Sofiya

The sweltering heat of Turkey melted into the temperate cool of Bulgaria under the light shower that greeted us at the boarder. All of us flowed in and out of the bus as we passed through passport control, with the moon and star of the scarlet Turkish flag on one side and the bright white, green, and red bands of the Bulgarian flag on the other—along with another, more familiar one: the yellow ring of stars on the EU’s blue flag. Though the US is not part of the EU, there was something comforting about seeing it waving me onward.

Bulgaria held many small signs of my approach westward, from commercial signs in the form of Subway restaurants, to arboreal signs in the forms of maples and other trees similarly native to the Americas, to cultural in the form of second-hand stores (which I never really saw in Mongolia, ever). Yet, the presence of Cyrillic felt like a comforting tie to the past two years.

Despite its reminders of places past, Bulgaria was still awash with the delights of distinctness. Sofiya, its capital (at least the part of it I saw), is pleasantly walkable, dotted with small shops, parks, etc.--and has all the quaintness of a small town. It carries 6,000 years of history as easily as a bard holds a hum, and the architectures and relics of its time as part of the Byzantine Empire, Ottoman Empire, and periods of independence exist intermixed throughout the city, like a garden growing organically as it would. The arrangement lends itself to pleasant surprises and hidden delights.

I took a free walking tour that mazed meanderingly through the streets to many of the city’s major sites, including orthodox churches, catholic churches, mosques, and synagogues, all of which exist harmoniously together. My favorite was, perhaps, the Alexander Nevsky Cathedral, topped with gilded domes and decorated with ornate carvings.

Sofia is small, and while I likely could have found this and that to see and do to encompass another full day, I feel compelled to press onward. Right now, I am on the bus to Nish in Serbia (where from I can take a bus to Belgrade), watching the hills rise and fall, the cities resting sleepily, and fields of corn and sunflowers soaking up the sun (and the latter splashing bright yellow across the landscape). I am sleepy from rising so early, but it just lends a dreamlike quality to everything.

By the time I post this, I will be in Belgrade.