Bansko

It’s cradled in the Pirin mountains which have plenty of hangover-curing woodland walks whatever the season. As you approach the town, you get the accommodation blocks and ski lodges that back right onto the pistes and in the centre, the countless traditional restaurants, each with its own tout that latches on to you if he hears you speaking English. The narrow backstreets weaving away from the main street are where you find the oldest buildings with tiny doorways designed to make the occupying Turks bow when they entered. In the winter everything is cloaked by the soporific aroma of woodsmoke.