Bulgaria:Where the Mountains meet the Sea. Visit to socialist Bulgaria

 

Breakfast adventures continue. This morning, the host once again tried to seat us at one of those mystical low sofa tables – you know, the ones apparently designed for people who enjoy eating scrambled eggs while performing the downward looking dog position. Demanding tourists as we are, we cheerfully informed them that we’re more than happy to wait until one of the four empty window tables is cleaned. No rush.

And so, here we were: once again the people-watching table. Honestly, I will never understand who voluntarily chooses to hunch over a tiny coffee table trying to cut into an omelette.

Yesterday’s plan included visiting the famous Red Flat in Sofia – a perfectly preserved 1975 socialist apartment now functioning as a museum. Unfortunately, my migraine had other plans, so we postponed it to today. At 10:28 sharp we stood at the door like the world’s keenest communist-history enthusiasts, waiting for them to open at 10:30. For Scott, it was apparently fascinating. For me… well, let’s say that growing up in a communist-era Estonia means that nothing in that apartment felt particularly exotic. Still, undeniably interesting. I guess I was counting on more differences between Estonia and Bulgaria.

We rewarded ourselves with donuts, walked around the city a bit more, and then made our way to the airport. There, we had the pleasure of eating the continent’s most expensive sandwiches, which were not so much meals as financial commitments.

But – and here’s the plot twist – both flights home were perfectly on time. Our Riga–Tallinn flight even landed 10 minutes early. Probably the first trip in our recorded history, where not a single flight was delayed. A historic moment. It should be marked with a certificate.

Bulgaria: Where the Mountains meet the Sea. Of hotel room and restaurant bills

 

 

 

Dear loyal reader, today you’re getting an exclusive behind-the-scenes look at our hotel room - because, well, circumstances forced me to spend my entire morning there.
At 4 a.m., I woke up with a migraine that felt like someone was trying to chisel open my skull. Despite medication, by 11 it hadn’t improved much. I tried to eat breakfast around 10, but after two spoonfuls of muesli, I gave up and went back to the room.

Now, let me tell you about this “smart” hotel room. When you walk in, the curtains automatically open and the lights turn on. Sounds fancy, right? Except it happens regardless of the time of day. Meaning: at noon, you get unnecessary mood lighting, and at midnight - hello, instant daylight!
There are no regular switches on the walls, only mysterious touch panels. So every time you want to adjust something, you play a little game of “guess the right button” until you either win (the lights finally cooperate) or lose (you accidentally start the curtain dance again).

Well, this morning, though, things reached peak annoingness. Scott went for a walk around 11, and I decided to stay behind to rest. Fifteen minutes later, the blackout curtains began to close by themselves. I reopened them, because lying in pitch darkness while your head throbs is not my idea of comfort. Naturally, the room responded by turning on all the lights. I nearly lost it.

More painkillers later, things started improving around noon, and we both finally escaped outside.

Sofia has a tram line that runs through a park - supposedly magical in autumn when the leaves turn. We hopped on, paid 80 cents, and rode for fifteen minutes through a golden canopy of trees. It really was beautiful.

We walked back, stopped for lunch around two (my first proper meal of the day), then continued to the Alexander Nevsky Cathedral, wandered through the city, and ended up at Starbucks before heading back to the hotel.

Determined not to repeat our earlier dinner debacles (where restaurants without reservations basically laughed us out the door), I booked a nearby steakhouse for the evening. Everything went smoothly — until I nearly ordered a half-kilo, 100-euro steak. Luckily, I caught it just in time and downsized to something more wallet-friendly. The tartare, mushrooms, and steak were all fantastic. The dessert, however, tasted like it had been waiting patiently since last week for someone to finally order it.

