8/23 Friday
We
take a walk through the town, heading out to the Salt Museum. On the way, we
need to find a post office for our postcards. The Tourist Information lady
interrupts her lunch to give us some completely erroneous directions. We ask
two different shopkeepers and manage to find it. You’d think the Tourist Office
people would be used to people asking questions, but it was a big bother for
some reason.
The
Salt Museum is a small building with some photos and tools, and a brief video
in English for us. We learn a bit about the ancient art of harvesting salt, and
the effort to preserve the few artisan style salt farms, which are being lost
to huge commercial operations. There are salt farms in Portugal, Italy, Greece
and Brittany, each with a distinctive flavor in the salts. The flat salt beds
of Pomorie are a small part of the commerce, but are historically important. There
are some bowls of salt crystals that we can taste. It’s crunchy and sweet. We
would love to buy some, but all that is available are big liter sized sacks. If
they were selling small bags or salt grinders, we’d pick up a souvenir.
Outside,
on the edge of the salt beds, an area is roped off with a sign reading “KEEP
OUT OF ROPED AREA.” Inside the roped area, a dozen or so locals are happily
engaged in slathering the therapeutic salt mud all over their bodies. I don’t
understand why the museum doesn’t take advantage of the obvious money-making
potential of this. I’d pay admission to get in the mud. I’d go in with the
illegal mudders, but there are no showers here. I have no idea how the
mud-blackened bathers get the stuff off them.
Next
to the Salt Museum is a nature center for bird-watching. The salt lagoon
creates a perfect habitat for water birds, and is a major resting area for the
migration routes from Africa to Siberia, the Via Pontica Flyway. We go in as a
gang of bird-watchers with huge telescopes is coming out. There are a couple of
young Bulgarian girls going through the exhibit with a guide. He stops a moment
to let us know he’ll talk with us soon. He sets the girls up with a video, and
comes over to us.
He’s
a serious biologist, a member of the Green Balkans environmental group. He
gives us an orientation to the center, just a small room with informative
panels illustrating the species in the area. He sets up the same short video
for us in English. Then, we go out to the lookout deck where he has a
birdwatching scope. He aims the scope out to the lagoon and describes the birds
he’s pointing at. There are many species active here, and we can see mute
swans, crested grebes, sandwich terns, common terns, greater cormorants, a smallest
type of gull, with a starling next to it for size, plovers, and snowy egrets.
There may have been one or two more, that’s the list I can remember.
He
tells us that a White Stork migration is due to come through, with flocks of
more than 60,000 birds, on August 26th. That’s the Monday that we’ll
be leaving for Istanbul. The bus does pass on the street near the lagoon, so if
we’re lucky, we may get to see some of the flocks.
We
go back to our favorite neighborhood restaurant for our dinner of grilled fish,
which is obviously somewhat addictive. After dinner, we take a stroll down to
the pedestrian zone. The streets are busy with people all about; the city
really comes to life in the evening. We’re surprised that the streets are
noticeably less crowded than we saw through the week, even though it’s the
weekend. We don’t know why, but it does make it more pleasant to walk through
the promenade.
There’s
a performing arts center right at the center, a small but attractive building
with an outdoor stage on the street side. They’re having a music festival! On
stage is a young woman in a fancy gown, she seems to be blind, singing a
Bulgarian song in a loud, melodious voice. The MC is a chatty, blonde lady in a
shiny evening gown and high heels, working the crowd and bringing the singers
onstage. Next up is Rocco, or something like that, wearing jeri curls, aviator
glasses and a bleached denim shirt with no sleeves. He gives us a rousing rock
‘n roll song. Then, a casual but suave older man on crutches singing “Delilah”,
with a good voice full of conviction. Occasionally he jumbles the lyrics with a
“merba mer merba” fake, but he gets the “Why, Why, Why” part spot on.
1 Video Included
Pomorie Salt Museum
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