My first full week of living in Sofia has drawn to a close, and I feel like I can begin to talk about some of my impressions of this place.
For starters, Sofia is a lot smaller, geographically speaking, than most American cities, at least most that I've been to. It is, for organizational purposes, divided into the "Center" and a belt of city--the "not-Center"--that wraps around the Center, in a perfect model of concentric city planning. My apartment is located in the eastern quadrant of the Center, in a neighborhood known as Oborishte (Оборище), named for one of the streets that bisects the neighborhood. 80% of the important destinations in the city are a 20-minute-or-less walk from my apartment, so my location is pretty close to perfect. It is a 15-minute walk to the exact center of the city (everything converges around a couple of government buildings), so it has thus far been easy to get around.
I have braved the subway several times, and yesterday, I made my first major trip using the bus system. What's cool is that every trip you take on any public transportation vehicle costs a flat rate of 1 lev, so you can use the system pretty cheaply (keep in mind that a lev is about 70¢ US). Once I figure my way around a little bit better, I'm sure I will come to rely heavily on public transportation, for the first time in my life, as I 1) Live without a car for a year and 2) Live in a city where there is an adequate public system, two things which have never occurred simultaneously before.
Several things about my apartment that I didn't go into a few entries ago: It is small, but plenty big enough for one person to live in comfortably; two could squeeze into it if they had no need of personal space. It is, I have reasoned, a recently furbished attic, made suitable to live in because, I suspect, the owners of the building felt there was more money to be made in converting the storage space into an apartment. To be sure, it has been quite pleasant to live in so far, but it has a few quirks.
One is its lack of level surfaces or right angles. Not that that's a huge bother, but one gets used to things fitting snugly in corners or against walls, and not walking downhill from one's living room to one's kitchen. The ceilings here range in height from about 7 to 10 feet; luckily, I have topped out at 5'10" and doubt I have any more growing to do. Unfortunately for someone of my average height, however, there is also a massive wooden crossbeam suspended 3 feet below the ceiling in my kitchen, against which I smacked my head--rather hard, I might add--4 times in the first couple of days, but which I have since learned to duck rather deftly, even when completely asleep in the middle of the night. I have a washing machine, thank the Powers Above, but no dryer, so laundry day always produces the sight of a 20-something American boy performing a rather Old World task in hanging his clothes out on the balcony to dry by the power of the sun and wind. The bathroom is also quite small, and features no tub or interior walls; rather, the shower is on top of the toilet is on top of the towel rack is on top of the sink. And though there is no showerhead--only a handheld module--I feel as though I've adjusted quite well, and have learned the art of aiming the water stream in directions that will not soak the entire room.
My refrigerator is quite small, but that hasn't been too much of a problem, so far. People shop here multiple times a week, and don't refrigerate the majority of their food, unlike us in the States. I have learned, through lack of a choice, the virtues of fresh foods, bought and eaten within a few days. And don't make the mistake of thinking that everything here is preservative-laced; I was quite surprised to open my pantry one day this week and find the bread and the fruit that I had bought 3 days before covered in--how do I put this delicately?--a less-than-benevolent-looking strain of mold.
As mentioned before, supermarkets do exist here, and by all accounts, they are doing quite well, but they are a vast departure from the ones to which we're accustomed in the Good Ole USA. They are smaller, feature a narrower selection of brands, and--imagine my surprise--charge you for bags. (This is actually a terrific idea - it incentivizes the reuse of plastic bags, vastly reducing waste. Think about this: I have gone shopping five times since I've been here, and used only the two plastic bags I bought the first time. Through this system, I've saved Bulgaria's landfills 8 plastic bags, and counting, in a week and a half. Multiply that by the 4 million citizens who do the food shopping in this country alone, and you get the idea.) I've also learned the virtues of getting to the market early to get my pick of the produce - going at night leaves the shopper with a sad-looking selection from which to choose.
I told you that food was the thing that made the biggest impression on me, didn't I? (He says to start his third paragraph on the subject) The thing I have been the happiest about, gastronomically speaking, has been the quality of the dairy here. The milk is delicious--even the skim milk tastes creamy--the yogurt is the best ever, and the cheese is, to put it in the words of Sacha Baron Cohen, NICE. There is, however, a black lining within the cloud of win that is the culinary situation in this culture: It is impossible to get real orange juice here. Or so I thought. After searching unsuccessfully through three stores, I was ready to give up, but, in what could, perhaps, be the biggest game-changer of the century, I spotted, in a tucked-away corner of my local market, a bottle of--could it be?--fresh squeezed orange juice, made on the premises. I was hesitant, of course - could it be a trick? But I made a leap of faith, bought the bottle, took it home, and was rewarded with the delicious taste of actual, real orange juice, rife with pulp. A crisis deliciously averted.
The best part about the food shopping here? The ludicrosity of its cheapness. One large, heavy bag of groceries, complete with milk, bread, produce, cheese, soup, and household items cost me 15 leva - $11 US. Unbelievable.
Having lingered on the subject of food for quite long enough, let's talk about kids. Bulgarians, it seems to me--based on my limited observations--are all about their kids. I don't mean that they fawn over them or spoil them rotten, although it's possible they do in private. It just seems that everyone here loves their kid to death. I have seen a great deal more 1 - 4-year-olds in public here than I ever did in the States, and not once have I witnessed a parent yelling at them or cajoling them into doing something. It's quite possibly a cultural thing that the child-parent relationship here is just more pleasant and loving, all the time. Or it could be that public strife is just not accepted in the way it is in the US. We'll have to talk about that some more if I ever delve deeper into the subject.
In fact, there is a far more pervasive sense here of public community overall than I have seen anywhere else. My apartment is located by a park--not a large one, but big enough--and every time I walk through this park between 2 and 8 PM, it is filled to the brim, mostly with kids and supervising adults, but also with socializers of every age. The afternoon here is, universally, a time to come out and talk to people. You can also see this by examining the sidewalk cafés. Every evening at around 6, they start to fill up with people coming out for a beer and a smoke. (Nearly everyone here smokes, too, though apparently, the habit is being curbed, just as it is in the States.)
These phenomena may be, partially, a function of the gorgeous weather we've been having (and it has been gorgeous for 2 straight weeks), but they obviously can't happen without an impulse for public social interaction that, it seems, is much stronger than in the US. It is the idea of what I always envisioned a small town could, and should, be like, except, as I need to keep reminding myself, we're in the middle of a big city (there are, after all, 2 million people who live here).
And that is the big takeaway I've had so far - that even though we are in a busy city, this place feels like a small town - community, local markets, narrow, cobblestone streets, a lack of big buildings for the most part, etc., ad infinitum. It has made for a really nice time so far, and I'm excited to see what comes next.
That's it for me, for now. I begin my research next week, so stay tuned.
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