Smaller text Larger text

Month: December 2016

Posted on

Rick Steves’ Europe Behind the Scenes: Post-Production

After a busy shoot — scrambling to get as much usable footage as possible while dodging the weather — we return home with a hard drive that’s loaded up with all that hard work. That’s when Steve takes over.

Rick is the creative spark, Simon is the logistical mastermind, and Karel is the artistic eye. But Steve Cammarano — who has edited every single one of the more than 100 episodes of Rick Steves’ Europe — is the one who puts it all together.

cameron-romania-tv-steve-cammarano-02

In the field, Simon and Karel always have Steve’s concerns in mind — making sure they provide him with footage that can be cut together easily. For example, it’s jarring to cut straight to a close-up — you need to ease the viewer into it with an establishing shot. So Simon and Karel make sure they’ve shot all of the bits and pieces that Steve will need.

When filming, each shot needs to be identified to facilitate Steve’s work. There’s no literal slate clapboard, but at the beginning of each shot, Karel verbally “slates” what he’s about to film: “Hey Steve, this is that communist statue.” “Hey Steve, another angle on that statue.” “Steve, a close-up of the two main figures.” “OK, this is a wide on the Square of the People, where that statue is.”

Steve also gets a copy of the (semi-) final script, which has been tweaked and polished throughout the shoot — a process we call “scrubbing the script.” “Scrubbing” means simply reading through the entire script, again and again, making each word earn its keep. Part of the scrub is knowing which footage worked — and which didn’t — and tailoring the words perfectly to what’s in the can.

When we’re satisfied with the script, Rick records a “scratch track” — a quickie voice track of the entire script, whose sole purpose is to give Steve something to cut to. This doesn’t have to be perfect — it’ll be replaced later — and in a pinch, Rick might even record it on his iPhone in a hotel-room closet (between hanging clothes to buffer echoes).

cameron-romania-tv-steve-cammarano-01

In his rabbit’s warren of an office, Steve uses the script, the verbal slates, and the scratch track as guidelines for piecing together the show. Like every other part of the process, editing TV is equal parts science and art: Steve has a clear blueprint, but he employs his own artistic vision in how he pulls it all together. It’s also tedious: Steve has to rewind each little snippet and rewatch it, again and again and again, to cut it just right. (I used to work in an office adjoining Steve’s, and I must admit: Overhearing a little two-second audio clip — say, a Swiss cowbell clanging, or a Norwegian girls’ choir singing a Christmas carol, or Rick shouting “Freeeedooom!” on the Scottish Highlands — 20 or 30 times in a row was enough to drive me batty. How Steve maintains his sanity, I’ll never know.)

Once Steve is finished with the rough cut, Rick and Simon watch it and weigh in with notes. If the show comes in a little long (not unusual) — or a lot long (as was the case in Romania, which was nearly four and a half minutes over) — it’s time to reach a consensus about what to trim. It’s a tough decision. Some cuts are pretty obvious, but others come down to a no-win pick-’em between two equally good bits that both deserve to be in the show. But at the end of the day, each show gets just 30 minutes (24 minutes and 16 seconds of actual content, to be exact, once you subtract the open, credits, and underwriting). And to be honest, those time constraints are probably a blessing in disguise: They force us to respect the attention span of our fans, and make tough decisions rather than bore our viewers.

Once the final cuts are made, Steve sends the footage to be color-corrected, evening out variations from different shooting situations to help the show feel visually cohesive. (It’s amazing what a good colorist can do to spruce up washed-out or cloudy footage.) Meanwhile, Rick and Simon watch the final cut one more time — the final “scrub,” with the help of ace wordsmith Risa Laib — and make a few last-minute wording tweaks. Finally, Rick records the final voice track, Steve cuts it to the color-corrected final cut…and the show is finished.

dv-bd-sn97d0e46e6d7f944fd8889ede469d45b50

The last of 10 brand-new episodes of Rick Steves’ Europe Season 9 (Cornwall) is airing across the country right now. We hope you enjoy them. And if you do, keep in mind the many talented experts — both in front of and behind the camera — who make that scrappy little show some of the most lovingly produced and most compelling travel television out there.

