Everything Changes – The Dancing Bear (Speed Dating Sofia #11)

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The collapse of the Iron Curtain happened so suddenly that it was hard ot keep pace with events. One day, the Berlin Wall was standing; the next day, Germans were standing on the wall, tearing it apart piece by piece. Churchill’s famous words at Westminster College in Missouri on March 5, 1946, that “From Stettin in the Baltic to Trieste in the Adriatic, an iron curtain has descended across the Continent” were no longer true. The Iron Curtain had been drawn up, and people on both sides of it were now free to go where they pleased in Central and Eastern Europe. The two events that made the most impression on me were the Fall of the Berlin Wall and the execution of Nicolae and Elena Ceausescu on Christmas Day, 1989. Nothing else really registered. I never gave a thought to Bulgaria, and what I knew of the Balkans was Archduke Franz Ferdinand getting gunned down on a street in Sarajevo. Bulgaria was now open to visitors from the west without the hindrance of being followed by State Security. Too bad, I was preoccupied with less important things, like what I was going to do with my life.

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Everything changes – Greetings from Sofia

Life Choices – Why Can’t I Be You?
In 1989, I graduated from high school with plenty of dreams and no idea what I was going to do next. One of the few things I knew for sure was that I did not want to get serious about life anytime soon. A career was the furthest thing from my mind. My grades were not good enough to get me into a university, and if they had been, I would not have lasted very long. I had two choices: either go get a job or go to the local community college. I ended up doing both. First, I went to work, then in January 1990, I started college. This pointed my life in the right direction, but not without one regret. A regret that has lingered in my mind from the first moment I set foot in Sofia in 2011. While staying at a hostel, I met university-aged Europeans who were wandering all over the continent. They seemed to not have a care in the world; large quantities of alcohol helped with that. While watching them, I thought, why didn’t I do this after high school or during the year I took off from college? Maybe because I did not realize at the time that I had more freedom than I ever imagined with very few responsibilities.

January 1990 would have been just the time to delay college, earn and save money, then head off to the deepest parts of Eastern Europe. I eventually got there over twenty years later, but I missed out on visiting the region during a major political, economic, and cultural transition. There has never been anything like it since then, and I doubt there will ever be again. I regret not being able to see what places like Sofia looked like at the dawn of a new age. From what I have read and the images I have seen, there was decay and decadence, hope intermingled with fear for what the future might bring. This was followed by disappointment and disenchantment. The communist elites learned to love capitalism as they secured their privileges. Revolution in 1989, retrenchment in the 1990’s. Everything changed, or did it?

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High rise society – Communist era housing blocks in the Mladost district of Sofia
(Credit: Mrs Robinson)

The Nineties – Progress Or Chaos
My impression of Sofia during my first visit in 2011 was rough around the edges. It grew on me over several days. By my last day, thanks to a Free Tour, I felt an affinity for the city. Membership in the European Union (EU) was providing funding for improvements that were beginning to make a difference. Still, I recoiled at the sight of towering communist-era apartment blocks, people picking through the trash for bottles, and a splendid-looking shopping mall nearby. I cannot imagine what Sofia was like in 1990, but I wish I could have seen it to get an idea of how far it has come. Bulgaria was non-existent to Americans during the 1990’s. My academic background is in foreign policy and international relations. I do not recall it coming up in any of my classes. The Balkans were in the news due to the Yugoslav Wars.

The most memorable international news story from Bulgaria was the return of King Simeon fifty years after he had been ousted from the throne and the political party he formed, the National Movement for Stability and Progress. Simeon became Prime Minister in 2001 and proved a disappointment. The monarch’s return seemed more like a novelty than a serious political movement. It was actually a symptom of the problem. Bulgaria had a rough transition to democratic capitalism. Widespread discontent plagued the country. I know this from history books, newspapers, and magazine articles rather than personal experience. This second-hand knowledge can never substitute for seeing it myself. I missed this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity and will have to live with that regret. What a time it must have been. Bulgaria in the 1990’s was fits and starts, peaks and valleys, a rollercoaster ride through a hall of mirrors, a Ferris wheel that would not stop spinning, a fun house, and a freak show. Anything seemed possible. There were even dancing bears.

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Dancing in the streets – Sofia street scene during the 1990’s

Life In The Streets – A Long Leash
On the last day of my recent visit to Sofia, the guide, who was in his thirties, said he had no direct memories of communism because he was born in 1996. Then he added that “my father reminded me last week that I do have memories of that time. He said, don’t you remember the men with their accordions and dancing bears?” Indeed, he did. “There is a photo of one of them on the tram with the bear.” I had seen photos of bears in the streets of Bucharest during the 1990’s. It was one way of earning a living for those who did not have good job prospects. I searched online and found a photo of a man with a bear on the street in Sofia. I did not see anything like that on either of my visits. In 2011, I saw lots of stray dogs; a pack of them joined me for a run in a park. Fifteen years later, the only fogs I saw in Sofia were on a leash. Everything changes when you see what is missing.

Coming soon: A Brilliant Coup – Alexander of Battenberg & His Mausoleum (Speed Dating Sofia #12)

Monumental Achievements – The Path To Saint Alexander Nevsky Cathedral (Speed Dating Sofia #10)

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I did not come to Sofia specifically looking to visit churches and cathedrals, but how can anyone resist their aesthetic and spiritual charms? I expected to step inside several of them, just as I did on my first trip in 2011. An argument can be made that Sofia is a city of churches. If you want to understand Bulgaria, and the place of history, religion, and spirituality in society, past and present, Sofia’s churches are study halls with open-door policies. The invitation is there for the taking. There is something for everyone. The sublime simplicity of the ancient Rotunda of St. George offers proof that size does not really matter and a small structure can triumph over space and time. Looking for a mosque transformed into a church? Sofia has that covered with the Seven Saints Church. One of the works of the greatest Ottoman architect, Mimar Sinan, has been transformed into a Bulgarian house of prayer. And if you ever wondered how Sofia got its name, look no further than Saint Sofia Church. Saint Sofia has history on its side, but has not cornered the market on paying homage to Sofia or Bulgaria’s past.

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A Monumental Achievement – Saint Alexander Nevsky Cathedral (Credit: Andrey4o)

Wonderworkers – Sizing Up The Situation
If you ever wonder how Sofia got its name, look no further than Saint Sofia Church. Saint Sofia has history on its side, but has not cornered the market on paying homage to Sofia or Bulgaria’s past. You get an in-your-face look at Orthodox Christianity’s rich history in the city. Coming up from Serdika Metro Station, you will find the 14th-century Church of St Petka of the Saddlers. Its low standing is due to the Bulgarians’ Ottoman overlords decreeing that it could not stand higher than any mosque. Ironically, there were upwards of 80 mosques in the city at one time. St. Petka has outlasted them all save one, the Banya Bashi Mosque, just down the street from it. St. Petka also outlasted the Lenin statue, which rose nearby. Today, the iconic gold and bronze Statue of Sofia watches over it from the other side of Maria Luisa Boulevard.

