More Walking in Sofia

As my travel mate and I navigated the streets of Sofia on our own, we found more Roman ruins. In fact, they are on every corner of the city!

We also passed by street markets selling art, including Orthodox iconographic paintings. I am fascinated with those because of the technique and the materials that they use. Eastern Orthodox iconography is not considered regular artwork, but rather, a sacred image used in religious devotion. Unlike Western religious art, production of these icons involves following set patterns and rules, which give them their distinct look. Religious icon painting is an entire discipline all by itself. In fact, when you find yourself in Eastern Europe, one of the best souvenir items to bring home are these iconographic paintings.

A few years ago, our parish church sponsored a Syrian refugee family and as a token of appreciation, the father, who is an artist, donated two iconographic paintings to the church – one of Jesus, and the other, of the Blessed Virgin Mary. I should note here that some Catholic churches in Eastern Europe and the Middle East follow the Eastern tradition and rites, thus, his painting style was not surprising for me.

I got the chance to talk to him one Sunday about his work, and he told me that the background on both paintings were made of gold leaf and that the technique of gold hatching (creating fine lines in gold over painted areas of an icon painting) is for the purpose of creating an unearthly atmosphere that depicts the Divine. It was such an interesting conversion, and I had a similar one with one of the artists I chatted with in the streets of Bulgaria. There is something about iconographic paintings that appeal to me.

That time, I didn’t buy any paintings yet. I told myself that I could find them everywhere in the Balkans, but that my mission at that point was to find food. My travel mate agreed with me. He, too, was famished.

We had difficulty finding a bakery, so we ended up at a medium-sized convenience store. The first thing I ordered was a bottle of ice-cold Sprite which I gulped down in seconds, then I ordered a bottle of mineral water, Bulgarian, of course! I am not usually a soda drinker, but at that time, my thirst was so unbearable that the first drops of spritzy beverage refreshed me. My travel mate still had his water bottle which he had refilled at the mineral springs. He got a granola bar and a bag of chips.

As I paid for my drinks, I asked the store owner where I could get banitsa. As soon as she heard the word, she pointed to the corner where there was glass shelf full of pastries and said, “banitsa!” Why didn’t I notice it before? She spoke only Bulgarian and because I had questions, she took out her phone. We used her translation app to communicate with each other.

From what I gathered, she made the banitsas herself and the ones in the glass shelf were fresh from the oven, baked less than twenty minutes ago. There were four kinds – cheese, cheese and spinach, mushrooms and onions, and meat (beef).

A banitsa is a traditional Bulgarian pastry made by stacking layers of phyllo pastry dough and layering it with a mixture of whisked egg, natural yogurt, and crushed sirene cheese (similar to feta). It is then baked in the oven until it turns crisp. Most people eat it for breakfast, and it is usually served with yogurt or with boza, a thick fermented wheat drink. But some also eat this for snack. In fact, there are sweet varieties filled with fruits and nuts. At Christmas and New Year, Bulgarians insert lucky paper charms inside. The luckiest one gets the piece with a coin.

I opted for the basic cheese, which is the traditional version. I heard that the star ingredient here is the sirene cheese, so I wanted to taste the pastry with nothing inside but this cheese. The store owner offered to warm it up for me. It was huge, so I offered half to my travel mate. He politely refused telling me he doesn’t like too much cheese. He said he will eat something more substantial at the hotel when we go back. I joked that he is probably making a good decision, because I can just imagine the calorie count of that innocent-looking pastry oozing with cheesy goodness. Oh well! I am only in Sofia once, at least for now.

The first bite was heavenly – crunchy on the outside, and soft and rich on the inside. The cheese was similar to feta but had an altogether distinct flavour. One has to taste it to know the difference because it is hard to describe. It is a humble pie, for sure, but very nice and pleasant to my taste buds.

I thanked the shop owner and promised myself to try the other variants next time. I am guessing that the different fillings will add another layer of flavour, but the cheese one, by itself is already very satisfying. Just like pizza, one does not need a million fancy toppings to make it good. Excellent cheese and perfectly baked dough are more than enough to create a superb pizza...or in this case, banitsa.

With my hunger pangs satiated, we made our way slowly to the Serdika Station. We both decided to take the train this time.

Getting our tickets was easy and figuring out which train line to take was pretty much straight-forward. Despite the Cyrillic characters, the maps and outlines were not hard to decipher. The metro station was spacious, clean, safe-looking, and modern (that is, apart from the Roman ruins) with its pink granite flooring and stone walls. The trains were equally spacious and clean. It took us less than fifteen minutes to reach the station close to our hotel, only four stops away from downtown.

When we got off, I looked for that shortcut that I discovered through Google Maps. I followed a couple of locals and when I saw the narrow dirt road behind some houses lined with tall shrubs, I knew that was it.

