Travelling to Sozopol by bus from Sofia give me a window to Bulgaria’s landscape in June, as we crossed though the flat parched landscape along the motorway. The fields were crammed with tall, smiling sunflowers, each straining in the same direction towards the sun. In the distance were hazy blue rolling hills as the bus made it’s way south towards the Black Sea.
Arriving in Sofia, the capital of Bulgaria during a red warning heat wave was not quite what I’d anticipated. Leaving SE Asia after a number of years of intense heat and humidity I was seeking some respite. I sort of found it….no humidity. Even in the heat wave it was definitely bearable to be out and about no matter what time of the day. The temperature actually dropped at night to make sleeping possible.
Travel fatigue crept up on me and forced me to slow down so I chose Sozopol on The Bulgarian Black Sea Coast to gather my thoughts and reflect and plan. I’ve spent many relaxing hours listening to the sounds of the sea and watching it’s every movement. Not one is the same as the last. It’s always moving, always evolving.
My greatest love about travelling is always about connecting with the local people and the generosity and sincerity shown to a complete stranger. I’ve experienced this so many times in Bulgaria in the short time I’ve been here.
Market people watching in the mornings, I occasional hang out at Nu Nu Nini’s Coffee Time a corner cafe opposite the outside market of the famous daily Chiang Mai Market by the south gate of the moat at Chiang Mai Gate. The outside morning market selling clothes is all packed up before the day starts to get really hot and humid. So by 10.30am it’s empty. So I sit there and just watch people getting on with life. Sometimes it rains, sometimes it’s sunny but mainly it’s overcast.
Siem Reap, the place I left 10 months ago, which I called home on and off for 2 years, has changed. I recently return for a short 7 days. Walking across the tarmac after exiting the plane, I breathed in the air and I was reminded once again of the unique smell the town has. Or maybe it was because we’d just missed one of the torrential down pours now the rainy season has started. The air had been cooled and the humidity dropped. By the time I’d got through visa application, where they tried to offload me with change in torn dollar notes, (bills to those of you who are American!) which aren’t legal tender in Cambodia, through customs, collected my luggage, handed in the numerous forms filled out on the plane, it was time to find my tuk tuk driver, the humidity had risen again.