Speaking of small, it doesn’t get much more compact than the 13th-century, Orthodox temple of St. Nicholas the Wonderworker. The communists besieged it with the Hotel Rila, built in 1962, which was a center for State Security Operations. They could spy on guests or those who went to St. Nicholas the Wonderworker. The churches were full on holidays, but regular attendance was viewed with suspicion. Also, towering over the church was a Corecom store, where communist officials and their family members could shop. There was a full range of western goods for sale as long as you paid in American dollars or British pounds. The elite sold their souls for consumer goods. Spiritual sustenance was not for sale. Any guess which one endured? Communism in Bulgaria was a study in hypocrisy, whereas its churches are a study of contrasts. This is most apparent in the difference between what I consider the two most impressive churches in Sofia.

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Heaven sent – Higher calling at Saint Alexander Nevsky Cathedral

Constructive Forces – Building Faith
The aforementioned Rotunda of St. George and the St. Alexander Nevsky Cathedral are the antithesis of one another. The Cathedral, with its multiplicity of domes, is a monumental work of awe-inspiring power that dwarfs its surroundings and humbles the visitor. The Rotunda of St. George is intimate, ancient, and quaint. Surrounded by the Presidential Palace and Hotel Balkan, the Rotunda’s aesthetics are in inverse proportion to its size, something so small yet so mighty. I prefer the Rotunda over the Cathedral, and I would recommend it as the one must-see in Sofia, but I have to admit that on both my visits to the city, I made sure to visit the Cathedral. The only similar sacred structure of its scale I had seen before was the Hagia Sophia in Istanbul. Alexander Nevsky Cathedral can hold its own.

The Cathedral was built with monumentalism in mind. It is an architectural celebration of Bulgaria’s liberation and a commemoration of the 200,000 soldiers who lost their lives so their Slavic brethren could be free. The liberation of Bulgaria in 1878 from the Ottoman Empire by the Russian Tsarist Army was the making of modern Bulgaria. To mark this seminal event in Bulgarian history, the construction of a monumental cathedral was planned just a year after the Principality of Bulgaria was created. The Cathedral had a lot to live up to as a monument to the ascendancy of Orthodox Christianity in Bulgaria and the country’s freedom from five centuries of foreign occupation. Getting it from idea to completion was an arduous process that took fifteen times longer than the Russo-Turkish War of 1877-78, which had led to the liberation.

Bulgaria was a poor country struggling to establish itself in the Balkans. The Cathedral was designed to be one of the largest Orthodox churches in Europe. Paying for its construction was problematic. The Bulgarian state did not have the money on hand. Donations were solicited from the public. 1.9 million leva was raised for the construction. In this way, thousands of Bulgarians had a stake in its construction. A symbol of their faith and pride in the country’s present and future. Even with sufficient funds, building the Cathedral took decades. Though the foundation stone was laid in 1882, it would be thirty years until construction was completed in 1912. Another twelve years passed before the Cathedral was consecrated.

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Rays of light – Interior at Alexander Nevsky Cathedral

Interior Decoration – A Stillness At The Center
The Cathedral was also an international affair. It commemorated Russian, Bulgarian, Belarusian, and Ukrainian soldiers who all died to set Bulgaria free. Among the materials used for its construction were marble from Munich, metalwork from Berlin, and mosaics from Venice. Only two years after the Cathedral’s completion, Slavic comity was in short supply. Bulgaria joined World War I on the side of the Central Powers (Germany, Austria-Hungary, and the Ottoman Empire). Alexander Nevsky, after whom the Cathedral had been named, was a 13th-century Russian prince. Among his many feats was defeating Prussian crusaders and saving Russia from Catholicism. Nevsky’s name on the Cathedral became problematic when Bulgaria allied with Germany. The official name of the Cathedral was changed to Sts. Cyril and Methodius Cathedral, until Nevesky’s name returned to it in 1920, when cooler heads prevailed.

The Cathedral has kept that name since then and its place as the ultimate monument to Bulgaria’s liberation. I walked away from it after my visits, impressed with the magnificence of its interior. For me, it is more spectacular than the exterior. The Cathedral can hold up to 10,000 worshipers at one time. Eighteen pounds of gold were used for the interior decoration. Those numbers are impressive, but more impressive was the feeling I got standing beneath its grandest dome and watching light filter in. I felt a sense of awe and wonder, a liberation from the world beyond the Cathedral’s walls, a stillness at the center of Sofia, and within myself.

Click here for: Everything Changes – The Dancing Bear (Speed Dating Sofia #11)

“It’s Not For Us” – Foreign Exchange (Speed Dating Sofia #9)

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Sofia is the counterpoint to the world I grew up in. This goes a long way in explaining my fascination with the city. We are born into one world, and throughout our lives, no matter how far we roam, we still inhabit that world. The rest of the world is judged by the place we first called home. I see Sofia, whether I want to or not, through the formative experiences of my youth. They say opposites attract, and I believe that is true. The place I grew up was prosperous, peaceful, and mediocre. We had to create our own excitement, which usually involved self-destructive behavior. That was supposed to be fun, but even that grew boring after a while. I always wanted something more. I did not know what it was or where to find it. Whether I care to admit it or not, the place I grew up influenced the way I see the world. No matter how far I travel, I carry the first twenty-seven years of my life with me. I see the world through that frame of reference, always have, always will. Sofia is nothing like it, and as odd as it may seem, I would never have gone there, or to Bulgaria, the Balkans, or Eastern Europe, if not for those for the first twenty-seven years of my life. I wanted everything to change, and it did, but coming to Sofia has made me realize how easy life is for Americans.

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Mirror image – At the National Palace of Culture Station in the Sofia Metro

Another Planet – Life Experiences
In my hometown, the sidewalks were not broken, the factories were full of workers, and concrete was something beneath us rather than towering above us. The churches were modern, the traffic was light, street life was reserved for festivals and parades, the lawns were perfect, the cheerleaders dated the jocks, and nuclear families were the norm. The only thing foreign was exchange students or what you saw on television. It was a comfortable existence, if a banal one. Sofia was spelled Sophie and was a woman’s name. Bulgaria had as much to do with western North Carolina as it did with it. That is to say nothing. The wider world was impossibly distant. One day, I got up and left. I am supposed to say that I never looked back. How can you never look back when you carry that place with you, wherever you go? And that includes Sofia.

