“Autobus to Ruse?”, I ask hopefully.\u00a0 Nobody really speaks English, but with hand gestures and apologetic smiles, I get a series of almost-consistent answers.\u00a0 The elderly woman surrounded by magazines climbs out of her kiosk to point energetically at the parking lot in the middle of the street.\u00a0 The flower seller on the other side of the road waves vaguely in that direction too.\u00a0 The waiter at the cafe suggests the bus leaves from the nearby Metro station, but getting the thing up and down the escalators seems like a feat of physics beyond even Romanian buses.<\/p>\n
I’m thinking he may not have understood the question.<\/p>\n
A wild-haired guy with a backpack wanders past, looking equally lost.\u00a0 Safety in numbers time.\u00a0 “Are you going to Ruse today?”.\u00a0 “I’m hoping to”, comes the accented reply.<\/p>\n
Join the club, man.\u00a0 Join the club.<\/strong><\/p>\n Twenty minutes later, I’m happy to have spoken to him.\u00a0 He’s standing in the carpark beside what looks like a small van, waving frantically at me.\u00a0 Right.\u00a0 He has found the “bus” – it’s just someone’s personal vehicle, and there aren’t many seats left.<\/p>\n “Ruse?”<\/p>\n “Da.”<\/p>\n And just like that, I’m off to a new country.<\/p>\n ~~~~~<\/p>\n I jam my card into the ATM slot.\u00a0 How long will I be in Bulgaria?\u00a0 How much money might I need?\u00a0 What on earth is the exchange rate?<\/p>\n For a change there is actually a cash machine at the bus terminal, but I’m being rushed onward by the van driver.\u00a0 Picking a random number, I hit the button.\u00a0 What the hell, at least I’ll be able to buy my ticket.<\/p>\n The change of country means a change of language and alphabet.\u00a0 While I couldn’t speak Romanian, at least I could read the signs.\u00a0 No such luck here, unfortunately – for some reason Cyrillic wasn’t part of the New Zealand school syllabus.<\/p>\n Bundled into a different van, I hand over a colourful bank note and settle into my seat.\u00a0 Are we going to Veliko Tarnovo, I wonder?\u00a0 I think it’s a two hour trip, so I figure I’ll know by mid-afternoon either way.<\/p>\n Certainty isn’t my strong suit today.<\/p>\n ~~~~~<\/p>\n The town isn’t huge, but we have already stopped half a dozen times to let people off.\u00a0 Where should I jump out?\u00a0 No idea.\u00a0 Wait and see, I guess.<\/p>\n Just as the road signs start to suggest I will end up in Sofia if I don’t get out of this minivan, we pull into a dusty station.\u00a0 “Tarnovo?”.\u00a0 “Tarnovo.”<\/p>\n With an address written only in the Latin alphabet, I don’t like my chances of telling the taxi driver where to go.\u00a0 I like the thought of walking two miles in the sweltering heat with my backpack on even less, mind you, so it’s time to play the Accent Game.<\/p>\n “Shenovo Street.”<\/p>\n Puzzled look.<\/p>\n “She-novo Street.”<\/p>\n Nada.<\/p>\n “Shen-ovo Street.”<\/p>\n No dice.<\/p>\n I peer at my map.<\/p>\n “Um … Hotel Silvestar?”<\/p>\n And we’re off.<\/p>\n ~~~~~<\/p>\n Finally checked into the hostel, a few metres from the infamous Silvestar, it’s time for a mid-afternoon lunch.\u00a0 Walking towards the nearest place selling cold beer, I’m accosted by a large, hairy local guy.<\/p>\n “Where are you from?”\u00a0 Finally, a question I can answer.<\/p>\n “New Zealand.”<\/p>\n “Ahhh, New Zealand.\u00a0 Nice place.\u00a0 I used to work with two people from Ashburton.”<\/p>\n![\"Money](\"https:\/\/whatsdavedoing.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2012\/08\/Money-Dave.jpg\" "\\"Money")
<\/p>\n![\"Phone](\"https:\/\/whatsdavedoing.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2012\/08\/Phone-Dave.jpg\" "\\"Phone")
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![\"Dog](\"https:\/\/whatsdavedoing.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2012\/08\/Dog-Dave.jpg\" "\\"Dog")
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