The part of Europe nobody talks about

by Greta Maiellaro (Italy)

I didn't expect to find Bulgaria

On February 29th, I left Italy with two main problems: first, I didn’t know if I was ever going to put my foot in Bulgaria and second, what exactly I was going towards to. Bulgaria was something I had heard of very vaguely in my Roman History books and I knew almost nothing about it. I knew it had been part of the Byzantine Empire for almost four centuries, that after the Two Kingdoms of Bulgaria it was dominated by the Ottomans until 1873, when the Russians freed it and built the Socialist country that wasn’t able to build a democracy until the Nineties. I wasn’t expecting neither a country with a big national identity nor a place that would require more than two days to be visited. I booked a round-ticket for the capital, Sofija (Ϲοфня in Cyrillic), a tiny apartment next to the main street and I bought my favourite tourist guide. It was a least minute choice, due to my desire to escape from the virus-mania that was raging in Italy. People were getting crazy; I had been closed in my house for three months in order to be able to take exams and I couldn’t wait to get out. I left in the morning and reach the International Airport of Sofija by midday. Doctors with white safety vests received us, checked our temperature and interviewed us. I had experienced nothing like that in my entire life. After all the passengers were considered “safe”, they let us leave the airport. Luckily, Sofija has an underground train system that brought me directly to the centre of the city. After having an interesting meal with Sarmi and Shopska Salad”, I visited Južen Park, designed in 1972: a gracious green space with flowerbeds, and terraces in which families, skaters and runners meet every day. I loved the statues in the park, the bike ramps, the tiny ponds. And definitely, I loved the National Palace of Culture: a huge building with a black sun over the main entrance and a labyrinth of congress and concert halls inside. In the evening I enjoyed Vitoša Boulevard, the main street that takes the name from the mount it’s directed towards. The boulevard ends in Ploštad Sveta Nedelja, where the homonym church stands in all its splendour. Its Russian-orthodox style fits perfectly with the Institute of Theology and the Statue of the Goddess of Wisdom (sophìa in Ancient Greek). I bought a banitza, a traditional delicious Bulgarian street food and I ended my day with the image of the lights dancing on the facade of the Church. I spent the second day wondering around the city. I visited the north, where the Synagogue and the Mosque are, one in front of the other, divided only by the Halite (the traditional market, in which all traditional Bulgarian pastries can be tried at a very low price). From there, a tiny partially underground street starts and gets up to the Independence Square, where the Council of Ministers and the Constitutional Court are. This street is available to pedestrians and it’s an original Roman street from when Sofija was called “Ulpia”. Last part of the day was spent visiting the Cathedral Aleksandǎr Nevskij, build to glorify the victory against the Turks and to celebrate freedom. It’s the symbol of the city and there is nothing that can be compared to it. The golden and copper-green domes, one born from the other; the white of the surfaces, the majesty of the surroundings. And the silent elegance of the inside, where the light is carefully metered and create a magic contrast with the dark paintings. There so much more I’d like to talk about; like the poverty of the people, the dirty clothes, the broken shoes, even in the city centre. I’d like to talk about the Turkish perfume of the streets; the children hanging little dolls on the trees, waiting for the spring. The inverted sign of the cross when someone enters a holy place. But I only have 700 words, so – my dear readers – you will have to wait for the next article.