All those cracks on the facades in Sofia are a visual metaphor for how I really felt on the inside throughout my childhood. The rumblings of discontent, the failed rebellions, the rage against myself as much as anyone else, the frustrations with the glass ceilings of life in a small town, the invisible barriers I could not see, but always felt. I wasted years wanting to run away from it all, and cowardice kept me from leaving. And then one day, I finally left. That was how I found my way to small towns in the Great Plains, Wyoming, and Montana, to Berlin and Istanbul, and then one day in the spring of 2011, I landed on another planet. In 2026, I returned to that planet. Nothing could have been further from my life experience than Sofia, Bulgaria. I choose the places I visit based on where I grew up. Not because they are alike, but because they are so different.

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Main Street – A place called home in western North Carolina (Credit: Brian Stansberry)

A Living Wage – Paying the Bills
Sofia is not about cookie-cutter homes or aspirations for a country club membership. It is grit and resilience on steroids. We didn’t have a lot of money when I was growing up, but we never came close to going bankrupt. In the 1980’s we were dressed in denim and celebrating the Summer Olympics. The America I grew up in was about getting ahead. It still is. Sofia is about getting by, making the best of being in a bad-ass part of Europe that punishes weakness. I recall telling two women who helped me navigate my way into the metro how affordable public transport was in Sofia. One was a dentist, while the other worked in human resources. Both spoke excellent English and were part of a new generation. Their response to my remark, “It is not for us.” Everything changes and nothing changes. In the 1980’s, Bulgaria was given petrol by the Soviet Union. The best payment they could make was in tomatoes. During the communist era, they paid Czechoslovakia for its help with heavy industry by providing their citizens with free stays at Black Sea resorts. In my hometown, we paid the bills and looked forward to whatever was on television that night.

In America, then, as now, jobs were plentiful; opportunities abounded. Even in my small town, you could earn a decent living, have a small house and a car. The American dream for us was mansions and so much money that you did not know what to do with it, Dallas and Dynasty on at night. We took for granted that a two-bedroom house with a garage was attainable if you just showed up for work every day. That was just as true in the 1990’s when I began college. I found it all a bit dull, but Americans have that luxury. In Sofia, at that same time, the transition from communism was fraught with calamity. People were trying to find their way in a world where it was every Bulgarian for themselves. That is still true today. I left home because I wanted to see more of the world. Bulgarians leave home, including Sofia, the most prosperous place in the country, because they need a job that pays them a living wage, and those jobs are found in Central and Western Europe.

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Moving on up – Bulgarians boarding the flight from Sofia to Stuttgart

Cheap Escapes – An Expensive Proposition
I came to Sofia in 2011 because it was the most affordable place I could fly to in the Balkans. This time, I returned on another cheap flight thanks to credit card points. When I was booking my flight from Sofia to Stuttgart, I noticed all the cities that Wizz Air flies to from Sofia. Name a major European city, and they offer a direct flight. Wizz Air flies to multiple airports in London, Milan, Paris, and Rome. If you are looking to get to Berlin, Munich, or Hamburg, Barcelona, and Madrid, they have you covered. And there are plenty of places a bit off the beaten flight paths covered as well. I thought to myself, this is so wonderful. Look at all the places with cheap flights. This was before those two women said, “It’s not for us.”

Click here for: Monumental Achievements – The Path To Saint Alexander Nevsky Cathedral (Speed Dating Sofia #10)

A Dark Day – The Bombing of Saint Nedelya Cathedral (Speed Dating Sofia #8b)

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Sometimes, you search for history and come up empty-handed. Other times, history finds you. That was the case for me with the Seven Saints Church in Sofia. I spent as much time in the park outside the church as I did anywhere on my recent visit to Sofia. I admired the architecture of the multi-domed church while enjoying the atmospheric city life. There was a feeling of levity in the air, as Bulgarians enjoyed the fine spring weather and kept each other company. I have never been a city person, but I could get used to this. The vibes were positive. That made it hard to square what I later learned about Seven Saints when I got back home. While snapping photos of Seven Saints and the area around it, I never noticed a plaque mounted on the side of the church about a notorious murder that happened in front of it on April 14, 1925. Even if I had, my inability to read Cyrillic script or the Bulgarian language would have left me dumbfounded. The plaque commemorates a seminal moment in Bulgaria’s 20th-century history, the assassination of Konstantin Georgiev. This was a trigger event that fired the starting gun for the worst terrorist attack Bulgaria has ever experienced, the bombing of St. Nedelya Cathedral

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Trigger event – Plaque commemorating the assassination of Konstantin Georgiev on April 14, 1925

Revolution & Reprisal – Violent Opportunists
My journey into one of the most violent events in Sofia’s history began when I stumbled upon mention of the assassination by sheer luck. I wanted to know more about the conversion of the Black Mosque to Seven Saints Church at the beginning of the 20th century. This led me to sources on the church’s modern history, which mentioned the assassination of Georgiev, a retired military officer who had served with distinction in the Balkan Wars and World War I. He achieved the rank of Major General by the time he retired in 1919. Georgiev then became a member of the Military Union, an organization of active and retired army officers that promoted conservative political interests. During the early 1920’s the Military Union was the tail that wagged the dog in Bulgarian politics. The Union was involved in multiple coups. Liberal politicians struggled against its influence. Radicalism was on the rise in Bulgaria. Violence was a preferred agent of change.

The tenuous political and economic situation in post-World War I Bulgaria was a fertile breeding ground for extremists. The antithesis of the conservative Military Union and liberal-democratic politics was the Bulgarian Communist Party. In 1923, the communists tried to seize power in the September Uprising. Their attempt failed, and violent reprisals followed. Extremist politics was a life-and-death business during the interwar years in Bulgaria. The fate of the nation was at stake. The communists were willing to put their lives on the line to stoke revolution. They continued plotting and looked for another opportunity to seize power. They soon formulated a master plan to murder the most powerful people in the country in one fell swoop. The nation would then be paralyzed, and the communists could fill the power vacuum. They were willing to go to the most violent lengths to make this happen.

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Tragedy & terrorism – Damage from the bombing of Saint Nedelya Cathedral

Shockwaves – Condemnation & Consequences
On Tuesday, April 14, Konstantin Georgiev was headed to Seven Saints Church with his granddaughter to attend the evening service. He was shot dead at 8:00 p.m. by communist insurgent Atanas Todovichin. This tragedy led to an outpouring of grief. Georgiev’s funeral was scheduled for two days later at Saint Nedelya Cathedral. The authorities had no idea they were falling into a trap deliberately set for them by the Bulgarian Communist Party. The communists had collected explosives to be detonated during Georgiev’s funeral. They could not have scripted a better scenario than the legion of dignitaries that planned to attend Georgiev’s funeral. This was a target-rich environment for the communist plotters. On the day of the funeral, they were able to plant 25 kilograms of explosives in the cathedral’s dome with the assistance of a cleric sympathetic to their cause. Georgiev’s coffin stood near a column that was to be blown up. So many people turned up for the funeral that the Metropolitan of Sofia had the coffin moved closer to the front of the cathedral. This adjustment proved crucial to what transpired.

