of the EU roaming benefits to look for a place to spend the night. Unfortunately, our favorite portal “Park4Night” didn’t yield as many or well-rated pitches as we had hoped. However, since we only wanted to transit through Bulgaria, we aimed to cover some distance today. A search with a lesser-known small search engine resulted in a promising hit: “Sunset Garden” east of Sofia was to be our destination. The reviews promised a simple but lovingly designed place. And that's exactly how it turned out. After a call to Danny, we promptly received a message with all the instructions and the info that we would be the only campers.

Upon arrival at “Sunset Garden,” we fortunately still had a few minutes until sunset, and we were warmly welcomed by two super friendly people at the gate. We immediately engaged in a lovely conversation with Danny, the owner of the site, and his buddy Stephan. Danny explained the self-built shower to us, learned the German term “instant water heater,” and showed us the self-constructed toilet hut, as well as the fridge stocked with drinks. From this fridge, he promptly pulled out two beers, which he handed to us. We gratefully accepted these two cans as a start to the evening.

Unfortunately, we could only catch a glimpse of the sunset behind the hills that surround Sofia. Nevertheless, Danny’s favorite beer tasted very good and prepared us for the winding down day, which was soon replaced by the evening, the remaining Pastis, and the puddle of Tanqueray. What we did not yet know at that moment: we had already consumed alcohol with incredible foresight.

But more on that tomorrow, as well as the fact that the temperatures in the coming night will only just barely settle above freezing…

I couldn't fully follow the very complex history of the Jewish community in Bulgaria. Other participants (many of Jewish descent) were much more engaged: many scribbled eagerly in notebooks and asked complex questions. Things became interesting for me with the onset of World War II. Bulgaria tried to remain neutral for as long as possible. However, in 1941, they joined Nazi Germany and the Axis powers. This obligated them to deport Bulgarian Jews as well as Jews from neighboring besieged countries to Germany. At that time, there were 50,000 Jews living in Bulgaria, where the Jewish community had flourished for many years, and about 12,000 in the besieged areas of the surrounding countries.

The deportations began with the 12,000 Jews from the besieged outskirts, who were deported to the extermination camp Treblinka by March 29, 1943 and killed there. Despite efforts to keep it secret, the Bulgarian people became aware, and both the public and leading politicians expressed moderate criticism.

When the deportation of Bulgarian Jews began, citizens gathered around the train stations and sabotaged the tracks, preventing the transport of the 50,000 Jews to Treblinka. The government had to ask Hitler for more time.

Some weeks later, the Jews of Bulgaria were brought under cover of night by police to the train station protected by barbed wire and loaded onto trains. Local residents who noticed this raised the alarm, and the Bulgarian Bishop Kyril was quickly informed. The head of the church had as much power in 20th-century Bulgaria as the head of state. He arrived at the station and tried to command the police to stop the loading. When they resisted, he tried, along with his followers, to violently save the lives of thousands of people. The act reached its climax when the efforts seemed to be in vain, and the bishop had one last resort. He climbed over the barbed wire fence and ran onto the tracks. He shouted to the police that if they wanted to start the trains, they would first have to kill him. The police, clearly intimidated by the actions of the ecclesiastical head, were forced to relent. The deportations were thwarted, and soon after, World War II came to an end.

Thus, Bulgaria was the only country under Nazi rule that did not lose any Jews from its own territory.

Our guide Slavyan struggled with tears during this story, as, as he said at the end, his grandfather was on one of the trains that night waiting for his certain death. Only the bishop Kyril and the demonstrating people were responsible for his life.

Slavyan's life story was also very interesting: His grandfather, haunted by the danger that hung over the Jews at that time, concealed his religion from his daughter and later from his grandson Slavyan in an attempt to protect them. Eventually, he mustered the courage to share his story with them both. Since Slavyan learned about this at a young age, he attended a Jewish school and wanted to learn everything about Judaism. Since then, he has been very active in the Jewish community: he has filmed the Jewish history of Bulgaria, founded an organization for Bulgarian Jews, and wants to share the stories of this Jewish community with the world, which he has impressively accomplished through this tour.

After this memorable tour, I had another opportunity to dive deeper into Bulgarian culture. On my next food tour, we would walk together through the capital and sample bites of Bulgarian cuisine in small restaurants and cafés.

