Part 1 of a 3-part journey 

The overnight train from Istanbul to Sofia, Bulgaria is a ten-hour train ride that leaves at every evening at about 10:30pm.

Apart from flying into Istanbul and out of Rome, that was about the only plan I had for a three-month trip; catch a train to Sofia and check out some old eastern bloc states.

The rest was going to be left to happen-chance; no bookings, no set destinations, no fixed ideas.

A backpack, my camera, jeans, t-shirts, a pair of Truman boots, and whichever way the wind blew.

Why Sofia, why Bulgaria, and why a train?

Well, Bulgaria is the first country north of Turkey and seemed a simple train ride north. From there I could hit other eastern bloc states or continue north and west toward western Europe if I preferred.

Whatever direction I headed from Sofia, it satisfied my desire to travel via train and not plane, a decision made with no real experience of train travel.

I just figured trains would be a little more relaxed and feel more connected to the places I was going. And at least you see something apart from clouds when you look out the window!

The journey started much earlier in the day as, even in 2022 in the connected world of internet-arranged travel, you still have to buy a ticket to travel to Sofia from the ticket window at Halkali Train Station, about half an hour from the tourist part of Istanbul.

It's generally considered safe to buy your ticket not long before the train leaves but given this was my only plan, I thought I better to jump on the metro and buy my ticket earlier in the day.

If you want to sit down when you’re on a train in a city of 15 million people, you’re going to have to sit next to someone. That’s how I met Sahinez, an Algerian of Berber descent, living in Istanbul.

We started talking after she spotted my camera and quizzed me about photography.

It’s passion she has wanted to pursue so for a while we sat and admired each other’s Instagram photos and talked about her Istanbul story; she was stuck here after she separated from her husband.

She longed for home, but it wasn’t really an option to return to home in Algeria as that meant leaving her young children, who live with their father. Perhaps because Turkish law gives priority to the men, I can’t recall now…

Her ex-husband wasn’t Algerian and he wasn’t about to move there to suit her.  So, Istanbul was now her life.  

It was one of at least two discoveries on this trip; (1) trains are a great place to connect to people who would (2) would open up about their loves in all sorts of ways, even though I was a total stranger.

Strangers On A Train might have been a better title for this trip but it has already been taken.  

Sahinez offered to stay with me to Halkali to help buy my ticket. My Turkish was rudimentary and not much beyond ordering a coffee ("kahve lutfen") so the help and company was welcome.

Many people I met in Turkey are like that, amazingly friendly and helpful. It wasn’t the first time I had experienced such helpfulness.

The more I think about it and the more I travel the more that simple gesture means; a gesture made without need or request of anything in return. It’s an anecdote that I have shared and contrasted with other stories countless times, proving small gestures travel far and can be long lasting.

Given it's an overnight train you can choose a single or double bunk cabin instead of four or six-seater cabins. Thanks to Shahinez’ help at the ticket window, I secured a double bunk cabin.

I stepped onto the train with a mixture of late-night weary excitement and trepidation; even though I planned to be asleep I didn’t want to bunk with a generally annoying travel partner.

Or some drunk Bulgarian farting in his sleep all night enroute to Sofia.  

But waiting for me when I boarded was a 20 'ish male traveller with shoulder length hair kept in place by a black headband. Efe raised his head from his book to greet me as I looked around our cabin for a place to store my backpack and camera bag.

It was late but we chatted for a for anyway and it wasn't long that I realised the downside risk of an annoying travel partner was replaced by the upside opportunity of bunking with the type of fast friend travel can present you.

“What’s the book?” I asked after a while.

“It’s the Myth of Sisyphus. Read it?” he replied.

“I haven’t, what’s it about?”

“Sisyphus is the Greek guy who was forced by the gods to push a boulder up a hill. Once the boulder reached top it would roll back down. He was condemned to repeat the process for eternity.”

“I’m familiar with the image but I never knew his name or the story.”

“The book isn’t really about that guy, he’s the metaphor. The book is about finding meaning in the absurdity of life.”

“I see the connection. Doing something over and over that has no purpose and achieves nothing; that’s…soul-destroying. The Greeks knew how to conjure up a version of hell. But what do you mean the ‘absurdity of life’?”

The train started to pull away and broke our conversation. The answer to my question would have to wait as discussed travel plans took priority when conversation resumed. 

Efe was one in a company of three Turkish friends and university students on their own train adventure to see Metallica at a festival in France.

Sounded like an epic heavy metal fans odyssey.

His friends Tibet and Berg were in their own double bunk cabin a few doors down. I didn’t meet them properly until we stopped, bleary eyed, at the border crossing into Bulgaria at 2:30 in the morning.

Despite all being school mates from Istanbul, it wasn’t accurate to say they were Turkish. Efe was Turkish, Tibet's family emigrated from Bulgaria to Turkey when he was young, and Berg was originally from Cyprus.

As a group we sounded more like a bad joke opener; a Turk, a Bulgarian, a Cypriot, and an Australian walk into a bar...

We pulled into Sofia at about 6am, strode excitedly out of the central station of Bulgaria, to be immediately underwhelmed by a grim combination of graffiti, weeds, decaying infrastructure. 

Despite the introductory underwhelm, we made our way to the centre of town with a bit excited anticipation about discovering an off-piste travel destination.

It wasn’t pretty but then, we weren’t here to take selfies at tourist sites.

I don’t know about the boys, but I wanted to see something real and a bit unexpected, not something manicured for tourists; the difference between travelling with fixed destinations to say, “I’ve been there” versus the unexpected and “I discovered”.  

And I was about to get my wish; A Turk, a Bulgarian, a Cypriot, and an Australian walk into Sofia...

Coming soon; Part 2 - Sofia’s Cold Heart