J Brian Murray

2005-07-15T14:21:00.000-07:00

My group from the Roma camp 2005!

Sofia belle of the Balkans - Los Angeles Times Article

2005-06-15T05:32:00.000-07:00

http://www.latimes.com/travel/la-tr-sofia12jun12,1,1016309.story?ctrack=1&cset=true

Just another Saturday night in this capital so long disparaged as a Balkan backwater. Just another wine bar with a 24-page wine list. Just another grand opera. Just another glamorous piano bar.

Before my eyes, scaffolding was coming down all over the city, like a box of bonbons being unwrapped.

I arrived in Sofia one Friday night in October with a plan to spend most of two weeks visiting Bulgaria's historic villages, riding the rails and rooming in mom-and-pop inns. I was in Bulgaria because I had heard it was cheap, pretty and fun. I started in Sofia only because that's where the airport is.

After 24 hours here, I scrapped my plan. No trains, no historic villages. Just Sofia.

What captivated me was a lovely, vibrant, stylish city, filled with flowers, fountains, statues, monumental architecture, broad boulevards, richly landscaped parks, good restaurants, friendly people — all for a bargain.

Prices were a third of what they were at home in Los Angeles, a fourth of what they were in most of Europe. A cup of coffee costs about 20 cents in Sofia, a fine three-course meal with a couple of glasses of good wine, $9 to $12.

"I thought of Sofia as a run-down Vienna when I first arrived here three years ago," international accounting consultant Bernard J. Thompson told me one day at breakfast at the Sheraton Hotel Sofia Balkan. "But that was before the reconstruction commenced."

Sofia and, to a lesser degree, the rest of Bulgaria, awoke from a slumber of many centuries only four years ago, when voters tossed out most of the remaining Communists in the National Assembly. Parliamentarians chose as their new prime minister Simeon Saxe-Coburg-Gotha, the former boy king who had lived in exile in Spain since 1946.

The new prime minister brought in a brain trust of young Bulgarian expatriate bankers from London and New York and turned the tax code upside down. International investment poured in. Bulgaria joined NATO in 2004 and is hoping to be admitted to the European Union in 2007."

Things are going well," Thompson said. "They have some distance to go in terms of rooting out corruption, but they speak our language."

At the peak of Sofia's colossal makeover in August, the city's unemployment rate had dropped to 3.26%, and international tourism had increased by 50%. After the city's massive face-lift, the once-cratered sidewalks and the pitted streets are smooth, the dome on the Bulgarian Academy of Sciences golden again.

Exploring on foot

You won't need a car or a taxi if you visit, and you can save the colorful trolleys for rainy days. Sofia was the most walkable city I have found in more than 30 years of foreign travel.

The walker's Sofia is shaped like a gull with wings outstretched, with the Balkan Sheraton and the neoByzantine St. Nedelya Church forming St. Nedelya Square as its head. The lobby of the Sheraton, the grande dame among Sofia's six ultra-luxurious hotels, is a tourist attraction in itself, filled with antique chalices, ornamental clocks and expansive oils. A boulevard that changes official names from block to block but is called the Yellow Brick Road — paved in 1917 with yellow bricks from Vienna — is the gull's right wing.

Fashionable Vitosha Boulevard, where you'll find shops bearing names such as Versace, Ermenegildo Zegna, Chanel and Donna Karan, is the left wing.

On my first morning in Sofia, I followed the Yellow Brick Road. Nearly all of Sofia's landmarks are on or near this boulevard, which is seven-tenths of a mile. The first three blocks, called the Largo, are lined with bright green lawns and the flags of NATO nations.

At my left was TSUM, once a grim department store modeled after Moscow's GUM. Today, it's a gleaming glass-and-marble four-story complex of elegant shops — Swarovski, Nautica, Calvin Klein, Limoges, Victorinox.

I walked down the Yellow Brick Road until it became an aisle through a valley of Hapsburg wedding cakes, white and yellow neo-Baroque buildings including the Presidency, the National Art Gallery, the National Ethnographic Museum and, ahead on my left, the onion-domed emerald-and-gold St. Nicholas Russian Church.

When I peeked in, the church was filled with smoke from pots of burning incense and packed with worshipers, mostly young people.

