I wish I had migrated South. Leaving my warm bed every morning is a torture. I put layers of clothes that make me look like a pumpkin on sticks. I can’t only blame the outfit, my body has also stored some fat to get by. It is hard to breathe and my nose is always running but everything freezes at -10C. Secretly, I am happy when an appointment is canceled because I don’t have to leave my home. I just hibernate and wait for spring to come. And yet, there is something beautiful about winter. Life slows down, the city becomes quiet and a little sad.
In a way, the pictures I take of Sofia in the winter reflect my minor mood.
The fountain in front of the National Theater Ivan Vazov is now a playground. Can you spot the snowman in the picture? He’s waving at you.
Standing next to the mosque, I have a great view of the Orthodox church in the background. If I turn right, I will also see the synagogue, which is very near the Catholic church. The only thing that is missing at the ‘square of tolerance’ is a Buddhist temple.
In 1925, extreme leftists bombed St. Nedelya church during a general’s funeral. The act is described as the worst terrorist attack in Bulgaria’s history. Tzar Boris III was one of the targets but one common Bulgarian trait saved his life. He was late.
The sign says ‘library’, The National Library Sts. Cyril and Methodius. In front of it is the statue of Sts. Cyril and Methodius, the two brothers who have devised the Glagolic alphabet. After their death, their work was continued, which is how Bulgaria and the Slavic countries got our own Cyrillic alphabet.
The National Library is the home of more than 7 952 238 items, including rare and old manuscripts, few of which are from the XV century.
The art statue is looking at the former tzar’s palace, now a National Gallery and National Ethnology Museum. Once, the dancer awoke dressed up. It was just a stranger who was concerned about her wellbeing in the cold.
Vasilevi brothers, selling newspapers since 1894. A sophisticated urban design that conjures the feeling of Sofia in the 19th century.
‘Some birds are more privileged than others,’ I think as I take a picture of this lone pigeon. Maybe he also regrets not migrating South.
Once a photographer, her pension now is less than $100. Feeding pigeons and begging is what she does for a living.
‘I love animals,’ she tells me. ‘I don’t put this blanket around my shoulders to stay warm. It is to keep me clean.’ Even in the coldest winter days, there is someone to give her a little love, a little warmth. A kind stranger, or a hungry bird.
‘Many photography students come to photograph me. One of them came back to tell me she has even received an award. I wish I could still take photographs but I am 80 years old and I am almost blind with one of my eyes. How can I still be a photographer?’
Others choose to sell food. Sauerkraut, pickled vegetables, and lard are the most popular winter delights here.
Roasted chestnuts, just 2.00BGN for 100 grams. This is the most popular street food in fall and winter.
Every temple has a beggar. This one wants to pose in front of my camera for some change. I like his eyes, so I agree to his price.
