Sunday in Sofia

I’m in Sofia, the beautiful clean, green capital of Bulgaria.  It is a bit like Moscow with smiles.  It is filled with little parks and fountains and there are lots and lots of men playing speed chess sitting under huge chestnut trees which periodically break the rhythm of the game by dropping large green spiky nuts onto the boards.  I arrived at about four pm after at twenty hour travel day that took me from Dulles to Atlanta to Paris and finally to Sofia.  The trip wasn’t that bad considering that I was in coach.  On the leg from Atlanta to Paris I was in the new Air France Premium Economy.  It is four rows of 2-4-2, compared to regular coach, which is 3-4-3, so there is a bit of extra room.  The real advantage is that it is rather quiet, has a shell seat so that no one reclines into your face and there is a bigger tray table and TV screen.  Otherwise it is about the same, with the same food and beverages in coach.  I once again presented the coach flight attendants with See’s Lollipops and the Champagne and white wine flowed freely for me.  (Yes, I know I’m shameless but one must do what one must do to survive coach flights.)  Despite the slightly improved environment, I was only able to sleep for about ninety minutes and that was fitful.  Needless to say, I was one tired puppy when I finally got to the next flight.

The flight from Paris to Sofia was just gorgeous.  It was perfect weather and we flew over Zurich and then followed the Alps.  I sometimes forget how beautiful that part of the world really is, with the combination of snow-capped peaks that soar up from the deep green valleys and seemingly dark black rivers and streams.  It was a little Airbus 319 that carried us to Sofia and it had a weird configuration.  All the seats are the same on these planes but they have little movable curtains that are used to separate Business from Coach.  On this flight they had one business row and one row for Premium Coach.  For business they leave the middle seat empty but since I was the only person in Premium Economy, I had a whole row of three seats to myself.  In this case, the food and beverages for Premium Economy are the same as Business, (go figure) so I was able to sip some lovely Champagne as I watched the Alps slid below.

The ride in from the Airport was lots of fun since my driver was clever and knew lots of English.  It had been more than twenty years since I’d been in Sofia and I must say I didn’t remember much.  There are a few buildings and monuments that looked familiar but other than that it was all new to me.  Turns out, according to the driver, that I can use Russian here since everyone understands it because Bulgarian is very similar. If I’m stop for directions here in Sofia I can now say, “az ne govorya bugarski”

I’m in a grand old hotel, The Sheraton Sofia Hotel Balkan, which is right in the middle of the city and convenient for long walks.  Outside my window is the Church of St. George and if you look to the left of the cross in this photo, the two top balconies is my room.  After getting up packed I took a quick walk to get familiar with the area as well as stretching muscles that had been unused for twenty hours.  There is a lovely little park right behind the hotel and it was filled with folks and families walking around and enjoying the late afternoon sun.  It is still rather warm here and the trees are all starting to change into their more colorful attire.  As I mentioned, everyone seemed to be smiling and chatting and having fun as they ate their ice cream or sipped their coffee drinks under large white and green umbrellas set up on all the decks around the cafes.

By the time I came back I could call Cindy who had returned from running.  We tried to Skype but the connection here is not too fast and we ended up using Skype Phone.  I was bound and determined to stay up until at least 9pm so after we talked for a while I took a cold shower, got into some clean clothes and heading down to the Bar/Lounge.  Turns out that I got the deal of the century on this room.  Not only is is lovely, has two balconies, is every so stately, very light with tall ceilings and a chandelier, a mother of pearl bathroom floor, and wood everywhere, but it comes with free Wi-Fi access which in Europe is a big deal.  The Bar/Lounge down stairs is rather small but I was the only one in there since it was still early by Sofia standards.  With your drinks you can enjoy some canapés, which were just delicious.  Some of them were with smoked salmon, some with smoked cheese, and some with smoked ham.  There were also smoked nuts and smoked olives.  They like smoked things here, but it really wasn’t over done and I enjoyed my time just reading, nibbling, and watching the news.  The wines were very good, but then Bulgaria has always had a wonderful reputation for excellent wines, they just don’t get much distribution in the USA.

