Last year I was living in London and flew, on my own, from Gatwick to Pamporovo. Later that year I moved back home to Scotland and one night in October went for a pint in a local pub for the first time in six years. I saw a few familiar faces, amongst whom were Bob and Stu, two guys I last remembered seeing as young teenage tearaways as part of a junior ski club I was helping to kit out.
After the shock of seeing them all grown up and buying drink, the conversation turned to skiing and snowboarding. They asked me if I still did, and I told them about last season's adventure in Pamps and how I hoped to repeat it again early next year, although this time I might go back to Borovets, a resort I had visited a few years back.
They went off and had a conflab amongst themselves, after which they came back over and asked,
"Can we come?"
Cut to five months later... (Stu's comments are in italics)
Saturday - Hello? Zac?
I may have been an hour late picking them up, but it was still an ungodly hour as the two skiers squeezed bags, food and bodies into my car for the trip down to Manchester from Scotland. Flight leaves at 1.50pm, so check in at 11.50am, car park at 11.00am, why are we leaving Scotland at 5 in the bloody morning?! So we can listen to the six hours of Bulgarian pop I spent the week downloading and burning you fools. Get in the car!
Bob why are you wearing big goth boots with metal bits? You'll have to take them off at the security check in the airport.
"No I won't."
Manchester Airport, Terminal 2 departures. As Bob walks behind us, stocking soled and complaining, we wander into the pub and sit right next to people we discover we've been chatting to online for the past few weeks. This calls for a drink. Thirty minute delay. That calls for a drink too. Bob finally puts his boots back on. That calls for two drinks.
 |
| Stu, me and Bob and some pre-departure drinks |
Flight. Bus. Borovets. (If only it was that easy!)
Arrive at the hotel Breza. Luggage in rooms, room numbers written down on foreheads, we hit Zac's bar, which is actually inside the hotel, our for a little pre-holiday drink thing we'd organised online. Met with a padlock and darkness. Bugger. It's 10 pm!
Instead we wander up to the Rila and I have my first Kaminitsa in a year, sitting in the lovely lounge listening to someone who looked like a young, Bulgarian, Alexi Sayle not so much murder, but tickle to death, some songs I thought I'd forgotten. Get talked out of buying his CD. That calls for a drink. Go back to the hotel and Zac's is now open! What type of clock does this man use? We meet the rep, get tickets for the morning and save a queue.
Go to bed happy. Dream of planes.
 |
| Hotel Breza |
Tour Guide bit: The Breza is nice, clean and warm. The rooms may be a little small but it's in an ideal location for both the Rila slopes and the Gondola it has a fantastic little bar to chill out in and a restaurant in which you don't. Zac also had an impressive amount of pirate DVDs for those too tired to move nights. The ski room looks like a place to keep hostages in though.
Hindsight Bit: Zac isn't there anymore ... don't ask.
 |
| Stu in the Breza Ski Room ... really. |
Sunday - Welcome to the Jungle.
I leave the skiers to a melee of bodies and skis at the rear of the gondola, and wander up to an almost empty Rila ski depot for my hired snowboard. I get a lovely brand new Trans custom board with bindings that looked quite far apart and on the button lift outside soon discover that I can't board with them like that ... it feels like I'm doing the splits.
With a slightly higher voice, I go back for a screwdriver and discover that almost everyone in Borovets has decided that it'd be a laugh to stand in the same corridor. After a bit of nudging and elbowing I manage to get my hands on a board tool and talk the guys at the hire depot into letting me fix my own bindings so that a) the guys behind me get served quicker and b) they don't kill me.
 |
| Mine for the week |
I get out alive with fixed bindings and meet my group, namely BillyBoy, Grant, Rob and his mates plus a lady who turned up on day one and never returned. The instructor this year has gone with the English moniker of Mike and legend that he is, takes us straight up the four-man chairlift in front of the Rila. Once again, I start getting some snow miles under my board. Superb! Although, after the great run from the top of the chair, we do the horrible little path that skiers call a green run ... boarders can't snowplough and we all find it far too narrow for a controlled run.
I pass Stu and Bob who really aren't having fun. We'll find out why in a moment.