I soon came to an enormous black equestrian statue of Russian Czar Alexander II, who freed Bulgaria from the Turks in 1878. Alexander faces the National Assembly on his right and the stunning Russo-Byzantine St. Alexander Nevsky Cathedral, the symbol of Sofia, on his left. At his backside is the Radisson Grand and Flannagan's Irish Pub, a hangout for parliamentarians as well as tourists.

No walker should miss the Theater District, just south of St. Nedelya Square, a pedestrian haven surrounding the red, white and gold neo-classical National Theater Ivan Vazov, set amid a pool and fountains and filled with sidewalk cafes. Whenever I was lost at night, which was often, I could count on a customer at the outdoor Café Theater to point me to my destination.

Crossing the Yellow Brick Road is Rakovsky Street — party central, with nightclubs, restaurants, bars and the National Opera.

Early one afternoon, I headed to Rakovsky Street in search of wine and a light lunch.

I found both at Vinobar, which was to become my hangout. I checked out the 24-page wine list, gave up and turned to the bartender, Milana Harlacheva, for help. She recommended the No Man's Land merlot, a full-bodied wine from Melnik, heart of one of Bulgaria's five wine regions. "No Man's Land" was the name for the barren three-mile-wide strip between Bulgaria and Greece to which refugees from Communism once fled, risking death at the hands of Soviet soldiers. Today, No Man's Land is filled with grapevines.

Another history lesson came with dinner, at chic Checkpoint Charly's in the shadow of the National Theater. Place mats were copies of Cold War-era front pages from the Bulgarian Communist Party newspaper, Rabotnichesko Delo, or Workers' Daily. Mine led with student demonstrations in Warsaw against U.S. actions during the Vietnam War. The room was painted half black, half white, with a sign in the middle saying — in English, Russian and German — "You are entering the American sector."

As a jazz trio played "Hallelujah, I Love Her So," I feasted on katak — red pepper stuffed with feta, yogurt and walnuts — and chicken seasoned with parsley, dill and cilantro and baked in yogurt. I had a bottle of fine Cabernet Sauvignon from a vineyard near the Black Sea and, for dessert, a huge caramel sundae. My bill: $21.

The city's dawning

Bulgaria, a Cinderella forced to scrub the floors while her sisters were having a grand time at the ball, is trying to make up for a lost childhood. Under the Ottoman heel from 1393 to 1878, the Tennessee-size nation was bypassed by the Renaissance and the Enlightenment. Isolated from the West by the Soviet Union from 1946 to 1989, Bulgaria missed out on the Age of Aquarius as well. The rest of the country is still in the horse-drawn-cart age, but not Sofia.

Its better hotels and restaurants are full much of the time. Sophisticated, Modernist works fill its art galleries. When I attended a performance of "Aida" (front row center, $12) at the opulent National Opera, every one of the 1,200 seats was taken.

Theater is flourishing. Nightclubs are packed. I needed a reservation 24 hours in advance to sit on a barstool on a weeknight at Jack's Piano Bar on Rakovsky Street.

Its all-Bulgarian clientele was smartly dressed, with all the hallmarks of the country's trendsetters — flame-red hair and leather jackets with fur collars on the women, frosted hair and cable-knit preppy sweaters on the men.

Most Sofians earn an average of only $250 a month, so how do they live so well? Many live rent-free in three-room apartments that their families received under Soviet rule. Their sophisticated wardrobes come discounted from a rabbit warren of hundreds of tiny shops under the National Palace of Culture, the city's main convention and entertainment hall, on Vitosha Boulevard.

There I found beautiful men's silk ties for $4, designer sunglasses for $3 and gorgeous women's ski sweaters for $13. My fellow shoppers were full of good cheer: "Hello, mister. You speak English? Have a nice day."

Sofia's cosmopolitan flair was evident at Machu Picchu, a bustling Mexican restaurant. Before I left the States, I had studied the Cyrillic alphabet and memorized a few hundred phrases in Bulgarian. But I didn't have to. The waitress handed me a 32-page menu in English and asked me whether I wanted corn or flour tortillas. The guacamole was rich and dense, better than I usually get at home.

I put Sofia's cuisine to a test at L'Étranger, Bulgaria's top French restaurant, where I stopped one day for lunch. L'Étranger looked like a small-town bistro in Provence, France, with an ancient dumbwaiter down to the kitchen and walls painted tomato and lemon.

