Like Corn Flakes without Any Flakes

Bus.
Bus.
Train (rescued by Anna- we, our friends and our families will always be indebted to you)
Train.
Sleep on train.
Train.
Sleep on another train.
Coffee/Tea
Info lady answers no to every question we ask…. So we go to the bus info pavilion upon arrival in Burgas, Bulgaria and ask the friendliest-looking woman you have ever seen, “What time does the bus go to Sozopol?”
And her obvious answer…”No” …Okay then
Bus.
Taxi.
Hostel we booked is closed for the season.
Walk.
Guest house.
Beach….aaahhhh. Finally!!

To paint an accurate picture of Sozopol I have to describe a resort town devoid of all resorty/ touristy things. I mean to say that the shops weren’t just closed, they were emptied, all mannequins completely stripped, all merchandise completely removed and almost all windows completely boarded up. With our window shopping plans and dreams smashed to smithereens, your two wayward travelers wandered endlessly in search of life. We eventually spotted our elusive and coveted query in the form of a ramshackle, half plywood building situated beside an obviously well frequented park. It was none other than…a restaurant. Ya we had no idea they would be endangered, nearly extinct, either.
We settled in with our mostly Cyrillic menu and managed to order Greek Salad, chicken soup, some chicken stirfry dish, fries and (after a swing and a miss- we ended up with a wonderful plate of deep fried sardines the first time) a plate of calamari, and a bottle of rose which Shannon and I polished off expertly. All for a measly sum of about $25 Canadian. I heart Bulgaria in the off season.
So bellies full and brains fuzzy (oops!) we headed to, where else but a club. Haha. You see this club was no ordinary club. It was club ENERGY and contained creepy/sleazy sex couches (old white leather with fittingly long red pillows as one of the patrons so graciously demonstrated).
The source of entertainment that did not abandon Sozopol seemed to be a couple memorable characters peppered so few and far between the town. The first a portly looking chef at the restaurant who would inform us he once worked as a cook on a ship based out of Halifax. This was like a perfectly chiseled stud admitting he was a firefighter- it was believable. The second was a bartender at Club Energy. A Mr. Klein, Calvin Klein. Well that is at least what his t-shirt said and since he was not exactly Casper the friendly ghost, the name stuck. My favourite quote from Calvin- “No.” Yes, it would seem Calvin and Miss. Bus Information have been conspiring against us. A man next to us ordered an interesting looking drink prompting Alana to ask what it was. Calvin’s answer: “No”. The man’s answer “I don’t know.” Perhaps energy would return to its estranged club if they invested in conversation. We bumped into Calvin the next day. He pretended to ignore the distinct bond we had created the night before.
The third character ( or characters I should say) was three German students on the beach who were on their way to India. Desperate for outside companionship I pounced on the poor girl when I saw the backpacks. However, conversation was soon to fall short and after a shared hearty laugh when a wasp bite the one guys nipple, we soon parted ways.
And soon after we parted ways with Sozopol as well (it promises to write).