CH16MayBuzludzha_071

Thanks for tuning in for this “behind the scenes” blog series on Rick Steves’ Europe. And, of course…keep on traveling!

This is the ninth and final installment of my “Behind the Scenes” blog series about Rick Steves’ Europe Season 9 — now airing nationwide (check your local listings). You can also watch the Bulgaria and Romania episodes for free. And in case you’re in a gift-giving mode, the brand-new, 10-episode Season 9 DVD is currently on sale in our Travel Store.

Posted on

Rick Steves’ Europe Behind the Scenes: Romania’s Parliament Votes No… Then Yes

After filming more than 100 episodes of Rick Steves’ Europe, Rick and the crew have seen most everything…until they got to Romania. While we wound up with a great show, the crippling red tape didn’t make things easy.

I want to be clear that we worked with dozens of exceptionally gracious, helpful, and capable people in Romania. Sadly, they all seem to be trapped in a ridiculously dysfunctional system. They tried to help us — they really did. At every major sight, the tourist authority would dispatch little delegations to greet us: guides, local tourist board representatives, big-name hoteliers, and so on. But at the end of the day, all of them answered to a higher power that seemed to relish saying “no.” Our contacts’ main function seemed to be commiserating with us when things fell through.

The tourist authority was over the moon that Rick was going to film in Romania. But they were also nervous. Apparently, another American travel TV personality filmed a show in Romania a few years back, and it did not go well. We were told that the presenter — known for employing his sharp tongue to call it like he sees it — grew so frustrated with bureaucratic snafus that he decided to take it out on Romania itself, producing a show that made the country seem like a miserable wasteland. The tourist authority was terrified that Rick, too, would present Romania in a negative light. And so — as if to guarantee the very thing they feared most — they gradually tortured us by trying to (subtly and not so subtly) exert control over the project.

Their paranoia bred paranoia in us. The night before we arrived in Romania, I got a call from the tourist board. Due to a “clerical error,” we had been assigned a guide who would accompany us at all times. He explained that this mistake was only just discovered, the guide had already been booked, and it was impossible to cancel. Rick — who remembers traveling here during the communist era, when any visiting foreigner was assigned a “minder” to report their activities to the authorities — wondered whether this “tour guide” was only there to keep us in line.

It turned out that he was a great guy, and that it really was just a mistake…probably. However, because we had already arranged our own, trusted local guides all over the country, our government-provided guide had literally nothing to do the entire time. We began brainstorming errands we could send him on, just so he could feel useful. (He was.)

CH12SeptBcharest_067

The biggest headaches came along with Europe’s biggest building: the Palace of Parliament, which was built to accommodate communist dictator Nicolae Ceaușescu’s ballooning ego. It was a must to film the palace’s jaw-droppingly vast and opulent interior — a priority we had made explicitly clear to the authorities months before we arrived. They repeatedly reassured us that all was being arranged.

But then, something happened. The night before we were to film, we found ourselves being told by the honcho of the tourist authority that we probably wouldn’t be allowed official access. It was suggested that we show up anyway, buy a tourist ticket, and send our cameraman in with the regularly scheduled tour to film it on the fly. It wasn’t ideal, but it could work. It had to work.

CH16MayBucharest_021

The next morning, we were greeted by a half-dozen tourism officials. As instructed, we bought tickets for the official tour and lined up. But then, moments before the tour began, we were told that the authorities were onto us. To keep a low profile, we decided to send only our cameraman, Karel.

Karel hung his DSLR around his neck and headed inside to “play tourist.” Rick, Simon, and the entire delegation waited nervously outside, hoping Karel could get the shots we needed. But just a few minutes later, Karel walked out the door. “I got kicked off the tour,” he said apologetically. Nothing could be done.

We decided to bail on the parliament and began filming other sights around Bucharest. A few hours later, as Rick was filming an on-camera with the parliament in the distant background, my phone rang.