At 3:23 p.m., the explosives were detonated, but many of the political leaders and government ministers were not where the terrorists had anticipated. The explosion and falling debris killed 150 people and injured another 500. The elites who were targeted escaped with their lives. That was not the case for 46 military officers who lost their lives. The attack sent shockwaves through Sofia and garnered international condemnation. Reprisals were carried out against anyone suspected of being a communist sympathizer. Leftists, whether communists or not, were caught up in the mass arrests. Torture was used to extract confessions. The police burned some of the detainees alive. By one estimate, 15,000 people were arrested. The communist plot was only successful in causing great loss of life and turning the full force of the government against them.

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Dark day – Plaque commemorating the victims of the St Nedelya Church bombing
(Credit: Konstantin

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Closer to heaven – Saint Nedelya Cathedral

Scars of War – The Death of Innocents
Communists and their methods of sowing terror came under intense criticism. Some communists were uncomfortable with the mass casualties inflicted on innocent civilians. This was not the way to win favor with the public. It brought negative attention to the movement. The attempt at regime change was a tragic failure. The government was emboldened to take the most violent measures to suppress communism in Bulgaria. The country grew more authoritarian in the aftermath of the bombing. The communists would make a comeback two decades later when they took control of Bulgaria. As for Saint Nedelya Cathedral, the damage was repaired after the attack. Just like at Seven Saints Church, the cathedral has its own plaque that succinctly outlines the tragedy. I missed that plaque as well during my visit, though I had read about the attack before I visited Sofia. Saint Nedelya has recovered well from the wounds it suffered in the past. It provides spiritual sustenance to faithful Orthodox Christians. The dark days of extremism that did so much damage to Saint Nedelya are now distant. We can only hope they remain so.

Click here for: It’s Not For Us – Foreign Exchange (Speed Dating Sofia #9)

Terror In Sofia – The Bombing of Saint Nedelya Cathedral (Speed Dating Sofia #8a)

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I used to visit museums to learn about the history of places I knew little about. The more museums I visited, the more weary I became of them. No matter how interesting the artifacts and stories, I felt something was missing. That something was the actual place where the artifacts were discovered and where historical events happened. Context is one of the most important parts of history. Places provide context that cannot be found in the sterility of museums. Remove an artifact or event from where it happened, and something vital is lost. A little bit of imagination, a lot of knowledge, and a historic place can go a long way toward bringing the past to life. You have to know what to look for and where to look. This can be illuminating. And so it is with the worst terrorist attack to ever occur on Bulgarian soil at St. Nedelya Church on April 18, 1925. The attack left 500 dead and caused a counter-reaction that took the lives of hundreds more and led to thousands of arrests. While St. Nedelya was the scene of the crime, the trigger event took place outside of Seven Saints Church two days earlier. Both were indicative of the violent tumult which consumed Bulgaria all too frequently during the 20th century.

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Scene of the Crime – Saint Nedelya Cathedral

Political Problems – An Explosive Past
Fifteen years passed between my first and second visits to Bulgaria. Whereas the country was still trying to find its footing in the European Union in 2011 (Bulgaria became a member in 2007), Today it is a member of the Schengen Area and an EU member in good standing. During my visit, I heard some grumbles about the state of the nation. Salaries were too low, corruption was still rampant, and the political class was unresponsive to the public it was supposed to represent. Disenchantment with the country’s direction has resulted in five elections in the last eight years. Bulgarians keep shuffling the cards, hoping to get dealt a better hand. Despite the pessimism about the government, the situation is still much better for Bulgarians today than at almost any time during the 20th century. Politics in Bulgaria is a shadowy world rife with corruption. This has left the public disenchanted, but the situation could be way worse. Political differences used to be settled with bombs rather than at the ballot box. Several times during the 20th century, Bulgaria suffered acts of political violence. The worst of these was the bombing of St. Nedelya Church, one of the deadliest terrorist attacks of the 20th century.

I had read about the bombing before, but had not thought much more about it before this trip. During my first full day in the city, I found myself standing near the entrance to Serdika Metro Station. From my vantage point, I could see the Monument of Sofia, the exposed ruins of ancient Serdica, Banya Bashi Mosque, and the Largo, the nerve center of Bulgaria’s government. I could also see St. Nedelya Church, which was my next port of call. The day was sunny, and there was not a cloud in the sky. It was lunchtime, and the church was a hive of activity. I passed through large crowds of people standing near the entrance. The atmosphere was positive. People were socializing among themselves, and children were playing. This scene could not have been more different than what transpired at St. Nedelya, a century earlier. There were no screams or cries for help. There was no dust choking the air, nor were there shell-shocked people trying to pick their way through rubble. A century has passed since that day, but the bombing of St. Nedelya set off a groundswell of violence, transforming Bulgaria in the process.

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Before the attack – Saint Nedelya Cathedral in 1922

Consequential Actions – The Wrong Direction
You don’t have to be a historian to understand just how bad much of the 20th century was for Bulgaria. Bulgaria ended up on the losing side of both World Wars, with dreadful long- and short-term consequences for the country. “Damned if they do and damned if they don’t” sums up their predicament during this time. Bulgaria was a willing participant in World War I. It paid a heavy price in human, economic, and territorial losses. Bulgaria then did its best to sit on the sidelines of World War II, but committed the cardinal sin of aligning itself with Nazi Germany. For that, its king died under mysterious circumstances, most likely at the hands of the Nazis. This was followed by the Red Army’s invasion, which then led to forty-five years of communism.

Smaller, though still devastating, were the Balkan Wars, Bulgaria’s own “can’t win for losing” moment. After being on the winning side during the First Balkan War, Bulgaria’s leaders wanted more from the spoils of victory. This resulted in a Second Balkan War with their former allies from the previous one. Bulgaria ended up losing and being worse off than if it had not fought at all. And so it went throughout the 20th century. Communism ended in 1989, and a chaotic political and economic transition plagued the country during the 1990’s. During the Cold War, Bulgaria was the ultra-loyalist of the Eastern Bloc to the Soviet Union until Mikhail Gorbachev rose to power. And he lets its leadership know that the Soviet Union cannot keep propping Bulgaria up economically. Todor Zhivkov decides to oppress Bulgaria’s ethnic Turkish minority. The kind of policy that would have led Stalin or Brezhnev to look the other way or pat him on the back. Gorbachev did not have that luxury, and this increased tensions between the Soviet Union and Bulgaria. Whatever Bulgaria’s leadership did, it frequently went in the wrong direction.