My starter was a superb terrine of salmon on a bed of tomatoes, arugula and peppers. My entrée, beef Wellington with foie gras, arrived steaming, wonderfully fragrant. The crust was crispy and browned. On the side in five symmetrical mounds were perfect purées of carrots, eggplant, peppers, zucchini and potatoes.

"I buy all my ingredients at the supermarket," owner-chef Olivier Roche told me, "except for the duck. I have to go [300 miles] to get good duck."

Roche had been an accounting major in France and fell in love with a Bulgarian exchange student. They married and opened L'Étranger.

For dessert, a waitress brought me grapes flambéed in Cointreau with slices of prune and pear and a dish of cinnamon ice cream with orange peel. And finally, some of Roche's father-in-law's homemade apricot brandy.

The meal cost $29, including a bottle of No Man's Land.

A lunch like that called for a long walk. I walked past the laughing coffee vendors of St. Nedelya Square, the serious old men who played chess in City Park in front of the National Theater, the booksellers at Slaveikov Square, who wished me "dobur den," or good day, past the schoolgirls filing into the cathedral, the fruit seller at Doctors' Park, the icon-sellers on Shipka Street, the accordionist at the Serdika Metro station, the tequila-sunrise tipplers at the Happy Bar & Grill, the young artists painting portraits at the entrance to the Museum of Foreign Art.

Sofia was a feast not only of food and wine but, above all, people

2005-06-03T07:25:00.000-07:00

A typical Bulgarian meal in the mountains

2005-05-06T13:49:00.000-07:00

St. George's day is a family affair.... or at least as much of the family as we can fit on horse drawn carriage!

2005-05-06T13:47:00.001-07:00

Taking the horse and carriage into the river... another St. George's tradition...

2005-05-06T13:47:00.000-07:00

Partying with the Roma youth group in Pazardjik for St. George's day and for Aneesa's birthday (my old site mate/volunteer in bright colored shirt)

2005-05-06T13:45:00.000-07:00

Taking a jump in the river for St. George's Day... a Roma/Gypsy tradition to clean ourselves from evil and for health in the new year

Counterpart International - Bulgaria

2005-05-05T02:18:00.000-07:00

http://www.counterpart-bg.org/news.php?id=16

Bulgaria-Sweden

2005-03-28T02:35:00.000-08:00

This past Saturday I attended the Bulgaria-Sweden World Cup Qualifier match here in Sofia at the national stadium (same one I played in for the pictures below!). It was a big match because a win would almost guarantee that Bulgaria would be going to the World Cup in Germany in 2006.
I managed to score tickets (about 5 bucks each) and as it turned out, I was pretty lucky because no other volunteers were able to do so. I wasn't sure what to expect for the game but I donned by Bulgarian football jersey and headed out with Eric. Half of Sofia was shut down for the game and we found ourselves in a mob of people rushing to get into the stadium. Our tickets were the cheapest available so we knew that we would be pretty far up... but as it turned out we were actually in the very last row! As we made our way up (translation pushed, shoved and elbowed)to our seats I was confonted by a policeman all equiped in riot gear... helmet with retractable plasic cover included.

"Excuse me, but where do you think you are going?" he barked at Eric and I.

"Well... our seats, we have tickets for this last...."

"Sorry, no more seats."

"What?" I not very surprisingly asked him.

"There are no more seats... sorry, you have to stand here (in the stairwell)... those D#$@ Swedish fans took... mumble mumble... seats... mumble mumble... sorry, nothing I can do about it, I'm just a security guard." Sure, that explanation made sense...

Great. I displayed my displeasure to show him that not only did I speak Bulgarian but I can display Bulgarian expressions of anger and disgust as well. It was a pretty good act I guess, because minutes later... suddenly... out of the blue... 3 empty seats opened up. We jumped at the opportunity and although we found ourselves in the last row, we were able to stand on our seats and had a great view of the "pitch".

There was still an hour till the match but we were all standing, pumping our fists in the air, screaming at... well, just screaming... maybe for our team, maybe against the opponents. I wasn't too sure. The crowd was scattered with Bulgarian flags (Red, white and green)... some the size of pools, all of them glistening and wavering like multi-colored waves crashing down on crowds of ants. The chants began... "You nat-si, bul-gar-i!" "You nat-si, bul-gar-i!" which I was relieved to learn had nothing to do with Nazis... but apparently, according to our well knowledgable neighbor at the game, during the World Cup 1994 in the states... Americans thought it was about Nazis (huge controversy, according to him). Actually, the original cheer is "Vie Nat-si, Bul-gar-i" (Vie = You) which means "You Heros, Bulgarians!" -- but they decided to change the "vie" to english. Makes sense? Nah, not for me either...

