Free Sofia Walking Tour

The not-for-profit 365 association runs walking tours in many cities around the world, including Sofia in Bulgaria. Every day of the year, regardless of the weather, there will be a volunteer tour guide waiting at the appointed spot to show you and however many others as turn up on the day around their city. The guides are lovely young people who have a wealth of knowledge to share. They don't get paid, but tips are welcomed.

My Free Sofia tour was led by Dino, a newly-graduated and talented actor. There he is, telling us about the importance of lions in Bulgaria and the mistake made by the artist who created these sculptures (the other of the pair has its legs positioned in a way that is just not how lions actually walk).

The relief lions grace the doors of the Presidential Place. I was more interested in the soldiers on guard, standing motionless with their rifles at the ready. Get too close, Dino warned, and a guy dressed all in black would appear and blow a whistle to warn you off. I wasn't game to try.



Three layers of history can clearly be seen here in Liberation Square. The building at the back used to be Tzum, an up-market department store in Bulgaria that was the only place to buy luxury items during the socialist decades. Today it is still a shopping destination but with brands like Laura Ashley and Timberland. The middle building is the Sveta Petka Samardzhiiska, a quaint little stone church built half underground that is still a place of worship and was built in the 14th century during Ottoman rule. It sits on top of much-older ruins that go back to roman times and probably beyond.

Today's Independence Square, the Largo, used to be called Lenin Square. The Largo is surrounded by buildings that showcase socialist architecture. The picture above shows the old Communist Party House, completed in 1955, which is now used by the Bulgarian National Assembly. There used to be a massive red star atop the rocket-shaped spire of the building. When Bulgarians attempted to torch the building in 1990, the star was judiciously removed. Now it flies the flag of Bulgaria, and around the Largo fly all the flags of NATO.

In behind the imposing state buildings is the St George Rotunda. The building directly behind the church is now used as presidential guest rooms. In soviet times these suites were the height of luxury with underfloor heating from the underground mineral waters. Below the church is a 4th century crypt, and around it there are excavated roman ruins. The rotunda has been used as church from the 6th century and is famous for having the oldest surviving roof in all of Europe.

The hammam building is not so old. The mineral baths were rebuilt in the 20th century on the site of an older hamman. The building is now used as part of the history museum, but a luxury spa is being developed in part of the building.

Now, here is Sofia herself, a huge statue in the middle of a busy road.

St. Sofia is the city’s patron. Sofia means “wisdom” in greek. In this statue she holds a an owl in her left hand and in her right hand she holds a laurel wreath, a symbol for peace, success and honour. Sophia was erected in 2001 replacing Lenin’s monument, but the statue was considered by many to be too erotic and pagan to be referred to as St. Sophia.

Dino told us it all part of the mix that typifies Bulgaria. To reinforce his theme, he pointed out this map outside the main Metro station. It is designed for tourists but is all in cyrillic. And see which way is North?

The Saint Sofia church is lovely.

Church Saint Sofia has been used for worship since the 6th century, although it also has ruins underneath that are much older. It is the oldest church in Sofia, but Saint Sofia has no belfry. The bell is hung on the old tree in front, placed there when Russia defeated the Ottomans in 1878 and rung to announce Bulgaria’s liberation.

Something else that hangs in trees:

Baba Marta (Grandmother March), on 1 March, is a pre-Christian holiday welcoming spring, on which people exchange martinitsas , good luck charms made from red and white threads. On the first sighting of a stork for the year, the martinitsa has to be hung on the nearest blossoming tree to ensure lasting love.

Everywhere in Sofia people are sitting outside, in cafes, bars and parks.

 The building in the background here is the National Theatre. A craftsman who was hired to redo the gold gilding was fired when the authorities noticed that he had painted a gold penis on the cherub.

Two more churches that I loved are the Russian Church of Saint Nicholas or

St. Nikolaj the Miracle maker, and the Sveti Sedmochislenitsi Church. 

The interior is Bulgarian Orthodox. The church was created by converting an abandoned Ottoman mosque, which is reputed to be another Sinan design, dating from 1528. He is also the architect of Hagia Sofia in Istanbul and many other mosques all around the region.

The walking tour ended at one of the most well known landmarks of Sofia, the Alexander Nevski Cathedral. so does this post.

