In the last country, fleeing to the Bulgarian mountains seemed like a rather good idea. (And it would have been, but one pays for rentals by the month.) But with the shift in mindset that followed, the painted churches, soft cheeses and mountain air are deferring to a more northern purposiveness. Entirely a creation of the mind, of course, but I'm feeling some regret about not taking the southern route. Almost a female presence. Echoes of an ancient Athena?
