Bulgarian Trip: Traveling To Sofia

I took a 2 week vacation in Bulgaria in October 2006. Here are my impressions of specific aspects of my trip.

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I flew from Austin to Houston domestically. Then I flew Houston to London and then to Bulgaria. I started around 10am on a Thursday morning Texas time and arrive mid evening Friday Bulgarian time.

I started packing two days before hand. Mostly the bulk stuff: jeans, shirts, shoes, etc. I had to take the extra time to pack the bulk stuff around the gifts. I brought Lili, Lili's mom and grandmother and Lili's friends (by proxy of Lili) about 1/5 of total checked-luggage space. I was later "dinged" (a computer technology term for "accused of making a mistake") for not having brought a heavier jacket to Bulgaria in October. I referenced the gifts to buy myself out of the "ding-ing." Truth makes the best defense.

After I arrived at Austin's international airport, I realized (rather smelled) a mistake I make in the morning. Namely, I forgot to put some deodorant on. After checking my luggage and passing through security, I found a shop and purchased a three ounce deodorant . I can faintly hear the passengers of British Airways saying "thank you!"

The trip on Continental Airlines from Austin from Houston was the usual "up, drinks, trash collection, down" flights.

The trip on British Airways from Houston to London pretty nice. I flew couch so I was pretty impressed as I passed though business class to see those reclining couches. I don't recall flying next to anyone on this flight, definitely wasn't a full flight. I didn't sleep much. Each seat got a nifty little kit of bathroom necessities: hair brush, socks, tooth brush, laundry soap, toothpaste, etc. Though I didn't get to use any of them, it was very nice of British Airways to provide them and I stuck the small, unopened package into my carry on luggage.

As is my preference, I sat next to the windows. It's easier to sleep again the window if the seats don't have the neck/head rest to support sleeping. These chairs did have them, as well as a personal TV monitor above the tray on the seat in front of me. A fair amount of leg room and I didn't get much leg discomfort until just before landing. I intended to get some sleep. They had dimmed the lights and suspend most beverage services. Instead of sleeping, I watched two movies ("Click" and one other that I forget at the moment.) Just as I finally surrendered to sleeping, the "quiet time" was over: lights on , breakfast services, lots of movement.

London Gatwick Airport is a very interesting airport. Since I didn't take the opportunity on the plane to review the layout of the airport, I can only observe from the inside of Gatwick Airport. And, from the inside, wow, what a complex mix. After deboarding, I walk and walk, following the "international departure" signs. Starting with the large crowd, the longer I walked the fewer passengers I walked with. Eventually, I was walking alone through the back hallways of a large airport. My first visit to Gatwick some 10 years ago featured security guards with automatic weapons on display. As I walked purposely, following those "international departure" signs, I half expected to have an armed interruption as I looked for my departure path. Luckily, I didn't have such a problem.

Which brings me to British "Wally." For those in American, picture the guy from "Just Shoot Me". After I finally reach the end of the Gatwick maze, I met Wally. Wally drives the bus between terminals, devoid of some social skills and most personality. Wally is the type of guy that I won't want to meet in a dark alley; not because he would appear dark and threaten but that if he were in the dark alley, it would be for dark and threatening deeds. I was delivered to my terminal without incident.

Deodorant , what is that important you may ask? Well, after spending my $3 for my 3 ounces of deodorant inside the protected areas of the Austin airport, London Gatwick took it way. The "semi-solid" is called a "liquid" by security types and was confiscated as a potential terrorist device. Further more, the nice, unopened bathroom necessities package I had received just hours before from British Airways, also opened and stripped down of anything liquid or pseudo liquid. I predict that air travel in the coming years is going to be a quite ripe affair for long trips. Worth mention is that I had to provide documentation that I had boarding tickets waiting 10 feet on the other side of the check point. While "E-tickets" are of great assistance, security measures are threatening to limit their E-ticket usefulness for international trips with multiple connections. A pound lighter of personal affects, I departed the security check point.

Boarding pass in hand, I headed to the "lobby area" (is there a better name for this? concourse?) to determine what gate I was to depart from. After some 10 hours in the air and a handful more awake, I really wanted to sleep. My eyes burned with fatigue, itching with the warmed air of the full concourse and the 100 departing gates of Gatwick airport. I tried to read my Treo 700 but, nice as the screen is, when tired it's not usable. My eyes teared up and after I couldn't focus out of either eye, I gave up. I tried a sitting sleep but my concern about missing my gate call keep me from really resting. I began watching people.

Airports a great place to people watch. It made more entertaining by being in the altered state of fatigue. I did notice that the "personal space" was much closer than the American Personal Space. Where we in the U.S. enjoy a completely sanitary and fairly unsocial 2 foot personal space, the British and associated international travelers where in the 6 inch area. This closeness didn't pose any issues and only showed up as mild agitation when the "que" of people stopped flowing, usually near the gate screens.

As I sat during my first hour of my three hour lay over, I notice I was sitting next to two nice ladies, busily chatting with each other. Later, after I had given up reading my Treo and one of the ladies had left, the remaining lady asked if I spoke English. The question is odd to me as an American and, because it's odd, it's also kinda sad. The average American (spoking from my limited viewpoint) doesn't speak more than on language generally and thus, the question was new to me. She and I chatted ever so briefly. I was having trouble focusing and probably was dehydrated to boot.

