During my many travels – the majority of which have been documented in rather excessive detail here on IgoUgo.com – I have lived in two post-Communist countries: China and Mongolia. Certain members of the Central Committee in Beijing may quibble with my use of the…Read More

During my many travels – the majority of which have been documented in rather excessive detail here on IgoUgo.com – I have lived in two post-Communist countries: China and Mongolia. Certain members of the Central Committee in Beijing may quibble with my use of the prefix 'post', but I think it I am probably on safe ground. I loved both of them for their present-day selves rather than their ideological pasts. I had an absolutely time in both places and truly loved the people in both countries. However, as you may have noticed from many of my other journals, I could never fully quell my interest in their past.

I have always found the Communist era to be tremendously interesting. Obviously, there is a huge historical aspect to this. I find the revolutions that book-ended the era to be fascinating. And, even though it was at times horrific, the history of the era itself is some of the most revealing and moving you could possibly imagine. I am also a huge fan of the design and architecture of the era. Although, if I am honest, I feel the word 'fan' is probably not correct. I think it would be better to say that I find the design to be compelling. For example, I found Sukhbaatar Square in Mongolia almost hypnotic as it strong imposing buildings that could almost define the whole era painted in wonderfully delicate pastel shades.

It is easy to argue that the larger more famous buildings created by Communists have a certain beauty (if not charm). They usually demand respect for their sheer scale and dominance. However, the everyday buildings are often forgotten. In both China and Mongolia I lived in apartment blocks that were built during the Communist era. In both countries there were some distinct similarities. First was the prevalence of cold grey concrete. Second was an abundance of cracks and chips in said concrete. Third was thin windows adorned with dirty and chipped paint. Fourth, and probably most telling, was the blockish lines and complete lack of imagination in their design. They looked like lego bricks – dank, uninspiring lego bricks that no child would wish to play with. However, in both countries, I found that the dour domestic architecture was something to be found predominantly in the city. Once outside, more traditional styles were still on view. In Mongolia it was the ger (a circular felt tent) and in China there were traditional courtyard houses.

When I took a vacation with my girlfriend in her native Bulgaria, I was keen to see if things were the same. I was unsurprised to find that they were. It seemed that despite the geographical differences, the ideological similarities gave birth to architectural ones. When we stayed in the town of Shumen, we stayed with my girlfriend's cousin who lived on the thirteenth floor of a block that was faced in dark grey concrete and which had no architectural lines that strayed even fractionally from the horizontal or vertical. The windows were wooden with chipped paint and one thin pain of glass. The similarities to my time in China and Mongolia were uncanny.

When we stayed with my girlfriend's parents, though, things were different. They lived out in the countryside. This meant that many of the local municipal buildings bore the same unimaginative touches of central design, but that local homes were very different. The disparity between city and country seemed to be the same as in Mongolia or China. Rather than in a dour apartment block, they lived in a two-storey cottage build from hand-made bricks and faced in white paint and climbing vines. The bursts of colour and of personal flair were in such stark contrast to the apartments that were just thirty minutes away.
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My girlfriend's family lives in the small rural village of Stoyan Mihailovskiy in Eastern Bulgaria. It is located about 20km from the city of Shumen and about 70km from the major coastal city of Varna. Therefore, on our trip to visit them, we spent quite…Read More

My girlfriend's family lives in the small rural village of Stoyan Mihailovskiy in Eastern Bulgaria. It is located about 20km from the city of Shumen and about 70km from the major coastal city of Varna. Therefore, on our trip to visit them, we spent quite a bit of time in Shumen, but also wanted to sample the delights of the Black Sea. To do this, we decided to stay in an apartment her uncle owned and rented out to students. As term time had finished it was available and, importantly for us, it was free. However, the last tenants had left it in an appalling state. The floor was dirty, the kitchen ransacked and curtains torn from the walls. Therefore, I declared to my girlfriend that we ought to move on and find another place to stay. She suggested that we head 20km up the coast to the tourist resort Golden Sands.

