India Part 5 : Lucknow

Cannonball hole inside the British Residency.

Perhaps predictably, I don't manage to catch the 5:50am train from Agra... but in fact, not down to any failing of my own but rather because it is cancelled.  OK, this is not great, I have a hotel booked and paid for in Lucknow, and I know that pretty much every train in India seems to sell out at least a week or so before departure.  Still, I ask at enquiries anyway, the guy there says a train will go from Agra Fort at 7am, and he thinks I will be able to get a ticket.  OK, a quick tuktuk over there, best not to get too annoyed over this, or the way my moving to a crummy hotel near the main station, 'Agra Cantonment', was completely pointless.  But I confess, when the guy at Agra Fort enquiries tells me there is no train I get a little upset.  Fortunately after a few minutes of me wondering what the hell to do, he comes out of the office to tell me that yes, there is a train at 8:30.  OK... off to the ticket office, the guy there denies knowledge of any train... he starts telling me how I can get a fifteen kilometre tuktuk ride to a bus station, then a bus that will take eight hours, but then remembers that in fact, yes there is a train.  The ticket costs a hundred and ten rupees.  Of course, it is a little over an hour late, so really my getting up at the crack of dawn was entirely unnecessary, but it does arrive, and depart with me on it.  Not sure what class these carriages are, I sure don't have a reserved seat, there are four people crammed on each bench, and more are sitting or lying in the luggage racks, though none on the roof that I'm aware of.  Still room for me to stand in a corner, it's only two hundred miles or so to Lucknow, how long can it take?

Substantial ruins of the main residency building.

Well we take our time getting out of Agra... the train keeps stopping, often for fifteen or twenty
minutes, and when it does move it often seems to be little better than walking pace.  My position by the door is not ideal, a bit too close to the toilet, and also people keep wanting to get through the door, despite us not being at a station - hawkers, wanting to sell their chai, samosae or whatever.  I am beckoned to squeeze onto one of the benches, well fair enough, I hug my bag to me and worry about losing my wallet or phone but what can you do.  Everybody seems friendly enough, for all that they have about one word of English ('slow'), between them.  I watch the scenery go past... slowly, endless vistas of fields, small towns, the occasional concrete flyover crossing the railway.  I check my watch, three hours have passed and we've moved, hum, judging from the GPS on my phone, around fifty miles.  Well, my fellow passengers don't seem at all peturbed by this... they pass the time sleeping, chatting, eating peanuts - one passes a few handfuls to me which I happily consume, that and the samosae I had earlier should keep me going.  I can't bring myself just to drop the shells on the floor the way they want me to, they go out the window in the end.  There seems to be some sort of drug ritual going on too, various plastic sachets, bags and cartons are opened to reveal what looks like tobacco, dried mushrooms maybe, a white soapy looking thing, some green leaves, all sorts of stuff, it all gets wadded up and chewed.  I pass, no idea how long this journey is going to take and I'd rather not take any chances.  We do speed up, a little, and the train actually rattles along for fifty more miles in less than two hours, but then we hit the area around Kanpur and it's back to long periods stopped, and the rest of the time trundling along at maybe five miles per hour.  Seems every time another train comes near, going either way, we have to stop - maybe there isn't enough capacity in the overhead electric cables to run more than one engine?  It is excruciating anyway, the hours go by with very little progress, darkness falls and there's no longer even scenery to look at, I wonder if I will ever leave this train.  But it has to end eventually of course... I think I actually fall asleep for a while which helps, and at last, after a journey taking some twelve hours, we arrive at Lucknow - an average speed of less than seventeen miles per hour then.  I can cycle faster than that.  My hotel is of course nowhere near where the map supplied by the booking agency claims, nobody here speaks any English, but I find it somehow - and even a bar...

Tilewali Masjid.

