Sofia...
Sofia:
There is no questioning it anymore, I am back in Europe. The final bit of evidence needed was a doner kebab. A dripping mix of lamb shaved from a spit, garlic sauce, and vegetables. Chicago has deep dish pizzas, Bloomington has Pizza Express, and Europe has doner kebobs. This was a dietary staple when I lived in the Netherlands. And, ladies and gentlemen she has returned. I will keep you abreast of further sightings. Aside from being home to the first doner I have had in over a year and a half, Sofia is beautiful.
After our long day of Peace Corps meetings on Friday a friend of mine, Casey, and I decided we needed to do something. So we left. The deciding factor for choosing Sofia was George. George is a PCV that lived in Sofia until he moved to the States about twenty years ago. Fluent in Bulgarian? Check. Friends all over the place in Sofia? Check. Willing to show us around? Check. A no brainer.
We got into Sofia late Friday and headed to Hostel Sofia; a cheap, clean, albeit cramped hostel with a wonderful family running it. I guess Peace Corps people use it all the time. I will be back. Once we settled in, we got dinner and got lost. We wandered ourselves right back to the hostel and crashed. We woke up and killed some time (read: got lost again) waiting for George. We were supposed to wait for him outside our Hostel, so we picked a café and waited. It was a nice enough café, but was deserted. We spent our time watching people in suits being let in to a very modern and secure building (think CIA). George and Igor, one of his friends, finally walk up they are laughing. George asks us if we can read Bulgarian. No George, not yet. He points to the shiny building we have been sitting next to and tells us that it is the headquarters for the current Communist party. I must to learn how to read Bulgarian. George wouldn’t sit down while we finish our drinks. We left.
The day was spent hopping from one Café to another. The plan was to bump into major sites along the way. A very civilized way of touring a city, I must admit. At one of the café’s there is a statue of Lennon laying in the grass, this used to be in some famous square in Sofia.
Someday I will get into more detail about the ruins left from Communism, it really is fascinating. We went into a gallery with the largest collection of Christian Icons in Europe. George knew the curator. We were led into the restricted access ‘depot’ where thousands of Icons sit with no funding for refurbishing. Every one of them was priceless and every one of them sat on a shelf. The curator locked the depot, locked his office and joined us for the next café. What a great society. The conversation at this café was particularly amazing. Igor was the head of publishing for the Bulgarian Ministry of Culture. The three old friends argued, in English fortunately, about almost every aspect of Bulgarian life. If I had a transcript of the conversation, I would post it. When people say the best education does not come from school this was what they were thinking of. (To my cousins who may be reading this: Stay in school.)
It helped me imagine what Communism was like, what is holding this country back, and why I am here. We kept walking. The sun stopped shining, we kept going. Around midnight I realized this might not ever end and took myself out of the game.
Sunday morning Casey and I were on our own and decided to walk to the train station. We had spent quite a bit of Bulgarian Leva the previous day. On the way we stumbled into a market. We bought some fruit and filled our water bottles from a little fountain. One of the most satisfying breakfasts I have had to date. It was this market that also carried doner kabobs, the significance of which I have previously stated. We got to the station, Casey hopped on a bus to his training site and I caught a train home. It worked and it was conducted in Bulgarian. A great trip.
Next weekend is my host sister’s wedding. The house is bustling and exciting. Expect some type of correspondence regarding the event. Thank you again to everyone who has written me.
~~Mark
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There is no questioning it anymore, I am back in Europe. The final bit of evidence needed was a doner kebab. A dripping mix of lamb shaved from a spit, garlic sauce, and vegetables. Chicago has deep dish pizzas, Bloomington has Pizza Express, and Europe has doner kebobs. This was a dietary staple when I lived in the Netherlands. And, ladies and gentlemen she has returned. I will keep you abreast of further sightings. Aside from being home to the first doner I have had in over a year and a half, Sofia is beautiful.
After our long day of Peace Corps meetings on Friday a friend of mine, Casey, and I decided we needed to do something. So we left. The deciding factor for choosing Sofia was George. George is a PCV that lived in Sofia until he moved to the States about twenty years ago. Fluent in Bulgarian? Check. Friends all over the place in Sofia? Check. Willing to show us around? Check. A no brainer.
We got into Sofia late Friday and headed to Hostel Sofia; a cheap, clean, albeit cramped hostel with a wonderful family running it. I guess Peace Corps people use it all the time. I will be back. Once we settled in, we got dinner and got lost. We wandered ourselves right back to the hostel and crashed. We woke up and killed some time (read: got lost again) waiting for George. We were supposed to wait for him outside our Hostel, so we picked a café and waited. It was a nice enough café, but was deserted. We spent our time watching people in suits being let in to a very modern and secure building (think CIA). George and Igor, one of his friends, finally walk up they are laughing. George asks us if we can read Bulgarian. No George, not yet. He points to the shiny building we have been sitting next to and tells us that it is the headquarters for the current Communist party. I must to learn how to read Bulgarian. George wouldn’t sit down while we finish our drinks. We left.
Sunday morning Casey and I were on our own and decided to walk to the train station. We had spent quite a bit of Bulgarian Leva the previous day. On the way we stumbled into a market. We bought some fruit and filled our water bottles from a little fountain. One of the most satisfying breakfasts I have had to date. It was this market that also carried doner kabobs, the significance of which I have previously stated. We got to the station, Casey hopped on a bus to his training site and I caught a train home. It worked and it was conducted in Bulgarian. A great trip.
Next weekend is my host sister’s wedding. The house is bustling and exciting. Expect some type of correspondence regarding the event. Thank you again to everyone who has written me.
~~Mark
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]
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