Eastern Europe · Bulgaria

Hi there, I'm looking for a friendly person who knows about the capabilities of donkeys/mules and horses for long-term, round-the-clock travel. (I already do this, but with a donkey that's far from indestructible)

I struggle to assess the potential of some equines, so I'd like someone at least somewhat competent in this area whom I can contact from time to time to share photos of animals I'm considering buying.

I'm not in France, I don't plan to return, and I often come across charlatans who'd sell their animals to anyone for a few good bills... But that's not my case—I'm primarily looking for a female donkey or a mule (my sweetheart isn’t a big fan of horses), and as a last resort, a mare strong and enduring enough to carry me in the mountains, meaning a constant load of about 80kg: - Me: 60/65kg - Saddle: 2/4kg - 8/10L of water - A rope: 800g

Based on what I've read online and advice from people, I understand the load should represent a maximum of 15/20% of the animal's weight or at least 1.40m at the withers? Mules would be ideal for me, but they sell out VERY quickly, so I never get a chance to find one... (I always leave a safety margin with the equines I meet to ensure their spine doesn’t get damaged over time)

Anyway, advice won’t be much help because I don’t want to make this decision ALONE when buying this female, to ensure I choose a relatively indestructible creature.

I’ve been visiting long and short ears for a year now, but I still haven’t found the right fit out of concern for her, which is why someone who stays in my contacts to help me make the final decision would be more than welcome :)

Thanks for your attention, hope to hear from you soon!

Hi there, We’re planning a 3-week trip in late September with our camper van to explore Bulgaria and Romania. What routes would you recommend, starting from the South? Is there an option to take a ferry in Italy, and is it worth it? Thanks for all your tips!😊

September 2017. I’m setting off on a journey from the Atlantic to the Black Sea—entirely by TRAIN—crossing Switzerland, Austria, Slovenia, Serbia, and Bulgaria all the way to Varna. I leave the house, walk briskly for half an hour to the station. Haven’t carried a backpack in years. I arrive at the station drenched in sweat. It’s a scorching late summer. My T-shirt is soaked. First minor challenge, first thought: travel is discomfort. You have to put yourself in a state of discomfort, accept it, and move beyond it. My T-shirt will dry on me—portable, self-contained heating at a steady 37°C.



Departure on the Ouigo from Rennes station, arriving in Massy 1.5 hours later. And then the rush toward the exit. In a frantic rhythm, hundreds of passengers trample in the same direction like a single organism, as if driven by some urgency. The human snake with things to do. Meanwhile, the metal snake that teleported us here continues on its infinite path, perched on its two rails. At the station exit, ticket machines for the RER are under siege, lines stretching outside the building. I watch for a moment, then... veer off toward a café 200 meters away. A guy at the entrance greets me at the top of the stairs with humor. I stir my espresso and think how hot it is to be setting off on a trip—especially since I’m heading toward Southern Europe. Then comes a thought, maybe cliché but fitting: if you wait for ideal conditions to act, to leave, to do, you might wait forever.



PARIS, youth hostel at 8 Jules Ferry Street, 21 € for a bed in a dorm. Unbeatable price for sleeping in the capital. Friendly welcome and a nice neighborhood near République. They don’t ask for a hostel federation card. Paris is as beautiful as ever—and as polluted. My eyes and throat sting a little. I buy a ukulele (the reason for this stop in Paris), using my backpack as a case. First notes strummed in the empty hostel room. We’ll end up being four people sleeping here, mostly in their thirties or older. In the evening, I have a Grimp on the terrace of a nearby café. After a day of carrying my backpack in the heat, the first sips of cold beer are pure bliss. The window stays wide open all night because of the heat, to let in a little air. Feels like sleeping right on the boulevard, with motorcycles and cars passing all night long.



TGV from Paris to Strasbourg. The sound of the train is smooth and soft, almost nonexistent. I think to myself that the TGV is already a thing of the past—a time when we believed abolishing time would mean abolishing finitude, when in reality it only erased life. A time when we believed in the rise of a single, affluent upper-middle class with access to immediacy in a world of efficiency, profit, cleanliness, straight lines, no sweat, no dust. I think speed is part of the past. When you go fast, you rush, you’re never where you are—always just ahead, never here and now. Speed is a rejection of life, a sick movement, an illusion of power and joy. No yawning, no breathing, no dozing, no thinking. Speed abolishes time and space. People get sucked in. Quick, into the vacuum—never inspired, no time. Aspiration versus inspiration. A battle between unreal times (past and future) and the only real time: the present.