Lucknow then... booking.com says about the place, 'reasons to visit : cleanliness' - well, yes, there are a few hundred square metres in the historic centre where it isn't too bad, there's an amphitheatre, looks like the bottom can be flooded in the style of the Colosseum, next to it an impressive clock tower, it is all quite grand and spacious, and ringed by an array of minarets and onion domes belonging to various temple complexes.  I sit and enjoy a chai, poured into a freshly handmade porcelain cup, it's all rather relaxing, I even seem to have escaped people trying to sell me things, guide me, or just beg from me for the time being.  The rest of the city though?  Yeah, like everywhere else in India I have been, the ground is a morass of rotting garbage and bodily waste, over which throngs of people shuffle along while a chaos of bikes, rickshaws and tuktuks swirl around them, somehow managing to avoid hitting the pedestrians, or indeed the cows that stand here and there, nuzzling through the heaps of detritus.  So, anything else worth seeing here?  Sure - I make my way over to the British Residency complex for a bit of colonial history.  This was once a substantial set of palatial houses, walled off from the city on a small hill by the river, where various British and European military officers, traders and so forth lived back in the day, as the Empire consolidated its control over this part of the world.  Then the residency was attacked and besieged during the mutiny of 1857 - or the First War of Independence as the modern signs have it, many buildings were destroyed and all badly damaged, and nowadays it is preserved as a kind of archaeological park.  Fascinating to walk around the ruins, the marks of bullets and cannonballs still visible on many of the walls.  I'm picturing a Carry On style party of aristocrats keeping their upper lips stiff while the cannons roar, but a visit to the more or less levelled church and its cemetery brings home the grim reality.  Seems quite small, but many of the monuments are very substantial, then I read a few inscriptions and realise each marks the grave of a few officers and several hundred men, apparently the dead came so fast they had time only to dig pits and throw them in.  Goodness knows how many of the 'mutineers' were killed.  Being here, and being a Brit, I can't help but think about the history my country shares with this part of the world.  Did my forbears make things worse, or better?  Honestly, I find myself imagining the feted British Raj as something like a bird, perched on one of the elephants they have here - on top for a while perhaps, but hardly affecting the course of the juggernaut below...

A selection of Lucknow landmarks.

Photos to go with this post can be found here.

India Part 4 - Agra

Sweet, unobstructed pavement.

My second experience of Indian Railways doesn't go quite so well, the train seems to spend quite a long time stopped, and is ninety minutes late when we finally get to Agra, not ideal given this means it is now past 11pm.  Well, still plenty of tuktuks about, in fact I splash out on a taxi, does mean my plan of finding a bar is out though.  In fact this was a doomed plan, Agra does not really have any bars... lots of sweet shops mind you, I think that being the location of the country's number one historic Islamic site means the muslim influence is strong on whatever passes for the licensing authority around here.  Well, my hotel is willing to sell me cans to drink in my room, a little galling to pay two hundred rupees - two pounds fifty or so - for what is basically a can of special brew but what can you do.  On the plus side, Agra has quite a few streets that aren't in fact that bad to walk along, there are actual pavements, it is bliss.  I do get a little blasé and step in some of the ever present poo, maybe from a monkey, ah well.  Wonder if there is anything to see here then?  Oh yes, the aforementioned Islamic heritage site... well first of all I take a detour into the 'nature walk', well worth a hundred rupees, I stroll through the trees, birds sing, there are peacocks wandering about and here and there a view of that... heritage site... rising above the forest.  I feel the stress of the last week or so, the slow ratcheting of tension with every blaring horn, every motorbike wooshing past me as it rides on the wrong side of the road, every guy trying to sell me stuff... slowly slipping away, for a time at least.

OK, not the most original photo I have ever taken.

