Iltur: the horrors of the transfer

This summer, my wife and I decided to go on vacation to Bulgaria. Since they wanted to settle not in a big hotel, but in a small private hotel in Old Nessebar, the help from the travel agency was required only in obtaining a visa and buying tickets (they decided to go by bus - the spouse cannot tolerate planes, and by train it was necessary to get to the destination from 3 transplants). Not really thinking about which carrier to choose, I turned to the first travel agency that came across in the center of our city - Iltur. We were greeted there cordially, we were issued visas on time, we ordered tickets through Iltur without any problems, and on September 6 we got into an old yellow 2-storey Van Hool with tail numbers B8600HA and - let's go. Apart from a dirty bus and not too neatly dressed drivers (instead of the expected trousers, shirts and ties that the eye is used to on regular flights to Germany, the men were wearing faded T-shirts and worn slippers to the limit), there is no reason to be upset on the way to Bulgaria It was. The nuances began later, upon arrival in the country. To begin with, my wife and I were going to drop off somewhere in the Varna region, although tickets were bought to Nessebar. There is something wrong with the lists. However, is it possible to surprise a person born in the USSR with such a thing? Settle the situation and move on. In the area of ​​Sunny Beach, the bus suddenly stopped in a desert area. “Everyone gets off the bus with luggage and waits,” the driver announced succinctly over the speakerphone. About 80 passengers, puzzled by this turn of events, meekly obeyed the strict order, carried bags and suitcases into the dust of the roadside. Nobody grumbled. After interviewing a dozen people, I realized that people are not aware of what is happening. I decided to check with the drivers. I approached the cabin from the side of the street, the door was open - “what happened? did the bus break down? - asked the Bulgarian digging in his travel bag. - "So it is necessary!" - there was an ultra-short answer - and the door slammed shut in front of my very nose. Access to the owners of information was blocked. And this, I repeat, was just Sunny Beach - far from the final destination of the route indicated on the tickets purchased from Iltur (judging by them, the last stop along the route was Sozopol, the road to which clearly ran through Nessebar dear to our hearts). The people nervously smoked and waited for who knows what. But - I will not bore the reader with details about the one and a half hour waiting for passengers in the sun for a small minibus, which then drove up and drove off every 20-30 minutes, taking people around the neighborhood in tiny portions. After all, this unpleasant nuance would never have become the reason that prompted me to "take up the pen."

Then there was Bulgaria. With wonderful weather, favorite cuisine, excellent wines and positive impressions. But, whatever you say, all good things come to an end, and I personally always began to feel the trueness of the proverb “at a party is good, but at home it’s better” closer to the middle of the 2nd week of stay in any country. We got together on the way back.

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