This year, as it happens every once in a while, the “Western” (Catholic and Protestant) Easter and the Orthodox Easter coincide, and so do – by extension – Palm Sunday and Tsvetnitsa, respectively, both of which happened to be today.
And, as far as I’m concerned, there was no better way to spend the day than by walking around Rochester’s Park Avenue area, where – luckily for me – spring has spring. I even got to see some blooming crocuses/croci. What an ugly name for such a beautiful flower, although I have to admit that the Bulgarian минзухар (pronounced meen-zoo-har) is no feast for the ears either.
Speaking of feasts, while thinking of a title for this post, I came across an explanation of why Hemingway’s posthumously published memoir was called A Moveable Feast (the term is originally used to describe Christian holidays that don’t take place on the same date every year, such as Easter and Palm Sunday). The title was apparently suggested by A. E. Hotchner, who supposedly remembered a conversation, in which Hemingway said, “If you are lucky enough to have lived in Paris as a young man, then wherever you go for the rest of your life, it stays with you, for Paris is a moveable feast.”
I like this idea of carrying past experiences around like a moveable feast, and my time in the States somehow feels like that to me.
Incidentally, this picture was taken at Sofia’s Dom na Kinoto (Cinema House) and In Bloom is actually the title of one of the films that are screened there as part of this year’s Sofia Film Festival, which is going on until the end of the month. You can catch In Bloom‘s second screening tomorrow, at 9:15pm.
I’ve written about Sofia’s Military Club before, but until recently, I’d never seen this spectacular floor mosaic. Strangely enough, it is located in one of the club’s rarely used service corridors, which connects the formal bathroom and another, smaller hall and leads to the club’s otherwise quite unsightly backstage areas.
I would guess the mosaic was an original feature of the building and dates from the beginning of the 20th century, when the club was constructed (it reminded me of the floor decorations inside the former City Central Bathhouse, which also dates from the same period) – as such, it made for a really interesting contrast with the Club’s terrace tiles, which imitate the old style but were in fact put in quite recently, and the utilitarian tiles (I would guess from the 1970s) that pave much of the service areas backstage. Layer upon layer of history, and all that.
One of my favorite places to walk through in Sofia is the staircase that links Dondukov Boulevard to Moskovska Street, which starts right after Budapest Street stops in a dead end.
The two flights of stairs are a convenient shortcut for pedestrians, but whenever I’m in the neighborhood, I always make it a point to go and climb them even if they’re a bit out of my way, just for fun. There’s something whimsical, quite unusual and surprising about this open-air staircase right in the middle of the city, surrounded by greenery (or dried foliage, depending on the season) and built into the slope that separates the two streets – to me the stairs seem kind of like Harry Potter‘s Platform 9¾ and whenever I climb them, I half expect to come up not to one of Sofia’s central streets, but into some fairytale world. Once, I even saw a baby hedgehog on the landing between the two flights, as if it had fallen out of some Brothers Grimm story and ended up on the landing.
I was in the area recently, after having spent a few months away from Sofia, and decided to go by the stairs. This time, they looked even more whimsical than usual, as I found them painted in all the colors of the rainbow. When I got up to the landing between the two flights, I noticed a stencil that read, “Grey is Not the Color of the Balkans.” The colorful intervention apparently dates back to the beginning of September and was done to show solidarity with the “quiet protest” and wave of stairways-painting in Istanbul (where, unlike Sofia, such pedestrian stairways don’t seem to be a rarity) and the rest of Turkey. Also unlike Istanbul, it seems that the Sofia Municipality didn’t bother to paint the stairway back to grey – a feat worth celebrating, especially considering its proven record of speedily wiping away all traces of such colorful (and political) transformations of public space. So, although it’s a little faded by now, the rainbow is still there today. To me, it was a good reminder of a year marked by protests, not just in Bulgaria but in many other places around the world, as well as a welcome burst of color on a drab and grey January day.
I came across these delightfully retro-looking tiles, embedded at equal intervals into the sidewalk of a tiny street, tucked away in one of Sofia’s oldest, grandest and most aristocratic and charming neighborhoods, which occupies several blocks around the Doctor’s Garden, locked in between the Tsar Osvoboditel, Vassil Levski, Yanko Sakazov and Evlogi and Hristo Georgievi boulevards.
If I had to, I’d guess that these tiles were put in around 50 or 60 years ago, and stepping onto them somehow felt like stepping half a century back in time. The tiles are embossed with the city of Sofia’s coat of arms, which contains (clockwise, from top left): the image of a woman’s head, supposedly taken from an ancient coin and belonging to the Empress Julia Domna, which is meant to symbolize Ulpia Serdica, as Sofia was known in Roman times; the Saint Sofia Church, which is Sofia’s second oldest church (dating back to the sixth century) and which in the fourteenth century gave the city its current name (changing it from Sredets); a baldachin and a statue of Apollo Medicus, which represents all the mineral springs in and around the city; and the Vitosha Mountain, located on Sofia’s outskirts. Written just below the coat of arms is Sofia’s motto, Raste, no ne staree, which translates roughly to “Keeps Growing but Never Aging.”
The coat of arms dates back to 1900 (it was created for the city’s participation in the Paris World Expo), and the motto was added to it in 1911 – this was a great period of modernization for the city and almost all of Sofia’s now iconic buildings date back to it, many of which are actually in or around the Doctor’s Garden neighborhood. The neighborhood itself – as the place where the city’s changing (intellectual and/or political) elite has lived over the last century, captures much of Sofia’s turbulent history in a nutshell, or as the case may be, in a radius of just a few blocks. Like the tiles themselves, the entire neighborhood – although still considered very fashionable, seems to belong to a bygone era and whenever I walk around its cobblestone-covered streets, I feel like I can still smell the old spirit of Sofia in the air.