So, the Taj Mahal then.  Yes, it is pretty awesome... as a foreigner, I do have to pay some twenty times as much as the locals to get in, it does at least let me jump the queues, and there is much to see.  As well as the mausoleum you see in pictures on the wall of Indian restaurants worldwide, there are huge walls, gardens, a mosque, and a couple of buildings which a sign assures me are not 'Naubat Khanas', that is 'drum houses', but full scale replicas built as part of the complex.  Just getting up close to the mausoleum itself is worth the entry fee, it is an amazing thing, a vast jewel of white marble, totally out of scale with mere human beings.  We do get to go inside, it isn't very exciting to be honest, a dark, vaulted space, and despite signs telling us to be quiet and not to photograph anything, the place is full of a cacophony of whistles and shouts, and most of the illumination comes from mobile phones, all running camera apps as far as I can see.  I reserve my photography for outside, just a pity one of the minarets is covered in scaffolding... it occurs to me that if I could get the other side of the river I'd have a very nice view of it, that minaret would be hidden, and there'd be no crowds either, so off I walk.  Turns out you can walk across the railway bridge from Agra Fort station which helps, then I get down to the riverside, dodging the community there who seem to have a thriving business washing clothes in the river, I guess they probably come out a bit cleaner at least.  I walk past some groups of men playing cards, through banks of sand with sparkling grains of quartz in them, would be pretty were it not for the ever present rubbish strewn around, and am just getting opposite the Taj when a middle aged lady with a stick says to me 'go back, please'.  Hmm, is she planning to bathe?  I slowly get the feeling she's in fact saying, 'go back, police', and sure enough a chap in... brown clothes turns up.  Doesn't look much like a police uniform but I'm not going to argue, he leads me straight away from the river and sure enough there is extensive barbed wire and even a couple of watch towers, go on then.  They probably need to work on the way this can all be completely bypassed by walking along the river...

I think these posts mark the boundary of the bit I wasn't meant to go into.

My train away from Agra departs at a less than ideal 6am, so I check out of my hotel near the Taj, and head off to one near the station... the only one I could find on the internet anywhere near, it had, um, mixed reviews.  Sure enough I get into my room, and note that somebody has dumped a condom and its wrapper in the toilet, and the sheets don't seem to have been cleaned, ew.  Well, after some nagging they change them, and on the plus side here in the low rent district I can get a can of Kingfisher Strong - 'the king of good times' - for a mere one hundred and twenty rupees, bargain.  After checking in (so much filling in of forms), I have time to head to the other main attraction of Agra, yes it's another fort, just like the one in Delhi known as the Red Fort, and indeed it is of similar design, unsurprising as I gather both were built at around the same time under orders from the same Mughal Emperor.  It is very splendid anyway, with great views along the river to the Taj... I notice that here, the buildings built by the British have been removed, the only evidence I spot is a sign explaining how once there was a lot more construction here from Mughal times, but much of it was demolished by the East India company to make room for barracks, oops.  Well then, time to get back to the hotel, I drink some of that beer and grab some paneer masala with interesting layered bread from a nearby street eatery - they have the cricket on I see, Indian TV is odd, takes me a while to figure out it is in fact Indian since much of it is in English, and also the people on the screen with their pale skin and anglo features look nothing like the faces I see around me, weird.  And then, an early night, hopefully I can succeed in catching that train tomorrow...

Inside the fort.

Photos to go with this post can be found here.

India Part 3 - Jaipur

Nahargahr Fort looming over the city.

City number two then.  Given it's nearly 9pm I go with the tuktuk option to get to my hotel, it goes fine, barring the difficulty of persuading the driver that no, I really don't want him to come back tomorrow and spend the day driving me about.  Hotel is nice, luxurious even, and I guess I'm here in time to find a bar - this proves hard.  After much wandering I discover one lurking up a flight of stairs, makes me wonder if there's some local law about having them at street level - turns out there is a nice public bar in my hotel's basement.  Walking around Jaipur is perhaps a little better than Delhi, and at least my hotel is on an actual, quiet, street, still it's pretty bad.  And the number of animals here!  Cows of course, feral dogs and families of pigs wander about, goats and sheep stick close to their owners' doors, oxen, horses, camels, and elephants are all in use as beasts of burden, and there are monkeys everywhere... It all adds to the general theme of bodily waste - I swear my nostrils are actually sore from the amount of ammonia in the air.  One good thing, Jaipur is small enough that I can walk right out and up one of the surrounding hills, where I find Nahargahr Fort, a huge place of course, covering the whole hilltop, with fantastic views of the city.  I spend some time looking at the well preserved palace complex, then walk along the seemingly endless battlements, then keep walking out into the hills.

