The first spade touched the chalky soil in the soft spring light and, a metre down, uncovered what looked at first like only a simple pit. But as the excavation in the historic Black Sea town of Sozopol, Bulgaria progressed, archaeologists realized they were standing at the cusp of a story long buried. It was the story of a community, its faith, its rituals—and its place in a changing world.
Beneath The Bus Station
What started as a standard archaeological excavation before the construction of a new bus station soon turned into a remarkable discovery.
The location lies on the narrow strip of land connecting Sozopol’s old and new towns—an area that once belonged to the ancient Greek colony of Apollonia Pontica. Over the centuries, it evolved into a Christian community, later a Bulgarian fortress, and today, a thriving coastal destination.
Early in the dig, the team, led by archaeologist Yavor Ivanov (head of the excavation) and overseen by Dimitar Nedev, director of the local Archaeological Museum, encountered human remains lying in Christian burial orientation (heads to the west) and pottery dating from the 11th to early 13th centuries.
According to Ivanov, the burial patterns suggest a family tradition where relatives were interred in the same grave over time. In some cases, as many as ten to fifteen layers of burials were found, indicating that the same resting place was used repeatedly across generations.
Indeed, they found children’s skeletons, even a baby, buried likely above a parent. They also discovered two 13th-century lead seals with images of saints and clerical inscriptions—evidence of a literate, ecclesiastical connection at the time.
By late May 2024, work had revealed even more: a monastic complex dating to the late 11th century, a single-nave church built in the 12th century, and a wider necropolis formed around it. This monastery and church were destroyed by fire at the end of the 13th century, after which a road was built across the site—an unusual act, archaeologists say, because sacred ground was seldom built over so directly.
Lives In Layers
Imagine walking into the excavation zone: you see rows of carefully placed skeletons. The skulls face west, as Christian custom dictated—the dead anticipating the rising of the new heavens. Around some of the graves: pieces of ceramic vessels, nails perhaps from wooden coffins, but no lavish grave goods. It seems this was a community rooted in faith more than in earthly display.
Above the burial layer lies evidence of that church dedicated to a small religious community. The monastery, founded at the end of the 11th century, must have been a hub of devotion, hospitality and daily life. One can picture monks, pilgrims arriving by boat, the toll of the bell across the sea breeze. Then calamity: fire. The site tells of a large destruction event, after which the sacred became profane ground—as a road is laid.
And yet—beneath that, perhaps other layers await: Ivanov predicts the team may reach remains dating to the 4th century, or even to the late Hellenistic period. The possibility of a long timeline of occupancy opens the door to a much richer story.
A Window Into Resilience
This find is not just about bones and bricks. It is about the continuity of human presence, of cultures layered one upon another. In Sozopol, the ancient Greek settlers founded Apollonia Pontica in the 7th century BCE. Centuries later, in medieval Bulgaria, this little community lived through trade, conquest, faith, and eventually decay. And now—in the 21st century—their resting place is discovered beneath a modern bus station.
To me, the scene evokes a powerful metaphor: even as we build forward—roads, terminals, bus stations—we are building above the lives of those who came before. The past is not gone. It remains, layered beneath, whispering its own rhythms.
The fact that the monastery perished by fire suggests a moment of crisis—perhaps warfare, perhaps accidental. That the path of the living would later be built over it speaks to change: the sacred becomes the functional, the old becomes infrastructure. The archaeologists’ job is to unpeel those transitions.
What It Means For Today
For Bulgaria, for Sozopol, this discovery holds multiple promises:
- Cultural Insight: The burials, seals, and architecture provide new knowledge about monastic life and burial practices in medieval Bulgarian lands, especially on the littoral fringe of Europe.
- Tourism And Heritage: The site may become part of a visitor experience—open glass walls, explanation panels. The bus-station project may be adjusted to incorporate the archaeological finds.
- Community Memory: For locals, the find reminds that their town is built upon centuries of interaction, faith, and renewal. That brings dignity and connection.
- Respect For Archaeology During Development: That such a find emerged during infrastructure work is a reminder that modern building must incorporate sensitivity to ancient layers.
A Humble Reflection
One of the burials uncovered was a child, maybe a baby, placed carefully into the earth above a parent’s grave. I pause at that image: the soft body of a child, the mourning of a parent, the ritual of placement, the hope of redemption. The bones may be silent, but their arrangement speaks: of love, of loss, of community.
And then centuries later, after that community decays, its ground is repurposed, roads laid, new life springs forth. The story we see is not glamorous—but human. It is not sensational—but enduring.
In that sense, the discovery in Sozopol is hopeful. It tells us that we are part of a vast sequence, that each of us rests upon something older and will one day feed into something newer. The ground remembers. And we, living now, inherit the task of remembering, of cherishing, of building with humility.
Final Thought
So as the dig continues in Sozopol—layer by layer, skeleton by skeleton, seal by seal—we stand watching a story being unearthed. The monks who lived in the 12th century could not imagine that 800 years later their soil would be parted by shovels and studied by scientists. But through their buried lives, we glimpse resilience, faith, and the small rituals that bind us.
And as we move forward—building our bus stations, our roads, our futures—it is worth pausing to wonder: What stories lie beneath our feet? What lives are layered just beneath the pavement? In that act of reflection, we honour not only the past—but our shared future, richer for knowing it.
