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| View from the bus window |
But while the getting to Plovdiv had been easy, locating my hotel was not. My map was awful, my backpack was heavy and temperatures were touching 30ºC (86ºF). Eventually, I had to concede defeat and ask a schoolgirl for help. Shortly thereafter I had located the main square in the new town, but I still had a long way to go and, left to my own devices, the incessant heat and my shockingly bad map-reading skills led to an increasing grumpiness. Long story short, I finally located my hotel, had a quick shower and then went out to explore the old town.
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| One of the many church towers in Plovdiv's old town |
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| Houses in the old town |
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| Mangy cat enjoying the sunshine |
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| A cobbled street |
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| Another church tower |
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| The gate leading to the Church of Saint Bogoroditsa |
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| The bell tower of the Church of Saint Bogoroditsa |
The one thing I wanted to see, in fact the whole reason I came here, was the Roman theatre. But could I find it? Could I hell?! No matter which street I took I ended up right back where I had started. In desperation I followed a party of school children, but they only led me to a church I'd already seen. Twice. Frustrated, I walked back the way I'd come and then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a sign I had missed the seven or so times I'd passed it – it clearly said "Roman theatre" and had a big red arrow pointing in the direction of travel. Duh!
I soon located the theatre and – of rather more pressing importance – found a place selling bottled water at over-inflated prices. Having stupidly left the remains of mine in the hotel, I was so parched that I almost downed the bottle in one. Somewhat rehydrated, I paid 3 Lev (£1.25/$1.50/US$2.10) to get into the surprisingly tourist-free theatre. I spent quite a while sitting on the steps taking in the views...
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| Built in the 2nd century AD, this well-preserved marble Roman theatre once held 6,000 spectators |
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| A section of the cavea (open spectators' area), which comprises 28 concentric rows of marble seats |
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| The skene (stage building) is 3.16 m high |
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| View of the stage with the Rhodope mountains in the background |
There were two other sights I wanted to see and both were in the new town. But I hadn't banked on being unable to find my way out of the old town! Seriously I must have walked around for 40 minutes or so searching for a route out of the place. I knew where the road I needed to be on was – I just couldn't get to it! Eventually, my travels took me past a café-bar. I remembered that I'd entered the old town near a café-bar and sure enough, that was the one. Phew! Minutes later I was back in the new town where I found the tourist office and thus a decent street map, and then I treated myself to a huge ice-cream.
I followed my new map until I reached the rather disappointing remains of the Roman stadium. What's there is lovely, but so there's just so little of it. And to make matters worse, the effect has been further spoiled by incorporating the remains into the concrete jungle that is Plovdiv's new town. However, barely a stone's throw away was the beautiful mosque I had come to see, which more than made up for the disappointment of the stadium.
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| The Dzhumaya Mosque with the remains of a Roman stadium (which once seated 30,000 people) in the foreground |
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| All that remains of the Roman stadium |
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| The sundial on the corner of the mosque |
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| The gorgeous minaret |
Having seen everything I wanted to see, I was happy just to stroll around the town. I wandered aimlessly for a bit before heading back to the old town and my hotel. The next day I got the bus back to Sofia and, once again, enjoyed looking at the changing countryside.
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| The road back to Sofia |
Back in Sofia and I had every intention of doing a little more exploring but on stepping outside the station I was confronted by black clouds and a rising wind. Sightseeing in stormy weather is NOT my idea of fun so I decided to get a taxi straight to my hotel. The next question was which taxi – there were so many of them, parked two or three abreast, that it was impossible to know where the queue started. Being British and therefore keen to adhere to queue etiquette, I stood and watched to see what other people did. Suddenly a man ambled up to me and said hopefully, "Taxi?" I glanced around but none of the other drivers, who were far closer to what I presumed to be the top of the queue, objected. I showed him my hotel's address and asked how much it would be. His response, which was probably calculated, was to say "Yes, OK", as he tried to usher me into his cab. Knowing what rip-off merchants taxi drivers are (especially the eager ones), I stood firm. I wanted to agree a price before I got into the car.
Just then another man (or should I say, an accomplice) rushed over and tried to help with the bargaining. He calmly suggested, "20, maybe 25 Lev?" (approx. £8-10/€10-13/US$14-17), which is a complete and utter rip! It only costs 12 Lev (approx. £5/€6/US$8) to get to the airport and this place was located between the city centre and the airport so it should have been less. And I told him as much. His unbelievably cheeky response was to tell me that it would cost more because it was sunny (ummm, hello black skies!) and when I laughed in his face, he made some excuse about having to drive down back streets. In the end, I agreed to a 20 Lev fixed-fare, which was well above the odds but I just wanted to get to my hotel. I told the man that I would not be paying any more than that. He nodded and said, "Yes, yes. Fixed fare", and then spoke to the taxi driver in rapid Bulgarian. I guess it was naïve of me to assume that we had a deal. Live it, learn it.