We arrived in Golden Sands by bus with no reservations and no guidebook to give us tips on where to stay. The bus dropped us off about 2km from the sea-front on top of the hill that descends to the beach. So, as we walked down to the sea, we were searching for hotels at a good price. We found a few, but they seemed rather expensive (80lv) considering they were a good walk from the beach. So, we decided to walk to the promenade and take our chances. This plan did not start particularly well. Firstly, there are not actually not that many hotels on the promenade as it is taken up by restaurants and shops. Secondly, the first hotel we found was the Admiral, the most expensive in town (212lv per night – over 100 Euro). Thankfully, 30m away from the Admiral, not quite on the promenade but still overlooking the seas was the Emra. It proved to be a hit.

Without a reservation in the height of summer we were a little worried that we might have problems. And, we did a little. The receptionist informed us that the only rooms they had were without air-conditioning. However, as they were just 50lv (less than 25 Euro) we decided to chance it. The climate control aside, the room was very good. It was basic and quite small, but it was clean and comfortable. It came with a well-stocked (an reasonably priced mini-bar) and perhaps more importantly a balcony that over-looked the pool and then out onto the beach and the sea. We quickly thought to ourselves that we had enjoyed a stroke of good luck.

The facilities in the hotel were also very good. We absolutely loved the pool. The main swimming area was situated in front of the hotel and was an absolute sun-trap, making it perfect for a bit of sun-bathing. The pool was also very large and well-heated. Around this there were plenty of sun loungers upon which to relax and there was even a gazebo set aside for massages – these cost the rather reasonable price of 30lv for 30 minutes.

The only quibble I would have with the Emra was the food. As we had come at the last minute, the deal we had was for room only. So, we had to pay 6lv each for the buffet breakfast (about 3 Euro). This price was extremely reasonable and the selection was very large. However, I was disappointed by the quality of certain aspects. My girlfriend assured me that the Bulgarian white cheese was excellent., Sadly, I found the sausages and scrambled eggs to be inedible. There was also a rather disappointing selection of cereals and some less than alluring looking fruit that gave the impression it had been there at the previous day';s breakfast. I had to console myself with toast and mildly stale croissant.

For less than 25 Euro at the last minute, the Emra was a fantastic place to stay. The location was fantastic, the room was good and the facilities also very good. I would just go out for breakfast.   Close

I am no great fan of night-clubs, techno music or dancing until the early hours. I much prefer a nice dinner and drinks with friends or my girlfriend. Perhaps it is an age thing, but in recent years my appetite for deafening music, over-priced drinks…Read More

I am no great fan of night-clubs, techno music or dancing until the early hours. I much prefer a nice dinner and drinks with friends or my girlfriend. Perhaps it is an age thing, but in recent years my appetite for deafening music, over-priced drinks and and pulsing lights has decreased considerably from its peak in 1999/2000 when I was 20 years old. Living in the South of France, where good wine and good food abound has also probably hastened this process. However, as my girlfriend and I were on holiday and there was no work to worry about the next day, we thought we may as well enjoy the wonders of a night-out in Shumen.

In my time, I have been out in Beijing and Shanghai in China, Busan and Seoul in Korea and London in the UK. Therefore, I have seen my fair share of pumping bars and clubs – a few duds as well. For example, I was a huge fan of the Hongdae area of Seoul, which was simply full of bars and clubs populated predominantly by Seoul's student population. I was also a massive fan of the Sanliturn area in Beijing, which was always throbbing with westerners and Beijing's English-speaking population. If I am honest, I was not really expecting Shumen to compare too positively with some of the bigger bars and clubs I had seen in bigger and more glamorous cities. However, I found myself pleasantly surprised.