Nahargahr interior.

So nice to be out of the city, though I still have to fend off the odd tuktuk driver slowing down to call out 'where you go?'. Well, I follow the road for a while, then find a well used path downhill to meet a large lake I spotted from the fort.  Seemingly floating on it is the Lal Mahal, that is water palace, actually built on a small island on what is in fact an artificial lake.  It's most picturesque anyway.  There certainly is a lot to see here in Jaipur, not least the ornate centre, this is the famous pink city, well it's more a sort of reddish brown to be honest.  Still, the numerous broad, porticoed streets are quite impressive, and the city palace I pay to get into is certainly grand, though I'm not sure it was worth five hundred Rupees.  Rather cheaper (i.e. free) is the monkey temple, home to a thousand or so of the things apparently, well hardly surprising if they are going to keep feeding them.

The Lal Mahal.

Last day, and given my palace ticket is a 'composite' one giving entry to various things I attempt to get value from it.  First some more cenotaphs, I saw the Maharanis' yesterday, today the Maharajahs', both quite impressive, the queens' tending to 'lots of small ones'.  Then off into the hills once more, no time to walk but the tuktuk is cheap enough, time to see the Amber Palace, another huge edifice built half way up a hill, really it is reminiscent of fantasy novels where some great city is described as built by giants, or an elder race of men.  Of course in reality this was built by order of an autocrat with an awful lot of artisans to command... Anyway, up the hill I go, then realise I've lost my ticket, oops, down the hill and it is sitting where I exited the tuktuk, yay.  Or not... I get back up the hill and they say, no this ticket is no good.  Not for this palace.  This is a ticket that has the words 'All palaces' and 'Amber' on it, but they're not going with it... can't decide if it is a scam or just poor advertising and general incompetence, still they do say it will get me into the fort up the top of the hill.  More schlepping up then, with all my stuff on my back, well good exercise I guess, and I am sure that I am totally fine to make my train which leaves in, mm, two hours or so.

One recently painted building showing why it is called the Pink City.

As it turns out the fort is well well worth the climb, for the stunning view if nothing else.  You can see all the way back to the Lal Mahal from here, there is an interesting cannon foundry, still with the huge, oxen powered drill they used for reaming out the barrels in what looks like working order.  Many battlements to walk along of course, a garden suspended high above the valleys below, and another palatial interior, and then a slight drawback as I emerge from a different exit compared to the one I came in, ah well there are tuktuks here too.  Of course they want four times as much to take me back into town as what I paid to get here, well, I haggle it down to a mere two and a half times as much, go me.  Well, gets me to the train station in plenty of time anyway, time to grab some snack food before the train goes - I get a samosa, and what seem to basically be curry pies.  They are yummy.  And the train, this time with comfy seats, leaves a mere ten minutes late... again, there are no people sat on the roof that I can see.

Photos to go with this post can be found here.

India Part 2 - More Delhi

The Old Fort - yes, also huge.

My last full day here arrives too soon, still, time to visit the Akshardham Temple complex, which is, once again, vast.  Is it worth the serious queueing required to get through security?  Yeah... a shame I can't take my camera in though, much is worth recording, for instance the one hundred and forty-eight life size sculpted elephants.  Including, seven-trunked elephant deity rises from the waves as gods and demons play tug o' war with a giant snake.  Oh yes.

I escaped the crowds!

One more metro journey and I walk past the Old Fort, as big as the red one by the looks if it, don't really have time to go in even if I could find the entrance.  Then to India Gate, monument to this
countries fallen in the First World War, and also the Third Anglo-Afghan War.  What is it about Afghanistan?  Oh, and yes it is massive.  Also only visible from a distance, the surrounding parkland being closed in preparation for the Republic Day festivities a few days from now.  I'm walking through the government district now, which is rather different to the rest of the city.  There are actual pavements, and even traffic lights here, and signs warn of penalties for sounding your horn - wish they had them near my hotel.  Heading north from here, I reach the centre of the city, Connaught Square, actually a (massive of course) circle, the surrounding streets seeming for all the world to be extensions of London's Regent Street brought halfway around the world.  The park in the centre is, again, shut off for Republic Day, so I head off to my hotel, only a mile or so away, the gleaming white colonnades end after a few hundred metres, and I'm back in Delhi again, it's dark, I have to risk life and limb walking along the street amidst the rickshaws and it smells of wee...

