Issue link: https://viewer.e-digitaleditions.com/i/1533025
Call us on 138 747 (AU), 0800 447 913 (NZ), contact your local Viking travel agent or visit viking.com | 23 than half of our people have moved away to bigger cities or emigrated." Driving through the foothills of the Balkan Mountains we pass ghost villages, where wooden houses huddle in forlorn groups, their shoulders slumped from the weight of Jack and the Beanstork vines. Darakchieva points out an abandoned telephone factory, which reminds me of something I've seen in Chernobyl, and a derelict school where blackened windows stare back at me like rows of eyes. "The nightmare began in 1944 when the Red Army invaded," says Darakchieva. "At first, it was thought the Soviets were liberators, but by 1946 they'd installed a communist regime, confiscated our land and forced our people to work in factories. My grandfather was so angry he pushed his tractors over a cliff." After the Fall of the Berlin Wall in 1989, Bulgaria transitioned to a parliamentary democracy, where elections were guaranteed and land previously confiscated was handed back. "But our connection to the land was long lost," says Darakchieva. On approach to the town of Belogradchick, Darakchieva's mood lifts, as we see new hotels and restaurants being built to support tourism that is growing around the rocks and fortress. Art galleries and museums are popping up and discoveries of Roman ruins is putting Belogradchick on the map. "You coming here on ships is the best thing to happen to this region since the fall of communism," she says, leading us through the outer walls of the Belogradchick fortress. Later that day, in a rustic farmhouse on the outskirts of Viden I'm welcomed by the kindly Yonovi family to join them for a cooking class. "We want to teach you how to make banitsa pie," says Niki Yonovi, guiding my hands to layer the filo pastry, "But we also want to charge you with positive energy from our land." Served hot, straight from the oven and drizzled with honey foraged from forest hives, it may be the most memorable pie of my life. Back on board our cultural immersion in this remarkable town continues, with a talk by students from the local high school and a dance performance by the Vidin Children's Ensemble. SERBIA: Hikes, bikes and buttocks From Viden we have a free morning, cruising through the Iron Gates Gorge, one of Europe's most dramatic natural formations. Excitement is high, and I'm not sure whether to enjoy the ever-evolving spectacle from my private verandah (with a celebratory glass of champagne) or from the sun deck (with a pot of tea and cake). I manage both. At just 132 metres at its most narrow it's a tight squeeze, with Romania's Carpathian Mountains on the north bank and the foothills of Serbia's Balkan Mountains on the south.We glide past the rock sculpture of the face of King Decebalus, our ship dwarfed by the soaring limestone cliffs, their chalky surfaces hung with garlands of orange, scarlet and gold foliage. A few hours later I'm crunching through autumn leaves inside Serbia's Djerdap National Park, where fire salamanders dart between our feet and white-tailed eagles soar overhead. BELG R A DE , SER BI A