Bureaucracy, lunch in Levski and meeting the Brits

Thursday 6th August

We had the opportunity to sleep in this morning as Andre from VT Bulgaria was coming to take us to Pleven and then Leski to register our house for taxes at 10am.  This was our last day in the “brotel” so we collected all our things and packed them away in the van.  Just as we finished Andre pulled up and we jumped into his air conditioned car and made our way to the town hall in Pleven.  What followed was torturous; over an hour filling in paperwork and then waiting whilst some officious woman decided she’d had enough shuffling paper and refilling the photocopier to sign off our paperwork


Bureaucracy at it’s very best

As soon as we had our tax number we drove back to the hotel and decanted to the van and Andre followed us into Levski to register for taxes.  It was 40degrees and lunchtime by the time we reached Levski so with the Town Hall closed for lunch we made our way to Perfecto, our favourite restaurant in the area and adjourned for lunch in the beautiful air conditioned and truly urbane interior.

pork knuckle

The portions are not for the faint hearted but if there is any food leftover it is packaged and ready to take home.  Andre finished before us and set out for the Town Hall and we joined him not long afterwards.  He had successfully registered the house and gave us the paperwork.  It was added to what I call the red tape file.  We said our goodbyes to Andre and set off for the village in the sweltering heat.  We had no option but to continue with the roof repairs.  By early evening Terry had finally fashioned a temporary repair that would keep the house watertight over the coming winter.  We were both filthy dirty and as I was prepping the evening meal Paul, a Brit neighbour dropped by and invited us to the local bar as the ex pats were meeting up.  Terry accepted the invite and after a cursory wash and an evening meal we set of for the bar at the end of the road.  Usually I wouldn’t dream of going out unless `I’d showered, washed my hair and gotten dressed but when in Rome!  Terry and I walked in wearing our working clothes and were greeted by a mix of Brits in various states of dress.  Some like us had come straight from working on their houses and some others came fragrant and prettied.  The evening and company was alcohol fuelled and Terry and I made our excuses as the drunkeness reached a level where people had begun to backbite each other.

This was our first night in the house and we spread out the sheets over our blow up bed and pretended it wasn’t creepy without electric and no locks on the door.  Just as we were dropping off we heard the most eerie sound, like someone dragging a dead body outside on the pathway.  We both stiffened and then giggled the first time it happened; by the fifth time we jumped up and started looking inside and out but nothing came to light.  We eventually slept and woke up in the beautiful light and coolness of Friday morning.

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