LEAVING SOFIA
- Joelle McDonald
- Jun 30, 2023
- 11 min read
Leaving Pleven
This morning we plan to leave our AirBnb by 11:00 (look, that’s still early for us—we still haven’t fully adjusted to the time) in the hopes of filling our last day with the sites we missed while we were staying in Sofia. Once we have all the logistics of getting out the door settled (and survive the scary communist elevator), we leave the building and run into our AirBnb host outside with her daughter on the building’s play set! Oops, we left 30 minutes after we were supposed to… I hope she wasn’t waiting for us. Apparently she was in Greece just last week and we tell her that’s where we are headed today.
With the trunk of the car strategically stuffed with our luggage (it’s like Tetris) we drive the two hours toward Sofia.
International Park of the Children of the World
Our first stop today is a park that was recommended to us by our waitress last night. After our meal, she sat down and chatted with us for a little while and told us this park was her favorite place in the city (though she doesn’t really like Sofia). She said it has really good energy and was clearly built with good intentions. It was built in 1979, which was declared the International Year of the Child by the United Nations. The goal of the park was to bring together all of the world’s children and inspire their creativity, unity, and beauty. The park has one huge bell symbolizing the world hanging high above the park, surrounded by seven slightly smaller bells representing each of the continents. On the ground, there is a circle of bells surrounding the tower where the world and continent bells are hung. Each bell was given to the park by a different country in honor of its children. Every country’s bell is slightly different, and it is fun to walk around the circle and see how Japan’s bell compares to those from places like the US, Egypt, and Venezuela. Many of the places to hold bells are empty, some bells are cracked, and the park is definitely not in its prime, but it still feels like a special place. Only children are allowed to ring the bells (Hannah and I decided we qualify), and as we walk around testing some of them, we can hear the chimes of others doing the same from across the circle. The park was nearly demolished in 1996, but we are glad it still stands. Plus, we saw a two year old’s birthday part happening in the park and couldn’t imagine a better place for it.
Boyana Church
I have seen this church pop up a few times as a site to see in Sofia and we had thought about paying it a visit on our way to Rila Monastery a few days ago, but we didn’t end up having enough time. Dad also saw it online and suggested we go, so with some extra time in Sofia on our last day, we decide to check it out—only a short stop. Driving to the church winds us up a steep hill right on the edge of a city. We have to drive through some sort of bike race too. When we arrive, we score a not-too-difficult parking space and head through the church’s gate. Inside the grounds there are many trees and a wide stone path leading to the ticket office, bathrooms, and the church. We stop to get tickets, and they are far more expensive than tickets to any other attraction we have been to in Bulgaria. After a little sticker shock ($5 as opposed to the $1-2 we have paid at most tourist sites), we go to pay only to be entirely ignored by the ticket seller. She is working on some sort of accounting and is either very in the zone and doesn’t notice us or decides we don’t need to be acknowledged until she is done. I mean, fair enough because regaining a train of thought in math can be hard. However, it is probably three awkward minutes of us staring at her before she looks up.
With our tickets in hand, we walk down to the church. We pass a large group of senior travelers going to the bathroom on the way and think nothing of them, but time will change that. Only ten visitors can enter the church at a time, and they are allotted ten minutes, which is enforced using a timer. A group is inside when we arrive, so Hannah and I wait in the courtyard to enter with the next group. Several others are waiting as well, and the system is not obvious—no line, no one standing outside to direct traffic, etc. As we are waiting, the large group of senior travelers have made their way from the bathroom to the church. Their guide takes them around the church, sharing information in German. The timer in the church rings, and the group inside pours out of the small door. It’s our turn! …Or so we thought. The tour guide with the German group chats quickly with the person inside the church, who is scanning tickets, and next thing we know, ten people from that group are entering the church. The tour guide sassily remarks to everyone else that we need to wait 30 minutes to enter the church, as it is her group’s turn since, according to her, they have been waiting the longest (we beg to differ but do not argue, waiting patiently). Time drags on as we watch the number of non-tour group people waiting to enter the church grow. Each time one set of the German group finishes, they body block anyone from the line of non-tour people waiting to enter the church, so their other group members, who were leisurely relaxing on benches, can make their way in. By the time the third group enters, there is definite tension building between them and the people not in the tour. Hannah and I wish they would at least let one group from outside their tour in the middle, so they don't monopolize the church for an entire half hour.