We started our evening at a very relaxed bar named the Arizona lounge. I am not sure where the name came from as there was precious little to suggest anything that would link with the south-west of the US. However, it was pretty good. We seated ourselves on a terrace outside and that was lit by some fantastically chic lamps. My girlfriend and her cousin enjoyed some very well mixed cocktails and I sank two or three cold bottles of cider. It was all rather nice and I was a touch disappointed to leave. However, we needed to move on to something more pulsating. So, we headed for Colloseum.

In general, I am no great fan of themed night-clubs. I find they rarely capture the mood they look for and offer poor entertainment value. For example, 'The Beach' in my hometown of Rotherham had staff wearing grass skirts and tiki torches at the bar, but never managed to convince anyone that it was anywhere except a cold industrial town in the north of England. Therefore, I was not impressed with the name of the place to which we were heading. Thankfully, it was not as bad as I imagined. The designers had not done the theme to death, so it was not too bad. It certainly did not evoke Rome though.

Once we were inside, it proved to not actually too bad. The bar was circular and in the centre of the club. We sat on stools facing it and ordered a bottle of whisky for 40leva (about 20Euros) that came with unlimited mixers. Sitting at the bar and looking cool (as cool as I could muster) was rather good fun. However, dancing was a little more difficult. For some reason, the whole floor of the club was covered in tables and stools – the majority of which were not occupied – leaving very little room to actually dance. This meant it was great to sit with your friends, but there was nowhere to bust any moves (Yes, I am using that phrase ironically). This idea was fair enough, except for the fact that the music was loud, you could not talk to each other. So, we spent two or three hours neither really talking nor dancing.

Enjoyed my night out in Shumen. The Arizona Lounge was fantastic and Colloseum was not at all bad. However, the fact that Colloseum didn't really define what we were supposed to do – should we dance or should we talk? - took a little lustre off the night.   Close

It was a scorchingly hot Wednesday in the Eastern reaches of Bulgaria. My girlfriend and I had spent the previous couple of days at the popular tourist town Golden Sands and had returned to Varna to meet up with her family and spend the afternoon…Read More

It was a scorchingly hot Wednesday in the Eastern reaches of Bulgaria. My girlfriend and I had spent the previous couple of days at the popular tourist town Golden Sands and had returned to Varna to meet up with her family and spend the afternoon at the beach. I had already discovered the previous day that the Black sea was not in-fact Black and was pretty much the same colour as any other sea – The Yellow Sea and Red Sea included. However, I had the discovered it to be rather nice and very much enjoyed catching some sun as it waves lapped against the sand. Therefore, I was keen to enjoy more.

My girlfriend explained to me that we would not go to the central area of Varna because the beach could get very busy during the summer and that because of this it could be rather dirty – apparently the locals were not so concerned about the fate of their garbage as they could be. She added that they preferred an area to the north of the city that was far less busy and much cleaner. When we arrived I began to see how busy Varna can get in the summer because what they considered to be 'less crowded' was still very busy by most standards – I shuddered to think what it would have been like in the centre of the town.

When we had visited Golden Sands the previous day, the beach was flat and white, but covered in the parasols of hotels and beach clubs. We actually found it remarkably difficult to claim ourselves a piece of virgin sand. In the end, we found ourselves closer to the road than to the water. In Varna, it was not quite so bad, but we had step around several towels before we could find some space. However, when we did, it was wonderful. The sand was warm and golden and the sun was beautiful. The beach wa salso pleasantly free of people trying to sell you sunglasses, a massage, a jet-ski ride or Tequila shots as had been the case at Golden Sands.

The one downside to the beach in the north-end of Varna was the absence of facilities. There were no showers, there were no changing rooms and there were few places to get any refreshments. The only place to change was a small metal booth that looked like a 1950s phone-booth and was less than clean. However, we managed to bumble our way through and had a very nice afternoon. I laid on our towel and finished reading Don Delillo's rather disappointing novel White Noise on my Kindle (The digital sleeve notes said 'hilarious'; it wasn't) whilst my girlfriend and her cousin relaxed by floating in the rather clam and very warm water.

