In Antiquity and onwards the area developed as a thriving centre for mining lead, iron, silver, gold and copper. As it happened, one of the first Bulgarian rebellions against the Ottomans originated here, in the 17th century. It was organised and led exclusively by Roman Catholics, the main religious group in the area. Today the town's main claim to fame is the local carpet weaving craft.
Cultivating the rose bushes is difficult enough, but the real challenge comes with picking up the buds: it can be done only within a few weeks in May and early June, and only very early in the morning. A relatively simple procedure follows as the rose petals are boiled and distilled, and – bingo! – the attar of roses that Bulgaria has become world famous for appears.
Besides the fortress, it sports plenty of Ottoman-era heritage, including a well-preserved city wall, a post office, a cross-shaped barracks and perhaps the most eccentric mosque this side of the Bosporous. A local maverick warlord who fell out with the sultan replaced its crescent with a... heart. And the town used to be a major meeting place for a lively Jewish community. Its magnificent synagogue, dwarfed only by the one in Sofia, lay in ruins for decades but was recently restored.
A successful negotiation of the cobbled streets, which can become treacherously slippery in wet weather, will open up a new world for you, both out- and indoors. Many of the splendid mansion-type houses can be visited, and you can sample the atmosphere of the local well-to-do folk who studied in Western Europe, whence they imported both goods and customs, and did successful business all over the world – all that at a time some Bulgarians still refer as the Turkish Yoke. Some of Bulgaria's best painters lived here: do not miss the art galleries and the antique shops.
Men and women in bathing suits partake, come rain or shine, of some hot mineral springs that flow freely through the yellowish mud. A very un-orthodox church with bold, non-Christian-like murals stands nearby. So does a small one-storey village house, a cabin really. The place is well known to thousands of Bulgarians who used to frequent that house to converse with Vanga, this country's only officially-recognised and government-endorsed clairvoyant; a mystic, who died in 1996, but who continues to star in various tabloids internationally.
Come Yuletide, and the streets swarm with adult men dressed in what appears to be a combination between early 20th century gendarme uniforms and traditionally embroidered white shirts. They march to rhythmic tunes in what looks like a symbiosis of tap dancing and the Bulgarian horo. They enter bars and restaurants, whose patrons are only too happy to disperse tips. Each part of the city has its own band. At the end of the day they all converge in the town's centre and prizes are given out to the best participants.
A bridge spanning over a turbulent whitewater river, which was constructed in such an incredible location that it was quick to gain notoriety for being otherworldly, a structure no human hand was able to accomplish without assistance from supernatural forces. Predictably, legends and myths about the bridge proliferated through the centuries, and some remain to this day. So does the bridge.
Logically, every odd rock has a story attached to it. Most of them, predictably, are macabre but all are worth listening to as they bespeak folk dreams and memories through the centuries. In recent years a summertime opera festival gets organised at the foot of the rocks, a celebration of both nature and classical music.
It was destroyed by the invading Ottomans, reviving itself in 1660. The compound you see today is a fine example of Revival Period architecture with a 1844 church with a fine woodcarved iconostasis. As is the custom with many holy places in Bulgaria, the monastery holds a number of macabre stories. Folk etymology indicates that its name is derived from cherep, or skull. The monastery is surrounded by white cliffs that do look like skulls with their black eye sockets.
Many of its wooden houses are well preserved, some have been turned into museums, there are places to stay and places to eat, and the village is home to a couple of festivals one of which gathers an international crowd clad in traditional costumes. Several important Bulgarian historical personalities, including the great writer Yordan Yovkov, have been born here.
At least a dozen man-made lakes of various sizes attract many locals who come here for the serenity, the mountain air and for the angling and photography opportunities. In actual fact being by a lake, especially in summertime, in many ways outshines going to the seaside if only because there are no crowds and it gets cooler at night. Besides, the hiking and trekking options will keep you busy for days if not weeks.
First you see a pretty, almost fairy-tale, unmistakably Russian church. Soon you reach a larger-than-life equestrian statue representing a 19th century Russian monarch. Further up there is another church, a cathedral, bearing the name of a Russian saint. Turn left and you will hit Parensov Street, named so after a Russian general. And a tram trundles along a pedestrianised road called Count Ignatieff. It is not named after Michael, but after a distant predecessor, also unmistakably Russian.
In recent months the telltale Soviet soldier waving a submachine gun is gone and the whole compound has been fenced off. It is being protected round the clock by Bulgarian police. Opponents of the monument, who disparagingly refer to its as the MOCHA, want it knocked down completely and immediately. Supporters however say removing it will be an affront to this country's 20th century history. The anti and pro groups are at their necks as both like to use historical events to justify current political ambitions. Their confrontation is unlikely to subside any time soon.
It tells of a boy who loved to dive, but a storm once trapped him to his death in a submarine cave just under the rocks. As no one can deny that the naturally formed rock looks a lot like the manmade moai on Easter Island, some 12,000 miles away, a newer albeit less convincing hypothesis brings in some extraterrestrials, who made the link between the Black Sea and the Pacific Ocean.
These are long extinct, but the lion has become so popular that Bulgaria has adopted it for its national coat-of-arms. Consequently, visitors to this country can see lions in various sculptural iterations in many Bulgarians towns and even in some villages.
Here you get a pair of the majestic animals proudly guarding a courthouse. Look closer, and you will discover there is something wrong with one of them. His legs are in a very unnatural position. In fact, no lion can actually walk in this manner.
At the same time it found itself facing with severe labour shortages. What they did was to convince young Bulgarians... to work for free, in exchange for the promise of a brighter Socialist future where everyone would be given according to their needs and everyone's input to society would be commensurate with their abilities. The Communists were successful. Thousands of young Bulgarians joined the youth task force, misleadingly called brigade, and helped boost the national economy by building railway lines, water dams and reservoirs, power stations and...
It produced some of the brightest minds of the time. Since independence in 1878, however, it has been going downhill as its citizens sought their fortunes elsewhere and emigrated en masse. At present it is a pleasant backwater of a town tucked in the southern foothills of the Stara Planina mountain range. It is now known mainly for two things. It is the most popular gateway to hikers heading to conquer the Botev Summit (2,376 metres above sea level), the highest in the Stara Planina.
Perched on a rocky outcrop, it marks the easternmost point of Bulgaria. It was erected in the middle of the 19th century by a French company working on commission from the Ottoman sultan who was keen on modernising the outer reaches of his realm. The lighthouse survived many wars, natural disasters and political regimes, and it still stands where it was supposed to be originally. But – like at least a dozen other interesting, intriguing or bizarre sites in Bulgaria – you cannot visit it.
The bridge was built in the late 19th century with a donation by Jiří Prošek, a Czech entrepreneur who had introduced beer brewing to Bulgaria. The grand total cost of the project amounted to 160,000 gold leva, a colossal sum at the time. The bronze lions were made by the Waagner Biro in Vienna, the same guys who manufactured the Bulgarian "Iron Church" in Constantinople. Hint about the location: If you look closer, you will find out that none of the lions have tongues.
Referred to by everyone as just "The Russian Church," its initial purpose was to serve the Russian emigres in town. It was erected on Russian land and its maintenance was given to the Russian legation nearby. When the Bolsheviks took power in 1917, two things happened. Firstly, the Soviet diplomatic corps neglected it and, second, the number of White Russian emigres increased manyfold. Understandably, The Kremlin did not like that.