Tag: Stanimika Village and the Journey to the Monastery

We reached a small, dirty village called Stanimika. It was home to Greeks who made wine and silk, but spent most of their time in the bad cafes. I drank cherry syrup while my friend went out to negotiate for mules to take us to the monastery. There was a lot of bargaining. Since we couldn’t find riding saddles, we had to settle for pack saddles, and we borrowed some old pillows and rugs from an innkeeper. We set off with stirrups made from rope. My mule was large and thin, and sitting on top of the packing felt like being stuck on the hump of a camel The Pomaks Bulgarian Muslims.

The Climb to St. Petka Monastery

As the day began to fade and the warmth lingered, we climbed the steep, rocky path. The mules moved carefully over the broken boulders, and our progress was slow. The sound of their hooves echoed as we made our way into the courtyard of St. Petka Monastery. The monastery had simple,