Sitting in Burgas Airport.
I’ma going home and that consisted of taking my car out Turkey… so I longed out my journey and I had to drive to Bulgaria to have my car parked up in a little village house. The house of an in-law. In order to keep the expenses to a minimum I had drive alone along the border and go all the way to Burgas on my own. The journey was about 260 miles and my car had problems.
May I also point out I tanned in the car, I was wearing a shirt and tanned through the shirt. Now I know why the truck drivers are so dark. I have never tanned so quickly on the beach.
I have spent 1 day here in Bulgaria and now I want to travel the world because of it. I now have another city in the bag.
When I left I thought there would be women hungry truck drivers, snakes foxes and aggressive drivers but all I have come across is the snakes the rest was just a fear that had been drummed in to me by judgemental people that know nothing about Bulgaria, its roads or its people.
When I arrived at the border a few eyebrows were lifted at the sight of a woman driving across on her own. The Turkish side told me I need to pay for insurance and road tax and told me I couldn’t wait on at the border. I played the naïve girl a little and told them my car was troubled and I was waiting for company to join me but they were late. That’s life, being late is an everyone’s thing these days. They understood.
The young 16-year-old son of the family that meet me at the border was the typical adolescent. He had little to say, respected good driving, admired cars and liked ice cream. So we had ice cream, spoke about the car and enjoyed the drive, little was said otherwise.
Back in London
Coming back here felt really weird, the traffic seemed, the faces and cloths were unfamiliar, and money didn’t feel right or weigh the same in my hand. When I first landed the cold breeze of the semi summer we are having in London struck my bare skin with a bit of a shock. I had gone from 38°C to 17°C and that was not nice.