Difficulties of moving between two points. Part one, the train

So, I was lucky this time when I was waiting to catch the train from the intermediate stop in the settlement where I live and this train this time was not like the one I showed you last time. Because if that wasn't the case, I would have had a lot of trouble climbing those steep and narrow stairs to the compartment with a suitcase in my hands. My partner was there to help in such a case, but now that I think about it, I don't know how he would have been able to help if that had happened.
The last time he helped me in such circumstances, we were at a terminal or rather a starting station, the train had stopped and was waiting before it started to its next long destination, so he had time to carry my large suitcase up the steep narrow stairs , to leave it next to the seat and get off. Now there was simply no time for that. The train just stops, opens doors, closes doors and goes. But fortunately, no further action was necessary this time (although I often think how hardened and healthy our ancestors were, forced in the past to use such uncomfortable vehicles - public buses and trains with terribly difficult stairs to climb. Hey, I thought I was still young enough not to note such things 🤔Or the incredible conditions in which we are placed to live make it so that I notice and report everything.)

So, I boarded the train by myself without needing help. When it comes to luggage, I really prefer traveling by train because I can keep an eye on my suitcase. When I'm alone, I never even put it on the luggage racks. Not only because I can't, but because I prefer it to be by my side, to watch and control it, to keep it safe (and clean). And now, at this otherwise quite busy destination, I still had an entire booth of four seats available, left my suitcase in the middle between them, my backpack on the seat next to me, and the first part of my public transportation adventure had already begun.

Again, I had no desire to take out my book and read. The sun was shining very brightly in my eyes and I was already seated, I didn't want to move to other seats, I have told you how dirty the textile upholstery of train seats is and how disgusted I am in general to sit on them, let alone change seats 😅
So I just put on my sunglasses and looked around. In the seats next to me were three young people who were speaking in a foreign language. After my penultimate experience on the train, I can no longer be sure of people's nationality, it is very often not obvious at all. But after listening to their conversation for a long time, I concluded that they were Turks. There were four Roma on the seats in front of them, they in turn were very easily recognizable, very specific, some of them especially. While the young Turks next to me were well-dressed, neat, fashionable, even looking rich and carrying small suitcases for a flight, the passengers in front of them were very poorly dressed, looked uneducated and smelled unwashed. They also did not speak Bulgarian. These were the people in my constant line of sight throughout the journey.

It could probably sound strange from my part if I say that I feel special that everywhere in the country foreign speech is heard from people who were born and grew up here, but raised in families whose native language is not Bulgarian. And yet, I have also told you before that this reality often even makes me feel as if I am not in Bulgaria, but in some foreign country. And while this has its advantages in certain circumstances, in others it really makes you feel weird. Maybe it's because I didn't grow up in a family like that, so I don't understand this behavior.
The young Turks next to me, two girls and a boy, spoke constantly in Turkish. This made me wonder for a while where they are coming from, where they are traveling with this train from, because it is clear what their last stop is - a Bulgarian city with an airport. But did they come from Turkey?
I looked around the young people for any sign of whether they came from Turkey. But nothing betrayed anything of the sort. And although the three of them looked well-off, carrying iPhones and such, the boy was wearing sneakers of a Bulgarian, even local expensive sports company, which made me guess that these people did not come from a foreign country. Moreover, the boy occasionally tried to insert a Bulgarian word into their conversation now and then, but only he, not the girls, and this betrayed them even more.

But let's leave the native foreigners aside, because the topic is simply the journey, or rather the obstacles when traveling by public transport, so the train stops at its last stop, the second largest city in Bulgaria, as I told you, with missing online timetable information of buses in its three bus stations, and I now have to find the first one.
But this time I just get confused because the train takes us down a track that ends in a construction site, there is no way out and I start looking around, people are walking somewhere together, but this direction seems illogical to me. I have to stop a random person to ask how to get to the station building. This is the starting point that more or less gives some orientation.

The woman I've stopped tells me to go this way, that way, take the appropriate subway exit and I'll be at the station. From there I know where to go, I have marked on my navigation the office of a bus company, which luckily for me is located in the station building, i.e. I don't have to walk much. I enter the station. Even there, inside, there are signs, they point in one direction, they say "bus tickets". I quickly go to that wing of the building where there really are ticket counters, or so it seems. But there is no one at the counters.
I hang out there for a while, then turn around. On a bench behind me in the room is a young boy playing on his phone. "Excuse me, here is anyone coming soon" I say because my time is limited after all and I can't wait forever. And this boy seems to have been here before me and might know something.

"Well, bus tickets haven't been sold here for a long time. These counters don't work," he says. "You have to go to the other, opposite end of the building."
As I ran with my suitcase to the opposite end of the building, I thought how lucky I was that this boy was there at that very moment and there was someone to ask in the empty, no longer usable ticket hall that looked like it was usable. And it was marked on google maps as the exact place where this particular company sells tickets.
One would say that there is one thing noted on the Internet, and it is not true. While at the same time so much other important information is missing altogether.
I run to the other end of the building and enter the actual office of the bus ticket company.

And this is where I plan to end the post, because in the next post I will tell about my adventures on the bus and before that, buying a ticket after I did manage to find the ticket counter. 😆

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The photos that accompany the post, showing a random seaside town in Bulgaria, have nothing to do with the post, as you might guess.

Thank you for your time! Copyright:	@soulsdetour
	Soul's Detour is a project started by me years ago when I had a blog about historical and not so popular tourist destinations in Eastern Belgium, West Germany and Luxembourg. Nowadays, this blog no longer exists, but I'm still here - passionate about architecture, art and mysteries and eager to share my discoveries and point of view with you.

Personally, I am a sensitive soul with a strong sense of justice.
Traveling and photography are my greatest passions.
Sounds trivial to you?
No, it's not trivial. Because I still love to travel to not so famous destinations.🗺️
Of course, the current situation does not allow me to do this, but I still find a way to satisfy my hunger for knowledge, new places, beauty and art.
Sometimes you can find the most amazing things even in the backyard of your house.😊🧐🧭|