“I am sorry to say there was a misunderstanding,” came the voice of our tourist authority contact. “But we have now obtained permission, and you may go film at the parliament.”

We didn’t buy it. “Are you sure we have official permission to film?”

“Yes.”

“With our big camera?”

“Yes.”

“And with our tripod?”

“Yes.”

“Complete access?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Do we have to tag along with a tour?”

“No, you may go wherever you like. They will provide you with your own guide. In fact, do not go to the tourist entrance. Go to the parliamentarians’ entrance. ”

Still skeptical, we hopped a taxi back to the parliament to be warmly greeted by a literal red carpet and a press secretary. Sure enough, we had the run of the place. Talk about a turnaround: from being kicked to the curb, to VIP treatment…in just a couple of hours. (And the Palace of Parliament segment turned out great.)

CH16MayBucharest_019

While much of Eastern Europe is doing well these days, Romania still struggles. Throughout our shoot, we got to know many wonderful Romanians grappling with a system that simply doesn’t understand how to function. When pressed, many locals deny that this is an artifact of Ceaușescu’s brutal rule (embodied by the opulent palace that he literally starved his people to build). But, given the success stories I’ve seen in so many other formerly communist countries, and the number Ceaușescu did on poor Romania, it feels like they protest too much. Are they in denial? Or still trying to hide the damage that was done?

Thanks to the help of many fine individuals, we came home with 30 glorious minutes of TV celebrating the beauty of Romania. On my scouting trip, several locals quoted a cryptic saying: “Romania is a beautiful country…what a pity it’s inhabited.” I’m charmed by Romania, and couldn’t understand where this cynicism came from. But after dealing with the red tape of filming a show here…I have a new appreciation for the unofficial national motto.

This is part eight of my “Behind the Scenes” blog series about Rick Steves’ Europe Season 9 — now airing nationwide (check your local listings). You can also watch the Bulgaria and Romania episodes for free. And in case you’re in a gift-giving mode, the brand-new, 10-episode Season 9 DVD is currently on sale in our Travel Store.

Posted on

The Unkindest Cut: Shepherds, Mud, Dogs that Bite, and Cheesy Polenta

Stepping out of our car into the mist, Karel and I begin to organize our filming gear. Our guide, Teo, has driven us up a twisty road high into the Budeşti Mountains of Maramureş, in Romania. He’s brought us here to visit a very traditional shepherd settlement, where people still make rustic cheese as they have for centuries. It should make for great TV.

CH16MayMaramures_063

Gathering up the heavy tripod and the industrial-strength golf umbrella, I hear a pack of mangy, mud-stained, mismatched dogs bark furiously as they gallop across the soggy fields to greet us. They are very protective of their settlement — even though, to our eyes, there’s little worth protecting. “Don’t worry,” Teo says, with his wry smile. “Their bark is worse than their bite.” Over the chorus of yelps and growls, the shepherd yells something to Teo in Romanian. A flash of concern crosses his face. Translating, Teo points to one of the dogs. “Careful,” he says. “That one bites.”

We trudge through the muddy settlement, scouting what we’re about to film. Near the road is a paddock. A hundred yards uphill is a little roofed shed, a small hut, and a picnic table under a tarp. Everything is soaking wet. And everywhere we step, our feet squish.

Teo introduces us to the settlement’s owners, a Mutt and Jeff duo: one built like an aging linebacker, the other an emaciated beanpole. These shepherds live up here through the summer, tending their flock of goats and sheep, milking them three times a day, and making cheese. This is a far cry from the log-cabin-cutesy, government-subsidized cheesemaking huts high in the Swiss Alps — with flower boxes, antique cowbells hanging from the eaves, and lederhosen-clad, apple-cheeked farmhands straight out of Central Casting. No, this is a much more authentic scene: a patch of mud with just enough pasture to graze a flock, and buildings so basic they barely qualify as “buildings.” Nevertheless, the shepherds take pride in their work, and do it with precision.