After nearly 45 minutes and some interesting people-watching (slight annoyance growing), we finally get to enter the church. The front is a mini-museum exhibition with several items on display, most of which they seem to have found in the surrounding area. Through the first archway, we enter the church. It’s a simple church, but the paintings covering the walls, floor to ceiling, are beautiful and impressive. These paintings are considered a masterpiece of Bulgarian art and are a huge part of the reason the Boyana Church has been declared a UNESCO world heritage site. We soak it in for a few minutes and then exit the church with three or four of our ten minutes remaining.
Our quick stop turned into nearly an hour, and we decide the church is definitely worth a visit with a ten minute wait, but the forty-five minutes was quite a long time.
Museum of Socialist Art
Our very last site to see in Bulgaria is one that has been on the top of our list since our free walking tour of Sofia. The Museum of Socialist Art is home to the statue of Lenin that has since been replaced with the statue of Sofia in what used to be Lenin Square and where government functions are still housed. The glass red star that used to top the Communist Party Headquarters is also here. These are our two main draws to this museum. After learning so much about the communist history of the country, we want to see two of the most important national symbols of it and how Bulgaria has attempted to preserve its history while simultaneous moving past it.
We pull up to a building that more or less looks like an apartment building. There is a guard by the gate blocking off the parking lot, and he makes no effort to move as we approach. There are no signs in English, which we would expect from a museum with such important artifacts, and nothing about the building’s setting suggests it is all that important. I get out of the car and ask the guard if we are in the right place to be sure. He says yes, but we have to find street parking because the lot is pedestrian only. That turns out to be a pretty easy task because the area is dead.
Once we pass the guard, we walk through the parking lot and immediately see the red star, well that was easy. It is basically in the parking lot. On the other side of the parking lot’s hedge is a yard full of statues from the socialist era. The statue of Lenin that towered over Lenin Square is easy to spot over the bronze and concrete of all the other works. We haven’t even gotten tickets yet and we have already seen what we came to see. We enter the ticket office and pay $2 total for our tickets before emerging back into the yard to wander. The statues seem somewhat randomly placed along the sidewalks running through the area, and the only information provided about each is the statue name, creator, year, and who owns it. The lack of context feels odd, but on our tour of Sofia’s communist history, we learned that nothing about that era is taught in school or even displayed in the national history museum. I suppose we shouldn’t surprised.
The other attraction here, which we are excited to see, is propaganda artifacts (namely posters) from the socialist period. Unfortunately, as we wandered the museum’s yard another traveler about our age from Vienna came up to us to chat and informed us all the posters were taken down for a temporary photography exhibition. We are a little bummed, but we are here and our tickets were only a dollar each. We may as well see it.
The photography exhibition features a number of collections, each by the same photographer centered around a place and theme. The first one we see when walking in features photos from the war in Ukraine; the photos of a wounded child bleeding in a hospital and of people dealing with the dead stand out most. Another collection includes Iranian youth, especially women, pursuing their individuality despite the new oppressive regime. There are women with wildly curly short hair, others casually smoking cigarettes or putting on makeup with friends or getting tattoos. Another eye catching display shows moments from the fictitious life of a shrimp (yes you read that right) as it wears pool floaties and parties with shrimp-friends. However, this shrimp clearly has its demons, revealed by the photos of it blacked out drunk and alone, followed by the view from the bottom of its grave as mourning shrimp look down to pay their respects. Considering all the very real tragedy documented in these photo collections, this one seems strange. We wish we had a photo for you, but taking photos of other people’s photos on display is frowned upon.
Soul Kitchen
As we leave the museum, Hannah and I are HUNGRY, and our flight is fast approaching. There is a mall-like building right next to the Museum of Socialist Art, and we go inside hoping for a good food option. It is a nice building with a lot of shops, but it is small and weirdly empty for a Saturday. The outside of the building advertises a restaurant that looks promising, but we can’t find it anywhere. Instead we use the air conditioning to search Google for an easy and nearby vegan-friendly place. All of them look like they are in the city center, which means we unfortunately have to deal with parking in the middle of the city.
