Vitosha Mountain
Fourth century church of St. George
Yesterday I woke up in Sofia, Bulgaria, and this morning, woke up in my own comfy bed in Crozet, Virginia, USA. It’s truly a marvel how fast we can travel from one place to another. This trip, I also feel I went back in time then returned to the present. Sofia is a place clearly marred by years of Soviet domination with apartment blocs as ugly as any American ghetto that appear to have been devastated by war and crime, but where people still live on 3-600 levas a month, or about 150-300 Euros.
Inside the central part of the city is the hidden, charming, older section with a multitude of small parks and converted palaces now serving as museums, with many sidewalk cafes and alley bars to be found. Every restaurant serves the same Bulgarian items, generally the Shopska salad, and a variety of grilled meats seasoned with cumin and curry. A few Italian dishes can be found and are pretty good, reliant on the apparent abundance of fresh seasonal vegetables.
Majella and me at the Magic Astor’s evening.
The best bourbon to be found is either Jim Beam or Maker’s Mark, and so on more occasions than were advisable, I had the Rakia (roll the rrrrrr heavily) or the local red wine, very tannic but still palatable unless you have severe sulfite allergies. Rakia is alternatively an aperitif or jet plane fuel, and on my second sip when I first tried it, my entire upper lip began tingling uncontrollably then went completely numb!
Music in Sofia ranged from a rare few current pop hits from the UK and the US to a panoply of the good and bad sugary hits of the 70s and early 80s. Nothing resembling rock or punk could be heard on the radio in cars or in bars. The entertainment epitomizing Sofia’s status as a city in recovery included native folk music and dancing, along with entertainers along the lines of SNL’s Wild and Crazy Guys or Bill Murray’s sleazy lounge act. But the two male singers we “enjoyed” were quite serious while delivering performances reminiscent of those, and it left me a bit sad. Good thing I had friends there to avoid being sucked into a pit of despair at the fact that so many in the world still live in abysmal conditions despite their attempts to overcome them. 
State of the Art entertainment in Sofia, Bulgaria, circa 2007.
On the plane home, I read quite a bit of a fantastic book called Roar of the Heavens by Steven Bechtel, an account of Hurricane Camille. It’s riveting reading and I can’t wait to finish it once I’m less bleary.
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