Lowedown XXXII

The Wild East

"I had to bet the next days lunch money to break even on the roulette"

After finding accommodation we explored Plovdiv, Bulgaria. The narrow streets and arcitecture reminded me of Greece (although I last went in 1986). Mark quickly acquired some gypsy friends, who wanted a drink of his coke. On our travels Taylor attracts gypsies and children, and I attract dogs and old men!
In the dorm two Mexicans were staying who we would get to know quite well over the next few days.

Plovdiv- Bulgaria's second city had a Princess casino! Unsuprisingly we headed there that evening. It was smaller one than in Sofia, but no less exciting.
We were given a lot of attention at first. It was damned annoying, particularly for me who had two attendants continuously breathing down my neck.
Maybe they thought they were being helpful, but they were a pain in the a-. After a while, when they realised we had no money, they didn't kick us out, but left us alone. The format was pretty similar to Sofia.
There were the same characters in there too. Most of the serious players were German businessmen this time, and they didn't appear to have quite as much money.

A middle-aged man with a crumpled 'San Francisco College Baseball' T-shirt on was an obvious joker, and he was playing jokers roulette, and behaving like a joker; continually changing seats thinking the management wouldn't notice, which they obviously did.
I wasn't doing very well financially, losing pretty much everything. I had to bet the next days lunch money to break even on the roulette, and scavenge tokens off Taylor who was doing OK for himself.

Unlike Sofia this place had a dancefloor. It had been empty for the whole night, but now a solitary dancer was performing in a long white robe. There were some tables in front of the floor where a single man of middle-eastern complexion sat, clearly enjoying the performance.
MT was on some fruit machines, and I went to join him. We hadn't won for ages, but our luck suddenly changed, and the machines churned out large amounts of tokens, replacing the tokens I'd lost over the previous two hours.

Then the place burst into action with the sudden alarming activation of the sound system, and even more alarmingly the arrival of 6 dancers who were scantily dressed in white outfits and performed Baccarat's 1977 hit 'Yes sir, I can boogie'. The arab man was grinning broadly by this stage. We were doing likewise.
Only the three of us were watching, the proper players were engrossed in their roulette.
Fools.
They disappeared briefly before returning in black leather outfits with whips(!) I applauded rather overtly, in fact being the only one clapping and received a "merci" for my efforts.
Then it was French-maids outfits. Taylor was loading tokens into the machine in front of him but staring, open jawed, in the direction of the dancers. Some of the movements they performed I can't really describe here, but it was very entertaining!
The arab man had disappeared, it must have been to much for him. I applauded even more enthusiastically and had my hair ruffled with the dusters they were carrying.
After a while they disappeared again, and unfortunately didn't return, but it was getting late.

We'd both had a few free beers by this stage, and Mark was really trying his luck, succeeding spectacularly- producing a packet of expensive cigars, which were obtained free of course. We tried to look sophisticated as we meandered conspicuously into the serious gamblers area. I tapped the ash from the cigar into an ashtray built into the fine walnut roulette table. A German man gave me a fierce glare. I presumed it was because he had lost a lot of money, but Mark informed me it was because I got the drink holder, and ashtray the wrong way round…..surely a throwing-out offence?
By 1.15 we were beginning to attract a lot of hostile stares, the entertainment had finished half and hour ago, so we decided to leave.

Then an unexpected problem arose. We were locked out. We had joked about this with the Mexicans before but of course never expected to happen. There were no stones to throw at the windows (our backup plan, just aswell as in the drunken stupur we could have broken a window) so we had to bang on the door, and eventually a very cross owner lets us in while Taylor diplomatically but unsuccessfully tried to present an outrageous story to explain why we were in this predicament.

Friday 8 July
The next morning we tried to construct a plan to get us into Turkey. The day train had been cancelled, which had ruined our plans. The suggestion was that we hitch across the border.
It was decided that Mark's honest Scandinavian features will have greater chance of obtaining a lift, and he was declared the 'hitcher' with his sidekick and bag lurking out of sight.
The two Mexicans, Andreas and Geraldo, were sceptical of our chances of success. I am as well I have to add, but remain silent. The idea is abandoned, and we join the Mexicans on the night-train to Istanbul.

We have lunch. The Mexicans drink like fish, downing their beers at twice the rate we drink.
We spend a pleasant afternoon climbing one of Plovdiv's 7 hills, with a typical Soviet monument at the top.

By late afternoon me and Taylor have had 4 strong beers. I decide to stop, fearing I won't be able to find my way onto the platform. Taylor does likewise. The Mexicans carry on sinking more, without any visible side-effects.
That evening we all walk to the station. It suddenly struck me how dark it was. The steetlights weren't lit except at really important junctions. The government has such chronic debts they can't afford the power required.
We got to the station...


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