But, this was my first taste of international and European soccer and it met all my expectations... fiesty fanatical fans, stoic riot police, smell of stale alcohol, chanting that sounds more like religious humming than any coherent words (the whole time was like "uhhh-ohhh-ummm, oooo-daaa-gooo!"), peanuts, oh.. and lots of national pride... and if that doesn't work... curse the other country for being uneducated animals...

We lost 3-0. D#$@ Swedes.... come on, lets go drink this one off and find us some Swedish fans to beat up.

Advice if you plan on coming to Bulgaria

2005-03-21T01:02:00.000-08:00

I am totally plagerizing again but I thought this was pretty funny. This was some advice on what new volunteers can do to prepare for Bulgaria:

Try peeing into a solo cup while wearing heels, nice pants, a winter jacket, long scarf, a purse AND holding your own TP at the same time (something at which I was no expert in before I got here) all on a floor covered in murky water. Then make sure to throw the TP in the trash can when you are done

Practice patience. Let at least 10 people get in front of you when you arrive first to the counter at your local 7-11 (which is the size of most "grocery stores" here).

Walk a lot! (it's fun!) Only buy what you need for one day and repeat for two years.

Want to feel like a goldfish for a day? Try wearing some of the latest Bulgarian fashion NOW: dress from head to toe in pinks and mauves, or for spring, neon green or orange and watch the stares. That is what you will probably look like to the locals here when you walk down the street in your American threads and sporting hiking boots and Chacos.

Check out a website in a foreign language you only know a few words in (preferably in non-Latin script). Try to read and understand it!

Turn off your heating in your homes now to grow accustomed to the inside temps. Practice sitting in rooms filled with cigarette smoke and maintaining a smile.

Hang out in a Cafe for hours!

Spend time with friends over long dinners and fun(5 hours min.) on weeknights!

Eat the freshest veggies ever during respective seasons. Marvel in the ability to get Kiwis and Bananas in the dead of winter, but not green peppers.

Practice congratulating your friends on any new purchase and reminding them it is their duty to treat you to some coffee or candy

Take four hour bus rides through beautiful landscapes

Watch the guy with Horse and Cart cut off the tinted windowed Mercedes during the middle of the local rush hour (a personal favorite)

Eat macaroni with sugar for breakfast

Eat pancakes and omlettes in the evening

Have a friend drop you off in the middle of nowhere, and try to get home using only the words please, what, and "umm".

Go to bed a few nights in a row wearing wool hat, scarf and socks, a fleece lined track suit and gloves. Sleep well.

Practice immunity to bad breath. Hang around abandoned truck stop bathrooms until you can stand the smell and keep smiling.

Ladies! To be truly acculturated, seek out hair dye that will give you just the right shade of cotton-candy blue, or "balkan red".

Stop using spices and flavorings now, that way it will be less of a shock to your tongue when you arrive.But on the other hand......prepare to be humbled, by the sight of a people trying their best in a world that won't slow down and thinks their language is "obsolete".

Learn the little joys of everyday, the vegetable lady who gives you extra heads of elephant garlic with a wink and calls you sweetheart, the children who call out to you from across the street as you walk, and the colleagues who fold your jacket perfectly when your not looking so that it doesn't drag on the floor.

Understand the true meaning of satisfaction, understanding, peace, contentment. What you truly need in life and what you are (shockingly) able to do without.

Oh, and learn to love the black lace thong with tight white pants.

2005-03-10T15:24:00.000-08:00

A clean slide tackle....

2005-03-10T15:23:00.000-08:00

The team shot...

2005-03-10T15:22:00.000-08:00

I almost look professional here...

2005-03-10T15:20:00.000-08:00

The team with Balukov - next to me

Quote

2005-03-10T05:24:00.000-08:00

"Traveling is a fool's paradise... I pack my trunk, embrace my friends, embark on the sea and at last wake up in Naples, and there beside me is the stern fact, the sad self, unrelenting, identical, that I fled from." -Ralph Waldo Emerson

Birthday Bash

2005-03-10T02:21:00.000-08:00

Frustration! Just fell victim to the "I just wrote a huge post and lost it because I didn't save it!"

