It was 4 and half hour drive to Sofia and just after crossing the Bulgarian border we were stopped for speeding by Bulgarian Police who fictitiously claimed we were driving much faster than we actually were and threatened a trip to the local police station where our license would be taken. After spending a lot of time in Moscow and learning from his mate the dodgiest of all Russians, the infamous Vladimir Bosyakov, Dave realised that this was the usual prompt to offer a bribe and asked if there was any possible way of paying ‘a fine’ on the spot with a 10 euro note. The answer was an immediate ‘NO’, but when a 20 euro note was presented, it swiftly became possible and all documents were handed back over for us to head on our way again.
Arriving in Sofia, the country’s Soviet history is apparent in the city’s run down tram networks and communist-styled architecture. As with most Soviet countries, the disparity in wealth is obvious with top of the range sports cars roaring past old Ladas and super chic nightclubs situated only a stone’s throw from dull and run down Soviet housing projects.
Downtown Sofia
We managed to find a good feed at Flannagan’s Irish Pub situated right in the city centre. After finding cheap accommodation, the lads didn’t hang around long and hit the town for the night and found it hard to mingle with the grumpy and ultra-macho Eastern European men and incredibly stuck up but beautiful women dancing to trashy Eurotrash techno music.
DAY 167 ROUTEMAP
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