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Men in Black – Outside Saint Nedelya Cathedral

Reactions & Counteractions – A Violent Cycle
A closer look at a relatively peaceful period, such as the years between the World Wars, reveals a deposed monarch, a coup d’etat, and a communist insurgency, followed by an authoritarian backlash. And this is all between the end of World War I and 1925, with the worst interwar calamity still to come in the bombing of St. Nedelya Church in Sofia. A notorious incident that shook the country to its core. No one can ever accuse Bulgaria of having a dull history. There was no avoiding violence and terror between the World Wars, even at church.

Click here for:: A Dark Day – The Bombing of Saint Nedelya Cathedral (Speed Dating Sofia #8b)

A Spiritual Journey – Seven Saints/The Black Mosque (Speed Dating Sofia #7b)

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Where did it all begin? When it comes to Seven Saints Church, that question goes much deeper than you might think. The church that stands today is the last in a long line of sacral structures that have inhabited the site. These include pagan, Christian, Muslim and Orthodox Christian structures. The earliest of these houses of worship date back to antiquity. With so much history, it is difficult to know where to start. One thing is clear: whether they were pagans, Christians, or Muslims, Romans, Bulgarians, or Ottomans, all found the site of Seven Saints a place to erect their temples of faith. These were symbolic of religiosity and power. Whoever was the ruling authority fit the site to their spiritual needs. That continues today.

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Towering above – Seven Saints Church (Sveti Sedmochislenits) in Sofia

Power & Peril – A Precarious Position
Seven Saints’ predecessor was the Black Mosque, built in the mid-16th century. it was not the first structure of spiritual significance in this location. Remnants of a Roman pagan temple have been found on the site. This was succeeded by a Christian temple and a monastery built by the Bulgarian in honor of St. Ivan of Rila. The Ottoman conquest and occupation would bring another transformation. In conquered lands, they would build mosques where Christian houses of worship were previously located. This was a symbol of power and authority. An imposition on the landscape that showed both who was in charge and that they were there to stay. The story of how the Black Mosque came to be speaks volumes about the Ottoman Empire’s ruling authorities. An illustrious trio of Ottoman historical figures was involved.

The story starts with the Grand Vizier Mehmed Pasha. Being a Grand Vizier, the de facto Prime Minister of the Ottoman Empire, was not for the faint-hearted. Those who held the office knew they could be dismissed at any time. Dismissal often resulted in death. Forty-four Grand Viziers were executed, and eleven died in rebellions during the Ottoman Empire’s history. Despite the precariousness of their position, Grand Viziers were extremely powerful. They ran the Sublime Porte’s administrative apparatus. There was only one person in the Ottoman Empire above them, the Sultan. That was problematic when something went wrong because the Grand Vizier was the Sultan’s fall guy. Grand Viziers were considered dispensable. They shouldered the blame for failure, and more often than not, this cost them their lives. They needed to stay on good terms with the Sultan. If they fell from favor, it would be just a matter of time before they were dead.

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Golden Cross – Seven Saints Church (Sveti Sedmochislenits) in Sofia

Impressive Pedigree -Suleiman & Sinan
Grand Viziers were attuned to the Sultan’s wishes. This was how the Black Mosque came to be in Sofia. Mehmed Pasha was Grand Vizier for Suleiman the Magnificent when he visited Sofia in 1526, on his way to the campaign that would result in the Ottomans’ stunning victory at the Battle of Mohacs in southern Hungary, a giant step on their path to Vienna. Suleiman did not have much bad to say about Sofia. He was impressed with its organization and tidiness. As the administrative capital for the Rumelian Beylerbey, he expected no less. Suleiman did have one criticism. The town did not have enough of an Oriental appearance. The solution was to build a mosque representative of Ottoman power in the region and the importance of Sofia. A large and impressive mosque would be the equivalent of Suleiman putting his stamp of approval on Sofia. It fell to Mehmet Pasha to carry this out.

Who better to design the mosque than Mimar Sinan, the greatest Ottoman architect? Anyone who has spent time in Istanbul is likely to have come across one of Sinan’s works. He was both brilliant and prolific. Designing 144 mosques, 39 of which are in Istanbul, including the city’s most famous one, Süleymaniye Mosque. Some of Sinan’s best work can be found far beyond the imperial capital. He considered the Selimiye Mosque in Edirne his greatest work, and it is regarded as one of the masterpieces of Islamic architecture. The Black Mosque was not too bad either. Configured in a square shape, it was covered with a lead dome. The dome and main hall of the mosque are all that is left today as part of Seven Saints Church.

The Black Mosque rose above the city for the next three hundred years. When Ottoman power in Bulgaria began to wane in the 19th century and most of the Turkish population fled Sofia, the Black Mosque was on the verge of abandonment. In 1878, the Russians liberated Bulgaria and Sofia from the Ottomans. The mosque had fallen into disrepair by then, as it had been utilized to store gunpowder. Adjacent buildings that were part of the complex soon saw use as a prison. The black granite minaret, which had given the mosque its name, had fallen in the previous century due to an earthquake. The future of the Black Mosque was uncertain, as symbolic structures of the hated Ottoman rule were being pulled down all over Bulgaria.

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Illuminating spirit – Seven Saints Church (Sveti Sedmochislenits) in Sofia
(Credit: BigSteve)

From Idea To Reality – Karavelov’s Influence
No One would have been surprised if the Black Mosque had become a casualty of the transformation of Sofia back into a Bulgarian city. A new development in the part of Sofia where the Black Mosque stood was soon planned. It would need to have an Orthodox Church to serve the population. Rather than build a new one, the Bulgarian liberal politician and four-time prime minister, Petko Karavelov, proposed that the Black Mosque be transformed into what was to become Seven Saints Church. The idea faced resistance at first, but funding for new structures was tight. Sinan’s design could be converted into a beautiful church. Karavelov’s influence helped win over the skeptics.

The church was named for the Holy Seven Saints, Cyril and Methodius (inventors of the Cyrillic alphabet), and their disciples, Clement, Naum, Sava, Gorazd, and Angelarius. The work converting the Black Mosque into Seven Saints Church took place between 1901 and 1903. The additions included corner domes and a bell tower. The interior is home to an original iconostasis, which is known for its beautiful icons, the product of multiple Bulgarian artists. The church is also the burial place for Petko Karavelove, who, more than anyone, made the Seven Saints Church possible.

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A Colorful Past – Seven Saints Church/The Black Mosque In Sofia (Speed Dating Sofia #7a)

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Sofia is a city whose past is best understood through its sacral structures. Among these are a clutch of churches with great historical resonance. Visitors will find these churches among Sofia’s most captivating attractions. This was my second visit to the Bulgarian capital, and at times, it felt like I was going from one church to another. This visit was similar to my first one. I made my way to St. Nicholas the Wonderworker (The Russian Church). St. Nicholas was the first church I visited in 2011. I still recall that first visit with fondness. Following in my own footsteps was not something I had planned this time, but I could not help myself. St. Nicholas was a starting point for my Balkan travels. Going back there was like seeing an old friend that I knew would always be there for me.

