The Hunt for St. George

Kevin's guidebook said there was a good restaurant, called St. George, that served authentic hamburgers, with "real" cheddar cheese and "real" ketchup.  He wanted to try it for lunch.  Dan hasn't eaten a hamburger in 10 years, but agreed to go, thinking he'd find something else on the menu.  Little did we know what an ordeal finding St George would become.  Explorers seeking Sasquatch or Atlantis had nothing on us.  Everyone we asked had never heard of it:

We searched street after cobblestone street, alley after maze-like alley.

This guy judged us from above

Looked like Baron Von Raschke (yes, I asked if I could take his pic).

Found a quaint-as-hell bakery along the way (sometimes it pays to get lost in a foreign city, as you see things you weren't expecting.  Don't you agree?).

Finally, after great hardship, thousands of miles hiked, and mild hunger, we found a guy that had heard of it.  He said it had closed one year ago.  He recommended the place across the street.  We took it, and it turned out to be great!  The patio was beautiful, and our server, Nadia, is the only woman in Bulgaria that I've seen smile.

We got salads: cucumber yogurt, roasted peppers and feta, and Shopska (cucumbers, tomatoes, olives, onion, green pepper, and shredded white cheese).  Delicious with olive oil and vinegar. Perfect on a hot day.

Pear (?) tree on patio.

Each restaurant seems to have a resident feral cat.  I asked Nadia if this cat had a name, but she said no.  I told her the cat's new name is, "St. George."