Eurotrip Day 4

Day 4: The Hangover Tour

Day 4 started earlier than it needed to. In part due to Day 3 encroaching several hours into the early morning, but also because of an early breakfast call from mum, which was ignored in favour of slumber. However, there was a pre-arranged lunch to attend and I needed to retrieve my camera bag that Fran and Graham had kindly taken on when I headed for the club. I agreed to pick it up from their room without realising the problem this would cause. The automatic room key Schindler's lift scenario is highly clever when going to your own floor, but makes getting to another floor virtually impossible. Only the communal floors are findable using the traditional, tried and tested method of pressing a button. Although I tried pressing floor 6, the lift refused to take me there. It did, however, go to another floor, where a couple of other people had summoned it. I then had to travel to where they needed to go before deciding whether to try again or hope that in the fullness of time someone from floor 6 would summon the lift. I opted for the stairs, and made my way up four flights to find that key card access was needed to get into the floor as well! So now I was stranded in the stairwell, only able to escape via my own floor or the lobby. None of this was satisfactory to my throbbing head, so I gave up.

Lunch was an equally testing affair for my head, but nibbling at some salad and necking vast quantities of water improved the situation considerably, and I was soon ready for the afternoon walking tour of Sofia. The tours take you around some of the main attractions of the city centre, with the guide explaining their cultural, historical and religious significance. First we saw a the church of St Nedelya, where the worst Bulgarian terrorist atrocity was carried in 1925. The king was due to be present but escaped unharmed because he was late.

St Nedelya Church

We then saw a statue that had been erected in honour of St Sophia, who was, apparently, nothing to do with the city of Sofia. In fact the statue had offended local clergy as the good lady was adorned with pagan symbols. Worse still, it seemed to have been modelled on this year's Eurovision winner, Conchita.

Saint Sofia or Conchita Wurst?

A lot of the buildings had the square boldness of Communism stamped across them, including the National Theatre, the government buildings and even some of the old churches were dwarfed by the new buildings that had risen around them.

 

 

  

The tour also showed us a slice of Bulgarian life: the people enjoying a Sunday afternoon in the sun, eating ice creams in the parks, relaxing or playing music and games. And in some cases taking a much needed siesta.

 

 

 

Finally we saw the market, with it's bright stalls selling vibrantly coloured scarves and Russian dolls sat incongruously among tables of antique cameras and assorted large knives.

The Bulgarians seem to like their statues and fountains, and sometimes both. There was a water fountain that would have been more at home at a water park, a naked lady dancing in a fountain in front of the theatre, and these grumbling men, all of whom appeared to be in various stages of distress.

 

Most importantly, there was this shrub in the road.

 

The walking, the heat, the hangover and the lack of sleep conspired against me by this point, so I grabbed a club sandwich and an ice cream and hit the hotel pool and sauna (the ice cream and club sandwich were gone by this point). A thoroughly relaxing way to end the weekend.