For 15 years, St. Nicholas stayed in my subconscious, as if by instinct, I found my way back there within hours of arrival in Sofia. The Church was not open on that early evening, but that did not matter. Nor did the fact that I had been awake for 30 hours. Some things are meant to be. Besides St. Nicholas, the other churches I distinctly recalled from that first visit were the Rotunda of St. George, for its age and remarkable setting, and Saint Alexander Nevsky Cathedral, for its sheer mass and multiplicity of domes. On this return trip to Sofia, another church would make an impression on me, Seven Saints Church (Sveti Sedmochislenits), once known as the Black Mosque.

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Lighting up – Seven Saints Church (Sveti Sedmochislenits) in Sofia

Spiritual Encounters – Heaven On Earth
There is much more to Seven Saints Church than meets the eye. And it all starts with the backstory. In the Balkans and parts of Eastern Europe that were conquered and then incorporated into the Ottoman Empire, many churches were converted into mosques. This process went into reverse during the late 17th century as the Ottoman Turks were forced into what became a centuries-long retreat from European soil. When regions were reconquered by forces of the Habsburg and Russian Empires, the mosques were turned back into churches or destroyed. One aspect of this conversion process I had not encountered in my Balkan travels before was a mosque originally built by the Ottomans that was later turned into a church. At least not until I came across the Seven Saints Church in Sofia.

I had several encounters with Seven Saints since my hotel was a mere two-minute walk from the tree-lined park where Seven Saints is the centerpiece. I found the park so pleasant that on my last day in Sofia, I brought my lunch there and enjoyed it on a beautiful spring day. Before long, I was snapping photos of Seven Saints for the third time. I spent more time in the park at Seven Saints than anywhere else in Sofia during my stay. That was time well utilized. I wanted to know more about the church’s history, especially after earlier learning that it had once been known as the Black Mosque. How could I not want to know the story behind that name? And how could I not want to know how the church came to be in its present form? This was why I love history and travel. Combine the two, and it is a match that comes as close to heaven on earth as you can get.

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Spiritual awakening – Interior of Seven Saints Church (Credit: Ggia)

Going To Church – A Missing Attraction
On my first full day in Sofia, I met the guide for the Free Tour in Slaveykov Square. Within ten minutes, we had made our way along Ulica Khan Krum to the Five Small Corners Square, an atmospheric spot where five streets meet. Then it was down September 6th Street, named for the date in 1885 when the Principality of Bulgaria and Eastern Rumelia unified to form Bulgaria as it is today. The next thing I knew, we were standing in front of Seven Saints Church. It just so happened that I was the only one on the morning tour, so the guide gave me their undivided attention. A guided tour is better when it is a conversation, rather than a lecture. We had a two-hour running conversation, alternating between the professional and personal. Because of the conversational tone and the opportunity to ask as many questions as possible, I paid closer attention to the information shared with me.

One detail above all others intrigued me about Seven Saints. When the guide said the church was once known as the Black Mosque, I focused on that fact. This was a bit confusing because the church was neither black nor did it resemble a mosque. I was well aware that the Ottoman Empire held Sofia for almost 500 years. I assumed the church had once been a mosque. My assumption proved correct. The fact that it no longer looked like one was just as intriguing. The transformation was so complete that I would never have known otherwise if I had not been told. I am confounded how I missed learning this on my first visit to Sofia in 2011. In all honesty, I do not have a single recollection of Seven Saints Church from that trip. I went through my photo albums and did not find a single photo of the church either. Going back to Sofia this time allowed me to correct that oversight and sleuth out the mysteries of Seven Saints.

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Rare beauty – Front of Seven Saints Church (Credit: Aleksander Dragnes)

In The Black – A Dark History
One of those mysteries was, literally, in the black. No part of the church’s exterior showed any connection with that color. Was it soot from nearby chimneys that led to the name Black Mosque? Or something darker? I assumed the name had something to do with previous environmental conditions. I was wrong. The name came from the black hue of the granite used for its minaret. The minaret was long gone. One of Sofia’s periodic earthquakes had sent it tumbling down long before the mosque became Seven Saints following the liberation of Bulgaria from Ottoman rule. This information made me dig deeper into the church’s historyý when I got back home. There was a much deeper history that went beyond Seven Saints or the Black Mosque.

Click here for: A Spiritual Journey – Seven Saints/The Black Mosque (Speed Dating Sofia #7b)

Yellow Brick Road – Paving the Way In Sofia (Speed Dating Sofia #6)

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Thirty years before moviegoers followed Dorothy, the Scarecrow, the Tin Man, and the Cowardly Lion on the Yellow Brick Road in The Wizard of Oz, Bulgarians were doing the same thing on their own Yellow Brick Road in Sofia. The Yellow Brick Road was the first paved stretch of street in the Bulgarian capital. The golden cobblestones are still there today. They lead through one of the most historic areas of the city. For over a century, Bulgarians, both famous and infamous, have followed the Yellow Brick Road. Travelers can follow it, as I did, to learn about one of the most important steps in Sofia’s transformation from a town to a proud European capital city and a metropolis of 1.3 million people as it stands today.

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Step to it – Follow The Yellow Brick Road in Sofia

Booster Shot – Capital Development
Look at a map of Bulgaria long enough, and you are bound to notice that Sofia is not a centrally located capital city. It is in the western part of the country, only 60 kilometers from the Serbian border and 90 kilometers from the North Macedonia border. Plovdiv, considered Bulgaria’s most beautiful city, is closer to the country’s center. So why was Sofia chosen as the capital for the Principality of Bulgaria in 1879? There were several reasons, the most important of which was its central location in lands inhabited by ethnic Bulgarians. The idea was that a Greater Bulgaria would take control of lands in Macedonia (which at the time was part of Serbia, and later became part of Yugoslavia) and free their ethnic brethren. That never happened, but not for want of trying in the First and Second Balkan Wars and World War I. Sofia has remained the capital of Bulgaria throughout its modern history.

In the late 19th and early 20th centuries, Sofia was more like a town, and at best a small provincial city. In 1879, the population of Sofia was only 11,000. Capital status gave its development a booster shot. The population had doubled by 1881, and increased more than twofold again by 1891. Sofia was a boomtown, and that would continue for decades to come, but its urban environment left much to be desired. At the turn of the 20th century, there was not a single paved street. Roads turned into a quagmire of mud when it rained. Improvements in transport infrastructure were necessary as the city continued to grow at breakneck speed. A tram network was soon developed. The city purchased two nearby quarries to mine material for pavement. The first city street was paved in 1905. Much more was needed to make Sofia a first-class city.