Then came the bill. It looked suspiciously high. I reminded the waiter we were supposed to get a 15% discount for booking through a certain website. He assured us it was already applied - the prices were indeed different from the menu. We paid… but something still didn’t add up. Upon closer inspection, it turned out they hadn’t given us a 15% discount - they’d added 20%. Oops.
To his credit, the waitress promised to fix it. He returned a few minutes later holding 70 levis in cash and explained the system would only allow a cash refund. I politely told her we were leaving the next day and had no use for that cash. Five minutes later, he reappeared - this time with a €50 note. We handed her a €10 back (the only small bill we had), so in the end, we got €40 back instead of €35 he initially offered in levis. Technically, we still didn’t break even… but by that point, the math was the least of our concerns. It was after 9pm and it had been an exhausting day.

Bulgaria: Where the Mountains Meet the Sea. This makes Lasnamäe look really good

 

Our hotel breakfast was great - the kind where you feel you might need a nap afterward. There were pastries, fruits, cheeses, eggs in every form… the works. But as we were heading out, we made a rather tragic discovery: they’d hidden the sparkling wine somewhere off to the side, far away from the rest of the buffet. By the time we noticed, we were already walking out the door. A true breakfast crime.

Today’s plan: a little road trip to Plovdiv, Bulgaria’s charming ancient city. We had a rental car booked, of course, and were meant to pick it up at 9 a.m. When we rolled up around 10 (details, details) to the edge of the park where the car was supposedly waiting, we quickly realized… there was no rental office. Just trees, benches, and a very patient lady who had been standing there for an hour waiting for us. Apparently, the “office” was simply her favorite parking spot. Fifteen minutes and a few signatures later, we were off!

Plovdiv is only about an hour and a half from Sofia - but why go straight when you can dramatically detour into the mountains?

The beginning of the detour was stunning: fiery autumn leaves, winding roads, postcard-perfect scenery. Then, as we climbed higher, the fog rolled in - thick enough to make us feel like we were driving through heavy clouds. Visibility dropped to about two meters, and in an entire hour we saw exactly one other car. It felt almost eerie.

Our first planned village stop involved a steep, gravelly road descending almost vertically, so we took one look and collectively decided: not today. The next village was friendlier - perfect for a photo stop. As soon as I stepped out of the car, though, I managed to plant my boot squarely into a pile of something organic that clearly wasn’t leaves. Ten solid minutes of scraping later, I had learned a valuable life lesson: never step off Bulgarian roads without checking your surroundings first.

Luckily, a bit further along, we found a random outdoor tap with running water in a park (what are the odds?), and I gave my boots the spa treatment they deserved. We crossed over a hydroelectric dam, descended from the mist, and an hour later rolled into Plovdiv.

Our first stop: doughnuts. There’s a place there rumored to have the best ones in Bulgaria, and after one bite of the salted caramel and cherry ones and without even having seen any other doughnuts yet, I can confirm - the rumors are true. We even got a plain one “for the road,” though to be honest, it barely survived three steps before disappearing.

We wandered through the Old Town, climbing up to the ancient ruins. Plovdiv is one of the oldest cities in Europe, and you can feel it - cobblestone streets, pastel houses, and the kind of views that make you forget your calves are burning. From the top, you can see the modern blocks stretching out below. Scott took one look and said, “You know, Lasnamägi is starting to look pretty good.” A true compliment - if you know, you know.

After some aimless strolling and a few disappointing cookies, we headed back to Sofia for dinner.

The plan was a famous ribs restaurant — smoky, hearty, the real deal. Except… when we arrived, they told us it was fully booked. Just as we were about to slink away in defeat, the hostess came running after us, waving her notepad: “I checked wrong — we can fit you in!” And just like that, we were saved. Dinner was superb.

Bulgaria: Where the Mountains Meet the Sea. Of smooth Skies and rough Rooms

 

After a battle with the taxi gods in the morning, we finally managed to secure a ride to the airport. From there, everything went suspiciously smoothly - the kind of smooth that makes you wonder if you’re accidentally in a parallel universe.