The abandoned theatre.

Last day here, and after checking out of my (perfectly decent, though the room was a bit pokey)
hotel, I feel the need to get away from the crowds, so despite having all my stuff on my back I wander into a very extensive urban forest / park not far away.  It seems deserted after the busy streets. I do see the odd person, and also some peacocks... also the occasional bit of building poking through the undergrowth, I don't think this has always been forest - in fact at one point, feeling rather like an explorer coming across the remains of some Inca city, I discover a huge, decaying open air theatre.  I am sure there is a good reason for this.  Then it's time to head to the train station, sigh, this is really not a good place to be a pedestrian, it's not just the huge number of people but also the way you pretty much have to walk in the road, often there's no pavement, instead cars, bikes, piles of rubble right up to the surrounding buildings, but even when there is one it's generally covered with wares spilling out of the shops.  I often have to halt for some time waiting for what seems a safe time to brave the insane traffic, any gap rapidly filled by horn tooting motorcycles, or locals who, for all that they often walk with glacial slowness, seem largely happy to barge past me and out into the flow.

Monkeys!

I still get to the station in plenty of time, and my second class ticket turns out to be the highest class on the train, so right at the front (Indian railways seem to have at least eight classes, and few trains have the nominal first it seems).  Despite this being a daytime train it's a sleeper carriage, and in fact many of my fellow passengers climb up on the beds, well it is a five hour trip.  I look out of the window while the light lasts, it takes a long while to get out of Delhi, we pass people wandering around on the tracks, children playing, tiny roughly built brick shacks edging right up to the sleepers.  Then two hundred miles or so of North India, plenty of farmland, plenty of towns too, many of them odd looking places, a seemingly haphazard jumble of buildings sat on expanses of dirt and rubble, nothing like roads to be seen.  Plenty of half finished high rise blocks too, often looking like they're in the middle of nowhere - planned housing for the country's teeming millions I guess.  The sun sets, a chap comes round taking orders for food, don't know what it will be but I go for it - turns out to be a veg thali of course, would probably be nicer if it was warm.  The guy in the opposite seat, nice fellow who must be some kind of high powered businessman given he is taking this train, then straightaway flying to Singapore, tells me 'this is how we live here'.  He also says the trains here are still the way the British left them in the fifties - wish we in Britain could say the same I answer!  By way of demonstration the train arrives pretty much on time at my next city, Jaipur, more about which to come.

Photos to go with this post can be found here.

India Part 1 - Delhi

I'm off again!  This time, my travels have taken me to India, a country so huge that even in the three or four weeks I have here I will only be able to see a tiny portion of it.  Alas, my visa only lasts for a month so that that will have to do... should be interesting anyway, I have an itinerary involving at least seven cities, my mode of transport for this adventure being the train - which according to my research is genuinely a good way to travel here, and does not involve an entire village of people sat on the roof of each carriage at all.

The Lotus Temple.

First stop then, the capital, New Delhi.  Or if you prefer, Delhi - they seem to basically be the same place.  And wow, what a place it is... not to everyone's taste I suspect, there are a few negative aspects which I should mention.  The sheer number of people here is just astonishing, the streets and alleys around my hotel constantly throng with people, in a way that reminds me of football matches in England back in the days of terracing, and there is another similarity too - the frequent, acrid whiff of urine.  Some of this seems to be down to public urinals with broken plumbing, but it seems many of the locals are happy to just go in the street, as it were.  At least they manage to hold it in on the metro - an experience in itself, seems to be as crowded as rush hour London Underground at all times, well I've coped with that.  But... people here just don't seem to have any concept of personal space, happy to push and elbow their way past, or just squash themselves against you.  Queues - of which there are very many - are the worst, and often involve shuffling along for twenty minutes with some guy's belly, or worse, shoved into my back.  It is of course a pickpocket's paradise, I take care to only carry what cash I plan on spending, in a zipped pocket - I still catch one guy unzipping it!