We pick a restaurant, and I navigate Hannah there. As expected, we don’t see any obvious parking, as most street parking is designated for residence of the nearby buildings. I find what appears to be an underground parking garage, and we head to it. As we near, we realize this is part of the large park I was running through on our Sofia days. We take a ticket, drive past the gate, and hope it will be a smooth exit. We don’t have a lot of margin for error given our flight tonight. At least there is a human parking attendant so we won't be at the mercy of confusing machines.
We pop above ground and cross the streets back to Soul Kitchen. On our way into the courtyard, we see a gentleman exiting, wearing a nice polo with “Soul Kitchen” embroidered. Fancy. The restaurant is quiet when we enter; there is no one else dining. A waiter asks if he can help us, and Hannah responds that we would like to eat. I start to realize this is a fancier restaurant than we expected, so I quickly follow Hannah’s response with a question as to whether the kitchen is open. Turns out, it opens in two minutes—perfect. There is some back and forth as to whether we have a reservation and whether to sit inside or in the garden, to which Hannah notes we just want food and will sit wherever we can. Once seated we start to realize just how underdressed we are in this fancy dinning room with running shorts, t-shirts, and giant water bottles.
The menu looks delicious! We order spring rolls to start and a savory crepe and noodles for dinner. After placing the order, Hannah asks how long it might take, letting the waiter know we have a flight to catch. I wonder how many people come to this nice Sofia restaurant just for some quick food…us. Dinner is delicious, and Hannah wants to order some dessert but thinks better of it looking at the time. We are tight for our flight and best get going.
We pay (fortunately, they take card because we are low on cash since we are trying to leave with as little as possible) and extend great thanks. We run back through Sofia’s streets to the parking garage, hop in the car, and drive up the ramp to just before the exit gate. Hannah tries to feed our ticket to the machine, but it keeps spitting it back. Uh oh. She presses the “call for help button,” and we are told we need to go back to the booth to pay first. Oops. I run back, pay, and then the machine eats our ticket, letting us out.
Sofia → Athens
We make it to the airport, return the car, check our bags, and get through security with no stories for the blog (the people at the check-in counter did say we were the first people to line-up properly all day—woohoo). By the time we get to the gate, we are an hour early. This is where everything going smooth comes to an end. It’s time to board, and we don’t have a plane. There was a lightning storm as we drove to the airport, so maybe that delayed the flight bringing our plane in. Once the plane arrives, the crowded gate is restless to board, everyone crowding the counter. But, the plane requires a technical inspection. Ugh. After half an hour, they call everyone to board, then make everyone sit back down a few minutes later. That process repeats again. Apparently, the technical inspection is not going as fast as expected. Finally, the third delay is the charm, and our flight isn’t delayed more than and hour and a half. I guess Hannah had enough time for a desert crepe after all.
Landing in Athens around 12:30 AM, we are excited to get off the plane, meet Mom and Dad, and get to the Airbnb for some sleep. Not so lucky. There are no busses available to take us to the terminal from the tarmac, so we sit on the plane for awhile. We suggest mom and dad just go ahead and take the metro to our Airbnb because things aren’t going well for us and they have been traveling for nearly 30 hours, but the metros have stopped running for the night, making sharing a taxi the next best option.
Finally, busses arrive and people flood off the plane, happy for the fresh air. We arrive at the terminal, get our passport stamps, and head to baggage claim. No baggage. No baggage for a very long time. Long enough that we make baggage claim friends. One of our baggage claim friends is from Athens and now lives in Bulgaria. She shares some of her experiences, including that she moved to Bulgaria partially because it is so difficult for young people to get a job in Greece (she said the unemployment rate for people under ~26 in Greece was 60% when she left). She now lives in Plovdiv and works for an American company—GoDaddy. Mom and dad are just on the other side of the baggage claim terminal, periodically asking if the carousel is moving yet. It teases us a few times, but no dice. Finally, at 2:30 AM, we have luggage! Somehow, the first three bags are our two baggage claim friends and mine, so we just wait a bit for Hannah’s bag before rounding the corner to find mom excited and dad passed out in a chair. Apparently he held a sign for us for awhile before needing a nap. A one hour flight turned into a seven hour saga.
Our taxi driver chats dad’s ear off on the ride over, while the three of us nod off in the back. We finally crawl into bed at 4:00am, completely exhausted.
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