I stayed up until exactly 9pm and then I took a little round white pill that Cindy told me would help me sleep and I was out like a light for ten hours.  I woke up refreshed and ready for my only free day of this trip so I did my exercise routine, and got cleaned up before hitting the streets.  I wandered over to where I thought I had seen a Central Market and sure enough there it was.  It was build in 1905 and looks like an old train station.  It is very similar to the one in Budapest but not as lively, nor as exciting.  There were just lots of stalls selling foods and dry goods, trinkets and cheeses.  I did one quick tour and was out of there since I knew there must be something better.  The place wasn’t at all crowded on a Saturday morning, which meant that there were options someplace else.  Sure enough I saw two older ladies pulling their empty shopping bags heading down the pedestrian street and I decided to follow them.  I was rewarded with a five block long street market that was jammed with shopper, hawkers, pickpockets, and beggars; it was just what I was looking for.

I took my time and started up one side of the market that was selling all manner of clothing and I must say the Sofians are not shy about trying clothes on in the great outdoors. Beyond the clothes came the kitchen stuff, sinks, faucets, plugs, and other odd bits.  There was a section of second hand hardware and tools; a place for selling reading glasses right next to a place that was selling big garden tools like shovels, axes, hoes, etc.  I sat and watched a Roma family making things out of straw and reeds.  Some were weaving baskets others were making brooms, which really fascinated me.  Their fingers flew as they gathered up the straw and crimped it at one end, wove some string in the middle to hold it all together and then, with what had to be the sharpest tool I’ve seen, sliced off the ends so it was neat and even and then they attached the broom to the handle and bingo, a brand new broom.  I wanted to buy a great big one and bring it back to Washington hoping that a new broom would clean out the dirt that we call congress, but alas, they didn’t have one that large.

I hit the other side of the market after watching the broom makers and was amazed at the quality and variety of the fruits and vegetables that I saw.  I’ve never seen larger cauliflower in my life, huge gleaming white orbs of goodness.  There were tomatoes so sweet that the little cut samples were attracting more bees than some of the other ‘sweet’ fruits.  Needless to say, the wild stuff was where the crowds were.  People had brought to market scores of different wild mushrooms, lots, and lots of wild nuts, which were displayed whole, cracked, and cleaned.  Near each of the areas, vegetables, fruits, meats, etc, -there was some enterprising person cooking and selling skewers of roasted vegetables, raw fruits drizzled with honey and sprinkled with a variety of spices, grilled meats that were either eaten on bread or off the stick.  The one place that didn’t hold a lot of interest for me was the offal stand where the raw tripe and stomach, liver and kidney, tongue and brain were hard enough to look at, but when they started to cook it, goodness, that has to be where we get the word awful!

As fascinated as I was with spending a hour browsing this market, I was lured away when I saw streams of young people coming down an intersecting street, all dragging rollaboards over the uneven and loose cobblestones.  I had to work my way up stream from this group of travelers, hoping that I would be rewarded with a grand old rail terminal.  Alas, they had all been disgorged from two large tour buses from Sarajevo.  (Incidental the license tags for Bosnia and Herzegovina is BiH, I had to look that one up.)

Looking for a bit more excitement, I followed a group of police, all carrying helmets, and shields.  Much to my amazement, they were heading right back to my hotel.  Turns out that right behind the hotel, in front of one of the more important government buildings, they had guards in old fancy uniforms out front, there was a demonstration by the ATAKA political party.  They are basically far right nationalist that what to return Bulgaria to the Bulgarians.  They hate almost everyone, especially the Romas, and I must say they really were rather well organized.  There were trailers there with pictures of their leaders, lots of banners, lots of loud speeches and louder music from speakers and, I would estimate there were about 150 people in black shirts mesmerized by the speakers.  I would also guess that there were about 400 police near the rally and more scattered around the blocks surrounding the rally.  I’m not sure if they expected trouble but they had them out numbered and out gunned.  This was yet another reminder that I wasn’t in Moscow any more.  There were no arrests, the police never put on their helmets, and most of the time they just stood around with smiles and accepted little plastic cups of strong coffee from people who were walking by showing support for the police.

Speaking of police, the Church of St. George area behind my hotel is also a staging area for the police, as well as being a favorite place for photo sessions for newlyweds, five today.  They seem to have the same tradition here as in Moscow whereby the bridal party all pile into a limo and go all over town to have photos taken in front of famous and historical buildings.  I’ve notice two differences here; they are not all as drunk as skunks, and the police all seem to do what they can to help them with their photo shoot.  One couple had all the police get in the picture with them; there were twelve of them.  One of them let the bride hold his nightstick over the head of the groom for the photo.  You would NEVER see this in Moscow.

Priyaten Nedelya (Have a nice Sunday),   William