Thursday, August 25, 2005

Overnight train from Thessaloniki to Sofia

Zora was quite fond of the snazzy red hats worn by all the women manning the train stations and keeping the train on the right track.

These were nice old German train cars. So you could still open the window and stick your head out. Trains are a lot better when you can do that.





Pulling into Sofia. The outskirts of Sofia looked pretty grim, in a Transylvanian kind of way. And we saw a movie at the new multiplex in the “burbs,” where communist apartment blocks reign supreme. But the city itself was very pleasant. But handsome and peaceful and nice to stroll around. And cheap as hell. Buy property there now, when you can affort it. In 10 years, you’ll thank me. Mark my works.

The language was a problem. Hell, their alphabet is a problem. And I can read Greek, and there are still 11 of 30 letters in the Bulgarian alphabet that I don't get. And then, with cheat sheet in hand, I would slowly pronounce some sign and feel very proud of myself. Until, of course, I realized I still had no idea what it meant. Nevertheless, compared to Hungarian, Bulgarian is a piece of cake. It least when it comes to figuring out what signs mean.

Commie influence on architecture.

Sofia was the surprise hit of the trip. Nice town. And did I meantion dirt cheap? I'd like to go back.



Communist statues combined with skate park and DJ. This city's got in goin' on!







Any city with a metro extention being built is OK in my book.

Icon section of market.

Russian church. When we walked in during a service of some kind, an old lady gave us a dirty look. But then she seems satisfied when I crossed myself correctly.

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