Pages

Friday 9 August 2013

Murky waters of Pancharevo, a Sofian's weekend escape


Lake Pancharevo.

You get there by a stuffy bus, along with sweaty fellow passengers: a man with a telescopic fishing rod in one hand, a bag of cherries in the other; another fellow whose fingernails seem to be blackened by a fungal infection; yet another one who, judging by his body smells, has not showered for at least a forthnight; he carries a large iron trolley; couples dressed for the beach; big and soft (I know because I had been squeezed into one for a big part of the trip) elderly ladies; shy Roma people who live in a community there by the lake.  

Lake Pancharevo, a Sofian's beloved weekend escape. 

You have four bus stops to choose from.

The first one is for the chlorinated mineral water pool called 'Korali' - 'a very beautiful pool', according to some locals. Well, to me it looks more like a crowded swimming pool next to any package hotel but many Sofians are happy to spend there all day. There is a bar in the middle, providing, besides the usual menu, a loud pop music soundtrack.

From 'Korali' you have views to the actual lake. As swimming in the lake is generally non-practised, soaking in the pool might give you a replacement illusion. I might go to 'Korali' in winter - they say, in winter one may still soak in the open air pool (as the mineral water is warm) - perhaps then I will appreciate the charms of the enclosed swimming place better.

My favourite bus stop is the second one: 'Grebna Baza'. It is for the national rowing sports base 'Sredets'. There, are small wooden piers in the water, and humble boat garages on the shore. Occassionally one can hear invisible someones doing aerobics above the garages; otherwise there are sounds by the rowers, their dogs, and birds. From there one also gets arguably the best views over the whole lake.

The third stop is for the Pancharevo residential area. Looking from a bus stop, the district appears like a walled fortress of nomenclature communist architecture, although I am still to explore it once the weather gets colder and waters of Pancharevo lose their summer charms.

If you get off at this third bus stop you will have to walk for a while to find an access to the actual lake - not an unpleasant walk though, leading along the road on one side; bushes and trees on the other.

The fourth stop, 'Pancharevo beach' is for a popular picnic zone. There is no beach here though; one may only lie on the grass or fish by the riverside (Pancharevo lake originates from the stemmed river Iskar) next to the signs saying 'swimming prohibited'. On summer weekends the area is full of parked cars.

Here is also a very popular pond a.k.a. fish farm that offers an option to catch your own fish (if you are not a fan you may buy one already caught). Among the many fishermen are people from the local Chinese community. One side of the pond is lined with domestic animal & bird cages and food stalls. While snacking one can observe ducks, geese and black swans commuting among the fishermen.
  
*
I feel slight terror as I swim through murky green waters at the rowing sports base. My arms, as I look through the goggles, appear ghostly pale in the background of algae, and I cannot see more than a foot ahead. It feels as if I am swimming over something bottomless and decomposing, and it would suck me in if I tried to dive a little bit deeper. I got in the water from one of the piers, and that's how I am going to get out. Swimming prohibited.

*
If you want to bathe nonetheless, there is one more option - to visit the mouldy local banya, a.k.a. the Pancharevo Bath. Men go to one side, women to the other, all take off their clothes, and enjoy the healing powers of naturally warm mineral waters, in their gender-designated bathing areas respectively. There are soaking baths, showers and taps to choose from. The banya is just behind the 'Korali, on the right side of the road as you walk from the first bus stop at the lake.

*
Lake Pancharevo: some illustrations.

Boat garrages.

Canoeing.

Where the river turns into a lake.

Car park.

Fishing.

Fish shop at the pond.

Ducks.

The pond.

'Korali' pool.

Pancharevo Bath.

Fishing at the farm.

To get to Lake Pancharevo, take the metro, Line 1, till the last stop, IEC-Tsarigradsko Shose, then bus number 1 or 3 for another twentyish minutes.

It costs 8-10 leva to enter 'Korali', depending on the day of the week, and 4 leva to cleanse yourself at the local banya.

There are a few averagely-priced Bulgarian food restaurants around the lake.

Text and photos (c) Agne Drumelyte, 2013.

Monday 5 August 2013

Bankya, soaked in mineral water


Hygeia, the Greek goddess of cleanliness and sanitation, at the main park of Bankya.
The historic building of Mineral Baths (1910) can be seen in the distance.

It takes 1 lev and half an hour to get by train to Bankya, and so I did on a hot August Saturday. With five-to-six trains a day, Bankya is an easy side trip from Sofia.

The train schedule, August 2013.

The first two words that came to my mind at the initial encounter with Bankya were 'greenery' and 'water'. The greenery is intense and of numerous shades. It truly starts just a few train stops before the town, and is in sharp contrast with barren, littered eastern suburbs of Sofia.

Greenery taking over the rails at Bankya train station. If you are not convinced about functionality of this station have a look at the top right corner of the photo.

Bankya has plenty of parks, and, as one would expect from a (former) spa town, sounds of water are always nearby. Fountains, drinking fountains with mineral water, benches in the shades of trees are the things Bankya is not short of; all enlivened with a couple of statues of naked females.

 
 

I say former spa town because currently Bankya's historic Mineral Baths are closed*. In the same area I have witnessed also a few deserted open air swimming pools - empty and desolate-looking but nonetheless fenced & watched over by a sleepy security guard.

Fenced water-less pools behind the trees, Bankya.

An alternative could be found at the town's only balneological complex suggestively named 'Zdrave' ('health' in Bulgarian). This joint institution - hospital, hotel and a spa centre - offers a day pass to two warm mineral water swimming pools, one indoors one outdoors, jacuzzi and sauna (15 leva); plus sanatorium style treatments for the more desperate. The latter treatments have to be prescribed by a doctor, cost extra, and normally come as part of a package that includes overnight stays. 

'Zdrave' itself is a hybrid of an old school communist building (the hospital-hotel part), and a new glass construction (the spa centre). The communist building, if somewhat old fashioned, inside is acceptably clean and has got at least one receptionist who speaks English. It also has a cafe and a canteen, the latter filled with social elderly ladies at the time of visit. 

Overall, Bankya gives an impression of a busy little town, and you can see some better-off Sofians sitting in cafes in the proximity of 'Zdrave'. There are quite a few places to eat (Balkan style food mainly), and it's easy to kill time at one of the plentiful parks. Good for a chilled, lazy day when one is, for example, hangover.

The park surrounding the Mineral Baths has got a free wi-fi zone - at least so the public signs say; although I did not manage to achieve any connection.

* I believe, refurbishing and re-opening the old Mineral Baths would be the best what a loving soul could do for the benefit of Bankya town. The large, beautiful, more than a century old building, although with a freshly painted facade, at a closer checkup looks fragile and about to crumble. However, with an appropriate renovation, it could once again become a nice public space for locals, Sofians, and tourists alike.    

The painted facade.

When it all started. Women enjoying waters of Bankya, turn of the 20th century (photo from an outdoor exhibition next to Mineral Baths).

How bathers used to commute between Sofia and Bankya back in the day.
A lock on the door (Mineral Baths).
Text and photos (c) Agne Drumelyte, 2013.