Overall, I very much enjoyed my trip to the beach in Varna. It was very nice and extremely clean. Despite the lack of facilities we spent a very enjoyable afternoon.
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There are so many angles from which I could write and article about a night out in Varna that for a good while I was stumped as to how I should approach it. However, after much consideration I figured that I should list all the…Read More

There are so many angles from which I could write and article about a night out in Varna that for a good while I was stumped as to how I should approach it. However, after much consideration I figured that I should list all the things that came to mind and assault the reader with a barrage of information on entertainment in Bulgaria's third largest city.

I thought I would start with the frivolities themselves because, more than anything, Varna proved to be a fantastic place to paint the town red. The major aspect of this is that it is far from terrible to sit in bars or dance in clubs that are situated right on the beach. We began our evening in a lounge bar where we had cocktails on a deck that was built over the shallows of the Black Sea and where we could hear the waves lap onto the beach below us. We then visited a club which had a dance-floor that was built above the beach and from which you could look out at the darkened sea (The Black Sea actually looked black in that situation). We then finished the night by relaxing in large canvas chairs that were situated actually on the sand. It was all rather nice and I had a fantastic time.

The bars themselves are also very and extremely lively. You can tell that not only is Varna a major city, but also a big tourist resort as all the bars are full to the point of bursting. The club we found on the beach was absolutely rammed. There was a bar area that had two long bars at which people could stand and drink and a dance floor that was situated down a light of stairs. It took us a long time to get served as we had to squeeze through the huge throng of people. When we finally got the waitresses attention, we quickly realized that Varna is a big city and tourist resort … the prices. It cost me 8 Bulgarian Leva for a vodka with Coke. This is not so expensive by Western European standards, but was doubler what we had p[aid in Shumen (a smaller Bulgarian city close by). The club was fun, but ultimately, proved a little too crowded and noisy for her. So, I accompanied my girlfriend and her cousin along the beach to the bar in the sand. After the hot and sweaty club it was great to relax with a bottle of beer and the sea breeze.

I must admit that Varna seemed a very fun place to go out, but it made me feel all of my 32 years and maybe even a little more. First of all, the crowd was very young and raucous. The dance-floors were all packed and the music was absolutely throbbing. Second, I found myself baulking at the state of a few of the clubs. This was a combination of the hygiene and the activities inside. The floor of the club we were in was awash with old drinks, broken glass and beer, not to mention sand that had been dragged in from the beach. Several of the clubs also housed foam parties with huge clouds of soap suds filling the dance-floors. In both scenarios, I was worried that my new soft-leather loafers were in serious danger.

Overall, a night out in Varna was a fantastic experience that I enjoyed a lot – even if it made me feel just that little bit too old for my own comfort. You simply cannot beat dancing by the beach. However, I would very much recommend donning appropriate footwear. It was only with the grace of God that my loathers survived.   Close

Ever since I began a life that involved large amounts of travelling and living in foreign countries, I have been fascinated not by the big things that a country has to offer, but by the minutiae of everyday life. This is not to say that…Read More

Ever since I began a life that involved large amounts of travelling and living in foreign countries, I have been fascinated not by the big things that a country has to offer, but by the minutiae of everyday life. This is not to say that I am not interested in grand sights like the Pyramids or The Great Wall, I most certainly am, but I also found the 'mundane' details of everyday life in other countries tremendously fascinating. To employ a tortuously clichéd analogy, I love the detailed strokes of the travellers brush as well as the sweeping colours of a country's canvas. This was the explanation I gave to my girlfriend when she asked me why I was so excited to be taking a bus in Bulgaria. In itself, it was nothing exciting. However, I felt that I was getting in touch with real-life in Eastern Europe.