The rest of my boarding group need a wee bit of practise down the bottom so I stupidly go and do the run again, and end up having my first fall of the holiday at the feet of a lovely young lady who laughed and said I did it in a very stylish way. I never see her again all week. Typical.
Lunch with two disheartened skiers in a place with a big eagle on display that we all hope is stuffed and not just having a quiet moment. The guys feel that they can't turn, so instead of doing the sensible ex-ski technician thing and actually looking at the skis I suggest a wax and a practise. I've really got my confidence back, and as I've also been practising up in the Highlands and on dry slopes, I run off to tackle the black run at the far side of the Rila (the lunch beers helped), then up the new (to me) chairlift at the bottom and do it again. I get back alive, so that really calls for a drink.
Stu - I was put onto a 180cm ski instead of the 150cm which I was used to and had requested and the bottom of one of the skis had part of the binding plate sticking out of the bottom and I just couldn't turn it. Also, because of the rapid temp shifts, the snow had become very sticky and all the skiers were having a hard time of it, the only way i could stop was to fall into the side of the snow bank. Me and Bob call it day after lunch and headed back to Zac's bar for some beer.
We all manage to stay awake as we sit in Zac's Bar, giggling away at Team America, until the welcome meeting where we sign up for the bar crawl and the pub quiz (why isn't it the other way round?). Bed for an hour, shower, get the glad rags and the drinking trousers on, go out, walk two feet and fall, hard. Repeat.
Drinks in Peters, 101 cocktails (a pub name or a challenge?), Franco's (our home from home for the week), the Karaoke Bar (Achy Breaky Heart for old times sake) and the Buzz Bar. Got chatting to a young lady in the Karaoke Bar who had heard me sing and hadn't run away. We talked for ages and so, on the walk to the Buzz Bar, we tried to steady each other by walking arm in arm. Obviously I ended up quickly looking closely at her shoes. I was very ungracefully, almost pulling her down as I clung on for dear life! I actually did that arms flailing, feet a blur thing before clattering down, so I reckon I spoiled my chances. She was lovely too. Doesn't call for a drink, but I have one anyway.
Wander down to the Happy Duck to meet up with the skiers (who took one look at the Buzz Bar and buggered off. I thought it was okay, but it's not for everyone) and meet the lovely Vicki, who I'd been chatting to online, for the only time on the holiday. My one regret of the week was never catching up with her again. It wasn't deliberate... We went back twice and both times she wasn't there!
 |
| Pissed in the Happy Duck |
Tour Guide bit: The pubs in Borovets are a mixed bag. Some are big drinking barns, some are loud and brash, others are quiet with a nice fire and nice conversation. There's even one or two with an air of sophistication, albeit ruined with a trip to the toilet.
Hindsight bit: 101 Cocktails is pretty much the same, although the name has changed. Vicki isn't at the Happy Duck anymore, but she'll pop up again in next year's blog.
Monday - My God my head, a recurring theme
Up and out for the group assembly at ten, but only just. Second day up the hill takes us back up the Rila chair, and as has happened before, I get a touch of hangover induced vertigo. I suffer in silence, hold on tight and enjoy the view, of the inside of my eyelids. I hate heights, but needs must.
The group soon fractures into the 'we did it for a week last year' intermediates and the 'been doing it for a fair few years now' intermediates. Billy Boy and myself take the shortest route to the bottom of the Rila slopes while the other guys trundle on down the green, passing each other occasionally. I'm accosted by Stu and Bob's ski instructor who asks me where they are. I discover via the walkie talkies that they're still in bed, and that no-one's talking to Alison who's stuck at the bottom of a drag tow and a Bulgarian lady isn't happy and someone called Dave stank out the room last night and again this morning. Aren't walkie talkies great?
We split for lunch, at which point I meet Stu who's now out of bed but still having ski problems. He can't glide them from a snowplough to a straight run and when I eventually bother to take a look I see why. Between the toe and the heel piece, there's a deep groove on the base, right next to the edge on both sides. They wouldn't make good firewood.
Using me as big hairy backup, we go to the ski hire at the gondola and swap them for a better pair, with surprising ease, then go and play on a green to test them out. The change is incredible and Stu's skiing improves immediately. That calls for a drink. I leave him after an hour or so and go tackle the bigger Rila slopes for a wee bit and head back to Zac's to find Bob, the other skier, who has just surfaced. I go to bed.
