I found them by accident. In the drawer of an Airbnb in Kapana, where I was staying for two nights on a work trip. I had just arrived in Plovdiv, and my calendar, packed with business meetings, was already tugging at my collar.
I was rummaging through the drawer for a charger I had, as always, forgotten—when instead, I found them.
Unsent letters.
Neatly folded, without envelopes, handwritten in blue pen.
Who, for heaven’s sake, still writes letters on paper? There was no way I wouldn’t open them. No way!
They weren’t signed. No name anywhere. Just three letters scattered in the drawer.
Letter 1: To you, who would have said, “Well, what’s this supposed to be?”
My love,
From the entrance, I already knew you’d raise an eyebrow. Kyu Nove?
The name itself sounds like a conceptual perfume or a futuristic theater. The interior—classic elegance, measured and deliberate, with high ceilings, a shaded inner courtyard with a vine, making the light spill like white wine in a glass. The feeling is one of harmony, delicately disrupted by small artifacts, carefully placed by a designer who knows exactly when to wink instead of explain.
I was with Martin. You remember him—my crazy friend from university who used to drink from every glass and dance until dawn. Now he wears a suit, carries a laptop more powerful than an airplane, and doesn’t have a minute of free time. But he’s still the same Martin—his smile hasn’t changed, still as expressive as ever. In the first five minutes, he said:
“Friend, this place smells like an expensive mistake—or genius. Cheers.”
We started with a sushi set, served on a black slate like something from a gallery. Each bite was a tiny masterpiece—perfectly cooked rice, fresh fish, a flawless balance, and an umami experience.
Kyu Nove Restaurant, Plovdiv, Sredets St. 44; tel: +359 89 547 4999
Of course, Martin wouldn’t shut up:
“What is this!? This isn’t sushi, this is a TED Talk!”
I ordered spaghetti Puttanesca with shrimp.
Italy—but not the touristy beach kind but that Italy after a second glass of wine, at midnight.
Tomatoes with character, fragrant olives, and seafood that put an exclamation mark on the experience.
Kyu Nove Restaurant, Plovdiv, Sredets St. 44; tel: +359 89 547 4999
Martin surprised me with his wish to eat a vegan steak. Can you imagine him, my love!
“And she would have said something sarcastic, but then she’d want to finish my plate,” our friend chuckled.
But I tried it instead of you—a celery steak, with carrot purée, coconut milk, pak choi, and edamame.
Kyu Nove Restaurant, Plovdiv, Sredets St. 44; tel: +359 89 547 4999
Ah, I know that if you were here with us, you’d be laughing, taking pictures, asking the waiter what’s in that divine orange mousse, chatting until you almost became friends. You’d discuss the restaurant’s name, then remember it and recommend it to all our friends.
I’ll write to you again. Tomorrow will be another world—a little more spice, a little more music.
Yours,
S.
Letter 2: To you, who would have ordered the whole menu and tapped your fork to the beat..
My love,
Sometimes you stumble upon a dinner you didn’t plan and meet people you weren’t looking for—but you recognize each other just like that, on the streets of Plovdiv, because of a shared smile.
Tonight, while passing by Mayriges, a family-run Lebanese restaurant someone had recommended to me, it happened exactly like that. It was full of people talking, laughing, dancing. I instantly pictured you standing up, grabbing your napkin like a veil, and starting to dance around the table. Seriously, you would have done that.
Listening to the song, I saw someone from a table waving me over:
“Hey, come join us. Let’s settle the debate—is it homos or hummus?”
I sat down at the lavishly set table, with dishes that sounded like culinary magic—Homos (yes, that’s what they call it here, and it was the best I’ve ever had), Mutabbal, Falafel, Ful Medames.
Lebanese Restaurant Mayriges, Plovdiv, Konstantin Stoilov St. 14; tel: +359 89 7771 772
The plates overflowing with abundance, the laughter sincere, and that warm feeling when something completely unfamiliar reminds you of something deeply close to yourself. As one of my new friends said: “Every national flavor is like its people—give it time, and you start to feel it like family."
Lebanese Restaurant Mayriges, Plovdiv, Konstantin Stoilov St. 14; tel: +359 89 7771 772
And here, just like family, we passed plates around, savored the different spices, flavors, the conversation, and this spontaneous, delightful experience.
We will definitely come here, and then I’ll introduce you to the girl who served us! She talks about food like you do, understands the flavors from the inside, shares them with a smile, and has that rare talent of turning every dinner into a journey that doesn’t need a map.
For dessert, at her recommendation, we had Knafeh. “The Emperor’s Dessert,” she said.
Lebanese Restaurant Mayriges, Plovdiv, Konstantin Stoilov St. 14; tel: +359 89 7771 772
My love, I leave you with the taste of soft cheese melting under sugary syrup, the pleasant crunch of kataifi pastry, and fine chocolate…
Yours,
S.
Letter 3: To you, who taught me about life
My love,
I’m writing to you while sitting under a tree in the heart of a beautiful restaurant. Yes, a tree! Above me, hundreds of paper cranes sway—light, dreamy, like my thoughts of you that never stop. I imagine you reaching for one, slightly tilted, slightly out of place, and gently returning it to where it belongs. Just like that, because “it’s not time for it to fly yet.”
Authentic Japanese Restaurant Japonica, Plovdiv, Peshtersko Shose Blvd. 82; tel: +359 888 950 052
Today I’m going to do something I’m learning from you.
The Japanese call it OMAKASE, literally meaning “I leave it to you”. I will surrender myself to the hands of the sushi master. To the true pleasure, which here lies not in the choice, but in the trust—and in tasting something I didn’t expect.
Today I’m practicing letting go of control, my love!
The sushi master worked like an artist, serving me a palette of colors and flavors, the perfect balance between sea and land.
The reward for my trust?
Perfection.
Authentic Japanese Restaurant Japonica, Plovdiv, Peshtersko Shose Blvd. 82; tel: +359 888 950 052
And I continued in this spirit.
I ordered sea bass fillet, and they served me an exquisite Japanese landscape on a plate—soft and juicy, with the citrus whisper of Yuzu Kosho, embraced by velvety sweet potato purée, smoked red pepper mousse, delicate tofu, fresh edamame, and a fine crispy accent of lotus chips.
Authentic Japanese Restaurant Japonica, Plovdiv, Peshtersko Shose Blvd. 82; tel: +359 888 950 052
My love, I left a crane on the table, whispered a kiss to it.
Authentic Japanese Restaurant Japonica, Plovdiv, Peshtersko Shose Blvd. 82; tel: +359 888 950 052
When we come here again, you will recognize it. It will be waiting for you.
Yours,
S.
The letters end here.
But my story is yet to be written in this city. I surrender myself to the afternoon on one of the aristocratic streets in Kapana and savor my drink. The waiter brings me something that looks like love.
I tasted it. It is love. With this city, with the feeling it brings me, a flirt with warm memories, a provocation to make dreams come true, a dance with optimistic thoughts of our tomorrow.
A beautiful UTRO (Morning).
I’m staying here.
Brunch Restaurant UTRO by Mayriges, Plovdiv, Konstantin Stoilov St. 14; tel: +359 89 7771 772
And if one day you too, like me, find yourself in one of these restaurants, if you find a letter written to someone—don’t look for the author. Just know that here, someone loved someone.
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