In the first café, lovely small desserts were prepared. There was a yogurt-honey dessert with cookie cake and elderflower lemonade. All very simple creations that originated from the communist era, where not many ingredients were available.

The next stop was at a Sri Lankan eatery, one of many new exotic restaurants that had settled in Sofia. It symbolized the broad culinary diversity.

During a stop at the Rakija Museum, there was (for most not just one glass) of schnapps, which I had already found unpalatable the day before. Fortunately, the next stop was just around the corner. There I was able to replace the schnapps taste with a fresh oat milk smoothie flavor.

The penultimate stop was at a small snack bar that sold delicious donuts. The tour ended at a typical Bulgarian restaurant similar to the one we visited the day before. There were small wine tastings and bread with various spreads. The tour rounded off my stay in Bulgaria nicely, and I was well-fortified for my train journey to Istanbul.

At 2:00 PM, I stood in front of the Palace of Justice, ready for my next city tour. So far, it was the most entertaining tour I had participated in. Along with many exciting anecdotes and theatrical interludes from our guide Slavyan, I was most fascinated by the story of the bombing in 1925. The attackers, supported and financed by the Soviet Union, aimed to kill the leading Bulgarian politicians to seize power. The main target was the assassination of the Bulgarian Tsar Boris III.

In this pursuit, they took the life of a respected officer. The country was in deep mourning; however, his death was only a means to an end. On April 16, 1925, the political and military elite gathered in the “Sweta Nedalja” Cathedral for the funeral of the fallen officer – unaware that they were surrounded by 25 kilograms of explosives. Shortly after the service began, the attackers detonated it, killing around 100 people instantly. 500 individuals were injured, many succumbed to their wounds. The only person unscathed was Tsar Boris III, who, as our guide emphasized, arrived late, following the Bulgarian manner.

Alongside the humorous nature of our guide Slavyan, I got to meet many new people on the tour. Besides a Scot and a Brazilian living in Dresden, I got along best with the two Frenchmen Marius and Loic. For the two students from Paris and Lyon, it was their last day in Sofia, and like me, they wanted to try the local cuisine. So we agreed to meet at a traditional Bulgarian restaurant in the evening.

After the tour, I went to the most famous and lavish landmark of Sofia: the Alexander Nevsky Cathedral. The bell tower houses 12 bells, manufactured in Moscow. The smallest weighs 10 kg, while the largest weighs 12 tons.

My way back to the hostel took me through some street underpasses. Often, historical excavations can be seen there. Sofia was built on different levels, and with each new regime, construction was done over the existing cityscape. This leads to current construction work in the city often needing to be interrupted for several years as archaeologists continuously record new finds.

In the evening, I went to the agreed restaurant and waited a few more minutes for the two Frenchmen. Already from the outside, the establishment radiated tradition, soft music drifted onto the street, and the menu looked promising. Together with Marius and Loic, we entered the restaurant and were taken to our reserved table. The interior also conveyed a warmly inviting atmosphere: old pipes, schnapps decanters traditionally used for toasts at weddings, and stuffed animals adorned the wooden walls. Our food was served, and we had a lively conversation together. My chicken with potatoes was hearty and very delicious. When we finished, three older musicians entered the room with an accordion, bagpipe, and washboard and began to play live music. We ordered Bulgarian Rakija schnapps and enjoyed the ambiance.

Since we found out that we were staying in the same hostel, we walked back together after dinner, spent some more time in the common room, and played billiards.

The train was pleasantly empty, and I mostly had my compartment to myself. Most of the time, I observed the landscape passing by through the window.

In the midst of the wide, flat landscape, there were occasionally larger and smaller settlements. By evening, the area transformed more and more into a mountainous landscape.

The train now traveled along impressive mountain ranges and small mountain villages. The picturesque landscape panorama, combined with the setting sun, was beautiful to behold.

Just before Sofia, everyone had to transfer from the train to a small tram to reach the city center.

Upon arriving in Sofia, a kind fellow traveler gave me recommendations for a quick, delicious dinner, which I quickly ate on my way to the hostel.

At first glance, the hostel seemed a bit creepy. As I searched for the hostel and felt somewhat lost, a man pointed to a small, inconspicuous door secured with a code. Through the narrow door, I entered an unlit backyard, where several old Soviet cars were parked. If there hadn't been a sign from the hostel above the entrance, I would have feared a kidnapping. Only around the next corner did the hostel come into view, making a completely opposite impression. Soft music from two guitarists drifted out of the house, people were gathered around a billiard table, and there were also people sitting outside engaged in lively conversations.

