Falling in Love on the Road

  Sofia, Bulgaria
Tuesday, October 17, 2006

Hostel Mostel really has it figured out. The organisation of their space is genius. There is a kitchen for cooking, but the brilliance is how they create community. Their breakfasts are good and that brings people to the common room. There are three tables, seating twelve, and then two loveseats for two more. Fellow travellers have an occasion to meet each other. Mostel offers a pasta dinner too, and a free beer. On top of that, they have two computers with free internet access. That keeps people around at night, waiting for a computer all the while socialising. We met just about everyone there, the beer made everyone jolly, and we loved our stay as a result.

Let me mention the beer: a local brand in a two litre bottle with its neck in the shape of a soccer ball sells for 2.4 lev. That's about CDN $2. Not that I'm much of a lush or anything, but it was really easy to stay up late playing cards while I was telling myself that I was waiting for the computer to write this blog. Progress was slow.

There was a great cross section of travellers. Some were on backpacking expeditions like ourselves. Some were young adventurers, others were middle aged and older out after their children had been kicked out. Some were a year on the road, others only days.
A Dutchman was interviewed about his 13 month travels by a local paper.
A Bulgarian literature student of German extraction was in-between apartments.
Two English lads were right out of high school to see the world.
A English lady was planning to invest in Bulgarian Real Estate (it's excellent value).
A Finnish travel guide was in-between leading trips.
An American journalist waited for a pay cheque and was writing a dime novel while waiting.
Two Californian law students were waiting on bar exam test results.
Two math professors had taken a quarter off (separately).
Two computer programmers had quit their jobs (also separately). But one of them went out and got smashed, and got mugged on the way back, a bit of a lousy thing to happen.
Tony Robbin's stage-video guy came through with a friend.
A Canadian cruise ship singer was in-between contracts.
A marketing student from Poland was doing her version of blitzing around Europe with one of the most ambitious plans I have seen, doing just about everywhere in 3 months.
Three South Korean girls suffered the avances of a middle aged Australian.
Some Peace Corps volunteers were taking a few days off. One of them had shaved the middle of his head and sported a comb over.

All manners of people ascended the steps to hostel Mostel. Makes you want to be there too, doesn't it?

As for Sofia herself, she is an underrated city. We spent an afternoon taking in her sights, which looked surprisingly Austrian, not at all like Romania and unlike Belgrade. Certainly nothing like Pristinė. Soviet Bulgaria seems to have better preserved Sofia's pre-communist architecture than most other formerly soviet cities I have seen (before I started writing this blog), with the exception of perhaps Prague and Budapest.

Of course there are soviet relics, but they fit in better than others I have seen. Sofia also is the only city to have a yellow brick road that I know of. But there were no crazy flying monkeys, wizards or tin men. There were some lions, though, in front of a building that the French speaking woman I met in McDonald's lovingly compared to Paris' Palais de Justice.

10 Watchful Lion

The yellow brick road led us to Alexander Nevski Church, more or less. We were distracted from our way by stout looking wooden-roofed church (actually the Russian Church of St. Nicolai), the possiblities of a toilet and a street market.

02 Wooden Church

The latter was the most interesting of the three. Beyond doilies, glassware and figurines in semi precious stones, there were Roman artifacts along with Nazi and Soviet relics.

03 Market in Sofia

The Roman artifacts included coins, rings and fibulae (for holding togas together) but the provenance of all of these things was a bit dubious. After all, the rings were round pieces of rust that really could have been anything. As for Nazi and Soviet junk, I have no desire to buy anything with one of those rancid ideological symbols, but to see so many cap badges, medals, daggers, clocks, spy glasses, compases, caps, pay books, etc, was like a museum open on the street where a person could pick up the exhibits and take them home.

It all looked real enough, but how does this amateur recognise anything as real? The only thing I wish I could have taken home was a glass figurine of