28-Feb-2023
As we were already finding on previous days' walks, Sofia likes to write its history in stone. A few more chapters:
Stefan Stambolov was Bulgaria's prime minister from 1887 to 1894. He was killed by hired assassins near to the spot where his monument now stands
Those snowy mountains have looked down through many ages
The "Monument to the Liberators" depicts Tsar Alexander II, after Russian forces defeated the Ottomans in 1877–78, and established an independent Bulgarian state
This monument, in the Doctors' Garden, commemorates the 531 Russian medical personnel who died in that same war
At the other end of that park, there's a lapidarium, featuring fragments from Roman, mediaeval, and Ottoman times
Zaimov Park
Remembering Bulgarian dissident Georgi Markov, killed in London in 1978
"The living close the eyes of the dead. The dead open the eyes of the living"
And the trams rumble on...
From one city to another: A bit of the Berlin Wall
Of course, the famous St Alexander Nevsky Cathedral is also a memorial. It was built to honor Russian soldiers who died during that 1877-78 war, and it was named after the celestial patron of the "Tsar Liberator".
This morning we got up early to spend some time there. It opens at 0700, and if you go then, it's dim and quiet and peaceful.
Cold and misty this morning
We watched one of the priests set up his ladder, and sort out the lights over the principal icon, and the lady who cleans the glass screens of the icons, and inserts into the appropriate receptacle the coins that have been left on the icon frames. The acoustics are amazing, and every sound rumbles round mournfully. And yet there's a stillness. From where we sat, you could hear the fizz of a guttering candle.
There is a steady trickle of worshippers at this hour. They interact very personally with the icons and with the lion statue -- bowing, kneeling, making the sign of the cross, touching. Some linger long in front of one icon; others do a kind of circuit. I guess many of these people are on the way to work. What a lovely routine: Cathedral, coffee, and -- then, only then -- computer...
It's rare that I just sit for an hour, occupying myself purely with hearing and seeing what's around me.
At 0800 the big bell bongs, and a little while after that, the big lights are turned on, so that you can see more of the frescoes that line the walls, and the mosaics and carvings that decorate the arches and vaults. And then the service starts, chanted by four priests. Now those splendid acoustics really come into their own. The chants set up soundwaves that have a life of their own, and it feels as though the whole building is humming along. The four-part harmonies are glorious. Twice a priest comes round with a censer, swinging it in the direction of the icons -- and us -- so that the fragrant smoke emerges.
The congregants who take part actively (there's only a handful) are active in the full sense of the word. There's lots of crossing, and kneeling, and touching the floor. We just observe quietly, as the service runs its 90-minute course.
No photos are allowed inside, but you can see how beautiful it is from this virtual tour. And here are some photos I took in the porch:
We needed some bodily refreshment after all this spiritual sustenance:
I feel the Sofia stage of our journey has gone really well. There's just one area where we've drawn a complete blank, and that's my quest for Bulgarian literature in translation.
I generally don't buy "real" books, but my normal electronic sources have turned up none of the interesting stuff I'm looking for, so yesterday and today we set off to see whether what I wanted existed in the guise of one of those paper things.
Answer: No.
Particularly disappointing was the discovery that the book market on Slaveykov Square either doesn't run any more, or follows a schedule we don't know about.
The square is named after Bulgarian writers Petko and Pencho Slaveykov (father and son) -- and here they are
The "Peroto Literature Club", up at the National Culture Palace, also doesn't seem to be functioning at the moment.
After turning up nothing here, we called in at lots of the bookshops mentioned in various online guides. Although several do stock material in English (and German and Spanish), no-one seems to have the translations of Bulgarian authors that I do know exist...
So, attempting to ferret them out will have to be a little task for a later stage of the journey -- in Germany, France, or the UK perhaps.
But this is a minor quibble, really.
Tomorrow, all being well, we leave for Bucharest. Thank you, Sofia. You've been wonderful.