Relieved, I checked in and soon saw my adventurous room. The attic had seemingly just been transformed into a bedroom. There were 20 mattresses lined up side by side, one of which was mine. Tired, I didn't think much more about it and quickly fell asleep.

This morning I packed my things without breakfast and set off at 7:15 a.m. I had already chosen a bakery the day before. I explained what I wanted using sign language and by 7:45 a.m. I was back on my bike, refreshed.

The route was very monotonous today. With a few small exceptions, it is actually the entire route along road 21, which has varying levels of traffic. I had the feeling that there were fewer trucks on the road today than usual. This may have been due to the Bulgarian Alphabet Day holiday. I wanted to get the kilometers over with as quickly as possible. I took two breaks (once in an apricot grove and once at a gas station with ice cream and cola). By 2 p.m. I was already at today's accommodation. It has a beautiful garden and is located right next to the Srebarna Biosphere Reserve. I'm going to walk there now and then go to the only restaurant in town for dinner.

Tomorrow I have another 18km to go until I cross the border into Romania. I'm excited to see what happens in Romania in terms of road conditions, wild dogs, accommodation and so on!

Today only a short stage of about 85km was planned, I had decided that yesterday evening, as the overnight accommodation options are very limited. After a night of thunderstorms and rain, I was quite happy not to drive too far today. The sleep was not particularly restful.

Shortly after 8 a.m. I was already on my bike, but without a proper breakfast. I only ate a cereal bar (the last one I had from Hungary; here in Bulgaria and Serbia there are no cereal bars. Only chocolate bars) and a banana. On the way I stopped at a bakery, where they sell their goods out of the window, you can't even go into the shop. I've seen this a lot now.

The route was mostly perfectly asphalted today, but only 1.5 lanes wide I would say. But that wasn't a problem as there was hardly any traffic. It went on roads in the hinterland, I only saw the Danube today when I got up at the campsite and when I arrived in Ruse. But there were more meters of elevation to overcome, in total it was 828m according to the satnav. It felt like even more as it was a constant up and down. But it was good to ride and I had no headwind. So I don't want to complain.

In Ruse I booked a holiday apartment in the city center through Booking.com. Here I was able to do some laundry and hang it on a clothes rack. Now I'm going to go into the city for a bit and later go to a restaurant for the first time in Bulgaria. I'm excited!

This morning we had breakfast at 6:30 a.m., I wanted to start a little earlier. Yesterday it was already very warm at lunchtime. Nadia made a great breakfast with sandwiches, eggs and a sweet treat, and there was fresh mint tea and coffee. By 7:45 a.m. I was already on the road. The path was really great today, parts of it were completely newly asphalted and there was hardly any traffic.

I listened to a lot of music and made phone calls to one or two people. The time and kilometers flew by and by lunchtime I had already done 70km. After the lunch break with pastries filled with feta and olives, there were a few meters of elevation to overcome, but luckily the road was mostly in the shade, so it wasn't too strenuous. In the early afternoon I checked by phone that the campsite I was aiming for was open and arrived there shortly before 4 p.m.

Now I'm waiting for the owner. The socks that didn't dry completely when I washed them in the sink yesterday are already hanging in the sun. This evening I'll have to cook for myself again, it looks like there are no restaurants in town. But I still have instant noodles and fried rice from a packet with me.

Time flies, in 3 days (according to plan) I will be leaving Bulgaria again and will be in my “destination country” Romania!

This morning Sue prepared me a great breakfast and even asked me to prepare something for the journey. At 8:30 a.m. I was on my bike and set off. The way out of Stanevo was a bit difficult (mainly unmown dirt roads and muddy roads). After 2 km I was back on the main road and making much better progress. In Kozloduy I tried to buy a dog whistle to be better protected from the wild dogs. A nice older gentleman was very helpful and took me to two shops that sold pet supplies, but unfortunately none of the shops had a whistle. So I carried on. But I had a negative encounter with wild dogs all day today (one chased me briefly once, but as I was going quite fast at the time it quickly gave up).