So again:

This past weekend I celebrated my last birthday in the 20's. Even though the years are piling on I really am feeling younger every year. I am not sure why that is except that I feel I am taking life by the horns... and I feel great. I am not gloating... on the contrary... Physically, it has a lot to do with putting as many years between the present and the last time I destroyed my body in the pool, becoming a vegatarian and learning to listen to my body (as well as the time to be able to listen to it)

I recently had an email exchange with a friend of mine and I told him that things were going well and felt like I was in the prime of my life... half joking, half not... mostly just to say things are great. Of course, like any good friend... he shot me down... but I am serious.

So this past weekend I went to the heart of the Rhodopy Mountains which borders Greece. The Rhodopies are "lost in time" and I think because of this I have a special place in my heart for them. The mix of old Turkish culture and the village life of Bulgaria mixes (with a sprinkle of Greek culture) into this potent and intoxicating aroma of smells and sounds, such as the call to prayer that on a clear day can be heard echoing from one valley to the next, the pristine forests or the clak-ity-clack of a horse pulling a load of hay.

We celebrated the famous "Kookeri" festival in the small village of Shiroka Luka (Wide Valley). The Kookeri festival is very similiar to the Mummers parade that every Philadelphite knows quite well. Based on the same concept, the Kookeri is an ancient pagan tradition of "scaring" the evil spirits of winter away and to usher in the coming spring. We of course ushered in the spring with 6 inches of snow.

Although it is not clear from the pictures below, local villagers dress up in these crazy outfits and dance around with masks and large bells in a ritual dance... they are usually very drunk, firing guns into the air and then the craziest group jumps into the icy cold river (as well as one volunteer). Hundreds of people descend on this tiny town (pop.500) to witness and partake in the festivities. After the formal rituals are done... 4 or 5 hours of dancing begin.

Traditional Bulgarian dancing is a line dance called the "Horo". From Ukraine to Greece the "horo" is very similiar. Even at my buddy's wedding (a greek), I found many of the dances exactly the same. If you have ever seen My Big Fat Greek Wedding then you know what I am talking about. The dancing at the Kookeri involves hundreds of people and just continues non-stop for 4 hours... it is quite amazing. I danced for about 3 hours with small breaks for beer and water... but then I collapsed from exhaustion!

Part of trip down to the Rhodopies was to visit my friend Eric and his cozy village of Smiliyan (famous for Smiliyanski Bob - Smiliyan style Beans). My favorite food in Bulgaria, unfortuantely for Eric, I ate lots of beans when I was down there. The village life is quite different from my life in Sofia and I really enjoyed the time to relax.

Note: The pictures that I am posting above are from about a year ago. We had a benefit soccer match with some famous Bulgarian soccer players... Buluchkov and Lechkov. Buluchkov is featured above. Both of them were on the 1994 World Cup team that took 4th. They are legends. Buluchkov was receiving an award from the International Organization of Migration, a partner that I and other volunteers work with on a anti-sexual slavery project. I guess they thought it would be funny to have an American team to laugh at and beat up on... but... we actually played quite well (although we lost to the Ministry of Sport and Youth) and were big hits because we had Trisha, the only girl to play.

2005-03-07T04:50:00.000-08:00

A volunteer braves the elements with the locals in the traditional "jump in the river because we are crazy and drunk"

2005-03-07T04:49:00.000-08:00

An inviting sign for the festival greets us as we hitchhike into the village of Shiroka Luka...

2005-03-07T04:48:00.000-08:00

Kookeri guys from Slovakia...

2005-03-07T04:47:00.000-08:00

No related to the Kookeri but when I was leaving Sofia I saw this... it is a 5 foot pothole... and to make sure no one drives in it, they stuck a branch in it... quite a road sign!

2005-03-07T04:45:00.000-08:00

The Kookeri Festival!!! A pagan holiday to scare away the evil spirits before spring...

2005-03-07T04:44:00.001-08:00

Eric and I in the local "Kruchma" in Smiliyan

2005-03-07T04:44:00.000-08:00

Hanging out on my birthday... no messing with the pigtails (Me and Eric)

2005-03-07T04:43:00.000-08:00

The beautiful village of Smiliyan where my buddy Eric lives - population 3,000?

2005-03-03T23:54:00.000-08:00

nice moustache, right?