To perhaps give a little back ground to my love of the everyday moments of other countries, we should perhaps hark back to 2001 when I spent a year studying in the US. Whilst Albany NY was not the most exciting of locales, I found myself obsessed with tiny little details that I felt were quintessentially American: movie stubs, baseball cards, tickets for Greyhound buses. This fascination continued to grow in other countries. I fastidiously saved tickets to football games in Korea. I found myself peeling off interesting looking labels in Mongolia and I saved pretty much every train ticket I ever got in China. Doing everyday stuff in England bored me. That probably explains why I have lived in several different countries. But, doing''normal'. and banal stuff in other countries grips me.

Because of all this, when I got my first chance to ride a bus in Bulgaria I could barely contain my excitement. My girlfriend, her cousin and I would catch one from Varna to the resort of Golden Sands. I am not typically a great bus enthusiast, but I was suddenly so keen to investigate. I was full of questions. Would the bus be new or old? Would it be a single-decker or double-decker? Would it be crowded? Would I get a ticket I could keep as a souvenir (the most important question)? What colour would it be? My head was almost swimming with the possibilities.

As it was, my Bulgarian bus experience was delightfully sedate and proved to be something of a throw-back to the days before digital timetables, automated vending machines and apps that allow you to track your progress along the route. The bus stop at which we waited was a small steel shed with no timetables or maps, not even a sign. The bus, when it arrived, was antiquated but very clean and well-maintained. It was painted a rich green and had a hand-painted sign in the front window. The inside was rather basic. There were no maps and not a single advertisement to be seen. There was also no air-conditioning, which made the journey a little warm. This was countered though by the driver leaving the windows and, at times, even the doors open.

If the bus itself reminded me of a by-gone era the crew did even more so. I use the term 'crew' because there was not just a driver, there was also a conductress. This fostered two types of memories for me. The first was of Britain in the mid-1980s when I used to travel on the bus with my mother and the conductor would give us large yellow tickets. The second was less distant. Both China and Mongolia, many buses were staffed by drivers and conductors (although in China these were beginning to disappear). It appeared the conductor was something of a Communist hangover. Whether the conductors were an echo of a previous ideology or not, I enjoyed seeing them. They tended to be extremely friendly older ladies who seemed to take pride in their jobs and were keen to offer help on destinations and fares (this impression was gleaned from 3 or 4 journeys).

Bus rides in Bulgaria were no great thrill or adventure, but I did enjoy the taste of Bulgarian routine. I still have the ticket in my wallet.
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I arrived in Bulgaria, after travelling through the suburbs of Bucharest and the Romanian countryside. This journey featured quite a bit of beautiful countryside, but also its fair share of shacks, dilapidated apartments and stray dogs. The Romanian side of the border was also rather…Read More

I arrived in Bulgaria, after travelling through the suburbs of Bucharest and the Romanian countryside. This journey featured quite a bit of beautiful countryside, but also its fair share of shacks, dilapidated apartments and stray dogs. The Romanian side of the border was also rather unpleasant. The buildings were collapsing, the concrete was overgrown with weeds and there were stray dogs everywhere. All this, combined with the fact that I was heading to Bulgaria to see my girlfriend's home country, meant that I was always probably going to be more impressed with the Bulgarian side of things than with Romania. However, my pre-conceptions notwithstanding, my initial impressions of Bulgaria were very positive.

Actually, when I discuss my initial impressions, I should probably clarify that I am about to discuss my first afternoon in the country and my journey to my girlfriend's home-town rather than my feelings when I first arrived on Bulgarian soil. This is an important point because the crossing point over the Danube to the city of Russe is not the most glamorous part of the world. The first sight that greets the visitor who passes over the Danube is a large shipping depot that despatches various minerals and rocks onto the river. From there, after passing through the border, it does not get much more glamorous. The town itself seems to be made up entirely of old Communist tower blocks interspersed with modern western European super-markets. There are no great flashes of beauty.