Nod means no

Ah, Bulgaria, where everything is a bit mixed up. In fact, the word "Bulgarian" is said to derive from a Turkic verb meaning "to mix." This reflects it's geographic position as a crossroads between east and west, north and south. Even the three lions on the Coat of Arms represent are prosaic. There have never been lions in Bulgaria, but the currency, the lev, is named after them and there are statues of lions everywhere.

The Bulgarian nation goes back to the 9th century though civilisation here goes back much further, to the paleolithic in fact. The lands were part of the roman empire and during those times the local ethnic groups were considered (or forced to become) barbarians. Then the Ottomans invaded in the fourteenth century and ruled the Bulgarian lands for five centuries. The "National Revival" period describes the reflowering of Bulgarian culture. In 1870 the Bulgarian church regained independence from Greek domination. Russia that finally defeated the Ottomans in 1878, leading to the reestablishment of a Bulgarian state. Hopes for a large Bulgaria were dashed in the Treaty of Berlin (1878), which left large numbers of ethnic Bulgarians in adjacent states. This partitioning of Bulgaria has been the cause of much conflict in the Balkans. Following World War II (1939–1945), a socialist government ruled. The Soviet ruler was ousted in 1989 and democracy has continued to grow since. One of the most powerful signs of this democracy, at least for many of the youth of today, was the opening of Mcdonald's in Sofia, and it is still very popular with locals. You can understand why.

During the 50s and 60s, state socialism brought rapid industrialization and the collectivization of agriculture. People were forced to shift to the towns and cities, where factories and industry were set up. To house them, Soviet-style concrete apartment blocks were built. The socialist-era social safety net included pensions, health care, maternity leave, child care and guaranteed employment. You were assigned a job by the state, you could refuse two times but by the third job you were forced to stay put. Many Bulgarians today continue to look to the government to solve problems and provide services.  The economic status of many households has fallen significantly in the postsocialist period because of unemployment and the declining purchasing power of wages and pensions. The justice system and police force are weak and corruption is an issue. The communist decades were good in many ways but still, during that time there was a deep distrust of people who had an international outlook or lived as artists or intellectuals. Many of these bohemian types were sent to labour camps and didn't survive.

This mini-history will explain much when you see the photos in my next couple of posts.

Lazy Sunday in Istanbul - a photo essay

Gulhane Park is being prepared for an April festival and every day
the tides of tulips have spread. It is just stunning.

In the art library at the Istanbul Modern gallery,
there is a small lake of books hanging
from the ceiling on wires 

Maybe this goes some way to explaining why you hardly
hear any birds in Turkey. This is a cat hotel in a little
park. People bring food for them.

At the mosque this girl is posing for a photo shoot.
The camera girl waved me away but I got my shot.

Ladies area in the mosque - a small screened of partition
at the back

I love Turkiye 

Simit stand. Crusty circle of bread coated in
sesame seeds. Sold slip and spread with
either nutella or soft cheese

Ferries in constant movement on the Golden Horn. That skyline

Lines of hopeful men, but I didn't see any catches.
Galata bridge late afternoon

"Never take the train in Bulgaria"

This was one of the first things the Traventuria tour leader, Martin, told me - in Bulgaria, don't take the train. Advice is good but first-hand experience is better, so let's find out what Bulgarian trains are really like.

Information gleaned from websites about travelling from Istanbul to Sofia by train was contradictory and confusing. Only the briefest information was given (reluctantly) at the station when I bought my ticket the day before - yes, you wait here, the bus (bus?) leaves at 10.00pm, you will arrive at 11.00am, no sleeper. sitting only. One ticket. No seat numbers. The Man in Seat 61 warned there would be no food available.

My personal lesson from the whole experience was not to waste energy on making so many contingency plans, things always work out in their own time and fashion. Of course, I had plenty of time to ponder on life's lessons during the trip. Some anxieties

• there wouldn't be any seats
• the train would be delayed for hours (it happened to one blogger)
• I wouldn't be able to go to the toilet without taking my luggage along
• the toilets would be disgusting
• we might have to get out at the border - would my things be safe
• did I really not need a visa
• I'd be cold
• I would sleep though my stop or get out at the wrong station
• I wouldn't have access to Bulgarian money when I arrived

And so on. 

Was I only doing this because the trip departed from the Orient Express station? Well, yes. 

There is a Salon for waiting.

