Here friend, There friend; Own friend, Flown friend

“Not in Sofia” was a mantra no curse
It mattered not how many leva came from their purse
The four teachers left early and left really soon
Distance was needed or the stress would balloon




So with music, map, and a little conversation
The adventurous 4 left their dreary Sofia station
Each had their assignments, roles, and own seats
Allow a quick moment for them to repeat

A pilot, the driver, quiet and full of snark
The navigator, assured, that sang like a Lark
The entertainment officer, who’s time has been cut
The obnoxious Warning System of “what, what, WHAT””

“That’s what she said” , a semi-nude “Ring-Road girl”
Storks, flaming rubbish, and babas that curl
Smart cars, hummers, but no gypsy carpool was shown
Bulgarian Bingo had taken a life of its own
With Sofia to their backs, Belogradchik to their face
The fabulous foursome soon appreciated the space
There was little trash and even less graffiti
But it was the guys who appreciated the billboards “sans bikini”

As the sun set on the first day of the trip
The beauty of the glowing red rocks caused their hearts to skip
If one has been, Belogradchik is truly a world wonder
In its beauty, peace, and quietness, Life’s questions will ponder




Having a drink, with good friends and view, is truly a winner
Especially since, at the Hotel Skalite, Chalga and child chaos was for dinner
The location, the comfort can be praised without irking
But the group had never heard of a “patio not working”


With the stress all gone, it was easy to wake late
With any schedule shot, the agenda … a clean slate
Up to Belogradchik, the fortress of Rome and Turks
The pictures are proof-positive, North Americans are quirks






Back in the car, about their snacks, they were not fickle
Out in the middle of no where, a rusted hammer and sickle
The map was a good one, though be of low cost
Yet ways were taken as if dictated by Frost











The omniscient navigator confident of the roads they flew
A bet was made, nay, the wagers were two
Though they saw some pretty country and many a sight
The sweetest thing said was “Dammit Door-Knob, you’re right!”

And then, out of no where, without even lookin’
A stairway to no place, with a Tom Tale bookin’
Out jumped Steve for the unique photo-op
Tom’s tale continued though a cry came “Oh God, when will it Stop!”



But through all the rules of etiquette, imaginations spark
And the ever present, always working meter of snark
His mind was always active, his questions aloud
Junior was a welcome and appreciated member of the crowd

This is not to say, with pride and much chagrin
That Junior did not get a few good shots in
With quick mind, intelligence, and a little bit of fun
“Aren’t you a dad? Aren’t you 51?”

The snark-o-meter ran, the vagabonds were under the gun
Whether it was age, gender, or looks, it was always for fun
A good snark was given with a retort well met
The winning-est snark of all was the “wife from Gallaudet”

Towards Turnovo, the group was bound
no road sign nor reservation were to be found
Through computer and book, the crew went fishing
Staying at Hotel Bolyarski, no better could be wishing







Another fortress, more walking, more art
At Execution Point, they almost were part
No respect for the history, this country, this here
The winner of this race gets his wife’s weight in beer








The place was pretty, each patio was working
But through drinks, a quick rest, a question was lurking
“Where shall we eat?!” wondered a beer and a Cosmo
“Where shall we eat?!” the foodie wanted to know

On went the foodie, the pilot, the sage, and twit
Fish, fondue, and more words full of wit
Back though this ancient town, the travelers tread
Three tried to teach one, that chivalry was not dead.




Sitting together listening to keyboard and string
The group finally relaxed and spirits took wing
The drinks were drunk and sporcle another matter
It was of the guitar player that one heart went “pitter-patter”



The time for free breakfast was not going to be last
Man, those two ladies got up really fast
They ate, and got food to those lazy boring men
And soon the quadruplets were on the road again

“STOP” screamed the foodie with force and nerve
It mattered not that they were inside of a curve
“Before we get to the mountain called Shipka Pass,
I must have a picture of a cart pulled by an ass”



Up 385 steps, no North American was that fool hearty
Wait a minute, Junior had ruined the party
Upward he ran, feeling strong and cocky
He danced, and we praised the new Bulgarian Rocky







The view as breathtaking, the air renewing
Here it was found, the peace they were pursuing
Minds, hearts, and souls feeling refreshed and blessed
The wheels of the car turned to the end of their quest

More quizzes for Junior and bathrooms were needed
Beware of livestock, these warnings were heeded
Staying on “this island” was no more a right,
Especially if he did not know who sung “Paradise by the dashboard light”

But even in the sight of Vitosha and the city
Their hearts were content, for others they felt pity
The road was at an end still one question persist…
So “yes, tom. The girls of ring road really do exist”

So thank you Rox, Cat, and the Tom they call Junior
I really wish we had done this trip sooner
You brought many a smile to this man, your friend
The next trip will be better…America..end to end.