Second night. Youth hostel in Lucerne, Switzerland. Tough end to the day—tired, starting to get blisters. Lucerne, with its charms and hordes of tourists, wears me out. With my blisters, I drag myself to the station, buy some Asian takeaway, and wait for the bus to escape to the hostel. There, three massive Russian-speaking guys chat and down beers around a table on the terrace by the entrance. I sit a little apart. The Swiss hostel is twice as expensive as the one in Paris. The common areas are spacious, but the rooms are cramped and lack a sink. The opposite of the Parisian hostel, where the common spaces were minimal but the room was spacious and had a sink. I share the small room with two students from Singapore. Lights go out around 10 PM, but in the hallway, a group of overexcited girls from the next room scream, laugh, slam doors, and keep coming and going for over an hour. The next day, I’d find the girls’ bathroom floor covered in chips.



Day three. Departure from Lucerne station in the morning, change in Zurich, heading to Villach in Austria near the Slovenian border. The train is slow, skirting a large lake with mountains where rocks jut out by the water. The view through the window is soothing. The sounds of the train are pleasant. In front of me, two women speak softly while eating Swiss crackers. Then the train speeds up as we leave the lakeside. I decide to get off at Wörgl, a small station surrounded by mountains, instead of continuing to Salzburg. The train I take in Wörgl looks like our TER. Not many people, just three small carriages, well-balanced air conditioning. Good call: this little train winds through the Austrian mountains. It stops often, but the scenery is beautiful, and I’m in no hurry. Typical little villages, chalets on the mountainside, coniferous forests. To be honest, after a while, I get a bit tired of these endless valleys. Lack of perspective and distant views.





Villach. A pleasant town with a well-maintained old pedestrian center and its old bridge spanning the Drava. I arrive in the early evening. After a good walk, I pass through a mixed zone (industrial and sports) and find the youth hostel 2–3 km from the station. 25 € a night, but the hostel is "full," and of course, I haven’t booked. I never book in advance or use a phone to navigate. I prefer to improvise and ask for directions. I head back to the city center and find a room for 76 € in a three-star hotel. The guy at reception, very kind, looks like he stepped out of a comic book—a short, chubby guy with a serene face and voice. He’s not rushed at all, takes his time, which is really nice. The room isn’t great in terms of essentials, but a lot of effort (finishes, furniture) has gone into matching the hotel’s standards. No free space, window overlooking a narrow courtyard (smell of cooking in the morning), and a small, not-very-firm bed. Bathroom’s fine, and there’s a big screen (one channel in French). In the morning, a free breakfast with an incredibly varied spread—salty and sweet, meats, cooked dishes, pastries, dried fruits, cereals... Sitting with me in the room are mostly couples in their sixties.



Departure from Villach station. Train at 12:53 PM to Ljubljana. 17 €. Quite an old train, compartments with six seats, some patched up. I share a compartment with a very nice Croatian woman around 35. We start chatting, and I explain the nature of my trip. I also tell her about my first big train trip in Asia, which piques her interest, and she asks me quite a few questions. She’s seen documentaries about trains in Russia or India, and I give her a firsthand account from "reality." Her English is a bit better than mine, but we’re more or less on the same level, which I think helps the conversation flow and last. You could almost say we meet while traveling not because of shared interests but because our language levels match!





Ljubljana. No idea what this city looks like. I quickly checked a few forums and was expecting a somewhat dreary big city, pollution... Not at all. After a few minutes’ walk from the station, I enter a pedestrian and tourist area with beautiful, well-maintained, colorful buildings. The city seems immediately very pleasant, everything within reach. At the tourist office, I grab a map and see there’s no shortage of hostels. I find one in the city center in a large old building, with big rooms that haven’t been renovated in decades. 15 € a night. Ljubljana is actually a charming little city, touristy, with a completely pedestrianized center. Prices are already a bit lower than in big French cities. Example prices: 6 € for a large, very filling plate of excellent falafel, hummus, fries, and raw veggies; 2.5 € for a half-pint on a terrace in the city center; 1.50 € for a lungo coffee; 60 cents for a kind of jam-filled bread. In the narrow streets, you come across lots of bikes that seem to rule here. Pedestrians have to move aside. I reach a pedestrian crossing—maybe the only street in the city center open to cars. I’m about to cross (against the light for pedestrians), but a young Slovenian woman warns me in English; she says I could get fined for that.