At first it was just me, a two old Turkish men snoozing and couple of cats fighting at the door. Then an older Australian couple with hats and enormous backpacks turned up, and a young backpacker from New Zealand who had been teaching English in the Ukraine. Next an older American man travelling around the Balkans for three weeks with just a light duffle bag. He has been living in Cambodia for 17 years, where he runs a christian school that is getting out of the orphanage business and having great successes getting kids into universities especially to study medicine. He was refreshingly candid about how dangerous the do-gooder element could be and was also very frank about Cambodian politics. He speaks Cambodian and has always wanted to go the Transylvania, which is on his agenda for this trip. By now we had been joined by a pair of girls from San Francisco who were planning to hire a car when they arrived in Sofia and were waiting with fingers crossed for visas to be able to go to Jordan, the real purpose of their trip. Oh, and Madame. A well-dressed woman around my own age who is from Sofia and had come to Istanbul to work for five days, while one of the ladies from Istanbul went to Sofia. I think she is a surgeon, but maybe she's a surgical nurse or aide. Madame speaks turkish and bulgarian, also russian, french and german. Not english. So we spoke in some sort of french and that's why I'm not really sure. Still, she seemed to have done the trip before and know what to expect, and by this time we seven foreigners had pooled our collective knowledge about how it was going to roll. Basically we were all as unsure and confused as each other.

At around 9.50 the eight of us are loaded into a large bus by two surly men who don't speak any english and we set off, heating turned up to the max. About 50 minutes later we pull up at a roadside cafe. "30 minutes!" the driver growls. The kiwi says "It's going to be a long night then."

It's another couple of hours until the border, where we are ousted from the warmth and directed to a small bare cold room with few seats. Madame tells me we won't be leaving until around 3.30am, maybe 4.00. We are set upon by a bunch of pleading, laughing women speaking Turkish and thrusting Euros at us. They pick us off one-by-one. "Passport. No problem. Please. Cigarettes. No problem. You come. No problem. Passport only. No problem" With the help of the SF girls' Turkish phrase book and my discussions with madame, we slowly piece together what we think is going on. There's a tiny duty-free store just outside, but you need to show a passport to be able to buy cigarettes, and there's a limit. We use their 110 Euros, show our passport, collect 10 cartons of cigarettes that they immediately put in their bags. The customs men seem to accept this is how it is and everyone is happy. Except none of want to get involved in some illegal dealings at the Turkish border. Madame does her bit, and after lots of persuasion the kiwi gives in too. When I try to explain, through madame, that smoking is a health issue, they say are quick to respond 'we no smoke, only for business'. As the long night draws on, they become more insistent.

By now all the foreigners have their ears and eyes glued to devices in an effort to ignore them. Some of us are trying to memorise some of the Cyrillic characters that are going to be critical to getting around in Bulgaria. Finally, at around 3.00am, we are shunted through to the room next door. Where we need to show not only our passports, but that Turkish visa that had seemed to be irrelevant when arriving in the country. Yes, I still had mine, thank goodness.

At last we board an actual train. One carriage and an engine. No heating except in the small compartment at the back which we are not allowed to sit in. Our flimsy tickets are scrutinised and notated for the third time.

Not so bad. The seats don't recline, there is a WC, and we can spread out. But no relaxing yet. The Bulgarian border is still to come.

It takes around 15 minutes to get to the next stop, where our passports are collected and taken away. We sit and wait. Eventually a burly man comes around and hands them back and we are finally travelling through Bulgaria by train. By now it's time time known as the darkest hour and I can't make out much of the country.

We stop at stations where people get on and the women with their tiny haul of contraband cigarettes get off. I'm closest to the door of the carriage which keeps sliding open and letting in cold air. There are stops where we shunt and extra carriages are added. As dawn starts to lighten, a girl takes the seat in front of me and pulls folders and an ipad out of her back. She spends an hour or so playing snatches of what might be Bulgarian folk music and following pages of complex notations and making movements with her hands. Is she a student of music? A choreographer? Learning some traditional dances? And why doesn't she have headphones? She gets out at the station that says Plovdiv, except it doesn't because the sign is only in cyrillic.

Then it's light and we are travelling through rather mountainous landscape. It is a sunny spring day, workers in the fields have their shirts off, and the heating has come on in our carriage. I crack out my bread and cheese and olives.

Snatches of sleep are all I have had when we eventually arrive in Sofia, end of the line for this train, at around 11.30am.

So despite Martin's advice, I'd say go for it. Bulgarian trains are an adventure not to be missed. It really wasn't so bad.

April winds

'En avril, ne te découvre pas d'un fil!' Meaning that you shouldn't shed you warm clothes in april for fear of the chill that still hangs in the air!

