On the road to Sofia

I had not left Skopje for two days before I apparently stood out to some guy living with his wife in the Macedonian countryside. Well, I suppose I stand out after all, it’s not quite everyday you see someone just passing through with some overly loaded bike, laundry drying out and the whole circus accompanied with a plush touring donkey.

After demonstrating to him my mastery of the Macedonian language through my now well-practised hand gestures and Russian-English-Spanish mashup, he promptly invited me to drink a coffee or two. They had this marvellous house, which might not seem much to some but which gave away a warm feeling of life and home. The garden extended a vine-covered terrace and offered an overview of a large mix of tomatoes, paprika, onions and other tasty looking vegetables. The smiling pair poured me some of the dark mixture as we were engaging in discussion. After all, it only took me 5 minutes to properly explain I was traveling in bicycle across the world. And another 5 minutes for me to understand they were asking for my age and if my family wasn’t too worried for me?

I simply answered that my mother is really nice, she worries enough for two so I wouldn’t have to. And by the time our discussion came to an end and I was ready to hop back onto my steed, they insisted on providing me with a large sample of their garden.

I gladly accepted their generous offer only to find myself at night, tent pitched, blankly staring at the most un-pasta-ish things I’ve had to cook in a long time. Now what do I do? As you maybe know, I’m the worst cook you’ve ever met. Actually, some late night discussion with one of my hostel friend led me to believe I might not be. My new friend told me about someone confusing sugar for salt. The debate is still open, but as I lacked sugar anyway and managed not only to not poison myself, but also to have a proper meal out of these, I’ll say I didn’t do so bad after all.

The trip in itself from Skopje to Sofia felt remarkably fleeting, with barely five days passing from start to finish. But despite its short span, the trip brought with it the last “high” passes I’d have to climb (as I’m aware at the moment, at any rate). Upon my arrival to Sofia and during my check-in to the hostel however, I have to sadly declare that Mia was savagely attacked by some frenzied kitty. Seems like an active kitty gang is roaming around.

Overall, the city of Sofia felt richer and more welcoming than any other city I’ve been to recently. It is amazing how the different layers of history pile up around the city centre, from the old Roman empire littering the underground with its baths and ruins to the different churches and buildings standing as cornerstones to the city core. Then on top of all that the relatively new buildings where the government sieged during the USSR period now stand starkly over a large avenue, ominously towering over the passing cars and tourist herds. But it’s all right now, those figures of communism have now been turned to shopping malls and luxury hotels and casino. Thank capitalism for that.

I am now writing this from the hostel which I’m staying at. A friend sent a package from Paris to it and I’m stranded here waiting for it, while it makes its painstakingly slow way from France in the hands of the no-so-competent French post office. But rejoice, it should be arriving three days ago! After all, this unexpected pause gives me time to visit the city ever more thoroughly, have a proper rest and dig into the various projects which kept occupying my mind during my bike rides.

With love,

Mia & Chloé