17th October 2013

David returned from Gabrovo with grim news: the car was very sick. He didn’t think it’d make it back to Ritya and Crassy’s garage couldn’t get the part until tomorrow. Undeterred, he limped into Dryanovo to see if the garage there could save us from car purgatory. They promised the part by 2 pm, so David booked in, absolutely convinced this would solve everything. I, on the other hand, entertained the possibility of total automotive failure and got him to ring the local taxi firm to see if they could do an airport run tonight. They could. Our fate would be decided that afternoon.

Until 1:30 pm, David helped me build the rockery for Genya. Stones, pot plants, and all. Then he left with the car, fingers crossed, and I finished up, took Banjo for a little trot, and then spent some time fixing the Sony Vaio, which had gone internet-deaf. After uploading some photos, I settled in for a power nap but woke up hours later with David still not back. Worrying.

At 4 pm, he finally returned. The part had been fitted, contacts cleaned, and it was supposedly running better, though the engine light was still glaring at him, and the “lumpiness” persisted. After some consideration, we decided it wasn’t worth the risk and booked the taxi. What a load off my mind!

Spirits lifted, Banjo, David, and I set out for a pleasant walk through some unexplored woods.

Around 7 pm, we drove to Dryanovo for our ‘last supper’ together, and right on cue, the car died on us. The taxi, it seemed, was indeed the best decision of the day. We waited a few minutes, managed to coax it back to life, and made it to the bar. On the drive back, the car failed again, as if to say, “Told you so!”

David decided to watch a film while I opted for a pre-travel nap, with Banjo curled up beside me. The taxi was due at 11:30 pm, and I woke at 11 pm to the delightful sound of a thunderstorm. After bidding a bleary farewell to David and Banjo, I walked down to the village and huddled under a barn roof to wait. The taxi arrived on time, and the driver, who spoke no English, turned out to be chatty. Very chatty.

The three-hour drive turned into a bit of an epic. Torrential rain and gale-force winds whipped through the countryside. As we entered the main Varna-to-Sofia motorway, we went into a full 360-degree spin on the leaves scattered across the carriageway. By some miracle, we kept going in the right direction. Fallen trees and debris lay scattered like an obstacle course, and we passed several unlucky drivers stranded on the roadside, looking soaked and defeated. We saw maybe two lorries and one car still mobile on the whole route, which told me that Bulgarian drivers must have better sense when it comes to weather warnings.

Arriving at Sofia airport in one piece, rain still hammering down, I grabbed a seat at the entrance and waited for the check-in desk to open. Flying with Wizzair, I needed to check in and collect a physical ticket. Annoyingly, David’s printer ink had dried up, naturally, so no DIY e-ticket. After queuing for the privilege (and paying an 8-lev fee), I finally settled into departures and passed the time people-watching. It appeared I was likely the only Brit on the plane.

Our 5:30 am flight took off on time and immediately went into one of the choppiest rides I’ve had in years. Europe, it seemed, was sharing Bulgaria’s storms, EEC perks, I suppose. I managed to sleep most of the way, and we touched down without too much drama. Customs was a breeze, and after picking up my train ticket, I hopped on the shuttle bus to the station. Within minutes, I was on the train, continuing this blog post.

Sue was waiting at the station to pick me up, and I was greeted with a plate of English baked beans on toast, a taste of home that put the whole ordeal to rest. Now, the only thing left to worry about is whether my car will start!