21st June 2009 

Roger and I flew from Luton to Sofia to visit my step-brother David, who lives in a tiny Bulgarian village called Ritya. Just a couple of weeks prior, they’d been burgled, so I was carrying five CCTV cameras in my luggage. Our flight landed at midnight, and by 1:00 a.m., we’d collected the hire car (the airport was pretty quiet at that hour).

I only had a 1-inch to 13-mile map, and Ritya wasn’t on it, just the nearest town. I asked the Hertz agent for directions to Varna, but on receiving his wisdom, I suspected he was wrong, and he was! I figured ‘Centrum’ meant the city centre, which was in the opposite direction to where we needed to go. Two petrol station stops later, we finally found the right road.

Some 220 kilometres on, we arrived in the ancient town of Sevlievo around 4:30 a.m. I phoned David, who said he’d meet us in the town square. Unfortunately, we couldn’t find the square, and, unknown to us, his car had broken down. He was still at home, attempting to fix it. After a few more phone calls and a temporary repair, he finally met us outside a supermarket. It had been quite the journey.

David warned us that the road to the village was rough. He wasn’t kidding. The first 28 km was a mad track with a rippled surface, overgrown bushes, and bends that seemed to defy physics. Eventually, we turned off onto what I thought was a very rough driveway; it was the road to the village. After 1.5 km, a few ramshackle buildings appeared in our headlights. We had arrived. Exhausted, we had a coffee and crept off to bed.

Waking to a bright, sunny morning, I looked through the bedroom window and saw we were in a truly beautiful, remote spot. The village had only twelve houses, and just two were occupied. Across the cart track lived a British English teacher called Mark. The rest of the houses were derelict or rarely used. Judging by their size and quality, Ritya had been quite a prosperous community 20–30 years ago, but most homes now were in a sorry state.

David’s house had already been renovated by its previous British owner and was lovely, though he was doing quite a bit of “major remodelling” (his words). There were just three dim streetlights, giving the place an eerie feel at night. No mains water, each house has a well. The nearest rubbish bin was a 25-minute drive away. If you want peace, quiet, and isolation, this is it. David and Genya had no TV or radio; the outside world doesn’t intrude unless you make the effort to let it in. Shopping was a 30–40 minute drive along nearly deserted roads.

I thought I’d hate the place. I was wrong.

Luckily, we had a working car, and over the next few days, it proved invaluable. We helped with gardening, renovations, and general lifting and fetching. David eventually got his car running, but it was far from reliable. On our second day, due to a painful tooth, we drove Genya to the dentist in Dryanovo, a 45-minute journey. On another trip, we tried to get a part for the pool pump in a nearby town, but had no luck, and there was no interest from the shop in ordering one.

Roger and I helped however we could, digging, planting, and identifying trees. One night I even cooked dinner and fixed their ailing computer. It seems Genya hadn’t done much cooking in the past, as they usually ate out or got takeaways. Meals were plain but generous, and Genya was keen to learn a few tips from Roger and me.

Every day we lunched at a different restaurant. All but one were excellent, particularly the prices!

David and Genya seem to be thriving in their isolated haven. They love the peace and work extremely hard (Genya, in particular, is a whirlwind, reminding me very much of Sue!). Despite their remote lifestyle, they run their UK business from there. With internet access and constant phone calls, they manage to juggle work and physical labour without missing a beat. They’re up at 7 a.m. and in bed by midnight. Despite the fierce heat, they barely pause to rest. Roger and I worked alongside them and loved it. I genuinely began to fall for the place.

One day, the milkman’s son came to help lay the patio floor, having bunked off school to do so. Genya was quite annoyed. Frustratingly, he played loud music from a radio, which felt completely out of place in such a tranquil setting.

We did fit in some sightseeing, visiting a castle, monastery, cave, and a typical Bulgarian village, plus a trek through a gorge. Over the week, it became clear that David and Genya knew quite a few locals and fellow expats. One Bulgarian neighbour, who tended bees, sold us honey when we popped by.

Though they live in near-total isolation, technology connects them to the world. Still, they’ve managed to build a quiet life for themselves, far from the pressure of modern living in the UK. They genuinely seem to love it and each other. I admire what they’ve done.

Sadly, our visit had to end. We left Ritya at midnight and had a smooth drive back to Sofia (bar one police stop to check papers). Our flight was on time, and I slept most of the way. By 2:00 p.m., I was back in Harborough.

I’m already looking forward to going back in October.