My travel mate looked at me quizzically and asked, “Are you sure about this?” to which I replied, “Just trust me and follow me.” And to ease his doubt, I pointed out that the dirt road runs parallel to the main road and we could easily make our escape if anything happens.

As we walked, we realized it was nearly six-thirty in the evening. Our orientation meeting was at seven. He asked again if I was planning to join the group dinner after and I said I probably wouldn’t. I was ready to collapse. What I needed was a long, hot shower and an uninterrupted sleep on a real bed. I counted the hours again and I remarked that it would be almost 36 hours that I hadn’t lain on a bed. He told me he’d probably do the same.

Though he had a much shorter flight (from London), he didn’t sleep well the other night.

We reached the end of the path in no time, and we saw the façade of our hotel shortly. “See, I was right! We made it!” I said to him.  I thanked him for the company and told him I’d see him at the meeting.

When I got in the room, my roommate was already there. She was sleeping, so I tiptoed my way to the bathroom and when I got out, she was already up. She arrived two hours ago and had a nice, long nap. She flew from Prague where she lives but she said she is originally from Washington, D.C. Her mom is Peruvian-American, and her dad, Czech. I told her that I had originally planned to go to Peru that summer, but changed my mind.

She looked to be in her early or mid-thirties, so I could see why we were paired up as roommates. The British ladies I met at the airport earlier were younger, around mid-twenties max.

There was no time for a shower, so I said I’d just go straight to the meeting and then relax later. My roommate told me she'd join the group dinner. After her nap, she was ready to party. I told her that I’d stay in because I did not have any energy left. I guess I looked pretty beat up because she said she’d do the same if she were me. She couldn’t even imagine how I managed to gallivant around the city for more than two hours in the hot and humid weather after a nine-hour flight from North America, another two-hour flight within Europe, and all the transit walking and waiting in between. I said, I didn’t know either, but I just wanted to make the most of our first day in Sofia. Now that I have seen the city, it was time for me to call it a day.

At the meeting, I met the rest of our fellow travellers. I would say 98% of them came from England, with a fourth of that group comprising of young Australians and New Zealanders living in London and who were mostly females and friends with each other. There was a young lady from Portugal and a young lady from Iceland who were travelling solo just like me. There was one British single guy and three others who were with their girlfriends. However, my new Aussie friend, who I knew was also travelling solo, was nowhere to be found.

There was an elderly Vietnamese Canadian couple, who I later learned are from Edmonton, Canada, and two American ladies, both older than me. Seeing them assured me that I wouldn’t be too out-of-place in this group. I found fellow “senior” travelers! Yay!

(The five of us would joke about calling ourselves “seniors,” even if technically, only three of them were real seniors…just because we were in the company of predominantly young people.)

Our Tour Director, who had led every single Balkan tour run by this company so far, is a Serbian guy whom I found so funny and witty. He reminded me of the American comedian, Kevin James. They have the same personality and, in my opinion, they do resemble each other. The only difference is the way they talk. Our guide has a deep voice and a charming Slavic accent characterized by those rolled Rs. He was like the Serbian “King of Queens!” Oh, I knew this tour was going to be fun even before his presentation started.

He had a screen ready and he had a PowerPoint presentation that gave us all the information we needed to know – house rules, travel times, and pertinent information about each country including currency equivalents, and what to do and what not to do. In between, he injected jokes and anecdotes from previous trips. I swear, he could be a stand-up comedian! But what I really noticed was the fact that his presentation included an extensive list of culinary offerings from each region, complete with mouth-watering food pictures. By the way he described everything, I could tell right away that he is a serious foodie. I made a mental note to listen to our guide’s recommendations and always get his advice on everything related to dining. I was certainly in good hands!

After the meeting, I thanked him and told him I wouldn’t be able to join the group dinner. He said he understood that some travelers might need to rest after a long flight, and reminded me about our call time the following morning.

I went back to my room and wished my roommate a good time at the dinner. I wasn’t very hungry (I guess I was still digesting the banitsa), so I ordered a room-service light meal of creamy chicken noodle soup which was promptly delivered. The bowl was large and the soup hot and hearty with a generous dollop of sour cream. It was the perfect thing to cap the night off. Then I had a long, hot shower, prepped my luggage for the next day, and hit the bed.

There was a wedding reception at the restaurant three floors below and by the time I was ready to sleep, I guess their dinner had ended and the dancing had just got started. I could hear the blast of music and the wild cheering, but the noise didn’t bother me at all. I drifted off to dreamland after only a few minutes. I slept so well that I didn’t even hear my roommate come in. I only saw her the following morning when I woke up to the sound of my alarm clock at 5:30 am.