Later, I moved to sit in front of a new area where I could see the departure gate screens easier. As I sat, I noticed a small child trying desperately to entertain himself and to entice entertainment from his mother. There were some amusing noises of frustration and/or appreciation and the impromptu small group sitting at this location smiled warmly. As I sat, an obviously English couple approached me. This elderly couple didn't seem as well oriented as their fellow travels and asked me if I knew where "Gate 10" was. Not knowing the anwser but knowing how to find out, I pointed out the gate signs on the ceiling behind me, including the one for Gate 10. Other than trying to answer the question directly and qualifing it correctly with "...but I could be wrong", the woman of the couple thanked me and they began to move towards their gate. As the elderly gentlemen stepped away, he commented "Very good English!" I chuckled as my (occasional) self-censoring as I thought to myself "I hope so! It's the only language I speak!" I wager some of my Texas draw was present but, having been to my 20 year high school reunion, I know that my elocution is fairly neutral. It was a nice complement to receive in my overly tired state. An hour later my departure gate was posted and moved to the boarding area.

It's interesting to note that Bulgaria is viewed as a "poor country". This came to mind as I went to the gate for my connecting flight on Bulgaria Air. There were four departure gates in a space that might have seen three in the US and two only two. The area was already full of passengers, apparently frequent fliers to Bulgaria that knew which gate would be used. The waiting area was devoid of color, was unfinished or under maintained in some areas and crowded. It wasn't dirty mind you, just no where near as nice and polished a departure gate as any others I had seen so far. I am glad I was attentive to the departure gates out on the concourse because less than 10 minutes after I was sitting at the gate, they began loading.

This was the first flight that I was loaded on to a buss and driving out the plane. Personal space on the bus is mostly suspected.

Once on board and settled, I attempted some sleep. It didn't come easy and not without a cost. I am sure I snored. I abhor my snoring. It happens when I'm sick, tired, dehydrated or fighting an allergy. As often as I fly internationally, I was all of things. After walking myself from sleep twice or three times with my snoring, I gave up. I didn't want my fell passengers on this very full flight and very tight seats to have to suffer with my gurgling, snorting and throaty drowning noises. It was only a three hour(ish) flight so I stuck it out.

Sitting next to the window, the two chairs next my right were occupied by two "Brit.s", going to Bulgaria to scout out business investigate opportunities. The man seemed fairly fixated on locating an under developed nature spring in Bulgaria and to create a resort around it. The magazine in the seat back infront to me had an article that described Bulgaria and Turkey as having a large number of natural mineral springs. The man also seemed to be fairly sweet on his traveling companion, a woman from Malaysia living in London.

She didn't seem to be as fixated on the mineral springs but was looking for a business investment just the same. I rested against the bulk head at the window as I listened to him talking to her about "what she must do" and "should do" as well as some flirty conversation and the occasional "clear miss". He was trying too hard but she kept him honest and light.

As the Bulgaria Air flight attendants came around with meals, the woman, Chooi or Julie (not sure which) make an ill-received request for a vegetarian meal. I don't speak Bulgarian but I did clearly detect mostly astonished response as the flight attendants communicated about the unfulfillable request. Since each packaged meal contained a sandwich and a small vegetable salad, I offered Chooi mine and she offered her sandwich meat in exchange.

Not sure if this meal was dinner or lunch or breakfast and I suppose it didn't matter either. Afterwards Chooi and I talked briefly about reasons for flying to Sofia. After deboarding in Sofia, I didn't see her or her travel companion again.

The new Sofia airport was not opened when I arrived. I could see it out the window as the airplane rolled pasted it to an older terminal. We parked at the terminal and so there was no need for a bus. I was glad. I feel myself very altered and, as much as I wanted to be alert to everything around me, I was slipping my focus.

Much like the extensive security in London Gatwick, I was unprepared for the immigration process in Sofia's airport. I followed the crowed into the passport lines. As I moved up, I noticed a form that non-Bulgarians needed to fill out. This forms states where I intend to stay while in Bulgaria and is required to be filled out within 24 or 48 hours of arrive. Luckily I was tipped off and had the address information in my carry on bag.

A note about my current passport: it's old. Very old. It's nine years old and, nine years ago, I had long hair. Very long hair; about three feet of hair. And I had some rather large glasses. Not too unpleasant an image but that passport photo does not look like me any more. Arriving at the immigration window, I turned over the paper work and passport. It was fairly obvious the passport agent, a dark haired woman in gray and red military uniform, didn't speak much English and very obvious that I spoke no Bulgaria. She looked at my form and and asked "Reason for travels?" I had put down "Vacation" but I should have recalled that the European term is "Holiday", evening if it's vacation. Having gotten that out of the way, she looked at my passport.

There was a notable astonished look on her face and normally this would please me. However, this was someone that could prevent my entry into the country. I resisted a big grin and waited. She requested an additional photo ID of some time to help her reconcile my face to the outdated passport photo. Showing my Texas drivers license took care of that and I was passed through.

Having gotten pass the security check point, I made my way up the ramp to locate my luggage. Unlike other trips to Europe, my luggage had made it all the way here. The secrete seems to be A) don't count on it and B) check it as far as you can and follow up with the ticket agent about contesting departure points.

Luggage in tired hands, I went off to buy whiskey. That's what one does after a long international flight, right? Actually, there were two requests for my visit to Bulgaria: get my broken tooth fixed and purchase some duty free whiskey for a Bulgarian friend of a friend.

After getting the purchased but nearly forgotten bottle into my carry on bag, I went into the crush of people exiting the airport. As I exited the secured area, I faintly heard my name. I turned and, behind a wall of people and noise, Liliana waved energetically to me. I was glad to see her and more glad to hold her in my arms.