 
Despite it being rush hour, the streets were practically empty. (It was Friday, after all - who actually goes to work on a Friday?) Security was a breeze, with only one other person in line, and both our flights - Tallinn - Riga and Riga - Sofia - left ahead of schedule. By 2 PM, we were already in Bulgaria, basking in the satisfaction of efficient travel.

 
Our pre-booked taxi arrived within ten minutes, and the driver even gave us a quick mini city tour on the way to the hotel. So far, so good.

That’s when things took a slight turn. Our assigned room turned out to be located somewhere behind the boiler room, with a stunning view of… a wall and a rooftop littered with cigarette butts. The complimentary bottle of sparkling wine on the table didn’t quite sparkle enough to make up for it.

We asked for a new room, and about an hour later, we were relocated - this time to one featuring a strong but persistent eau de sewer in the bathroom. Scott, ever the problem-solver, engineered a makeshift fix involving a wet towel over the drain. Surprisingly effective! The crisis was (mostly) contained.

Our hunger led us next door to a place gloriously named Cheesus, where we indulged in grilled cheese sandwiches that felt like divine intervention after the hotel saga.

We then wandered around the city, admired Sofia’s famous cathedral, and went on a mission for traditional Bulgarian food. Unfortunately, the locals seem to love dining out as much as we do - nearly every restaurant had a queue at the door.
In the end, we landed in an Italian bistro that turned out to have a rather creative interpretation of “Italian and European cuisine.” Apparently, this also includes Japanese, Chinese, and Thai dishes.

By 9:30 PM, we called it a day and collapsed into bed.

Mas que solamente un Ciudad. How we did not go to La Sagrada Familia

 

We were both up before the crack of dawn - the kind of early that even the roosters are still considering their options. Since sleep clearly wasn’t on the agenda, we decided to make good use of the time and go for a run. Scott stayed around Gran Via, while I headed down to the sea for some salty morning air and sunrise vibes.

By brunch time, we were more than ready to eat. We picked Bellini, just a couple of blocks away, and by 11 a.m. we were completely stuffed - in the best way possible.

Our grand plan for the day was to finally visit La Sagrada Familia, Gaudí’s world-famous cathedral. Of course, being spontaneous tourists, we hadn’t bought tickets in advance. “We’ll just grab them on the spot,” we thought. Famous last words. Turns out, no tickets are sold on-site anymore. Not a single one.

So, plan B it was - Casa Batlló. One of Gaudí’s most beautiful residential masterpieces. Funny enough, despite having been to Barcelona around 15 times over the last 20-something years, I had never actually gone inside. And wow, it did not disappoint! The flowing lines, the vibrant colors, the dreamy architecture - it was all simply stunning. We left totally impressed. And with a touristy photo of us.

On the way back to the hotel, we grabbed a few empanadas - because, well, when in Spain - and then took a well-deserved nap before dinner and the concert.

Dinner was at Angus Grill, because I had a serious craving for steak. Things started promisingly - the tartar was chunky, flavorful, and absolutely delicious. But then… halfway through Scott still working on his tartar, a young waiter appeared out of nowhere, holding our next course, the medium rare steaks in hand. “Oh, sorry, I’ll take it back to the kitchen then…” Um, sure, let’s just… cook it a bit more then? Moments later, as soon as the last bite hit Scott’s fork, another server reappeared and plopped the plates back down in front of us - slightly overdone now, but still delicious.

To release the meat coma, we decided to walk to the concert venue - and to my absolute joy, I discovered that you can actually take escalators up Montjuïc hill. No endless stairs, no sweaty misery. Just a smooth glide up to culture and entertainment.

The concert was scheduled to start at 9 p.m. By 8:58, maybe 15% of the seats in the sold-out arena were filled. Classic Spain. At 9:20, the star finally took the stage - and suddenly, everything snapped into gear. The vibe transformed instantly. The music was incredible - just as expected - and the sound in that 17,000-seat basketball arena regretfully as well.

Afterward, we walked back to the hotel under the warm night sky. The air was soft and the city was very much alive.