What to do on a Saturday in Istanbul? The weather flipped back to winter again. I started with a second visit to Hagia Sophia. Photos don't do it justice.

This is the ramp leading to the Empress gallery

Taken on tip toes from a window in the Hagia Sophia - that's the Blue Mosque. I love this photo

This is the Hagia Sofia

Next a trip over the bridge on the tram and a wald past the Dolmabache Palace to Yildiz Park and a guided tour of the opulent Yildiz Palace where Ataturk had an office and more recently there was a state function for then President Clinton.

Hotel by the Bosphorus where I'm not staying this time

Gates to Yildiz Park

Miles of tulips 

Even the road cones are nice

More walking, down the hill again to Ortokoy, where there was a little outdoor market on the waterfront with a million stalls selling baked potatoes, and a lovely little baroque style mosque over-shadowed by the huge modern Bosphous Bridge.

Next stop Taksim Square. A defiant stroll down Istikial Caddesi, site of the recent bombing. In the historic french cafe where I stopped I read that there can be a footfall of 3 million in the course of a weekend. Half of them were strolling along with me I think.

Here's the Galata Tower that marks the end of the shopping street

The tram was packed

Finally I walked over the Galata Bridge with lines of men fishing, the squeal of seagulls and the smell of fish sandwiches. Spot that Galata Tower on the skyline in the distance.

My hotel is over the road from the station build especially for the Orient Express. I'll leave from there tomorrow to go to Bulgaria on a train that will probably be in somewhat similar state as the station.

One spring day in Istanbul

There is so much to catch up with, but this post is just about yesterday, my first day alone in Istanbul. Helen got the shuttle bus to the airport and I moved from the lovely Tulip Guesthouse back to the Hotel Golden Horn - a 15 min walk along cobbled streets. Makes sense now that when you are buying 'luggages', replaceable wheels are A Good Thing.

First stop - tram and metro to the Chora Museum. Here's an image of what it used to look like - it still does, but much of the building is currently under restoration so you can only see a small bit of the interior.

Still, I gasped out loud when I walked in.

The Chora is an ancient Greek Orthodox church that became a mosque and now is a museum rich with Byzantine mosaics, and also frescos, thought to be by the same artists. A sign of the times that I was almost alone here. One other person...

You can see in the bigger photo above, middle on the right, there's a small museum shop in the building.





Things were so quiet that I snapped a photo of the police or security people at the entry. They scan bags, in a desultory way, as people come in. He indicated to me, very politely, that I was not allowed to photograph them. As he was saying this, there was some shouting outside. Action stations in an instant. He reached for his gun and whirled around and raced out, and so did his companion, followed by the shop attendant and several others as the shouting escalated.

You think there are lots of blokes here with nothing to do but ogle the passing tourists, but actually there are plain-clothed police everywhere. I was slinking back into the building with my heart thumping and missed whatever happened, but when I asked a couple of people after the ruckus has died down, they suddenly didn't understand English. All I saw was a cleaner with a twig broom scrubbing at the cobblestones in about the spot so I can only imagine there was bloodshed - a fight? Shows though how edgy things are at the moment. Helen had told me just that morning that Australia had lifted its travel warning to a higher level of alert. Good to know the police are about. There's a cabin just outside my hotel with about 5 or 6 men there most of the day and they do check some of the people passing by.

Back to the Chora. It is in a suburban area just inside the second city walls, the ones built by Emperor Theodosios. Mostly apartment buildings in steep narrow streets that got narrower and poorer as I wandered down towards the Golden Horn (the real one, not the hotel of same name) and then back up again in search of another museum, the Fethiye.

 I came across this interesting building which is all boarded up and fenced off. 

Turns out this is the Ottoman Baroque Ahrida Synagogue and I'm in the heart of the historically Jewish area of Istanbul. Most of the women here are wearing full burka with faces covered and only eyes showing, and a lot of the men were wearing some sort of headgear. 

I did eventually stumble across the Fethiye Museum. Here too you can only see a small part of the interior. More mosaics. 

 Beautiful little garden. Lovely afternoon sun. I asked the ticket attendant about which way to walk to the ferry to go back to the Old City. "Lady, you can wait just five minutes? I live Taksim side, every day go near, I take you." So that's what happened. I went in his old Russian car and he dropped me at the edge of the Old City. "Lady, you get out now. I turn here." Be safe, he said, in Turkish.

This is where he dropped me, by the ferry terminal close to my hotel. Locals enjoying the mild afternoon.