Up a few hours later for pizza in Francos and a re-visit to all the pubs we liked on the pub crawl the night before. 101 Cocktails was a bit of a let down as the smell from the toilets got a bit overpowering. The vodka redbulls in a big glass with equal amounts of both ingredients kept us there for a while though, right up until the smell of shit made me retch.
Then it gets a bit blokey. There are bars in Borovets with names like Go-Go Girls and Playboy and Erotic Bar. As single men on holiday went to see what they were like.
 |
| Eh... |
Tour Guide bit: Make sure you're happy with your ski or snowboard gear on day one. It's vital to make sure your boots fit, you're going to wearing them a lot over the next week. Almost as important is the condition of the base and bindings of your board or skis which, as Stu discovered, can have a huge effect on your snow riding. Don't be afraid to stand your ground and demand a change if your gear isn't up to scratch. Oh, and if you're hiring ... get there EARLY!
Hindsight Bit: The 'gentleman's club' is still there, but sadly the photo opprtunity has long gone.
Tuesday Three hours sleep! Three!
Out to meet a much smaller boarding group this morning, and tell them I'll meet them in Francos at 11.30 because I need food, coffee and some head surgery. We're being joined by another instructor today so he can film us for a DVD. Go to Mamacitas and have an unfortunate plate of burnt breakfast meats, and a few coffees. Then over to Francos for more coffee. Then pee for half an hour.
Stu - Meanwhile, Bob was in his bed and I was up bright and early to go up the top of the mountain via the gondola. We tackle what is known as the blue circuit which finishes off on the bottom of a red run before taking the most terrifying poma lift back up to the top... this thing moves at light speed. We get our confidence up and take a shorter, scarier route down through the red run and keep it going all morning. After lunch the group splits up and I head back down into the resort feeling very pleased with myself, a huge confidence boost after a shocking first day. Bob now goes and gets his ski's changed too.
Meet the group and the incredible Bobby Turbo for the first time. He gets his camera out and we play up for our DVD, jumping through trees, going too fast and falling too hard. I'm wired from the coffee and can't blink. Weird morning. Bobby has to go off and teach people for the day, but has arranged to meet us later.
 |
| Some stills from the DVD |
By late afternoon, all that remains of the boarding group is BillyBoy and myself, so we take one of the last gondolas up and have the mountain to ourselves. Fantastic! Lots of space, stupidly deep powder and it's all being captured on video. What a run.
At the bottom, Bobby literally runs away, leaving Billy and myself standing around. We're in a bit of a fix as we realise we don't know where we are, no-one's about and it's getting dark.
Bugger.
We spot some buildings and decide on a direction we reckon our hotel is in (by chance, BillyBoy is also in the Breza) and start walking, and walking, and walking ... and eventually, after a few disturbing outcomes to this predicament are discussed, we wander past a road sign. I decide that logically we should follow it as, even though it's in Bulgarian, it must be pointing us towards something big enough to warrant a road sign, and it's not saying anything scary like '45 kilometrski'. We walk on for what seems like ages, and stumble surprisingly onto the green run at the extreme right of the Rila. Boards on, we have the last, bewildered, run of the day, stopping only to watch the bum boarders have a laugh and get cold.
Feel really manly as we wander into Zac's still in our gear when everyone else is dressed for dinner. Then sit down and feel really old when I need to be helped up again. Bed!!
Wake up to a weird creaking noise and realise it's my knees. Decide to take it easier tomorrow. Had lunch in Francos today, so for a change, we go there for our evening meal too ... after a fair few in Zac's of course. There's a quiz on run by a different tour company but we manage to sneak in anyway and end up feasting on the 100th pizza that week whilst whispering answers to a table nearby. Barry and Phillipa, a lovely couple from the Breza, join us after they got fairly merry at the wine tasting evening and have a nightcap. Bob slept so much today this is practically breakfast, but the rest of us have had a long day and want to head back home. We get to the Breza and discover a party. Head in and drink almost as many beers as get poured on our heads. Leave as a water fight starts. Go to bed wet. Dream of pizza.
