DAY THIRTY-ONE: DOES HAVING A BEARD INCREASE THE LIKELIHOOD THAT YOU ARE A DRUG SMUGGLER?

Day Thirty-One (Negotin to Lom) Daily Distance: 106.02 kms

Total Distance: 2837.47 kms

Today we spent our first day in Bulgaria as we enter the final stretch of this adventure. The landscape was dry and harsh but interesting in similar ways to Romania, with small villages full of rundown buildings and groups of young kids yelling "hello" as we passed, but also because of the undulating terrain that we missed through Hungary and Romania. Plenty of time to explore it more though, since we have six or seven days here in Bulgaria.

We left Serbia for the last time this morning - the thing that I will probably miss most about that country is its directional cycling signs like the one we saw immediately on entry: "Welcome To Serbia: Leave all your hope... because you don't need it - just have fun :)" (Ed: that is what is printed word for word - including the smiley face - on a big government-produced sign!)

These often proved very entertaining, so I was happy that we did get one last giggle today from the following sign:

"A bicycle can't stand alone - it is 2 tired."

Anyway, we said farewell to the Serbian signs and 1.9km later reached another sign which marked the Serbian-Bulgarian border, where I made some new friends:

As we passed the border, the two police officials said just a handful of words to me, but five of them got me thinking intensely for the rest of the day, so I must share them with you.

Firstly, the friendly female one said “Zdravey. Hello. Document?” at which point I handed across my passport, she had a brief peek inside and then gave it back to me. "It's OK", she said. “Blag-o-dariah”, I said. At Alan's request, she repeated twice slowly this complicated word for 'thanks' in Bulgarian.

I was about to cycle away when her colleague, a middle-aged Bulgarian man, looked me up and down, and in a rough Bulgarian accent but with surprisingly articulate English said, “You do drugs, like Armstrong?” as he simultaneously pulled out his mobile phone as if to say “we're done with you, boy!”. It’s hard to recall exactly, but at the time I think my thought process followed a route something like this:

“Drugs. Did he just say the word drugs? I think he did. By ‘do’ drugs does he actually mean ‘have’ drugs? Does he think I’m a drug smuggler? Do I look like a drug smuggler? I do have a large, scruffy beard? But my Dad never mentioned this as a side effect of having a large beard. Maybe my Dad has never mentioned it because he’s never encountered this before. I don’t think he’s been to Bulgaria after all. Or has he? Maybe he has had this problem before, but at the time he thought it arose not because of his beard but because he actually DID have drugs on him, so didn’t think it would ever be a problem for me. No, he’s much too sensible for that. Anyway, I have to answer this guy, he has a gun on him. What do I say? Surely ‘no’ is the right answer. Yes, I’ll say ‘no’.

*brain takes a moment and prepares to send a message to the voicebox*

Hold on brain, I've just realised something: he mentioned 'Armstrong'. Ohh, he means Lance Armstrong. He has seen that I’m wearing a Lance Armstrong jersey. I didn’t even know that Bulgarians knew Lance Armstrong. OK, so he doesn’t think I’m a drug dealer. The beard can stay. Dad’s in the clear. But he thinks I’m like Armstrong. Is this a compliment? I mean the guy has won seven TdF’s. Maybe he thinks that to be riding through Bulgaria I must be as fit – and brave – as Armstrong is. But then again, he is about to have his titles stripped from him: it’s probably not a good time to be compared to him. Maybe he thinks that to be riding through Bulgaria I must be on drugs like Armstrong. But is Armstrong even on drugs? Anyway, I have to answer this guy, he has a gun on him. What do I say? Surely ‘no’ is the right answer. Yes, I’ll say ‘no’.

*brain takes a moment and prepares to send a message to the voicebox*

Hold on brain, I've just had a thought: was what he said even a question? And if it was, was it a rhetorical one? Maybe I should say nothing and just get out of here quickly. No, he might get angry if I ignore him, I need to acknowledge the giant, charging elephant (on a bike) in the ... border. Maybe I should say 'yes' and pretend that I’m like Armstrong. No, that would be a bad idea. Bulgarian jails are probably not nice places. I can get locked up for having drugs. I don’t think he’d lock me up for not being like Armstrong, though. That’s settled then, I’ll say ‘no’.”

*brain takes a moment and prepares to send a message to the voicebox*

“Ahh, no” I said, and then rolled through the border.