We left Tarnovo two days ago, but I’ve yet to catch up on reporting my travels (these posts take a bit of time, you know).  But here are some holiday snaps in Tarnovo and surrounding areas.

Our first order of business once we parked the car (some distance from our pension) was to have lunch. While we were waiting, Lubo snapped a selfie of himself, me, and Vassy. This was with a camera, not a cellphone, so Lubo’s clearly experienced with selfies! You can see that Tarnovo, about 2.5 hours from Sofia by car (the country isn’t large), is built on hills:

Now for the menu, the traditional shropska salad to begin (tomatoes, cucumbers, and peppers covered with grated local cheese). The quality of the vegetables is very high in this country: the cucumbers are solid, crunchy, and tasty, and the tomatoes very ripe:

And what they call “meatballs,” though they’re usually flat rather than spherical. These, made of pork and veal, were grilled and served with fries covered with cheese:

The castle “Tsarvets” in the distance, the capital of Bulgaria from the late 12th to the late 14th century, was finally successfully besieged by the Ottomans.  The fortifications, ideally situated on a hill over a river, had a drawbridge and extensive walls along the cliffs:

The old town below the castle: a very colorful and peaceful place. I suppose it gets touristy in summer, but in October, when the weather was beautiful (tee shirts sufficed), it was wonderful:.

The castle is bedecked with signs like these, which vastly amused Vassy, who said, “What the hell? You’re not allowed to do tai chi on the walls?”

So of course I made them enact two of the dangerous actions:

The world’s most scenic outhouse on the slopes above the river. What a lovely place to excrete!

Below the castle and across the river is a small and colorful part of town where Lubo used to live as a child. The houses are splendid:

and are amply decorated with greenery. Many, such as the owners of this place, grow grapes on the windows, and you can see the ripe bunches hanging below:

According to the sign above the number “26,”, this is an “exemplary home,” although you couldn’t tell it from the outside:

We headed up the hills above the castle, where the dictator of Bulgaria under the Communists had his summer residence. It’s a large and sumptuous place with a fantastic view, and a helicopter pad. (It’s now a fancy hotel.)

The view from the palace: ranges of mountains separate Tarnovo from Sofia, which itself lies in a valley. You can spot the castle to the left of center and down a bit.

Lunchtime! We repaired to a restaurant, picked at random from those in Dictator Town (I can’t remember its name). The quality of the food we had shows that the average standard for a restaurant meal in Bulgaria is very high.

First, soups: yogurt-and-cucumber soup (with ground nuts) for Vassy and tripe soup for Lubo. He loves the stuff, but I couldn’t stand to take even a single bite:

Two kinds of flatbread: garlic bread and cheese-covered bread (you may have guessed by now that many dishes in Bulgaria are sprinkled with the shredded national cheese: there are but two national cheeses, white and orange);

Main dishes included a sausage and pepper casserole with a dollop of yogurt (it’s put on nearly everything in Bulgaria),

A delicious dish of yogurt mixed with fried eggs and other stuff,

And what is called “mishmosh,” a Bulgarian scrambled egg dish that is infinitely better than regular scrambled eggs:

Several local street cats besieged us during the meal, and of course I was a soft touch and fed them a lot (they are always hungry). There were so many that someone at the next table took our picture:

Two of the local felids: a lovely tabby and what must be related to a Turkish Van cat, a white-haired guy with one blue eye and one green (‘odd-eyed’). He’d obviously been scrapping:

Time for walkies. We strolled through the shopping streets, where things are sold to tourists and others. Here, for instance, are a few Bulgarian specialties: old-timey shoes, the local pottery, and handmade silver filigree jewelry:

A custom in Bulgaria is to paste someone’s memorial notice on the door of the house where they lived. The pastings go up at regular and specified intervals post mortem, so a door can have half a dozen notices about a single person. Here’s a typical example, though I can’t read it.

Coffee time, where Bulgaria, Turkey, and Greece converge. This quaint place had Greek (or Turkish or Bulgarian) coffee, boiled in brikis, the small copper vessels I’m used to from Greece. The coffee is boiled over very hot sand, and you specify how sweet you want it:

It’s served, as is traditional in Greece, with a spoonful of rose-petal jam immersed in a glass of cold water. You’re supposed to eat the jam and drink the water with your coffee.. We also had a local meringue and a fudge-like substance:

Other things we saw while wandering the town included a bunch of street cats. Look at this little cutie!

And a black kitten I got to hold. Most of the street cats are skittish and won’t allow themselves to be petted, but a few, like this one, like to get fusses, and this one even purred. (I need a damn cat!):

A bunch of pastries for sale, including the ubiquitous and tasty banitsa (layers of filo dough filled with Bulgarian white cheese). One of these and a bottle of boza, a thick, sweetened grayish-brown drink made from wheat, will pretty much fill you up for hours.  The banitsas are at lower left, and one of them fills the pan from left to right. They’re huge!

We passed an old Eastern-European made car (I can’t remember where it was from, but I’m sure some readers will know the model). Vassy and Lubo got excited by these, as they apparently predominated in Bulgaria in their youth, but are now rare and have been replaced by Western cars (Lubo has an Audi with automatic transmission). I posed next to it; Vassy told me that they were made of cardboard but I’m pretty sure she was joking:

And a solipsistic end to this post: a selfie through a window, avec chat:

 

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