Travelogue: Solo Journey To Bulgaria -2

There was a wine-tasting festival going on in the city. Everywhere, wine producers had set up stalls, and people were tasting wine—some genuinely tasting, others clearly indulging.

• In this context, the city administration had temporarily arranged portable toilets throughout the various streets

By Abdullah Usman Morai | Sweden

The Next Day’s Journey: Sofia to Plovdiv: Discovering Bulgaria’s Historic Gems and Heartland

The next morning, I woke up early, got ready, and headed to the hotel’s breakfast area. I was the first to arrive, as I had to quickly finish breakfast and reach the St. Alexander Nevsky Cathedral to catch a tourist van for a day trip to Plovdiv. After me, a few more guests arrived for breakfast. I had just taken the last few sips of my tea when the hotel receptionist approached me and informed me that my taxi had arrived. I replied, “Good, I’m glad it’s here on time.”

I quickly went to my room, picked up my rucksack, and once again asked the receptionist if I could pay for the taxi fare by card. She assured me that she had already called the taxi company and specifically requested one with a card payment option. I got into the taxi and told the driver that I would be paying by card. He said that was not a problem. However, after a short while, he suddenly stopped at an ATM and said he didn’t have a card payment machine, but I could withdraw money from there. I was stunned. What kind of person does this?

Unfortunately, the ATM didn’t work. He then drove to a currency exchange center, but that didn’t work either. I told him, “I had clearly mentioned that I’d pay by card, so why are you doing this?” He apologized. Eventually, we managed to withdraw money from another ATM, and he dropped me at my destination. To avoid such inconveniences, I usually leave a buffer of extra time, which came in handy that day. When I arrived, there was still some time before the tourist van’s departure. Several tourist buses and vans from various companies were parked there, with tourists already seated in their respective vehicles.

I asked the representative of the tour company I had booked with about the van to Plovdiv and gave him the driver’s name. He replied that the driver would be there shortly. Heavy rain had begun that morning. When the van arrived, the driver—who was also the guide—told me I could sit in the front. Slowly, more tourists arrived and took their seats in the van.

Two elderly women also arrived and asked if they could sit together. I offered them my front seat so they could sit side by side. As we exchanged brief introductions, I learned that they were originally from Poland but had been living in Sweden for a long time—perhaps retired or close to retirement age. I thought to myself, Back home in Sindh, women of this age usually say, “How can we go out alone?” or “Where would we go for sightseeing now? We have one foot in the grave.”

The small van was filled with tourists from different nationalities. The group set off for Plovdiv. The driver-guide briefed us on the itinerary—what we would see and when we would return to Sofia. We had barely left the city when I noticed a car with a Turkish license plate that began with 34, indicating Istanbul. It had more passengers than seats, which would never be allowed in Sweden, though perhaps it’s common in Bulgaria. The driver-guide explained that the road we were on led straight south to Istanbul. At one point, the driver saw a car accident on the opposite side of the road and made the sign of the cross on his forehead and chest, as Christians do.

The journey took about two hours. Halfway through, the driver stopped at a petrol station and gave us a 15-minute break to stretch, freshen up, and buy snacks if needed. I had tea and also bought a toy car that I really liked. It reminded me of some childhood characters from my hometown of Moro—like Barkat Mohajir, ”Mocchi” the cobbler, and Rafiq Mohajir. As children, we used to buy toy cars, kites, and wooden spinning tops from their shops and stalls. I used to play with those toy cars passionately on the path between the old Soomra Mosque’s large wall and the DPC near our house. The winding paths created by the mosque’s minarets made driving the toy cars more fun.

My uncle, late chacha Muhammad Khan, often bought and brought toy cars for all the siblings and cousins. We would be thrilled to start playing immediately. Speaking of kites and wooden spinning tops reminded me of another character—Laloo—who also sold them in Moro. He seemed to be a Pashtun from somewhere, but spoke fluent Sindhi and lived right in his shop. Even today, I still buy toy cars and buses like that, cherishing those childhood memories.

We resumed the journey and entered Plovdiv from the north. Near the Maritsa River, the driver-guide pointed toward a densely populated area called Stolipinovo. He told us it was Europe’s largest Roma (Gypsy) settlement, with a majority of Turkish-speaking residents. He then parked the van near the Eastern Gate of ancient Philippopolis, in the ‘Hadzhi Hassan Mahala’ Haji Hasan neighborhood, and began explaining its history. A map was available for tourists to navigate the area easily.

From there, we began walking toward the old town. A light rain had started. The streets of the old town were all paved with stone, and natural grass had grown between the gaps. Trees lined the narrow paths, and since autumn had just begun, their leaves had started to fall gently.

In some places, green vines trailed over the old walls. After wandering around, we arrived outside the Sveta Nedelya Church, where our guide told us that this church has been preserved in its original form. He also explained that even during the time when the entire area was under Turkish control, they did not harm the religious sites of non-Muslims. In the old town, most buildings were two stories high and vibrantly colored.

There was a wine-tasting festival going on in the city. Everywhere, wine producers had set up stalls, and people were tasting wine—some genuinely tasting, others clearly indulging. In this context, the city administration had temporarily arranged portable toilets throughout the various streets. Many boys and girls were dressed in their traditional, colorful clothing.

