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Submitted by: Evelyn C. LeeperUnited States
Website: Not Available
Submission Date: 10 February 2005

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As we did the woman said, 'Ploschtad Lenin, number 7,' and pointed to where we would catch the number 7. We thanked her (one of the few words of Bulgarian we knew) and, as we looked back at our tram, discovered our problem. In the confusion we had taken the number 9 instead of the number 2. The large building turned out to be the train station. We also discovered that the tram stops are printed on signs at the waiting spots, so we just had to count how many stops there were to Lenin Square and there we were. All this excitement for only 70 stotinki (4 cents) each!

One of the first things we saw walking around (other than the Sheraton, which dominates the square in a way Lenin's statue, now gone, never could) was the yellow brick road. Yes, there really is a yellow brick road. (Actually, it's mustard-colored, but I'll take literary license.) It is made of an expensive paving stone called klinker that came from Vienna in 1917 and was used to pave the streets right around the palace area.

There is a very large synagogue in Sofia known for its chandelier, so we wanted to see it. But it was on an unlabeled street on our map. Would we be able to find it? I looked in the general direction and saw a huge dome and on top of it, not a cross, but a Star of David. I am still not used to the idea that a synagogue could be as obvious as a church--in the United States, synagogues tend to keep a low profile, especially in the physical sense, as they are usually only one story high. But in Europe, at least before the Holocaust, they built *big* synagogues.

We took pictures of the outside (and the street sign--believe it or not, the synagogue is on George Washington Street!), then went around to the entrance. A woman came out and we tried to indicate we wanted to see the synagogue. I think she tried to tell us it was closed, but we had no language in common, so she finally let us in, probably due in part to our downcast looks when it appeared the synagogue was closed. Actually, the synagogue is being renovated. So much of the interior was covered with scaffolding, though we could see the famous chandelier. It's nice that now that Communism has fallen the synagogues of Eastern Europe are being restored; I just wish it hadn't been during our trip.

One of the things the woman pointed out was a curtain donated by someone from Nagasaki in 1900--an unlikely source. The synagogue, by the way, is Sephardic, hence the domed structure.

After seeing the synagogue, we walked around a bit. Mark, proud of his newly learned Cyrillic, spent his time reading signs and book titles (there were a lot of street vendors selling books). We even bought a pair of Clifford Simak novellas in Bulgarian. We're not sure which ones--normally this information would be on the copyright page, but many things are in short supply in the ex- Communist countries, and in Bulgaria, copyright pages are among them. Someone recently wrote to LOCUS (a science fiction news magazine) that English-language science fiction is hard to find in Bulgaria. It could be the local disregard for copyright laws that has authors and publishers unwilling to send their works there.

Prices are much lower in Bulgaria than in any of the other countries we visited (except possibly Romania--but there was little to buy there). Books run about five leva (30 cents). Shirts and blouses are under US$2. A soda from a street stall is 2 leva (about 12 cents). Our lunch on the way in was 22 leva (US$1.32) for the two of us for soup, shish kebab, and yogurt. And, unlike in Romania, here the stores are full of stuff. (Though again, I saw few postcards--the tourism industry hasn't been built up yet, I guess.) There is plenty of food and plenty of consumer goods. One minor example: in Romania everyone seems to light their cigarette from someone else's cigarette; we saw few match boxes and no matchbooks. Here everyone selling cigarettes has match boxes as well. (Where do the Romanians get their cigarettes, one wonders. And what is their alcoholism rate, given that half the liquid stock in their groceries appears to be beer? But I regress.)

Finally we returned to the hotel (on the right tram!). We went through a large park--Sofia claims to be known as the greenest city in Europe because of its parks. (Of course, it turned out that Belgrade made this claim also, but I'm getting ahead of myself.) One of the buildings we passed (in a somewhat run-down neighborhood) was the Embassy of Palestine.

Dinner was nothing special: chef's salad, veal, and apple strudel. One doesn't take Brendan tours for the fabulous food, that's for sure. On the other hand, that's not the main thing we travel for.



June 18, 1991:

Breakfast was an enormous buffet. It would have seemed enormous even if it hadn't been right after Romania; as it was, the fresh strawberries and cherries alone would have been wonderful.

Our arrival in the center of Sofia was somewhat delayed while we waited for the cavalcade of the Israeli president to drive through an intersection we wanted to cross. He was in Budapest at the same time we were (the Parliament building was flying the Israeli flag), and now he was in Sofia. Is he following us?

When we arrived in Sofia, the first thing that happened was that we changed guides. The person we thought was our city guide was just filling in until the real guide arrived--and a good thing, as the real guide's English was much better than the substitute's. (The Spanish speakers had a separate guide.)