CH16MayMaramures_039

It’s time to milk. The motley mix of goats and sheep huddle up at a rickety wooden turnstile separating the two halves of the paddock. Another stout shepherd — more linebacker than beanpole — plants herself in the middle of the paddock, gently prodding the livestock toward three shepherds who hunch on little stools, evenly spaced under a plastic tarp.

CH16MayMaramures_032

They grab each animal as it passes through, and milk it into a stainless-steel bucket. Teo explains that every goat and sheep is different, so the shepherds gradually figure out the preferred technique for each one.

Karel gets to work, detaching his camera from the tripod for a shoulder-held shot. A few minutes later, Teo and I watch helplessly, in slow motion, as a curious goat sniffs the tripod until it tips over. Its delicately machined head lands with a damp thump in a goat patty. I spend the next ten minutes fruitlessly trying to polish it with a few tattered tissues I find in my pocket.

Meanwhile, Karel is lost in his viewfinder, squatting a few inches above the muck. A nosy goat waddles up and tickles Karel’s ear with his goatee. But Karel holds the camera steady…he knows he’s shooting gold.

CH16MayMaramures_038

The chorus of barks crescendos again, and we look up to see another shepherd coming over the horizon. He brings his own ragtag herd of sheepdogs, who quickly engage the local pack in a delicate do-si-do for dominance. It’s a commotion of fur and teeth, barking and growling and posturing — until, finally, one of the guest dogs goes too far and starts biting. The shepherds exchange angry words until the neighbor retreats to his own settlement with his pack — all of their tails tucked between their legs.

CH16MayMaramures_044

After about 45 minutes, the entire flock has been milked, and we follow the shepherds as they lug the buckets up to their little house. Pulling back the curtain at the door of their dirt-floor cabin, they reveal an impossibly spartan lifestyle: a cot covered with heavy blankets, a simple basin on a shelf, and a little potbellied stove. Standing in the doorway, they pour all the milk into a wooden bucket, then sprinkle in a powdered enzyme.

CH16MayMaramures_058

After 15 minutes, the shepherds dip in a cheesecloth to skim out the curds. Then the skinny one carefully hand-shapes them in a slow, rhythmic, squeezing motion, resulting in a tight little clump of cheese. Karel stands in the doorway, filming, while I hold the golf umbrella to keep his gear dry. Feeling the several inches of liquid mud and dung finally crest the cuffs of my shoes, I don’t even mind.

CH16MayMaramures_047

Having wrung out as much moisture from his newly formed clump as possible, the spindly shepherd pulls out a spindly ladder and climbs up to place the new cheese in the little attic above their supply shack. It seems that this is the only dry place in the entire compound: Its sharply angled roof protects food, jackets, towels, and damp laundry. On the roof rest tools that look like the spoils of a folklore museum heist.

Finally, it’s time for a break. We retreat to a heavy wooden picnic table under a jerry-rigged tarp, and break bread over the plastic paisley tablecloth. With gratitude, we nibble on little samples of their very young, semi-flavorless cheese.

CH16MayMaramures_054

Then they bring out a red plastic bowl with a special treat: polenta mixed with cheese. One of the shepherds pulls out a wicked pocketknife, wipes it on his sleeve, carves off a little chunk, and hands it to me. Popping it into my mouth, I bite into a decadent, creamy texture — halfway between cheese and polenta — and taste the pungent kick of goat cheese. Fantastic.

In our travels around Romania, we’ve learned time and again about the importance of polenta. It’s such an important staple here that, in this part of Europe, Romanians are nicknamed “polenta-eaters.”

To finish the meal — and cut through the chilling wind — the shepherds pull out bottles of homemade firewater, along with a fascinating concoction: a dense, sweet syrup made of pine needles. Taking a sip, it’s sweet, but not too sweet, and mildly piney…unexpectedly delicious.

We bid farewell and head back to Teo’s car, where he winds us back down the mountain to the dry, warm comfort of our hotel. Karel and I are well aware that our Romania show will be too long. But we don’t yet know that the cheesemaking segment we just filmed will wind up on the cutting-room floor.