Nearby, there were other historical sites: the house of Ivan Chernozemski, now a museum, the Nekovich House, and the History Museum. Close by, near a narrow alley, were the ancient remains of the South Round Tower. All that was left was a circular formation of old bricks, a gate made of stone blocks, trees with climbing vines, and on the sidewalk, faded fallen leaves that made the atmosphere feel even more romantic.

After wandering for a bit, we entered the old town through the Hisar Kapia Gate with our guide. Many tourists, despite the chill, were roaming and shivering. We entered the beautiful old building of the Regional Ethnographic Museum, where schoolchildren were preparing to sing local songs. A couple of wine companies had set up tasting stalls inside the museum as well. Visitors not only enjoyed the wine but also listened to the folk songs performed by the students.

Light rain had begun, so the use of raincoats and umbrellas had increased. To escape the rain, people headed into restaurants, cafés, and souvenir shops. The museum’s small gardens and edges were irrigated through a drip irrigation system. We continued walking through the old town. In some places, the upper parts of buildings were so close to each other that it felt like people could pass items through their windows from one side to the other. Some of the stone streets even had thick stone platforms where people could sit cross-legged and chat, similar to the traditional raised sitting platforms we used to have in Sindh. Whether such spaces still exist in Sindh or not is something only God knows.

The guide then led us to the Hindliyan House. From the outside, this old house looked quite beautiful, so everyone in our group, except one woman, bought tickets to go inside. Before entering, we had to put plastic shoe covers over our shoes. The house belonged to a merchant and landowner named Stefan Hindliyan and was built in 1835. Nearly 200 years old, the house’s rooms were all painted in different colors. There was extensive use of wood and decorative floral work on the walls.

The first room seemed to be a drawing room, adorned with beautiful old-fashioned chairs, tables, clocks, and a stunning chandelier. From there, we entered what appeared to be an office with a large desk and chairs arranged around it. Other rooms had vanity tables, mirrors, a coal iron, a sewing machine, and bedrooms arranged and decorated with great delicacy and elegance. The house even included a traditional Turkish bath. There were separate areas for dining and tea drinking, and the décor included framed paintings, a piano, and an antique telephone. The kitchen was oddly located outside the house.

After exploring the house, one could sense that it belonged to a wealthy man who had lived a fulfilling life. Who knows where his descendants are now? The house has now been turned into a city museum. As I stood there, a thought crossed my mind: humans do so much in this short life, even though we know we’re only here for a brief time.

Next, the highlight of our journey was a visit to the Sufi dervish lodge of Mevlavi Hane, where whirling dervishes once danced. Unfortunately, the lodge was closed at the time. The building was designed in the Persian architectural style. Traces of Ottoman architecture still exist in the city, including this lodge and the Grand Mosque. Until the early 20th century, whirling dervishes of the Mevlevi order, followers of Jalaluddin Rumi, lived here. Now, without altering its original structure, the building houses a restaurant.

From there, our guide took us to see the ancient Roman theatre of Philippopolis, one of the best-preserved Roman theatres in the world. Located in the center of Plovdiv, the theatre was built in the 1st century AD and is still in use today, accommodating between 5,000 and 7,000 people. Interestingly, due to the limited space in the city center, a road now runs underneath the theatre, with vehicles constantly passing below. This is a brilliant example of balancing the old with the new—preserving ancient heritage while fulfilling modern urban needs.

After that, the guide took us to the city’s Grand Mosque and the ancient stadium of Philippopolis. He advised us not to enter the mosque if prayers were in progress, as a mark of respect from a tourist’s point of view. He then gave us a few hours of free time to explore on our own, showing us a meeting point for the group to reconvene before returning to Sofia.

There are also the remains of Nebet Tepe (also referred to as “Nyb Tep”), which our guide, for some reason, didn’t show us. Perhaps they were under renovation. The words “Nebet” or “Nyb Tep” come from the Turkish language and mean “Hill of the Guards.” This hill is one of the ancient hills where the 8,000-year-old city of Plovdiv was founded. The ruins include remnants of city walls and towers. Today, these remains are among the most popular tourist attractions in Plovdiv.

The guide and I, while chatting, entered a music instruments shop. The woman running the store was acquainted with the guide. The guide wanted to buy a birthday gift for a friend and was choosing one with the help of the shopkeeper lady. The store was filled with musical instruments from around the world. Seeing all those things took me back to my childhood when we used to try playing harmonicas and flutes with our mouths. We usually brought those harmonicas and flutes from the Shahpur Jahania’s meloo/ fair. (Continues)

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Abdullah Soomro, penname Abdullah Usman Morai, hailing from Moro town of Sindh, province of Pakistan, is based in Stockholm Sweden. Currently he is working as Groundwater Engineer in Stockholm Sweden. He did BE (Agriculture) from Sindh Agriculture University Tando Jam and MSc water systems technology from KTH Stockholm Sweden as well as MSc Management from Stockholm University. Beside this he also did masters in journalism and economics from Shah Abdul Latif University Khairpur Mirs, Sindh. He is author of a travelogue book named ‘Musafatoon’. His second book is in process. He writes articles from time to time. A frequent traveler, he also does podcast on YouTube with channel name: VASJE Podcast.