We started with the old Roman ruins preserved around St. George's Church, which dates from the 4th Century. But the guide explained that the earliest known inhabitants of the region were the Thracians. They were great horsemen and had a horseman as their chief god, but since they had no written language, little else is known about them. Oh, they believed this world was a punishment and so wept at births and rejoiced at funerals. (Wouldn't this lead to such a high suicide and murder rate the society would collapse? There must be more that we weren't told.) The Romans named the town Serdica, meaning 'center,' because it was at the intersection of the main east-west road and the main north-south road of the region.

In a pedestrian underpass we saw more Roman ruins, this time of the walls surrounding Serdica. They have made this into a little museum with descriptions of the ruins and a display case of objects found. At one end was the coat of arms of Sofia with its motto, 'PACTE HO HE CTAPEE' ('Ever changing, never growing old'). The fortification had been strengthened by others after the Romans, but not always successfully, and one very modern wall mural (done as metal figures mounted on the stone wall) shows the keys of the city being handed over to the invading Huns in 809. (The caption reads 'XAH KPYM C BONCKATA CN B E NZA B CEP W NKA 809'--except the 'N's are really backwards capital 'N's.)

Our guide pointed out the building which had been the Communist Party headquarters and was now the Socialist Party headquarters. There are some external changes as well--the big red star from the top is done and there are burn marks around several of the windows on the ground floor. At the end of 1989, when everything was falling apart, a fire broke out in the building. Whether it was from government officials trying to burn incriminating documents or from someone trying to burn down the Communist headquarters isn't know (according to our guide) because the new government decided for the sake of civil peace not to investigate.

The next stop used to be the Georgi Dimitrov Mausoleum, where the body of Dimitrov used to lie in state as Lenin's does (did?) in Moscow. But things change, and the Mausoleum is closed while they figure out what to do with it. Dimitrov, who led the first European anti-fascist revolt in 1923, went on to become the First Secretary in 1945. He was, at least until recently, regarded as the 'Father of Bulgaria.' Now he is buried in a cemetery somewhere. Lenin's statue from the square is also gone and the whole area where it was seems to be under construction. Even the stars (and hammer and sickles) in the stonework of the buildings from the last forty years are being chipped out.

(It was about this time I discovered that the last roll of film I had shot, starting in Brasov, appeared not to have loaded properly. Luckily I think Mark also took all the important shots.) (Postscript: it had loaded properly; it hadn't fully rewound because the batteries were low, but the one inch remaining out didn't ruin any pictures.)

We passed St. Nikolaj and St. Sofia Churches, after once again watching the auto procession of the Israeli president, this time driving down the yellow brick road. We also walked down Ruski Boulevard, whose name hasn't been changed as far as we can tell. This may be because the friendship with the Russians predates Communism; Russia helped Bulgaria free itself from the Turks in 1878. This is why the Bulgarians built St. Alexander Nevsky Cathedral--to honor a Russian saint.

As we were approaching the Nevsky Cathedral, an old woman came up to Mary (who was in her wheelchair at the time) and started touching Mary's shoulders and legs and saying something in Bulgarian. With the help of the guide, we found out she claimed to have a healing touch, but since we were on a schedule and she needed more than thirty seconds, Mary gave her regrets. The woman seemed sincere and wasn't threatening, but it was unusual, maybe because in the United States we see these people more on television than in real life.

We entered the Nevsky Cathedral and got an explanation of the iconostasis (the icons surrounding the altar doors). The icon to the right of the doors (your right as you are facing them) is always of Jesus. Immediately to the left of the doors is Mary, frequently holding the baby Jesus and pointing to him, as if to say, 'This is the Way.' To the left of Mary is the icon of the saint to whom the church is dedicated. Unlike Roman Catholic churches, Orthodox churches are not long and narrow, but more square. In this, the Orthodox churches, the mosques, and the synagogues in this area we have seen are similar.

One problem with viewing Orthodox churches is that they are very dark inside; the architecture does not allow as many windows as a Catholic church. Or maybe it's the philosophy--should there be more mystery than daylight allows?

When the tour was over, we tried to tip the guide (as was customary in all the other cities). She seemed very flustered by this; apparently it's still not allowed or accepted in Bulgaria.

Steve, Mary, Mark, and I then headed for the exhibition at the Jewish Cultural Center, which supposedly told how Bulgaria's Jews were saved from the Nazis. The construction around Lenin Square made navigating with the wheelchair difficult and the lack of street signs (at times) combined with our map which didn't label every street got us a bit lost--and in the heat, that wasn't fun.

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