Muratova Lake, a different view from usual.
Muratova, summer and autumn, mixed seasons.
Rybko Lake, extraordinary because of weather issues. A grey day turned out to be ideal.
Above Rybko Lake on the way to a third lake with an unpronounceable name.
Strolling on Kutelo Peak and ridge. 3rd highest point in Bulgaria, 20 feet less than number 2, 60 feet less than number 1.
A little intimacy on the cliffs, after a long way down from Kutelo Peak.
Bezbog Hut (first hike).
Below Bezbog Peak.
The view from Vihren and Kutelo Peaks; mountains, ridges and towns below.
Jen stands on Vihren Peak.
Here comes Jenni, bottom of Bezbog peak.
Bezbog Hut (second hike), a favorite spot.
Cheers,
Jenni and Jeffrey
Walking back from Bezbog hut under the non-working ski-lift on the day.
We have often wondered about the concept of putting the cart before the horse but never on the side. In the scene above, which we witnessed on the way down the other day, we also wondered whether the horse was drawing the truck or the other way around. Could the truck be considered a horse of another color...blue? Life can be awfully confusing. When we passed the odd couple, we noticed the horse was covered in flies. We then realized 'there were no flies on the horse' would not make much sense which at the time reminded us about not having the cake and eating it. This really has been a puzzle. We've always elected not to have the cake but preferring the right to eat it. Ownership makes no sense. Is this kosher? We mean the concept, not the cake. Life on the mountains is becoming extremely complicated. Why did we ever leave the simple and calm cities? Makes you wonder, rather than wander.
Each day or rather most days, when we are through having fun on the mountains, including the occasional stress and strain, we return to the apartment and carry on with different facets of life. Recently, for an eleven-day period, we hired accommodation in the town of Razlog, just outside Bansko, in what appeared to be a time-share complex. Not that the legal structure impacts us in any way. The units are lovely relative to local standards with few occupants during the week. On weekends, we had two during our visit, the place fills and notwithstanding the chilly conditions, many take to the swimming pool, while we seek hot showers. We do enjoy a swim but not during early winter in the mountains. Mid-winter, yes.
We enjoyed the stay very much and can't say we wanted to leave (actually, can say we did not want to leave). To the contrary, we were below the glorious Mount Vihren and its sisters and brothers. What a family! If we had the financial resources and were a little crazier, we might adopt them. Talking of crazy—what an interesting concept. We've thought about it quite a lot over the years especially when Jenni wanted to do what seemed like ridiculous things while I preferred to sit around, read a book and sip a glass of 'cheap red wine'. The latter is also a piece of music written and sung by the inimitable Brian Murray, a good friend. Where was I? I must be going crazy. Aha!
We discovered that 'crazy' is relative.(Relatives are also crazy although not all). A person who does one thing stranger than yourself, most of us consider that person crazy. We think if people weren't crazy, life would be extremely boring. Mind you, the wine industry would benefit. With this in mind, we think one should strive to be crazy without being crazy-stupid. There we go again—it's our 'relative'. Let's move on to the real purpose of this communication.
Actually, it's a story of communication and bridging the gap between people of different languages and cultures. At the apartments, they offer a breakfast. It's probably one of the most diverse and splendid menus we've seen. Unfortunately, it's wasted on us but who says one cannot admire it. They also offer a weekend buffet which is very well attended. During the week the dining area is empty. We visit it when our hiking schedule allows—on days we don't need an early start or while waiting for better weather. On bad weather days, they have to 'boot' us out by noon.
The other day we asked for hard-boiled eggs. The order baffled the young waitress in charge. She was charming with a delightful smile but had little understanding of English. Now that we speak eleven languages, we thought we'd sail through the language barrier. Alas, we forgot about Bulgarian. Da! We tried to explain, draw shapes in the air but to no avail. We called for a pen and paper and Jen drew the shapes. Easy enough but meaningless. Well, that left egg on my face but unfortunately, none on the paper. She took out her phone but we still made no progress. I thought we might use the translator to interpret but she had other ideas. Then she called an English speaker on the phone who asked whether we wanted the eggs cooked. Progress at last. However, by 'cooked' what did she mean? Fried, poached, scrambled?
Our waitress returned from the kitchen, again with a phone, and I spoke with another local who asked where I wanted to take the food. I'm pleased we were not talking about 'coal' or else I might have been tempted to offer a smart (stupid) answer. Fortunately, whatever answer I offered, and be assured it probably wasn't that smart, it seemed to work. Our waitress returned to the kitchen while we filled our cups with another hot beverage and waited. What would she return with? Hopefully, not 'pigs ears' which seemed to be a dominant delicacy on the menu.
As we began our third cup of tea and coffee, she returned with two small dishes, two 'yaitza' in each. If they were soft, when we broke the shells, we'd surely enjoy another surprise.
The weather had since cleared and we set off for Pirin Park, this time with eggs where they should be; we had doubled our vocabulary and we hoped we'd made a new friend. Yaitze anyone?
'The End...at last'.
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