The next day, it’s raining. During a break in the clouds, I manage to have breakfast on a terrace. I find a slightly more expensive hostel (21 €) but with nice common areas. A smaller room but better designed, with a locker for securing your bag. It’s going to rain all morning. I head up to the castle—a walk that, besides getting the legs moving, offers a great view of Ljubljana rather than the castle itself. Midday. It’s raining, so I eat a plate of fish with potatoes cooked by a street vendor at a market, sheltered by a flimsy umbrella. Not many people at the market brave the rain. But I’m loving it. The vendor, very Slavic-looking, corrects my attempt to say "thank you" in Slovenian ("hvala"). A few minutes’ walk away, I reach Ljubljana’s big park. You quickly arrive after a small climb into wild forest—seemingly not maintained at all. And we’re only 1 or 2 km from the tourist office! My feet are soaked—damn shoes that were supposed to be waterproof!

More travels and train sounds on my site crilef.free.fr and also crilef.fr

Hi there. First, please excuse the dry nature of my post—I’m going to talk about insurance and credit cards!

I’m renting a car in Bulgaria using my "Gold Mastercard." I know the benefits, and in this case, I don’t need to take out additional insurance from the rental company.

However, the assistance booklet states: "The insurer cannot, under any circumstances, reimburse the insured for the amount of the CDW (Collision Damage Waiver) or LDW (Loss Damage Waiver) insurance paid to the rental company if the insured forgot to decline it or if it’s automatically included in a package the insured accepted."

The issue is that when I look at different rental companies, it’s often specified that "insurance is included" (non-declinable because it’s part of the package), and I’m worried there might be some minimal CDW or LDW coverage that would prevent my Gold Mastercard coverage from applying if needed.

Since it’s difficult to contact or communicate with rental companies (most bookings are made online) and Mastercard’s responses are pretty vague, I’m turning to you all for help.

Here are my questions: - How can I be sure the rental company’s insurance doesn’t include CDW or LDW? - Do you know of any rental companies where this is clearly stated? - Does Gold Mastercard coverage work with local agencies? - Is it possible for a rental company to refuse Gold Mastercard coverage?

I assume travelers who can answer have already had this experience.

Thanks in advance for your help.

Hi everyone, In mid-July 2025, we were lucky enough to spend about ten days in Bulgaria. We did a 10-day road trip exploring this beautiful and underrated Balkan country! Since planning a trip isn’t always easy, we’re sharing our original itinerary (different from the "classic" loop offered by travel agencies) and our feedback on the various places we visited. With a few photos to illustrate each day, we hope to wow you 🙂 and, most importantly, inspire you to visit Bulgaria! Here’s our loop itinerary starting from Sofia (a varied program that allowed us to enjoy some summer swimming on the beaches of the Black Sea): Day 1 - The Rila Monastery, Bulgaria’s emblem Day 2 - The picturesque village of Koprivshtitsa, the Russian Church of Shipka, and the listed village of Bozhentsi



Day 3 - The small town of Tryavna and Sozopol, a little gem on the Bulgarian coast



Day 4 - Sinemorets and the wild Veleka beach, the stunning Silistar beach, and the small port of Ahtopol

Hi everyone,

So, I’m heading to Bulgaria this September. I’ll be based in Varna and plan to rent a car for a few days. I don’t know Bulgaria at all, so I’ve got everything to learn about this country.

I’m an amateur photographer, so I’d love to take some great landscape shots (sea or mountains) as well as photos of picturesque little villages... I’m open to all kinds of tips, and thanks in advance for reading!

Best regards, Patrice

Hi there,

This summer, we’re heading to Bulgaria as a family (2 adults and 2 kids aged 15 and 12). Our flights and rental car are already booked, and our accommodations are pre-reserved (cancellable). Just so you know, we prefer nature over cities for our vacations.