Around midday I was in Oryahovo, where there is a ferry to Romania and so there was a very long traffic jam of trucks. But I was able to cycle past it and eat my sandwiches in one of the wooden huts on the beach. Then I climbed a few meters. By now it had become very warm and it was very tiring to cycle up the mountain (mainly because sweat kept running into my eyes and it burned). Once I got to the top, however, there was a great view over the Danube valley and the hilly landscape of Bulgaria and Romania. After 118 km I found my accommodation for the day, which is on a farm run by an older Bulgarian couple (Willi and Nadia). Neither of them speaks a word of English but Google Translate gets by. First I washed a few items of clothing and hung them up to dry in the garden.

I'm currently lying on the bed in my room after showering. The special thing about the accommodation is that dinner is being cooked for me. Nadia is already in the kitchen and Willi is being given small tasks by her! I'm excited to see what's on offer.

Overall, I'm feeling really good and I'm looking forward to the next few days :)

This morning started with rain, which was very unusual for me. I made myself a coffee in the kitchen and Bojan stood in front of me and gave me a piece of breakfast. Such a hospitable person!

At around 9 a.m. I decided to start despite the rain (according to the weather app it should have stopped then). After 12 km I was already at the Bulgarian border. Crossing the border was very relaxed. The rain then stopped and I was able to cycle without a rain jacket again. I cycled through Vidin. On the way out of Vidin I had an unpleasant encounter with 3 wild dogs that chased me. Fortunately they stopped after a few meters. These situations are still unpleasant, even though I have already experienced a few of them. I will try to buy a dog whistle tomorrow, maybe that will help keep the dogs at a distance.

Then I briefly drove along a very busy road with a lot of truck traffic. After 10km I turned onto a less busy road and followed it for about 60m. Again and again through small towns with very dilapidated houses that are nevertheless inhabited. You can really see a stark difference to Serbia. Here in Bulgaria the people are significantly poorer. Sometimes it is really depressing to see the conditions in which people live in Europe.

Shortly before the end of today's stage I came to Lom, a somewhat larger town. There has even been a Lidl here for a few months. A fairly steep road with small cobblestones led out of Lom. Ideal conditions for the end of a stage... but the sun came out and the path then led through a kind of avenue.

The destination of my stage today was the "Stanevo Lodge", a kind of holiday home run by an English couple (Paul and Sue). The house was already rented out but Bojan had arranged for me to camp in the garden. Paul and Sue cooked me dinner! Afterwards we sat around a campfire in the garden and Sue made apricot crumble for dessert. It was wonderful!

Today's stage was very relaxed. The 70 km to Burgas were quickly completed. First of all, I had to stock up on supplies for the ferry and sort out the exact departure point and formalities. Finding the exact departure point was not that easy, as it could only be reached via an inconspicuous side street. Finding out what would happen next was almost impossible. The only information I was given was to stop at a kiosk and wait. They would let me know there. When that would be was largely unclear. In fact, at around 6 p.m., the person who had given me this instruction came to me and explained everything to me. After that, I was on the ferry within 15 minutes. Wow! I share my cabin with another German motorcyclist and two Kyrgyz truck drivers. The atmosphere in the cabin is tense. I'm excited about the next three days.

My 7th stage took me to the village of 2500 souls mentioned above. It is about 10 km from my travel route and about 70 km from Burgas. I have moved into a small holiday apartment here with an outdoor pool, sauna and other amenities. The hosts are extremely friendly. The owner drove me to a restaurant yesterday and kept me company for dinner. He then ate at home. Afterwards he showed me the place, which he is obviously proud of. Today they are both taking me to Burgas; they have something to do there. I can use this opportunity to take care of the ferry. That should be much easier with him. Finally, he introduced me to his uncle in Istanbul. He is a passionate motorcyclist himself. He immediately invited me to come over. Tomorrow I will travel to Burgas, hopefully relaxed. Check-in is at 6 p.m.

Update : We have just returned from Burgas. Everything went perfectly. At the ticket counter I met a couple from Switzerland, I guess they were both about my age. We agreed to meet on the ferry tomorrow. They are travelling by bike. Respect!!!!!

My landlord shook his head in disbelief when he found out that it was a transport ferry and not a fancy passenger ferry. Well, I'm excited. For the return journey, he suggested that I take the route via Turkey.

Great scenery for a ride!

Great goodbye from Bulgaria, which has surprised us very positively.

Pirin is the second highest mountain in Bulgaria, with a height of 2917m, the highest one is only 12m higher.