The taxi was baking hot – clearly aircon does NOT come as standard in Bulgarian models – and the driver was smoking, which made for a fairly unpleasant ride. I was surprised when he pulled over about five minutes later and said, "Hotel here". It was down a dirty back street, and had it have been my hotel I would well and truly have been being ripped off. After all, 20 Lev is a little over £8 (€10/US$14), which for a five-minute journey is extortionate. But it blatantly wasn't my hotel and the taxi driver didn't appreciate being told so. He then spent fifteen minutes driving from taxi rank to taxi rank trying to find a driver who knew where the hotel was. And I was getting increasingly irritated. Nonetheless, I remember thinking how sensible I was to have agreed the fare beforehand, because all this stopping and starting would cost me big.
Finally, he got going again and I breathed a sigh of relief as the road changed from city back streets to busy highway. But before long he had darted down the most run-down of estates and I began to feel uneasy. He stopped to ask seven more people for directions but no-one knew where to find the elusive street. I tried ringing the hotel three or four times, but the phone just cut off. Feeling rather concerned I said, "Take me back to town. I'll get another hotel". The taxi driver, clearly getting enraged as his rip-off fare was now turning into rather less of one, snapped, "One MOMENT, lady. PLEASE". And then we struck gold – a man who knew where the bloody street was. Except that number 37 (my hotel's address) was nowhere to be seen.
Again, the driver asked for directions. This time we learned that you had to cross a busy highway to get to the other half of the street. He pulled out at high speed, narrowly missing a bus, then slammed on the brakes (in the middle of the carriageway) and pointed angrily behind us and snapped, "Hotel Consul". And it was. Thank God for small mercies!
I reached into my purse for the agreed 20 Lev and was confused when he waved it away. He switched the meter's screen on, turned to me – all wide-eyed innocence – and said, "44 Lev" (approx. £18/€22/US$31), pointing at the meter. The slimy b*stard had had the meter on all along! My protests about fixed fares fell on deaf ears, and – surprise, surprise – the little English he'd had suddenly vanished. I was gobsmacked. I repeatedly asked him to call the man at the station, but it was like talking to a brick wall. I had no idea what to do, and matters were not helped by the taxi driver insisting (now rather menacingly) that the fare was 44 Lev. Eventually, he grumpily conceded that I could have a 1 Lev (!) reduction. I sat there silently weighing up my options. And then it dawned on me that this wasn't a London Black Cab; this was just some beat up sh*tbox with no central locking. Which meant that there was no reason for me to still be sitting there; no reason what-so-freaking-ever!
I sighed and reached into my bag as though looking for the fare, grabbed my backpack, pushed the door open and got out. He didn't even try to stop me, but just before I shut the door I heard him say, "OK, OK, 40 Lev". I could have turned and walked away as I was pretty sure he wouldn't have done anything. He could hardly have called the police because he was trying to charge me 44 Lev for what was essentially a 12 Lev fare (or less!) AND I had already agreed to pay 20 Lev, which was well over the amount he was legally allowed to charge. I could have taught him a lesson and left him fare-less, but I was brought up to be honest and fair so I opened the passenger door, threw a 20 Lev note on the seat and said through gritted teeth, "It was a FIXED. F***ING. FARE!" Then I slammed the door shut with all the rage I could muster and ran towards the hotel, glancing back over my shoulder in time to see him pulling off in a cloud of dust.
The whole affair had left me rather shaken, but at least my hotel was within reach. Except that as I drew closer I could see that it was in darkness. I prayed that it was open, because if it wasn't I'd just lost €40 (£33/US$55) on the booking and, rather more worryingly, I was in the middle of nowhere.
My luck was in. Sort of. The hotel was open, but there had been a power-cut, hence why the phone had gone unanswered. The friendly but unconcerned owner said that the power would be back by 18:00 or maybe 19:00... Oh, and how did I intend to pay, since the card machine didn't work?! I told her I would be paying by card (not least because the few Lev I had left wouldn't cover the bill). She shrugged and said I could pay later. She then used a torch to show me to my room, which was HUGE; it was bigger than my entire flat in Poland! I collapsed on the bed, relieved that I had finally reached my destination. Minutes later the skies opened and a massive thunder storm erupted...
As promised, some four hours later the power was restored and I was able to have a cup of tea and go online. Nonetheless, the events of the previous few hours made for a disappointing end to what had been a great holiday.
