Turkey: hard to get to, that's a fact!

"I wish I was the brakeman
On a hurtling fevered train
Crashing headlong into the heartland
Like a cannon in the rain
With the beating of the sleepers
And the burning of the coal
Counting the towns flashing by
In a night that's full of soul..."
- The Waterboys

I hesitate to document this leg of my journey since it was very uncomfortable and very frustrating. But it may be important to remember that travel is not always glamorous. Also, the tests and hardships really help us appreciate the good times.

So after checking out of the luxury suite for 5 € in Sofia at noon, I took advantage of their free reservations room to find train times to Edirne, Turkey where I had two nights with a couch-surfer planned already. I had a lot of trouble pre-planning this leg of travel since the Bulgarian info is completely impossible to understand and even google had trouble translating the page. It's about 6 hours by car, so I was already disappointed that I'd get there in the dark. Hıtch-hıke? But I dıdn't have a tent lıke my glory days of travel ın New Zealand and Australıa, and hıtchıng ın the dark ıs never a great ıdea.

A Bulgarian helped me, and discovered only one train, leaving at 7 pm and arriving at 3 am. Only one?! And what would I do in Edirne at 3 am? So I tried to get creative, and found a train leaving in about an hour to Plavdev, half way across Bulgaria; then a tight half hour later connection from there to the border town of Svelingrad. I figured that from there I could get a bus across the border, hopefully. I  rushed to search for other options but didn't come up with anything. For some reason buses didn't cross my mind, who knows why not.  Now I had about 40 minutes to catch the train to Plavdev. So I asked the reception to exchange $1 into leve so I could buy a tram ticket, and rushed out to catch the tram. Two went by before I reached the stop, then there were none. I got to the station with about 8 minutes to spare when I found out that they only take cash, and only Bulgarian cash. So I ran to a shady exchange booth and changed €20 and ran back to the ticket window where there were now 4 people in line. 4 minutes left. The ticket woman saw my panicked look and told the others to move over so I could finish my transaction (well, that's what I imagined she said.) She sold me the ticket but looked very skeptical. 2 minutes. She couldn't tell me the track #... find it on the board! Of course the board was in Cyrillic. No time to decipher it. How many options could there be? With 0 minutes remaining, I approached several options underground. Think, thınk! Ok, there's a couple running, just follow them! As they loaded their luggage into the train already whistling its warning, I yelled, panting: Plavdev?? They shook their heads. Despair and defeat. Then I heard them saying "da, da!" and motioning me to pass up my giant pack to them. Wow, the head-shake-yes almost foiled me again. The train was moving when I struggled onto it. Phew.

I crossed the Danube from the North to Sofıa, then South East to Plovdıv, then East to the border town of Svılengrad

I sat across from a clean cut, well dressed guy reading a newspaper with pictures of naked women on it, and sitting with his approximately 8 year old son. The son was much more interested in my iPod as I thumb typed my blog, than the girly pictures his dad waved around. They too were getting out in Plavdev. I got there before dark a couple hours later, but a bit behind schedule, making my next connection tight (of course!) After more language struggles,I was shocked that my ticket was only about $4 for a four hour ride to Svelingrad, just across the border from Edirne, Turkey. After more panicked scrambling and running back and forth between the ticket window and an info window where one girl spoke a little english, I deciphered the Cyrillic, amazed that I could starting learning a new alphabet using only train schedules.

All the scrambling was pointless this time since the train was late. This train was new and fancy. It reminded me of a Toronto Go train. Fighting extreme exhaustion, I tried to give my attention to a young Bulgarian university student, fluent in Italian apparently, who struggled painfully to tell me about the history of the towns we passed. It dawned on me that yawning in 30 second intervals may appear rude, so my face flushed and eyes watered as I strained to hold them back. Just before he exited, he said, with much difficulty, that I would have to switch to a bus then a train again. Then he was gone. What?! How? When? I finally found a Turkish girl who spoke English well, and she explained that there's a rail problem and so we'd need a stretch on a bus to go around it. She wasn't concerned. Just follow everyone else she said.

Eventually the train stopped, but "everyone else" got off into the darkness of some remote Bulgarian stop and dispersed in all directions, some of them climbing over tracks and between box cars! I followed the Turkish girl and there indeed was a coach waiting for us. We packed it full, and commenced a frightening drive, careening around steep one lane roads through the black countryside. I wanted to sleep out of self defense, but my neighbour aggressively kept trying to communicate with me, with his 10 English and maybe 30 German word vocabulary. Then he called his daughter so I could talk to her in English, about nothing, really. After a couple smoking stops and a couple hours, we all got off and again we had the challenge of finding the train. It was getting pretty late and I now realized that I was already a couple hours behind schedule. This was starting to feel like one of those nightmares when you just can't seem to get to where you want to go and waking up would be such a relief. But this was real, and sleeping would be such a relief now.

I sat with the Turkish girl on the train and told her my "plan", that I would seek a bus in Svelingrad, or perhaps a hotel, since it now looked like we'd get there near midnight. So much for my creative plan to arrive in Edirne way before 3 am. She said she would offer me a place but that her Muslim mom might freak out.

The Svelingrad station, where no one appeared to work, was quite remote. I found a restaurant/pub nearby. When I crashed in clumsily dragging my pack with a big Canadian flag on it, the whole place seemed to stop, with everyone staring. I couldn't distinguish a waiter or waitress. Everyone was sitting, nibbling, drinking and smoking. I stood in the middle for an awkward while, until a group finally asked me to join them: a group of 4 police officers. Two spoke some English. They helped me find some dishes without meat in them, and I found out that the actual town is about 10 kms away. So much for finding a hotel.  One happy shockıng surprıse, a delıcıous green salad! Yum.

The train was supposed to come around 1:30 am, and I realized this was now the direct train from Sofia that I disregarded so many hours ago because I thought it would get in too late! It would have been so much less of a nightmare. I could be on that traın rıght now sleepıng, cozy... Back at the abandoned station there was now an older Turkish couple waiting for the same train. I finally fell asleep across a few grungy chairs, untıl a border guard woke me with some urgency. I collected my stuff and darted out towards the tracks in a panic. Three guards where waiting there, smoking and now laughing, then they disappeared. A lame practical joke I guess.

The station, including the ticket window, was still abandoned except for me and the Turkish couple. How was I supposed to get a ticket? I finally fell asleep again. Some time later I was shaken awake by a border guard. At first I was completely disoriented. I dıdn't know where I was, what room, what country?! But then I heard a train whistle. I remembered that I needed to catch a traın somewhere. I dragged myself and my stuff outside into the chilly night and stood with the Turks and the guard as the train pulled up, and conscıousness slowly flowed back ınto my braın. Suddenly it dawned on me that I don't have a ticket! I mentioned this to a guard. He said I couldn't get on without one! I said I'd been trying to buy one all night. He said keep trying: go back in, and hurry, and bang on the ticket window as loud as you can!

- to be continued -


(comıng up: dıscrımınatıon agaınst Canadıans?)