November 23, 2024
Sofia is situated on a plane set between hills and mountains, including ski areas within thirty minutes. This can make for a swinging descent all the way to the runway. This caused the young, brightly lipsticked English fluent Bulgarian woman seated between us to do the Bulgarian-Orthodox double cross as if this were her last, yet she does this trip frequently.
We were told clearly by a retired Bulgarian couple living in Valencia that this was not the best time of year to visit Sofia, nor was Sofia the best place to visit in Bulgaria. Plovdiv, they said, is much more beautiful. Take a bus tour, they said in their very good albeit Boris accented English. Of course we’d already laid the plans and were leaving the next day. It’s a young city architecturally, they explained, and little to brag about from a tourist perspective, though worth three days. I breathed a sigh of relief, as we have only five, take off one for the bus tour and we probably won’t die of boredom. As we flew in we could see it’s large collection of what we call Communist Blocks: apartment towers in all the grayness of concrete. Fortunately there are some sites of interest in Sofia.
We saw some after we meandered (being somewhat lost) to our roomy warm flat in the center, located in a turn of the century behemoth with an ugly entrance hall and an ancient elevator with no inner door and barely room for the three of us, as our landlord took us in to show us around. A tiny bit later we walked past the 6th century all brick Church of Saint Sofia on the way to the Patriarchal Cathedral of St. Alexander Nevsky, a magnificent structure not far from chez nous (our place). It has those beautiful if gaudy golden domes common to Orthodox architecture. As we came upon it the disharmonious bells rang out, perhaps to announce the solemn procession of the long bearded priests soon to begin. Check it out:
Inside are the huge portraits of venerated men on the tall walls, along with Mary and Joseph in the iconic Byzantine style. There are several icons to which the Orthodox pay their respects, bowing and kissing of the item. There is one icon in the very middle of the main aisle. After stopping there many were visiting another of the icons, then greeting other priests and the occasional lay visitor. It all looked very chummy, friendly, happy looking bunch.
Shortly a large procession of all male priests began, following what was clearly the head priest, who diverted into a throned canopy to receive ring kisses, preceded by his sign of the cross blessing posted at breakneck speed. The priests then walked into the area behind the huge screen. You can see through its entrance but much remains invisible from the audience area.
It was dark and getting colder, on its way to -3c/25f overnight, so we started home. We came upon an outdoor market, festively lighted and wafting aromas of sausage and baked goods and emoting enough good cheer to get you through the long cold winter nights.
Sausages galore. Some lovely baked yummies. Wine, which according to our air travel companion is the favorite beverage over beer. For dinner we ordered a white made by the restaurant we chose for dinner, which turned out to be a rather odd tasting Sauvigon Blanc. Hoping for better. The salad, which the Bulgarians consume in great variety, was not, on the other hand, a disappointment.
More to come!