Trimming an overstuffed show to fit its 30-minute window requires some difficult calls, and — in the context of the entire show — this was the right call. But thinking back on the magic we captured, it feels like a particularly unkind cut. Maybe someday, somehow that footage will see the light of day. But even if it never does, my rainy afternoon on a Maramureş mountaintop was well worth it: I came away with a vivid travel memory.

Posted on

Rick Steves’ Europe Behind the Scenes: Rugged, Rewarding Romania

Romania is a big, fascinating country with an epic story. Fitting the entire thing into one 30-minute TV show was a scripting challenge — and filming it was a logistical challenge. The Romania shoot included glorious scenery, extremely helpful local guides, and more fascinating opportunities than we knew what to do with…but it also came with some unique headaches. (More on that in my next post.)

CH16MaySighisra_041

On our first evening in Bucharest, bigwigs from the national tourist authority threw us a blowout welcome dinner. Knowing that Bucharest’s nightlife scene is legendary, Rick and I had designs on filming the after-hours al fresco bars and cafés. But producer Simon and cameraman Karel weren’t necessarily sold on working after dinner, and proposed that we try to fit it in the next night instead.

CH16MayBucharest_014

After a long and decadent dinner of Romanian food — and drink (the plum firewater, țuică) — we stumbled out of the restaurant and found ourselves in the middle of an energetic, open-air cocktail party that sprawled for blocks in every direction. As we began our wobbly walk home, Simon and Karel’s eyes got wider and wider as they took in the lively scene. I could practically see their TV-production gears kicking into motion. With a wordless glance and nod, they set up their gear and began shooting the scene. It’s not smart to drive while tipsy. But apparently filming while tipsy can work out just fine…and they got some great stuff for the show. (Best of all, it wound up raining the next night — making us relieved we’d grabbed the outdoor nightlife while we had the chance.)

Romania offered serendipity to spare…but not always the serendipity we wanted. On past trips to Romania, I’d been struck by the bizarre scenes that play out along the side of the road. For the script, I’d brainstormed a montage called “Roadside Romania” — a collection of whatever slices of life we’d come across: Horse carts hauling car parts. Roving packs of dogs. Humble peasants on the shoulder of a highway, selling everything you can imagine — from produce to homemade cheese to appliances. Someone sitting on a little three-legged stool, chopping wood, right in the middle of the main road through town.

CH16MayTrnsMisc_023

We had our camera cocked and loaded, ready to shoot whatever we saw. But then…nothing. We saw plenty of strange stuff, sure. But it just wasn’t right for TV, or it appeared at moment when we were rushing to the next location, or the light made it too hard to capture. By the end of the shoot, we were stressing ourselves out trying to hunt down spontaneity. Finally, we realized that serendipity is, by definition, un-plannable. Our script was already overstuffed. “Roadside Romania” got left by the side of the road. (But if you wind up driving through Romania someday, I promise: You’ll find it right where we left it.)

CH16MayShepherd_022

That mission did, however, result in some great footage we were able to use elsewhere in the show. On one gloriously sunny day, as we zipped between Transylvanian castles, we spotted a shepherd out in a verdant field, tending his flock, in a timeless scene. We pulled over and chatted with him, and he was happy to let us film him.

CH16MayShepherd_005

When we asked our guide if we could pay the shepherd a small amount to thank him for his cooperation, he said that what he really wanted was cigarettes. As non-smokers, we couldn’t hook him up. But later that day, I found myself buying several packs of smokes to have on hand for future interactions. It turns out we never had use for them — and I was happy to throw them away the night before I flew home.

CH16MayRomaVllge_026

I felt it was essential to include a segment on Romania’s sizable Roma population (sometimes called “Gypsies”). If you wanted to film a muckraking exposé on Roma living in terrible conditions here, it would be easy: Impoverished shantytowns lie on the “other side of the tracks” from many towns and villages. But, in addition to acknowledging the challenges that come with having a large Roma population, we felt it was important to also teach something constructive about Roma culture.