As Russe was not so glamorous, didn't really have any major attractions and was not really on our itinerary, we pushed through at speed before moving out into the Bulgarian countryside. This was where the journey finally began to take shape. Bulgaria is a surprisingly large country that, outside the three or four major cities, is predominantly agricultural - the rise of China has also served to destroy a large chunk of the country's industry. This means that the there is lots of wonderful sweeping countryside. We had only ventured a few meters beyond the outskirts of Russe before the city petered away and we were surrounded by a wondrous expanse of lush greenery.

When describing countryside (countryside anywhere, I am not restricting myself to Bulgaria with this point), it is easy to use terms like 'lush' and 'sweeping'. I have employed them myself on countless occasions. However, in Bulgaria, they seemed to be somewhat lacking. In France or England, if you drive through 'rolling' countryside, it is unlikely that it the greenery will be full and unbroken. There are too many towns and shopping centres to get in the way. In Bulgaria, there were so few cities and buildings it seemed fuller, richer and almost all-encompassing. The road itself felt, at times, like it was a tunnel of green - the trees and hedges at the side of it were unkempt and wild. Beyond these it was green fields and rocky mountains. It was truly beautiful.

Our journey to my girlfriend's home village took about two hours and in that time we passed the cities of Razgrad and Shumen, but aside from that it was pure country. I also noted that it was very different from Romania to the north. Whereas in Romania, even in the countryside, the roads were lined by shacks and small buildings, in Bulgaria the villages were away from the road and immersed in the country. As we drove through Bulgaria I was impressed. I loved the greenery and I loved the space. Whatever I would see in the following days, I was ready for.
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For four years, between 2006 and 2010, I lived in China. I enjoyed my stay in the Middle Kingdom immensely. There were innumerable reasons as to why I loved it so much. There was the fantastic history and culture that seemed to be on show…Read More

For four years, between 2006 and 2010, I lived in China. I enjoyed my stay in the Middle Kingdom immensely. There were innumerable reasons as to why I loved it so much. There was the fantastic history and culture that seemed to be on show at almost every turn. There was the unbelievable growth that you could, quite literally, see taking place around. There was also, of course, the food. I ate so many wonderful and unusual things there. These were some of the major reasons I loved China. However, there was also. One other that played a major role in my love of the country: the cost of living. It was possible to live like a king on a relatively modest outlay.

There are countless examples that I could throw out to illustrate the above point. However, to save time, I will keep it to a mere handful. First of all, I rented an apartment of over 120 square meters for the princely sum of 200USD per month. I would pay 10USD for dinner and consider it expensive. I could take a taxi for over 100 kilometers and pay 20Euro. Naturally, when I moved first to Istanbul and later to Nice, I was close to having a heart-attack at some of the prices. I now pay three times the price for an apartment 25% of the size. A 5km taxi ride from the airport to my apartment costs me 30 Euro. And, if I pay 50Euro for dinner for two, I consider it expensive. When I took my trip to Bulgaria, I could not help but feel like I was back in China. The lingering effects of the Socialist system may have accounted for part of this, but the cost of living also went a long way.

Let me start with a little anecdote that will illustrate this. For the first three days of our trip, my girlfriend and I stayed with her parents in their village in the countryside. After that, we decided to take a trip to the coast and to enjoy the Black Sea city of Varna. Unfortunately, as we left, I forgot to pick up a bag containing all our shoes. So, we arrived in Varna with just the flip-flops we were wearing. These were great for the beach, but not so good for dinner or for bars. So, we headed into the city to do a little shopping. It proved to be an absolute marvel. Suddenly, I was paying Chinese prices again. We visited four or five shoe shops. I bought a pair of leather loafers for around 10 Euros in the second. In the final shop - Paulo Boticelli, which is one of my girlfriend's favourite brands - we got bogged down as my girlfriend and her cousin tried on around 9,000 pairs of shoes (This may be a slight exaggeration, but it felt this way). Finally, she had it down to two pairs. There was much debating. Each pair was tried several times and showcased in front of a mirror. Eventually, as my patience dissipated, I shouted, "How much are they?" To my surprise, the two pairs combined cost less than 25 Euros. I bought both so as to get us out of the shop as quickly as possible.