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Paving the way – Yellow Brick Road in Sofia

Golden Roads – Ahead of Its Time
Martin Todorov, the mayor of Sofia at the time, had a unique idea. He wanted to add style to the streets of Sofia, starting from the ground up. What better way to do this than with ceramic yellow cobblestones? The choice of material was an inspired one. Their color made them eye-catching. At the time, the idea was sound, but cobblestones come with certain disadvantages. Anyone who has ever ridden or walked on cobblestones knows they can be a bone-jarring experience. Mayor Todorov was not worried about that. Anything would be better than dirt and mud, and yellow cobblestones would be the best. Todorov did not know about the Yellow Brick Road from The Wizard of Oz. The movie did not come out until 1939. The book it was based upon, by Frank L. Baum, was published in 1900, but Todorov would not have read it. His focus was on developing Sofia into a city worthy of being a great European capital.

Bulgaria could produce the stone needed for paving, but did not produce the iconic yellow ceramic cobblestones. Sofia’s leaders had to look abroad to find a company that could. Where that company was located would be a secret kept from the public for more than half a century. To pay for cobblestones, the city took out a 50-year loan. The cost was so prohibitive that the Bulgarian government promised to cover the payments if at any point the city could not. Work was soon underway. The exorbitant cost of the ceramic cobblestones would have been controversial if it had become public knowledge. For decades, rumors circulated about the source. One rumor, repeated in a popular American guidebook to Eastern Europe, was that the cobblestones were gifted to Sofia by the Austro-Hungarian Emperor Franz Josef after he visited the city in 1907. Bulgarian sources do not mention this. I checked Franz Josef’s travel schedule from that year. He visited Bohemia, Carinthia, and Upper Austria, but not Bulgaria.

As a matter of fact, Franz Josef never visited Bulgaria during the 68 years he was emperor. The closest he came was a visit to the Ottoman Empire in 1869, when he traveled by steamship to Constantinople. Franz Josef did not care to risk any unnecessary trips to the Balkans due to the threat of assassination. This proved wise, as the heir to his throne, Archduke Franz Ferdinand, was assassinated in Sarajevo in 1914. Another rumor was that the cobblestones were a gift to Bulgaria’s King Ferdinand when he married his second wife, Princess Eleonore Reuss of Köstritz, in 1908. This was just false gossip. It would be a half-century before the truth finally came out.

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Slippery when wet – Rain-slicked yellow cobblestones in Sofia

Paving The Way – The Best of Intentions
The truth about the cobblestones was finally revealed in a magazine article published in the 1960s. The cobblestones were purchased from Pest Mine and Brick Factory. They were made from Limestone Marl, mined at a quarry near Budapest, then baked into cobblestones. The cobblestones may have been costly, but they have become a cherished part of Sofia’s history. Even the communist regime had the ones damaged by bombing replaced after World War II. There are still questions today about the long-term viability of the cobblestones. Many Bulgarians have learned, much to their regret, that the phrase “slippery when wet “applies to the cobblestones. When it rains, the streets paved with them become like a skating rink. The Yellow Brick Road can be hazardous to one’s health, but the cobblestones are such an iconic part of the capital that it is difficult to imagine Sofia without them. Hopefully, future generations will still be able to walk upon them because those streets in Sofia were paved with the best of intentions.

Click here for: A Colorful Past – Seven Saints Church/The Black Mosque In Sofia (Speed Dating Sofia #7a)

Stranger Things Happen – Chance Meetings In Sofia (Speed Dating Sofia #5)

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Experiencing a foreign country means more than visiting its historic sites, museums, and parks. The most spectacular natural and cultural sites may be what initially attracts, but the lifeblood of a country is its people. They and their ancestors shaped the place, just as it shaped them. The same is true for cities, though that sometimes gets forgotten. Cities are full of people, so many that they can become faceless. When in cities, I tend to see masses of people rather than individuals.

The first thing that comes to mind when I think about cities is development. People are a distant second. Contrast that with villages. Read a traveler’s account of a village, and the focus is usually on the people who live there. The same is usually not said about cities. Someone has to do something out of the ordinary to separate themselves from the masses in my eyes. Those who stand out are not always good. A fight or someone raising their voice in anger will get my attention. The law-abiding, soft-spoken types tend to go unnoticed, but it is the kindness of strangers that makes a city come to life. I discovered this once again in Sofia. Separating the people from the place in my memories is impossible. It is the people I met there who have lingered the longest in my mind.

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Meeting strangers – People getting onto the Metro in Sofia

Gruff Hospitality – A Different Breed
The inhabitants can make or break a traveler’s visit to a city. I can remember those who have treated me with warmth, just as I can recall those who were rude or dismissive. The main reason I enjoyed the city on my recent trip was the experiences with the locals. That would not have been the case if I had taken Bulgarians at face value. First impressions are supposed to be lasting ones. That was not true for me in Sofia. My first impressions of the locals were not always good ones. For those who decide to visit Sofia, be forewarned: Bulgarians have a gruff exterior that hides their hospitable nature. I learned very fast that Bulgarians are a breed apart. Some of their differences with Europeans are shared with other peoples in the Balkans, while others are specific to the country and its people. These differences make Bulgaria, Bulgarians, and the inhabitants of Sofia unique. Some of these are obvious, others less so.

Bulgaria is the least affluent of the 27 countries in the European Union. Life is not easy in Bulgaria, nor has it ever been. On a more positive note, it is the home of the Cyrillic alphabet, and despite westernization since the Iron Curtain fell, the Latin script has not overtaken Cyrillic in usage. Bulgarians also have the odd habit of shaking their head for yes and nodding it for no. This reversal is confusing to those unfamiliar with Bulgarian body language. Southern Albania is the only other place this happens. While Bulgarians are considered a South Slavic people, their distant ancestors were Turkic nomads who migrated to the area. The “five hundred years of slavery” under the Ottoman yoke led to the inevitable intermixing of Bulgarians and Turks. I might have mistaken some Bulgarians for Turks due to their darker features. Conversely, Bulgarians are more reserved than Turks. They do not have the overt, some might say gratuitous, hospitality of Turks. They do have the same generous spirit one finds throughout the Balkans, when they let their masks slip.

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Life is a blur – On the platform of the Sofia Metro

Beneath The Surface – The Mask Slips
In my experience, the Bulgarian reaction to strangers differs from that of other Europeans. In general, the further east I travel in Europe, the more I expect a lack of warmth, if not rudeness at times (Romanians are a notable exception). I usually chalk this up to the mindset communism imposed on them. One had to be careful with their words; strangers could be working for the security services, and customer service was not encouraged. Suspicion ran high. It will take several generations to overcome this. Bulgarians are a different breed from other Europeans. They can come across as gruff. On more than a few occasions, I would ask a question and, by the look on their face, wonder if I was going to get slugged. Then, in a split second, they would become congenial and helpful.