CH16MayRomaFam_024

This topic turned out to be radioactive for Romania’s official tourism industry (which, to my disappointment, has utterly failed to constructively serve the many travelers who come to Romania curious to learn more about Roma culture). Fortunately, our excellent local contact for Transylvania, Daniel Gheorghiţă of Covinnus Travel, is adept at serving his clients who, like us (and presumably our viewers), would rather learn more about the Roma than simply dismiss them as some sort of unsolvable societal “problem.”

CH16MayRomaFam_029

Daniel brought us to meet Emil, the kind and well-spoken paterfamilias of a Roma family living on the outskirts of a workaday village. Like many Roma, Emil’s family earns a living as constructive members of society by making use of a traditional Roma craft (in their case, metalworking). As we spent the morning getting to know Emil’s family and filming their lifestyle, we got a little choked up at having this remarkable opportunity to use our bully pulpit — public television — to humanize an often-misunderstood population, and to prod our viewers to go beyond knee-jerk “Gypsy” stereotypes. It’s easily one of my favorite segments in the show.

CH16MayRomaFam_007

We shot all of the big tourist cliches, of course, including Bran Castle — where we had to toe a fine line of explaining that, while this castle is famous for its ties to Dracula, it actually has no real ties to Dracula. Awkward.

CH16MayBranCstl_018

But our most vivid memories came on the rugged and impossibly remote northwestern fringe of Romania — Maramureş, my vote for the most authentic and vivid traditional culture anywhere in Europe.

CH12SeptMarmures_470

Many people here still live much as their ancestors did in the Middle Ages. Of course, they do have modern conveniences — cell phones and, for some, cars — but their day-to-day lifestyles have changed little.

CH12SeptMarmures_375

While we obviously hope to show a positive view of Europe, we don’t want an artificially prettied-up one. Dropping in on a humble local family of weavers in Maramureş, we were greeted by the gregarious daughter. While we were setting up, she disappeared for a few moments, then reappeared wearing a pristine, starched traditional outfit. We kindly asked if she’d mind changing back into what she’d been wearing when we met her. She graciously obliged, and thanks to that, that segment in our show feels real rather than staged.

CH16MayMaramures_018

To open and close the show, Rick had a mental image of exactly what he wanted: Delivering his lines from a horse cart trotting down a country lane. It was a tall order, but Simon and local guide Teo were on the case. While Rick, Karel, and I shot b-roll around the region, we sent Simon and Teo ahead to find the perfect place and the perfect cart. As we were wrapping up, we got the call: The horse was ready.

CH16MayMaramures_145

We drove to the location and explained to the farmer exactly what we envisioned. Our new friend (in his typical little Maramureş straw hat) worked hard to make us happy — he even asked his wife to sweep the porch behind him while Rick addressed the camera. It worked out perfectly, and when we wrapped, we enjoyed gathering around to show the horseman the result of his hard work, on the tiny viewfinder on Karel’s camera…shaded by his hat.

CH16MayMaramures_153

The horse cart was one of the final bits of Romania we shot. After a long week of hard work, we captured the best of that fascinating country on film. Coming up are two more in-depth tales from our filming in Romania.

This is part six of my “Behind the Scenes” blog series about Rick Steves’ Europe Season 9 — now airing nationwide (check your local listings). You can also watch the Bulgaria and Romania episodes for free. And in case you’re in a gift-giving mode, the brand-new, 10-episode Season 9 DVD is currently on sale in our Travel Store.

Posted on

Rick Steves’ Europe Behind the Scenes: Surprising Bulgaria

Bulgaria is a total delight. If more people knew how beautiful, interesting, and welcoming Bulgaria is, it’d be overrun with tourists. But they don’t…so it isn’t. In the meantime, it sits just off the radar…one of Europe’s most underrated countries.

CH16MaySofia_185

Our crew was continually surprised by how altogether pleasant Bulgaria was. The original Rick Steves’ Europe show on this country — produced for Season 1, way back in 1999 — was actually titled “Surprising Bulgaria”…and that name still fits.  During the shoot, the “surprising” theme quickly became a running joke. “This place is amazing,” cameraman Karel would say. “I had no idea how rich the history would be here. It’s so… so…” “Surprising?” I’d finish his sentence, a bit too helpfully.