This little anecdote probably says just as much about me and my girlfriend as it does about Bulgaria. But, I found it a fantastically cheap place to visit. It was cheap to go shopping, it was cheap to eat and cheap to find accommodation. The one caveat I would add here is that this is true for mainly Bulgarain things. If you go shopping, Bulgarian brands are far cheaper than their foreign counterparts, for which you can expect to pay foreign prices. The same is true for food and drink. If you eat in a restaurant that serves Bulgarian food, you can pay less than 20 Euros for a splendid dinner for two. Similarly, a bottle of Bulgarian beer or a shot of local rakia (a strong spirit) will cost around 1 Euro. If you head to a foreign style restaurant or plump for Heineken, Budweiser or imported wine, the prices rise dramatically.

Having visited Bulgaria with my girlfriend, I was lucky enough to be directed to the best Bulgarian places and to enjoy an extremely economical visit.    Close

From January until August 2010, I lived in Turkey. I had made the decision to relocate there from China based on a job opportunity that came up. I had loved my four years in China, so it was a heart-wrenching decision for me to leave.…Read More

From January until August 2010, I lived in Turkey. I had made the decision to relocate there from China based on a job opportunity that came up. I had loved my four years in China, so it was a heart-wrenching decision for me to leave. Unfortunately, things did not work out so well for me in Istanbul on both a personal and professional level. The company I joined failed to live up to the promises they had made when hiring me and, on a personal level, I never really managed to find my niche in Istanbul. Therefore, when another job-opening arose, I was on the first plane out of Ataturk airport.

My sojourn in Turkey was a disappointment in many ways. First of all, it set my career back a good six months and ended up costing me money. Despite getting relocation expenses, it is not cheap to get rid of an apartment with four years accumulated possessions and move across the globe only to do it all again six months later! On a more cultural level though, the rather cynical attitude I developed while I was in Istanbul probably prevented me from enjoying the country and its culture to the fullest. However, when I began to date a girl with Turkish heritage, it gave me an unexpected second chance.

Even when I was in Istanbul, my Turkish language skills were somewhat meagre (in truth, this may have hampered my enjoyment of the country to a degree). However, one word I did know was 'Bayram'. In 2010, this simply meant 'holiday' or a day off work. Whenever I saw it on a calendar, I knew I could relax. This was, though, something of an under-appreciation of the days in question. Bayrams are more than simply a holiday. Rather, they hold cultural and religious significance (That is if you are religious as much of Turkey is secular yet still celebrates the holidays in a vein similar to the way in which many westerners do not really believe in God yet celebrate Christmas).

I got my chance to truly experience a Bayram when I visited my girlfriend's family, who live in Bulgaria. It was a wonderful experience. I was there during Ramazan Bayram, which is celebrated at the end of the Islamic holiday or Ramadan. The majority of my girlfriend's family – the older generations being the exceptions – had not celebrated Ramadan. However, they were all keen to enjoy the holiday. The first thing I noticed about it was the food. It is served in truly immense quantities. For breakfast we had borek a type of pastry with white cheese accompanied by kofte, a type of seasoned meatball. This left me stuffed, but the same dishes continued to be served all day. It reminded me a lot of Turkey at home during Christmas, where for much of the holiday period we eat Turkey for every meal in order to finish the giant bird we purchased for Christmas dinner.

The other main factor to the holiday was people. At home in England I am used to seeing my relatives at Christmas time, but the Turkish seemed to take this to a whole other level. I would imagine that by the end of the first day of the holiday I had met my girlfriend's entire extended family. It was astonishing people just kept arriving to say hello and to wish a happy bayram. It never seemed to stop. The same was true of the food. Each time someone arrived, the kofte was wheeled out and the eating began again.