Tour Guide bit: The excursions organised by the reps aren't for everyone, but after talking to Barry and Phillipa we all wished we had gone to the wine tasting. What makes them memorable isn't the wine, or the Bulgarian dancing, or the pub quiz questions, but the other people you're sitting with. If you know a good crowd are going, hang the expense and live it up. And a word of warning for the pub quiz, the all male sports quiz round is a dirty rotten ruse. More later.
Hindsight bit: If he hadn't followed that roadsign we would have got to the hotel much quicker! Sorry Bill.
Wednesday: Bob appreciates some male erotic dancers. We just look at him.
The snowboarding group is a little bigger again today as we assemble in Francos, surprise, surprise. The lessons are officially over, but Mike our instructor and the inimitable Bobby Turbo take us for a run, camera running. We jump, fall, dive through trees, go to fast, and have a great day. I didn't even mind that much when one of the group fell above me into someone else who in turn whacked me on the back with his board, but I didn't sit downhill from anyone again all week.
Stu - Bob and I meet our group at the gondola station and head back up for a repeat of yesterday. Bob's skiing improves with the shorter ski's while my legs begin to really ache. We ducked off the side of the red run for some off piste powder action, but I fell dramatically at high speed and knocked the wind out my sails. Everyone looks worried. I sit out for a few runs and decide just to call it a day as my nerves were shattered. Our instructor suggests we ski down to the mid station to get the gondola but i disagree. Me n bob head back for some well earned beers.
Near the end of the day I berated myself for having so many 'last runs'. Those are the ones you hurt yourself on, and this was no exception. I shot far too quickly from a starting hut we'd noticed up the mountain and as the inevitable speed wobble turned into a so-to-be-face-plant I forgot all my training and put my arm out to cushion my fall. Fortunately nothing broke, but my wrist was sore all night, especially when I lifted a pint glass. Disaster.
 |
| Going... |
 |
| Going... |
 |
| Gone. |
We got back, kipped for an hour, then headed out, four of us in all as Billy boy had joined us for the evening. The instructors ski show was on, so we wandered up the road from the hotel and laughed as Stu's mouth fell open. He hadn't realised just how close the Breza is to the Rila slopes. All week he'd been walking down to the Samakov and up through the town. If you walk up the road, past the medical centre, you're there in about a minute! He'd been taking ten minutes, as well as taking his life in his hands on the icy road while wearing ski boots.
The ski show is a few quid to watch, or free if you stand in a car park and strain your eyes. We did the latter until the cold drove us into a pub. A drink, a quick look at the fairly pathetic fireworks and off to Katy's steak house. God damn it's good.
 |
| "stand in a car park and strain your eyes" |
Now tonight, for our evening's debauchery, we had a plan suggested by our rep. There were male strippers on in the Rila nightclub, and it was pointed out to us that after they had finished, the place would be full of women on the rampage. That'll do us we thought, so paid, 10 lev, 8 lev, 6 lev and 5 lev to get in, with 3 lev being rung up on the till by the door each time. We didn't find out until later that we had all paid a different amount, the man at the door being some sort of human random number generator. And guess who paid 10 lev?!
The male strippers were still on, and Bob was getting weird. He was watching with a very impressed look on his face, then turned to us and said in all seriousness,
They're very good aren't they?
We gave him the look he deserved.
Bill and me buggered off to (guess where?) Francos, stopping to ask Stu to have a quiet work with Bob. On our return about an hour later we were happy to see the male strippers had finished, but it seemed like our rep had given the same tip to every other single bloke in the resort. Go to bed via pubs and slippy roads. Dream of being hit on the knees with a basball bat.
Tour Guide bit: The ski show, if your instructor is in it, is a must-see. If not, it's a fairly expensive, cold night out, albeit with some very impressive skiing. Just remember, you'll be standing for around an hour in a temperature guaranteed to be minus something. There are pubs by the edge of the slopes that will let you sit by the windows and watch it without paying, but only if you buy a few drinks, so it works out the same.
Hindsight bit: Katy's is still there! Go, go now.
Thursday: Losers and movie stars.
