In Bulgaria

My lack of knowledge of the Bulgarian language has made it difficult for me to get beyond a superficial understanding of the country but the very fact that so many people here (including the young) are strongly committed to their language and culture is revealing.

Compared to Athens, Sofia seems gentler and more congenial. Bulgaria is clearly a poor country, but I think it’s safe to say that the economic situation here is not as dire as the situation in Greece. Greece struck me as a very unhappy country indeed, with abundant signs of psychological stress, anger and resentment in sections of the population. Such signs are less evident here.

There are countless reminders of Bulgaria’s Communist history, both physical (older buildings and infrastructure) and psychological (culture and attitudes). But whether the apparent Stoicism of the not-so-well-off is due to the country’s experience during the Cold War or something older and deeper I do not know.

I found the metro in Sofia more pleasant to use than the Athens metro. But one day, hurrying to board a departing train, I was not quite quick enough to entirely clear the rapidly closing doors. The doors caught and crushed my small backpack so that, for a few seconds, I was pinned to the doors and unable to move.

This was an old, square-fronted Soviet-era train, one of the few still operating. The carriage interior, from the floor covering to the seating to the ventilation and heating system, was markedly different from any other metro carriages I had seen here. But the most striking feature (pun intended) were the automatic doors which closed with sudden and vicious force. Guillotine-like. I’ve never encountered anything quite like it.

As it happens, I have had no health insurance cover while in Greece or Bulgaria and so am living dangerously. I thought that so long as I took reasonable care and avoided wild, wooded areas (there are wolves and bears apparently) I would be safe. Little did I realize that even in boring parts of town (to which I tend to gravitate) hazards abound.

On the roads for example. It’s amazing how ingrained one’s intuitions are about traffic flows. This applies to pedestrians as much as to drivers, and if virtually all one’s prior experience was gained in countries where traffic drives on the left-hand side, it’s so easy to step off the curb at the wrong time and walk under a passing bus.

Even some instances of the apparently benign walk (or “green man”) traffic-light signal may betray sinister intent. Were these configurations cunningly designed to trick foreigners or perhaps – more sinister still – to cull the duller or less-alert segments of the population? For example, the other day I was just about to respond to a green walk signal straight ahead of me across the street when I noticed a red signal on the thin median strip and so just managed to avoid walking into the torrent of traffic surging from my left.

Returning to my Sofia hotel (near the airport) one afternoon, I was surprised to see an unsupervised and untethered horse grazing on the grassy verge. As I walked past on the paved sidewalk, I saw a teenaged boy approaching the horse and was vaguely reassured that the animal would in due course be taken to a safer place. The horse panicked however and bolted past me, rather too close for comfort. It galloped around behind the hotel, followed by the running boy.

Another hazard are automated boom gates. They are everywhere in these parts, usually complemented by cyclone fencing topped with barbed wire. There are boom gates and no dedicated pedestrian entrance at the hotel I am staying at, but thankfully no barbed wire.

On a more serious note, I must say that I am glad to be in Europe again and beginning the slow process of acclimatizing myself to the practical contingencies and perspectives of contemporary European life. New experiences meld with literary and intellectual influences. Old memories are revivified and tested.

Though I have no expertise in natural history, I feel the need (or the desire at least) to be able to identify common plants, birds etc., at least to the extent that any normally observant person growing up in a given geographical location will know them. I know some European birds and trees but found it slightly frustrating not to be able to identify, for example, the black birds that formed large flocks in the vicinity of Sofia airport and whose aerial manoeuvrings reminded me of bats. Were they Eurasian jackdaws? The elegant, long-tailed Eurasian magpies were easier to identify.

With respect to local trees, many of them (unsurprisingly) are identical to English and other familiar European varieties.

But my main areas of interest (at least in recent times) relate to the human realm: to psychology, to culture, to politics. And cultural attitudes in Bulgaria incorporate a number of apparently conflicting strands. A certain nostalgia for the Communist era mixes with attachments to older religious and mystical perspectives; and strong commitments to the EU exist side-by-side with elements of Romantic nationalism.

Environmental issues are taken very seriously but usually in sensible and practical (rather than ideological) ways, with the focus on simple and appropriate technologies.

More generally, ordinary life seems less politicized here than it has become in other countries with which I am familiar. This is a good thing, in my opinion. Politics has its place but when it dominates a culture and intrudes into private, personal and inter-personal areas, social and intellectual life is inevitably compromised.