the blue string

This post is about a 21km walk from a roadside chapel to Asenovgrad. I overeat in a restaurant, and then I walk down a bad road.

I woke up a few times during the night. Sometimes it was too hot in my sleeping bags. So I would open them a little. Then again it was too cold.

I could hear the jackals and the village dogs duke it out in the fields. They were mostly just barking and laughing at each other. The dogs were barking, the jackals were laughing. One time I woke up because I thought I heard the death cry of a small animal. It was long and piercing, and I could feel it in my bones.

the good road

When I got up in the morning I felt relieved. Relieved that the night was over and relieved that my stuff wasn’t so wet this time. I packed up and left the premises, closing the fence behind me, fastening the piece of blue string back in its place. Then I said goodbye to the little chapel.

The road was quiet. It went up and down along the pretty mountains, and there was hardly any traffic. Sometimes I saw a truck and sometimes a car, and one time I saw a few dudes on a horse carriage.

gluttony

When I arrived at a restaurant that was open I went right inside. The waitress and I tried to communicate via translation software and via gestures, and in the end she asked me if I really wanted the vegetables, the potatoes, and the cheese. Yes, I said, I wanted the vegetables, the potatoes, and the cheese. I wanted them all on one plate. I made a gesture with my hand, describing a hill or a mountain. A lot of food on one plate.

She nodded and asked me if I wanted cheese on my potatoes.

I said yes, brilliant! The cheese went on top of the potatoes, very good, yes!

When she came back she brought three plates: one with grilled vegetables, one with an enormous amount of fries with cheese on top, and one with little loafs of baked cheese.

I ate all of it except for one eggplant that looked kind of sad for some reason.

the bad road

Then the road changed for the worse. It became a lot more busy with cars and trucks, lots of trucks. There was no shoulder to walk on, and sometimes there was even a guardrail on the side of the road, making the space even smaller. So I squeezed to the side as much as I could.

And I hated it.

pictures

Camp on the patio of the roadside chapel:

The blue string in the fence:

The road to walk from the roadside chapel to Asenovgrad, crossing the village of Topolovo:

The village and the mountains:

Lone horse:

Vineyard:

It says PEACE:

The bad part of the road from the roadside chapel to Asenovgrad:

Memorial to Nejdet and Cezmi:

Whenever a car dies, I am there to collect my trophy:

Enter Asenovgrad:

Bridge across the Chepelare River: