TRAVEL

A group of barefoot men and women dancing in a large circle of live embers, while hypnotic music beats a rhythm that gets under your skin and into your blood: Firewalker dances in Bulgaria are a spectacular rite to watch. A tradition whose origins are lost in time, the nestinari dances almost disappeared in the 20th century, but were eventually revived, albeit modernised, to appeal to a modern audience hungry for Instagrammable and TikTokable "authentic" experiences.

When the first European travellers saw Pobiti Kamani near Varna, they could not believe his eyes. The massive stone pillars emerging from the sandy, shrub-covered wilderness made Viktor Teplyakov, a "special missions officer" in the Russian army during the Russo-Turkish War of 1828-1829, to rein his horse. He wanted to explore, but there was no time.

Oh, the Bulgarian rose! From promotional videos to bars of soap sold in tourist traps across the country, the image and scent of the emblematic flower has become synonymous with Bulgaria itself. A traditional crop, vital to the international cosmetics industry, Rosa damascena embodies the beauty, uniqueness and value of Bulgaria – the perfect symbol for a country trying to establish itself on the global travel market.

From Lord Byron to Hungary's Sándor Petőfi to Cuba's José Martí: poetry has a fair share of authors who deserved to be labelled revolutionary not only because of their groundbreaking stanzas and language, but also for their political stance and activities. Bulgaria has Hristo Botev.

From Roswell to Project Blue Book in the United States and Project Condign in the UK, the military have always been interested in finding possible extraterrestrials on planet Earth. The Bulgarian Army is no exception. But its efforts to make contact with possible aliens have nothing to do with the image of gloomy researchers sifting through grainy photographs of UFOs and interviewing frightened locals who claim to have been abducted by little green men.

If there is one river that defines Europe in terms of landscape, history and economy, it is the Danube, a 2,850 kilometre ribbon of water that flows from the Black Forest in Germany to the Black Sea in Romania. Some 470 km of its course make up a significant part of Bulgaria's northern border – and of its history, economy and life.

In the days of overtourism, selfies and Airbnbs there are still hardcore travellers who want to leave the comforts of home and explore new places, people and cultures, even if it often means sleeping in a tent in a remote mountain village. This is what Olivier Meissel has done. He cycled across Bulgaria three times to make a documentary inspired by his father. The senior Meissel, a retired history and geography teacher, had become a tour guide. In 2001 he was asked to organise tours in Bulgaria. He did this for ten years, developing a deep passion for the country.

The image of two men, one young and sporting a dark beard and the other older and white-bearded, with books and parchments in their hands, are to be found all over Bulgaria. There are countless statues and posters, church murals and icons. Their images multiply on 24 May, when long processions of students crowd the central streets of every city carrying posters, usually decorated with flowers.

Оddity, just like beauty, is in the eye of the beholder. Dozens of monuments, large and small, have been erected throughout Bulgaria, both during and after Communism, in the sincere belief that they are appropriate, interesting, beautiful and/or profound, even groundbreaking. The public, however, disagrees – and gleefully has mocked some of the most outrageous, expensive and propaganda-laden projects. Other monuments, which now seem odd, have been forgotten because of their small size or remote location.

The colourful houses lining the cobblestone streets of Old Plovdiv are arguably the city's most recognisable sight. The only thing that can distract from marvelling at their painted façades, projecting bay windows and verdant gardens is the pavement. Polished by the feet of generations of passers-by, it is slippery even when dry, as traveller and historian Konstantin Jireček noted as far back as the late 19th century.