Krishna, having left one of the girls in charge of

controlling London, battles a many headed sea-snake.

Why ever come here then?  Well the food is good, I could, and indeed do, eat curry every day.  Seems all the bars and restaurants have live music too, often as many as ten people on stage, half being the band, the rest singers who each take their turn.  For authentic local cuisine though street food is the way to go, I get a fine veg thali for all of one hundred and ten Rupees - maybe one pound fifty.  No sign of the Delhi belly yet...  Of course I am here to see the sights, of which there are many, far more in this one city than I have time for in fact.  I do my best, there are of course temples, such as the beautiful, modern Lotus Baha'i Temple, set in immaculate gardens that contrast with the rather scruffy park next door.  The other side of which I find another temple, the ISKCON - why yes, it's the Hare Krishna people.  Like everything in Delhi it seems, it is huge, and very ornate, I am taken by the gallery featuring a series of pictures of the blue skinned, effeminate Krishna hanging out with his entourage of hot babes. On the opposite wall are a series of photos of the faith's other temples around the world, each with an - often bizarre - epithet, presumably referencing Krishna again, apparently he 'seduced the love god cupid' and is 'the controller of London'.

The Red Fort.  Really, really big.

Next day, to the Red Fort, definitely an all day thing, the sheer size of this place beggars belief.  I guess it is reminiscent of Carcassonne, but while that is a walled town, albeit with big walls, this is more like a castle built by aliens who got the scale wrong.  I could spend all day just wandering the vast interior, but there are a lot of things to see too, palatial buildings in their own right, mostly these date from the days of the Mughal Emperors, though a substantial number, sadly looking a little worse for wear, are from the British Raj period.  One of these contains a museum dedicated to India's struggle for independence, where I stroll somewhat nervously past lists of massacres committed by British forces, and even dioramas of ranks of red, or later khaki coated soldiers shooting at the natives.  Well, all friends now eh?  Well certainly everybody wants to be my friend, plenty want to ask where I'm from, shake hands, even pose for photos - just a shame it is hard to tell the genuinely friendly from those trying to get me onto their rickshaw, or engage their services as a guide.  Maybe with practice...

Inside the Fort.

Photos to go with this post can be found here.

Back to Bulgaria - Part 2

It's Christmas!

Christmas Day (Eastern Orthodox at least), and after a coffee or two with Chris I'm off, turns out to be easy enough to get to Borovets by public transport, metro to Joliot Curie station, walk to the nearby Southern Bus Station, and then a bus to Samokov.  Why there is this second bus station, pretty much just serving Samokov as far as I can tell, I don't know.  It's an hours drive to Samokov, the fare being a whole six Lev (around three pounds), and then another bus to Borovets, this only takes twenty minutes or so and costs a whopping one Lev thirty.  Plenty of time to settle into my hotel - sort of, turns out it is full, but this just means I get a perfectly nice, and thank goodness warm, room in the hotel next door.  Also a free glass of wine every night as compensation :)  Turns out just to be me for dinner tonight, and it is quite a feast, borscht, cured meat and cheese, burgers with salad, and some rather tasty biscuits.  Things go downhill when I go to pick up my skis though - a school party is there, I don't see any option but to wait for them to finish before I can get served - in the end this takes nearly two hours.  Still, just time for a beer or two before bed, in an apres ski bar where they are doing that 'hammer a nail into a log' game.  And why not.

Skiing along, in a winter wonderland.

I survive the threatened minus twenty overnight temperature, consume toast, coffee and more biscuits for breakfast, and walk uphill to the slopes.  It's good, there sure is a lot of snow, and I pretty much have enough layers on to cope with the cold.  There are only twenty or so runs here, but they are very long - the one gondola covers over four kilometres, and climbs over a thousand metres of altitude!  So while I do end up doing the same runs quite a few times, it isn't too repetitive.  Mostly we are talking reds, with a few blues and blacks too, and on one side a long green crossing back and forth, pretty good for me then.  There is also the very, very long Musala pathway coming down from the top of the gondola, which is a lovely run through the trees, though a bit flat in places.  In fact most of the runs here are through pine forest, very pretty at the moment with all the snow.