The success of our Bulgaria show was thanks to two very special local contacts. On my scouting trip, I traveled all over the country with Lyuba Boyanin. Good tour guides are enthusiastic about their subject matter, and I’ve never met one more enthusiastic than Lyuba — who fiercely and unrelentingly celebrated everything that’s beautiful about her homeland. Wherever we went — even to tiny villages far off the grid — everyone knew Lyuba…and everyone was thrilled she was there.CH15OctArbanasi_020

Sadly, Lyuba passed away before we returned to Bulgaria to film. We dedicated the episode to her memory, and we like to think of the show as one small part of her legacy: sharing Bulgaria with the world.

CH16MaySofia_167

Another part of Lyuba’s legacy is her successor, Stefan, who took over managing Lyuba’s company and guiding her tours. If anyone can come close to matching Lyuba’s passion for Bulgaria…it’s Stefan. Tirelessly optimistic and endlessly patient, Stefan was our guide and fixer throughout the shoot, and appeared on-camera as Rick’s sidekick.  Behind the scenes, Stefan (and his colleague in the office, Sirma) grappled with unwieldy Bulgarian bureaucracy to obtain all of the needed permissions. If you enjoy the new show, it’s largely thanks to Lyuba and Stefan.

With Stefan leading the way, our Bulgaria shoot went remarkably smoothly. Everything we filmed was gorgeous — even better than expected — and we began to worry we’d have too much great footage for one TV show (a good problem to have…but still a problem).

We could tell that Stefan was particularly excited to take us to his hometown, Kazanlak. Thanks to scheduling serendipity, we woke up in Kazanlak on the morning of the town’s annual Day of Slavic Culture parade. Stefan took us through the crowded streets to the schoolyard where local kids spun batons and waved banners featuring Cyril and Methodius — the ninth-century missionaries who converted many Slavs to Christianity and invented the Cyrillic alphabet still used today from Bulgaria to Russia. It was fun to film this small-town celebration — an intimate and endearing slice of Bulgarian life.

CH16MayKazanlak_009

We were also in Kazanlak at the right time to film the production of rose oil. First, Stefan drove us deep into the countryside — on rutted gravel roads — to a distillery. While a “rose oil distillery” might sound romantic, the reality is starkly practical: a concrete loading dock lined with huge, empty metal vats.

CH16MayKazRoses_004

When we arrived, the place was completely dead…just a couple of listless workers, sitting around waiting. “Soon, they will bring roses from the fields and begin to process them,” Stefan promised. Mindful of the many other bits we needed to film that day, we prodded him: “When, exactly?” He smiled and winked. “Soon.”

Making TV comes with lots of hurry up-wait. We know that. But after about a half-hour of waiting, we were growing impatient. Could we call someone to bring in some roses, just for our camera? Or maybe we should try to come back later?

CH16MayKazRoses_019

We were just about to give up when a rickety truck came peeling around the corner and skidded to a stop by the loading dock. Eight guys hopped out and begin unloading big plastic sacks full of delicate pink roses. Karel and Simon scurried around, filming like mad. Stefan and I hid under the loading dock like scared puppies, trying to avoid wandering into the shot.

CH16MayKazRoses_023

Stefan and I silently cheered and high-fived as we peeked out to see the camera capturing the entire procedure: Bags of roses being unloaded, weighed, and stacked next to the distillery. Then, workers executing their routine with precision: picking up each bag, holding it by its base, jamming its open mouth into the distillery hatch, and then, in one smooth and confident motion, shaking out all of the roses with one big, dramatic “whoppp!” When it was all done, a few broken pink petals were scattered across the loading dock, and the decadent aroma of rose hung heavy in the air.

