In its folds, for thousands of years, people have lived and worshipped, new gods taking over older gods, yet their shrines attest to an underlying continuity and their unique traditions bridge the ages.

Cutting through the seductively rounded hills are the Strandja rivers - slow, opaque, the muted moss-green glints of the water hiding a wealth of fish, crab, turtles and other fascinating creatures. So slow and lazy are these rivers that some of them, as if lacking the energy to complete their course, disappear into the white sand just before joining the salt waters of the Black Sea. This peculiar type of estuary, where the river sinks underground and there flows into the sea, is especially breathtaking in the case of the Veleka, the biggest river in the region.

Standing at the top of the hill, in front of the small stone village church, this is what you see: the deep-green, feminine Strandja mountain descending softly from the horizon, and the moss-green, shimmering Veleka river, timelessly slow yet surrounded by whiffs of tropical wildness at its banks, form a tableau of green and magic calm until - at your feet - it suddenly, dramatically, encounters a stark-white strip of sand stretching from one bank to the other. On its other side is the huge, heaving, shifting, intensely blue vastness of the Black Sea, in perpetual contrast to the green stillness of the mountain-river tableau.

In addition to the beauty of its unusual estuary, Veleka offers a lot. It is a nature reserve, a microcosm of flora and fauna, which can be enjoyed on a boat ride up the river, a slow, winding boat ride among water lilies, lianas, and sleepy trees emerging from the water.

Unlike its spectacular surroundings, the village itself is nothing special. At this point of its history it is a mix of older unimaginative houses and brand new, expensive structures of varying degrees of tastefulness. In contrast to the woods swooping down to the edges of the village, there are very few trees in it, and even though flowers abound in every yard, there is little evidence of landscaping. In the summer, the patches of grass between the buildings are sun-scorched yellow.

And yet - and yet - there is magic here, too.

Is it the stork nest in the middle of the village where a family of three live as if coming out of a fairy tale? Is it the small stone structure of the church perched above the river and the sea, with glimmering golden images on the outside and vibrantly blue ones inside? Or is it that it was just restored and painted with donations from some of Sinemoretz' newly adopted citizens? Is it the tiny chapel, which the locals recently erected over a healing water spring outside the village, in place of an older one which in turn had been built on an ancient sacred site? Or is it what prompted it - a local woman's dream which led her to stop construction of her own house in order to initiate the building of the chapel?

Yes, the magic is in the people. The local people have a convoluted history of constant migrations in the last hundred years. Their background is a compelling mix of insularity (Sinemoretz was closed to outsiders until several years ago because of its proximity to the border) and world exposure (after all, everybody is involved in tourism and the merchant marine). They combine a practical outlook and business acumen with a mindset inhabited by mesmerizing stories about dreams, spirits, treasures, cosmic energy - their own peculiar brand of spirituality.

In recent years Sinemoretz has attracted a large number of outsiders, some of them regulars who come every year, others actually making it their home, or more accurately being adopted by it. This is a crowd no less interesting than the locals. Bohemians, artists, intellectuals, professionals, old money, new money, Bulgarians from all over the country, expatriates, even some foreigners - all share a deep bond with the village and its surroundings. They fill the beaches, explore the mountain and the river, study and partake in the local traditions, pursue their interests or become hotel and restaurant proprietors, sponsor and participate in ecological and gentrification projects, fish, bird watch, meditate ... And, yes, frequent the numerous local pubs, restaurants and coffee shops.

The pub is where local and adopted members of the community congregate to chat, talk philosophy, recite poetry, conduct business, discuss politics, share their lives, loves, laughs, and dreams. Under swirls of cigarette smoke and over glasses of local uzo or rakia they weave the web of their community. If you want to feel the pulse of Sinemoretz, don't let the clouds of smoke deter you. It's in the pub that you can best touch the real beauty of Sinemoretz - the camaraderie, spirituality and humor of its people. If you know the language, you will find yourself quickly drawn and hooked. Even if you don't, the currents of this communality are so potent that you will get caught up in them, while the friendliness and warmth of the people will go a long way to overcome the language barrier.

Yet, if this is not what you need, if you're looking for sanitized, smoke-free, impersonal eateries, skip the pubs. As a matter of fact, skip Sinemoretz altogether.

It's a different kind of place.