These interactions gave me some of my most vivid memories. For example, when I could not get the Metro pass to scan on my phone, two Bulgarian women came to my rescue. When they could not get it to work, they asked the grumpy staff member behind a glass window at a nearby ticket counter. They apologized for her rudeness, which was directed at them rather than me. I responded that it must be the old communist customer service attitude towards foreigners. They said the woman was like that to everyone. I then struck up a conversation with them about Sofia. They were surprised when I said how much I liked Sofia and how digitally advanced the transport system was compared to the rest of Europe. One of the women was a dentist; the other worked in human resources and said, in self-deprecation, “everyone hates me.” Judging by my experience, there was a lot to like in her hospitable personality.

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Character development – Street life in Sofia

Living Proof – Interpersonal Relations
On the final day, the guide on the communist tour ended by telling us that there was a lot to like about Bulgarians, mentioning that once you get past the gruff exterior, there is a hospitable heart of gold. One of my most memorable interactions came on the metro. I was heading back to the hotel on my final evening and forgot to change lines. Realizing my mistake, I got off at the next stop. Out of nowhere, a young Bulgarian man approached me. I was a bit guarded at first when he said, “I was watching you.” Then he added, “I knew you had forgotten to change lines. Now here is what you do.” He gave me explicit instructions and made sure I was headed in the right direction before he went on his way. This was a fitting coda to all the times Bulgarians, and in particular the residents of Sofia, assisted me on my journey. Like any trip, I had a few bad interactions, but the majority of Bulgarians I met were welcoming and ready to help without being asked. People really do make a country. Sofia is living proof of that, as is Bulgaria.

Click here for: Yellow Brick Road – Paving the Way In Sofia (Speed Dating Sofia #6)

Element of Surprise – Malko Tarnovo: The Shortest Street (Speed Dating Sofia #4)

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Sixty meters is a short distance. A world-class sprinter can cover those 60 meters in six and a half seconds. The average person can walk it in less than a minute with 75 steps. A 20-story building is 60 meters tall. The world’s deepest swimming pool, in Dubai, is 60 meters deep. The Petřín Tower in Prague, which resembles a smaller version of the Eiffel Tower, is 60 meters tall. As these examples show, 60 meters is a matter of perspective. And perspective was what I got when the communist tour of Sofia took a turn off Knyaz Alexander Dondukov Boulevard onto Malko Tarnovo Street, which connects it with Moskovska Street. At 60 meters, Malko Tarnovo is the shortest street in Sofia, but it packs a lot of intrigue into a short distance.

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Going up – Staircase leading up Malko Tarnovo Street

The Door – Closed Cases
If I had not gone on the communist tour in Sofia, I would never have known that Malko Tarnovo was the shortest street in Sofia. I would have thought it was just an alleyway with stairs connecting one part of the city to the next. Nor would I have learned about its sinister setting during the communist era. Beginning in 1947, State Security and the Sofia Department of the Bulgarian Ministry of Interior moved into a building along the street. Before World War II, that same building was home to an insurance company and a pharmaceutical manufacturer. Insurance and medication would have come in handy for those brought to the building during the communist era. Unfortunately for Bulgarians, there was no insurance against being arrested by State Security. Nor were there medications available to help mitigate the wounds people suffered during interrogations. The best they could do was survive the experience.

Interior ministries were the most feared branches of government in the Eastern Bloc. They held absolute power. Confessions were extracted using brute force. Detainees were already guilty in the eyes of State Security. The lives of detainees were in their merciless hands. For someone to extricate themselves from the clutches of State Security would take a miracle. When detainees were brought to the building for interrogation, the walk up or down Malko Tarnovo must have been the longest of their lives. What horrors awaited them when they passed through a door that is halfway up Malko Tarnovo and now covered in graffiti? Beyond that door, their future was uncertain. Most likely, they would be forced into a confession and then sentenced to a labor camp. We can only imagine what pedestrians walking along Malko Tarnovo may have heard as they hurried along the street. It was best if they focused on the steps in front of them and averted their eyes from the building where State Security was doing its dirty work. I am sure that during the communist era, no one wanted to know what went on behind that door. We can assume that none of it was good. Of the thousands who passed through the door, only one managed to escape.

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Closure – The infamous door on Malko Tarnovo that led to interrogation cellars during the communist era

Breaking Free – The Great Escape
Stefan Tabakov had been a leader of the Bulgarian Social Democratic Party. That was enough to make him a target for the hardline communist government that took power in Bulgaria near the end of World War II. Tabakov was a dissenter, and the government, in the icy grip of Stalinists, would not tolerate those who disagreed with it. Tabakov experienced the government’s intolerance when he was arrested in 1948. He was detained and taken to the building along Malko Tarnovo. Once there, he was interrogated. Tabakov was in a no-win situation. He was damned if he expressed dissent, and he was damned if he dared to deny the accusations against him. During these years, when Stalinism in Bulgaria reached its peak, a labor camp sentence would have been considered lenient. Tabakov’s life hung by a thread.

Tabakov’s situation was as desperate as it could get. The odds of survival were weighted against him. No one had ever escaped from the building. How would he succeed when everyone else failed? Desperate times call for desperate measures. Such measures can only succeed with the right opportunity. Tabakov got lucky and made some of his own luck on the way. His interrogator broke off their session after being summoned by a superior. Tabakov found himself alone. He jumped at the chance to escape and was able to get out of the building. Tabakov was still not safe. He could not stay in Bulgaria. If the authorities had found him, he would have likely faced execution.

Tabakov managed to escape from Bulgaria, making it past the Iron Curtain to safety in Austria. This was where Tabakov would make his home. He first started working as a gardener, but soon found his way back into political work. Rather than laying low, Tabakov showed why the communist authorities had targeted him. He became the leader of the Bulgarian Social Democrats in exile, published an anti-Zhivkov newspaper, and worked in radio. He completed his turn to the west by working at the Austrian Ministry of Interior. Tabakov was the one who got away and did a great service to freedom-loving Bulgarians from his new home abroad.

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The straight and narrow – Looking back down Malko Tarnovo

Hidden Away – Left to the Imagination
Since I went on the tour, I have had time to reflect on Malko Tarnovo and the door that once led to State Security, and remains closed. The one question I wish I had asked the guide was where that door now leads. The building is used for the State Archives Agency. When I think of archives of former Eastern Bloc countries, I think of what must be hidden away in them. We can only imagine what secrets about the communist era are in those archives. They may shed some light on what went on behind the door. Does anyone really want to know? The door on Malko Tarnovo reminds me of those scenes in horror movies, where you know something terrible is happening, but it is not shown. It is left to the imagination, which is actually worse than seeing what happened. Some things are best left to the imagination. And some things are not.

Click here for: Stranger Things Happen – Chance Meetings In Sofia (Speed Dating Sofia #5)