CH16MayKazRoses_034

Of course, the distillery was only one step. To make all of that great footage usable, we needed to show the rest of the story: Picking the roses. The harvest takes place just before dawn — when the essential oils had worked their way up into the freshly opened flower, but before they’re evaporated by the sun’s rays. Simon and Karel dutifully woke up at 4 a.m. and drove deep into the middle of nowhere, where workers plucked newly opened roses from the vine. Finally, to finish the story, we swung by a rose-products shop to film a customer sniffing rose oil. While all of this added up to a lot of work to produce just one minute of television, we all agreed: totally worth it. As it turns out, little Kazanlak gave us some of our most vivid memories…and some of the show’s best bits.

CH16MayBuzludzha_008

Nearby was another favorite stop: The looming communist-era conference hall and monument called Buzludzha, which sits lonely and rotting atop a mountain range. A fascinating artifact of a failed system, Buzludzha is a popular stop for anyone seeking Europe’s offbeat sights.

CH16MayBuzludzha_011

The building — like a UFO beached on a mountaintop — is fascinating from the outside, but I’d heard the interior was even more striking. Filming the exterior, we noticed several intrepid explorers squeezing through a makeshift hatch in the front door. Crawling in after them, we found a crumbling world of deteriorating mosaics, damp asbestos, and a rickety ceiling barely held up by its hammer and sickle. Rick has an ethic of never filming something that the general public doesn’t have access to — after all the purpose of our show is to make travel accessible to anyone. But on this one rare occasion, we made an exception and filmed a fine little sequence. (To be fair, anyone can go inside Buzludzha…if they dare.)

CH16MayBuzludzha_050

We enjoyed mostly good weather until we were on our way to our final stop, Veliko Tarnovo, the medieval capital of Bulgaria. The weather report — and the gathering storm clouds — indicated that rain was imminent. Stefan and I navigated as Simon hurriedly drove us around the vertical townscape — pausing at several different viewpoints just long enough for Karel to hop out and shoot.

CH16MayVlkoTrnvo_001

The very moment we got the final establishing shot — the big-picture overview over the town and its castle — the skies opened up, and we scurried the camera back to the safety of the van. It rained the entire time we were in Veliko Tarnovo, but fortunately we got just enough sunny shots in those first few minutes to do the town justice.

The next day, filming street scenes under misty skies, we kept noticing that everyone had the same umbrella — making some of our footage unusable. Turns out a Viking riverboat cruise was docked on the Danube nearby, and everyone had come to Veliko Tarnovo toting cruise line-issued umbrellas, emblazoned with the Viking logo.

CH16MayVlkoTrnvo_053

The rain required just one change of plans: The folk dancing troupe that proudly performs for our Rick Steves Best of Bulgaria Tour was booked to do their thing for our camera in the serene garden courtyard of a historic stone mansion. We had to move the shoot indoors, filming in the troupe’s own theater. In retrospect, this may have been better anyway — no scenery to upstage the musicians, singers, dancers, and their colorful costumes.

CH16MayVlkoTrnvo_050

Filming a musical segment with a single camera is tricky. To allow Steve Cammarano — our editor back home — to cut together a smooth segment, we need to film the same performance several times, from different angles. First the troupe ran through a few songs for us to choose from. We made our selection, and they performed it three times: Once to film in a wide shot, and then twice more with Karel on stage weaving between performers — camera on his shoulder — to grab close-ups of the swarming dancers.

CH16MayVlkoTrnvo_057

Once filming was complete, the performers were curious to see what we’d shot. So Karel played back his footage on his camera’s tiny viewfinder screen, and the dancers all gathered round to watch and giggle.

CH16MayVlkoTrnvo_063

One great episode in the can, we woke up, said goodbye to Stefan, and piled into a rusty communist-era minivan to head north across the border and make one more: Romania. That’s next.

This is part five of my “Behind the Scenes” blog series about Rick Steves’ Europe Season 9 — now airing nationwide (check your local listings). You can also watch the Bulgaria and Romania episodes for free. And in case you’re in a gift-giving mode, the brand-new, 10-episode Season 9 DVD is currently on sale in our Travel Store.