To get to Greece required that we travel through Bulgaria. To traverse the country would require an overnight stay. A campground was found and we pulled in for the night. There was a small, ancient church within walking distance of the campground. It's venerable walls were decorated with equally venerable, highly stylized murals bearing a distinctly Near Eastern influence. As we surveyed the paintings a group of men beckoned my father over. They attempted to trade U.S. currency for
Bulgarian money at a much higher rate then that offered by banks. My father smelled trouble and declined. Again, the dollar was viewed as "hard" currency. As in Romania and Yugoslavia, Bulgarian money had no value outside the borders of the country.
We returned to the campground for dinner. After dinner, with dishes washed and hand laundry done and hung up to dry, my parents called us together to discuss the next day's travel plans.
A map was laid out in front of us. Showing us the routes my parents informed us that there were two ways to get to Greece, our next destination. We could either cross the border directly from Bulgaria into Greece, or, by taking a very slight detour, we could spend the next afternoon in the Turkish border city of Edirne. A vote was taken and the Turkish detour was approved unanimously.