Looking North towards Sofia and Mount Vitosha.

After that first night the food sadly goes a bit downhill, as per my blog from four years ago, we get a buffet, and the idea of keeping the food warm still hasn't caught on it seems.  Nor is the food itself very special, we get chicken nuggets, pizza and burgers - well, I guess given it cost something like two pounds a night I can hardly complain.  One evening at least there are some rather tasty stuffed vine leaves, and generally the soup is fine.  Oh and all you can eat biscuits and / or cake, so I am happy.  Of course there is plenty of beer to be had here too, I frequent Bobby's bar up near the slopes, three Lev fifty for a half litre of Kamenitsa can not be sneezed at.

At the highest point.

There really is a lot of snow here - I can ski all the way down to my hotel, on the roads, just a shame about the walk back up.  Also, while I try to avoid skiing over gravel, at one point I hit a kerb crossing a road which gouges a large chunk out of the ski, hopefully the hire place won't mind.  More snow comes down most days, in fact on the Tuesday it snows so hard that I give up on the skiing after an hour or two.  Then on Wednesday there are strong winds, so much that many of the chairs, and the upper half of the gondola, are shut, which does make for a few queues at those lifts that remain open.  But after that the weather clears up, and on the last day there are even blue skies, and that wind has blown the snow off the trees making the place look very green.  It really is a beautiful resort here, particularly the wooded lower slopes, and many of the hotels are pleasantly built too, a far cry from the concrete monstrosities that seem to fill many French resorts.  So yeah, this was all good fun, good to get a proper week of skiing in, and I manage not to injure myself.  The hire shop does indeed not notice any damage I've done to the skis, and somehow I get through the journey back to England - this involves four buses and a metro journey in Bulgaria, the plane of course, and then a coach and train in the UK.  Phew...

Photos to go with this post can be found here.

Back to Bulgaria - Part 1

With Lenin!

Well, seems it has been a little while since I wrote anything here, I guess post Rio I haven't done anything that exciting - a couple of months lazing around on Tenerife, then back to the UK for a family Christmas. All fun but not really worth blogging about. I'll be off on another adventure at some point, honest, but first a small taster, back to Bulgaria for a week or so.

First off, a day of wandering around Sofia, and this time I have brought my camera! On the minus side it is absolutely perishing, extreme weather has hit central Europe, and daytime temperatures plunge to minus ten and below. Locals are photographing the snow, I go for the various local landmarks, the Banya Bashi Mosque and surrounding hot springs, and numerous Roman remains - since I was last here, a really substantial bit of Roman street and surrounding buildings have been covered by a glass roof, ideal for this weather.

Banya Bashi Mosque - means 'many baths'.

I finally make it to the Museum of Socialist Art, is it worth it? Yeah, I would say so, most cool to see the massive statues of Lenin et al, and the selection of portraits and so forth inside are interesting too. I also liked the fifteen minutes of so of propaganda films, mostly featuring former leader Georgi Dimitrov, including his embalmed body being laid to rest in a mausoleum - and then, as a finale, footage of the mausoleum being blown up! Apparently they unceremoniously cremated his body as well.

So cold.

Much eating ensues - I've persuaded my mate Chris to come along, and we go for Italian food near the museum, there still seem to be Christmas decorations here. Then we remember that Eastern Orthodox Christianity uses a different calendar, a quick check and it turns out to be Christmas Eve! Apparently local custom is to eat a large vegetarian meal, featuring an odd number of courses... well, being foreigners we stick to meat, more of which, and much beer, arrives that evening at the cheap and cheerful Happy Bar and Grill. Well, this was all good fun, if cold. And tomorrow, I'm off to Borovets, a hundred kilometres or so to the south, for skiing - should be plenty of snow at least!

Roman street, complete with plumbing and sewer.

Photos to go with this post can be found here.