I'm a great believer in the ancient wisdom: "Just love women. Don't try to understand them!" And that, I've found, goes double for Bulgarian women. But in the Vagabond tradition of courageous and insightful journalism, here goes.

I first experienced the charms of "The Bulgarian Woman" from 15,000 kilometres away. Here's what happened...

When I was given the opportunity, I had a hard time deciding whether or not to move to Bulgaria. What I knew about this country, before actually moving here, would have filled the back of a postage stamp.

So I scoured the Internet for information. Especially pictures. Pictures say so much, don't they? Open "image search". Question: How do people in Sofia live? Answer. Row upon row of big old apartment blocks. Hmmm. Question: What do Bulgarians eat? Answer. Cucumbers and tomatoes with grated cheese on top. Right. Question: What do Bulgarian women look like?

I can still clearly remember the day I opened the Miss Bulgaria website to find the answer to that question. Of course, you open up the Miss (insert name of any country here) website and you'll find good-looking girls. But there was one... a special one... it was, I recall, Miss Montana. Wow! I knew immediately that here was a woman I could willingly, nay, happily, lay down my life for.

Well alright, perhaps I exaggerate. But I did think "Sweetheart, if there's a few more at home like you, put the kettle on. I'm coming over". And I did.

Of course, actually stepping off the plane, I feared that Miss Montana might have been an aberration and that Bulgarian women would turn out to be moustachioed weight-lifter types after all. But I needn't have worried. Bulgaria is just chock-full of gorgeous chicks. Hurray!

Now don't get me wrong. Like anywhere, not every girl you look at is an oil-painting. But BG just seems to have more than its fair share of what the British would call top totty. What an American would call hot chicks. Or what an Australian would call great-looking Sheilas.

Just why, I couldn't tell you. Something in the water, perhaps. Bacterium Bulgaricus. Or, more likely, the product of millennia of genetic mingling at the very crossroads of East and West.

Bulgarian women dress to optimise their womanly goodies. It can in fact be a little daunting for the foreign man first setting foot on Bulgarian soil, confronted with an ocean of hips and heels, bellybuttons and boob-tubes. Looking around at those swivelling, swaying, perky, curvy bits, you could be tempted to think "Blimey, that's a bit much. Put those away, love". But then it's remarkable how quickly the eye becomes accustomed to the seething mass of Bulgarian eye-candy around you. And then you go for a week back home in Middlesbrough and you're dismayed to see what a load of heifers the hometown talent consists of.

While your expat bloke cheerfully zig-zags down Vitosha Boulevard rubbernecking at the local ladies, Bulgarian men seem not so easily distracted. Maybe they're desensitised. Kids here grow up on chalga (BG pop) videos, after all. Have you seen them? Miaow. They're unofficial, televised "sexy education" for BG boys and girls. So, fellas, you're here for a while and you fancy snaring a Bulgarian girlfriend? There are a few things you should know...