I’d love your thoughts on our itinerary—specifically, any interesting sites, hikes, or nature activities you’d recommend. - Day 1: Arrival in Sofia at 11 PM - Day 2: Sofia - Day 3: Drive to Veliko Tarnovo, overnight there - Day 4: Drive to the Black Sea (we were supposed to go to Varna, but our booking was canceled) - Days 5–8: We were planning to stay in Varna and visit Balchik and Nesebar. But since our accommodation fell through, we’re wondering if we should spend only 2 nights in Varna and 3 in Nesebar instead. What do you think? - Day 9: Drive to Sinemorets - Days 10–11: Sinemorets, Strandja (3 nights in Sinemorets) - Days 12–13: Plovdiv - Days 14–16: Rhodopes, staying in Yagodina for 3 nights - Day 17: Melnik - Days 18–20: Bansko (Bansko Jazz Fest, hikes) - Day 21: Rila Monastery, then overnight in Sapareva Banya - Day 22: Seven Rila Lakes hike - Day 23: Return to Sofia and fly home

Does this route feel balanced, or too rushed? What do you think are the must-see spots along the way?

Thanks! PM

Hi there, In spring 2023, I headed to Romania by motorcycle. I’ve been going there for over 20 years—by car, bike, and plane—and I’ve really fallen for this country. I feel so at home there. The big difference this time? I had all the time in the world, no constraints at all.

I left the Paris region (IDF) and headed for the Sundgau, avoiding the motorways. I know a little hotel tucked away in the countryside there. The next day, I followed the Swiss border on a small road along the Lucelle River, which acts as the frontier. Around a bend, you cross to the other side and then back into France—kind of fun.



I crossed Switzerland via the motorway—I know the route well, so no sightseeing. I arrived in Austria, which I also know pretty well, and took the Arlberg Pass. It was deserted, everything was closed, and there was still snow.



The weather wasn’t great—it was raining—so I stopped for the night at a remote inn. Perfect for drying off! I set off in the rain the next morning and kept going. Gradually, the rain stopped. I took a detour through the Trentino-Alto Adige region and the Sella Pass. Up there, it was rain, snow, and a bit of black ice in a tunnel (wind + rain + sub-zero temps = skating rink).



I arrived in Burgenland to see the famous giant glass-and-metal grape cluster, the largest in Europe. The region is hilly, full of tiny roads, and covered in vineyards.



Burgenland



Then into Slovenia.



I stopped for the night at a winegrower’s B&B perched on a ridge straddling the Croatian border. The welcome was fantastic—I spent the evening with the owners and their friends who arrived later. The white wine was amazing! The next day, I hit the road again.



I headed for Vukovar, on the Danube, a symbol of resistance during the Balkan War. I found a really comfortable B&B by the river and stayed for two nights to explore. What a strange monument!



I visited the water tower, which you can go inside—it’s riddled with bullet holes. There’s an exhibition inside. I also checked out a museum of equipment used during the Balkan War. Since it’s in a barracks, it’s guarded. I asked if I could bring my motorcycle in, and a Croatian officer came to meet me and gave me permission, along with a sticker to put on the bike. I met some fellow bikers from Marseille riding beautiful vintage bikes.



I left Vukovar following the Danube toward Serbia. The rain caught up with me. The roads were busy, with construction causing mud everywhere and crazy truck drivers. At one point, I cut through the construction zone! I stopped for coffee in a village—it had a *Deliverance* vibe. Total silence when I walked in, and the owner gave me a suspicious look. Finally, the Romanian border... and the sun came out! The Romanian customs officer asked if I had anything to declare. "Yes—just happy to be back in Romania!" I stopped for the night at a *cabana* (mountain hut) lost in the forest. Chaos ensued—a tourist! So they rushed to get supplies, quench my thirst, give me a room, and then the owner took charge: țuică (plum brandy), omelette, beers... Everyone bent over backwards to make me happy.

I love these Romanian roads!







I passed through Băile Herculane, which isn’t as beautiful as it once was—everything’s run-down. What are they waiting for to restore this *Mittel Europa*-style spa town that’s still active?

I stopped at the birthplace of Constantin Brâncuși.



Keep your eyes peeled on the roads!



Via the Jiu Valley, I arrived in Craiova to visit my in-laws. A few days of laughs and outings. I picked up my wife at the airport.

My favorite brand



We took a trip to Horezu, a village famous for its beautiful ceramics.





After those few days together, I dropped my wife off at the airport, and the next day, I set off for Dobrogea, a region split in two after the war with Bulgaria. The road was dull—flat as far as the eye could see—but the sun was out. I followed a military convoy of about fifty vehicles, with orders not to overtake. I stopped by the roadside for some homemade *ciorbă* (sour soup). That evening, I stopped in Călărași. The next day, I crossed the Danube by ferry. There are two ferries—one goes to Bulgaria, the other stays in Romania.