The bayram I experienced in Bulgaria was fascinating. It gave me a great insight into part of the Turkish experience I had missed in Istanbul. It also gave me an extra two kilos around my waist thanks to the food!   Close

When the epic events of 1989 that were witnessed in Eastern Europe are discussed Bulgaria always seems to fall below the radar. This can probably be attributed to a combination of reasons. The first is that it was one of the last countries to actually…Read More

When the epic events of 1989 that were witnessed in Eastern Europe are discussed Bulgaria always seems to fall below the radar. This can probably be attributed to a combination of reasons. The first is that it was one of the last countries to actually part with its Communist government – East Germany, Czechoslovakia and Poland had all gone before with far greater fanfare. The second is that there was no one great individual who took the lead. Whereas Czechoslovakia had the playwright-cum-dissident Vaclav Havel and Poland had the shipyard worker Lech Walesa, Bulgaria's move away from Communism seemed to lack a face. The third was the lack of violence and upheaval. There were no great protests such as at the shipyards in Gdansk – there were protests, but they were far less gripping or photogenic - and there was no Ceaucescu-style violence. Bulgaria's revolution saw an internal coup within the Communist party as more liberal and reform-minded members took over and transitioned the country to a market economy.

An extension of the rather low-key end to 50 years of Communist rule was the lack of coverage the aftermath of the revolution also received. Whilst cameras from the BBC and major US networks were capturing the harrowing pictures of Romanian orphans or families reuniting in Berlin, there were some rather less than pleasant events taking place in Bulgaria that went almost totally unreported. In 1990, the government began the forced relocation of the Turkish community 'back' to Turkey. I use the word 'back', yet it is something of a misnomer. The vast majority of the group had lived in Bulgaria all their lives and had never even been to Turkey. The history of the ethnic group dates back to the days when Bulgaria was ruled by the Ottomans. As a consequence of the Ottoman occupation, the Turks are not always the most popular nation in Bulgaria and the country celebrates those who won independence rather fervently. There are statues everywhere and Vasil Levski – the leader of the group that fought for independence – has stadiums, roads and sports teams named in his honour.

So, on a wave of new-found nationalism in the early 1990s, the Turkish population was expelled from Bulgaria. This was a move that caused much heart-ache. My girlfriend's family had to leave everything they had and were stripped of all their money when they crossed Bulgaria's southern border into Turkey. The move lasted for two or three years before the Turkish population began to drift back into Bulgaria. Many found that their houses had been looted and their possessi0ons taken – they were also stripped of their money again at the border.

My girlfriend's family lives in the village of Stoyan Mihailovski in eastern Bulgaria about an hour from the Black Sea and close to the city of Shumen. The village is primarily made-up of the Turkish minority. Her family speak only Turkish at home and watch Turkish TV. The Bulgarian language is decidedly conspicuous by its absence. This threw me somewhat as I had been practising some of my Bulgarian phrases, but had little chance to use them. They also eat purely Turkish food, although there is degree of overlap here. The main dish for special occasions is the seasoned meatball known as kofte, which Bulgarians also eat heavily. They have a dish made of white cheese and pastry that they know as borek, but the Bulgarians refer to as barnitza. It is a really rather strange situation, life at home is almost 100% Turkish, yet signs in village are in cyrillic and the school is operated in Bulgarian. My sister's seven year-old nephew has to practice his Bulgarian language skills in order to go to school.

I found it very strange to step out of the little enclave and into Bulgaria as a whole. For starters, I wasn't great with either language, but having to deal with both was very difficult. It was also tremendously interesting to see the change of ethos. Everything at home had a rather insular ethos. The family looked in on itself. Once out into Bulgarian cities this had to change – suddenly language and outlook flicked a switch! Experiencing the Turkish community was unbelievably interesting. It gave me a window onto history and culture of which I was unaware and which was deeply rich.   Close