Our boarding group lessons have been over for two days now, but Mike still meets us at the bottom of the Gondola with a few of his mates, and we have another morning playing about. This ends with us all having our pictures taken for inclusion at the end of the DVD in a very picturesque little area near the bottom of the mountain. Mike decides to take his top off for his shot, so to show our appreciation for sticking with us for two days above and beyond the call of duty, we dive on him and rub him in the snow.
 |
| Me, Billy, Rob, Grant plus instructor Mike. |
A lazy afternoon with bouts of stupidly fast riding ends in me having a sore little tumble, so for the first time this week, I'm back in Zac's before 3pm. Sit and overdose on Chocolate Brandys, realise I'm getting a bit pissed and head to bed for half an hour.
Three hours later I'm rushing about, banging sore bits against my bathroom walls as I have woken up realising I'm late for the pub quiz. It's in Francos so I run there on auto pilot, pulling on my top as I get to the door.
I shouldn't have bothered, it's so busy that the pizzas (that are included in the pub quiz price) are still being served, so have plenty of time to chat to our new team mates. Together we are a girl from Essex called Sam, a guy called Mick, a couple from London, Stu, Bob and myself, and we put up a fair performance. The questions are standard pub quiz fare, with extras like a 'make something out of foil' round, a male dancing round (they were told it was going to be a male sports quiz) and various other chances to make a fool out of yourself. We came a close seventh, and have a wee celebration. Bobby Turbo comes in with our DVDs and we cringe as the pubs big screen comes down and it goes on for all to see. It was utterly fantastic! The whole pub roaring with laughter, oohing and ahhing at our boarding and, far more frequently than I'd have liked, our falling. I go and stand with the rest of my boarding group as our abilty as boarders is shown for all to see, and I must admit, I had a tear in my eye. Mainly through laughter, but part of me knew I only had a day left and the holiday was almost over.
However, I go to bed very happy. Dream of winning an Oscar.
Tour Guide bit: If you can, get a DVD made. I wasn't expecting much, but Bobby Turbo expertly edited ours, set it to music, added titles, still shots and made a thoroughly professional movie that cost less than a round of drinks in the UK. It's a fantastic souvenir, much better than still photographs and it can even help your skiing and boarding as you can't help studying your own technique as you watch. Please though, make sure everyone in your group who's in it, buys one. I know it's so easy to buy one and copy it at home, but it really wouldn't be fair on the makers.
Hindsight bit: One day I'll get over how clumsy I look and put some of it up on YouTube
Friday: Seen with skiers.
Stu and Bob watched the DVD last night and immediately said, 'we want one too!' So at 10 in the morning they assemble in (yes, that place again) Francos to meet with Bobby Turbo and his camera. In order to make up the numbers me and Sam (the lass from Essex) join in the fun. It's actually the first time this week I've been out on the slopes properly with the skiers and we have a great laugh.
We go up the gondola and down to the top of the four man chair no problems, but just as we set off again Sam has a tumble. I didn't see it and don't know if she was at fault, but there was a collision and she ended up sitting out the rest of the day in a cafe up the hill waiting to be stretcher'd off. We have the last run of the holiday to the bottom of the mountain with Bobby, who immediately rushes back up to film Sam going down the easy way. An X-ray and a cast later, she gets beer and sympathy in Zac's while Bobby edits what little footage he gathered of us.
We're all getting a bit skint by now, so dinner in the hotel for the first time of the week, followed by a quiet night of pubs and carrying Sam on our backs. Go to bed sad. Dream of booking up for next year.
 |
| Bobby Turbo on 'Sam' duties. |
Hindsight bit: Damn I miss the old days of being in group lessons, going over this again has made me realise what a great laugh it was.
Saturday: Home
The last day is always weird. A resort full of people killing time, mooching in the shops, drinking coffee, getting presents, saying goodbye.
We carry Sam up to the Rila to do a bit of all of the above then meet up with Bobby to get our DVD's. Back to Zac's to wait out the clock and watch our efforts yesterday. It's a fantastic job given the amount of footage he had to work with and we're all happy with the result. There's a shot of Stu, Bob and myself snow riding together just as the song 'Let's Make this Moment Last' comes on and once again I go all mushy. The rep comes in for us and we all too quickly bundle up our gear and leave.
Hours and hours and hours later I go to bed, my own bed, exhausted. Too tired to dream.
No comments:
Post a Comment