A priest on board came over to bless the motorcycle, the rider, and the ferry. I arrived on the other side with some traffic. Dobrogea



It’s like that all the way to the Bulgarian border—no restaurants, hotels, or gas stations, just old collective farms. And it’s the same in Bulgaria! I stopped at Adamclisi, site of a major battle in Moesia (now Dobrogea) in 101–102 BC, one of Trajan’s most important Dacian Wars.



An oasis in the agricultural steppe.



I arrived at the Bulgarian border.



A customs officer—built like a weightlifter, shaved head, thick neck, and as square as a truck—saw me take this photo and came over to ask me to delete it. I did... but I didn’t empty the trash! The weather turned stormy. I arrived in Balchik, a resort town where the last queen of Romania, Maria, used to vacation.

The Black Sea and the Bulgarian coast



The weather wasn’t great, so I headed back to Romania to follow the coastline. Constanța and its casino



Then came the seaside resorts—just as ugly as each other: Neptun, Mangalia, Eforie Nord, Eforie Sud. I stopped at a B&B near the Danube Delta, in some random village. The welcome was nice. The next day, I headed for Dunavățu de Jos, the last stretch of tarmac in Romania. After that, it’s the Danube Delta. The area is flat and sandy, with typical houses featuring reed roofs.



Now, I’m following the Ukrainian border. I passed the last active quarantine station in Europe. I came across a funeral procession—it’s customary to honk as you pass. If you’re on foot, you cross yourself. When I arrived in Galați, it was raining. I boarded the ferry in a downpour. On board, we were packed in like sardines. As soon as the ramp hit land, the drivers rushed out, revving their engines and honking. I let them go and exited calmly. I continued toward the Székely Land. These are Hungarians who, back in the day, were border guards for the king. They’ve kept their own script (it looks like runes), their flag, and their independence streak. For them, Romania is Hungarian, despite the Treaty of Sèvres in 1920. There are still clashes between Romanians and Székely Hungarians now and then. Since I speak a bit of Romanian, I used it—logical, since it’s the language there—and it put everyone in a good mood! Székely flag



I passed through Bicaz Chei, arriving via one of my favorite kinds of roads. During a break, a bear came to check me out from a distance.



Bicaz Chei



I arrived at the "Heart of Jesus" monument, built by public subscription to thank God for sparing the village from severe flooding.



Now, I’m heading west—next stop, Transylvania, with the in-laws. On the road



Roma house



Bozorka—a Hungarian specialty... 450 grams of meat!

I made it back to France without any issues, already thinking about my next trip. Actually, I just got back from one!

Hi everyone,

This summer, our family (dad, mom, a 17-year-old teen, and an 11-year-old pre-teen) wants to explore Bulgaria and include 4 days in Istanbul during our trip. I’ve got a rough plan, but I’m not sure if it’s doable—here’s what I’m thinking:

Arrival on August 12th in Sofia at 2:00 PM → pick up rental car, visit Sofia. 13th: Sofia → Rila → Sofia 14th: Sofia to Plovdiv, overnight in Plovdiv 15th: Plovdiv to Nessebar (or Sozopol—which is better?) 16th/17th/18th: Exploring the Black Sea coast, based in Sozopol/Nessebar 19th: Bus from Burgas to Istanbul (7-hour trip) 20th-21st-22nd-23rd: Istanbul 24th: Return bus from Istanbul to Burgas. Overnight in Burgas 25th: Burgas → Veliko Tarnovo (Bojentsi) 26th: Veliko Tarnovo to Sofia via Koprivshtitsa 27th: Early flight home

→ In this itinerary, I’ve planned 4 full days in Istanbul. I could reduce it to 3 (since we’ll also spend the evening of the 19th there) and add an extra day to the return trip from Burgas to Sofia, around Veliko Tarnovo/Koprivshtitsa.

My questions: -My 17-year-old son and I are passionate about music, especially klezmer, Romani, and jazz. Any good spots in Sofia, Istanbul, or elsewhere? -Things to do with an 11-year-old kid? -Experiences with the Burgas-Istanbul bus?

Thanks for your feedback!

After 13 years in the Schengen waiting room, Romania and Bulgaria are fully joining the free-movement zone on Wednesday, January 1, 2025, by road and air. Already partially in the zone with the lifting of checks in March 2024 at airports and seaports, they received the green light from their European partners in mid-December to enjoy the same privileges at land border crossings.