I was born on 20 July 1930 in Pleven and I am a contemporary to these events. I had a friend, Edi; we went to school together. In 1943-1944 some interned Jews from Sofia lived in our house.
Living in Bulgaria 1943
It was even more difficult for me to understand. It had something to do with my British citizenship and passport. The Russian consulate in Varna said that the UK and Russia had not signed a certain agreement that would have allowed the Russian consulate to issue me a visa?! To complicate the matter further, the Russian consulate associated me with somebody they had had telephone conversations with. I had never called the Russian Consulate in Varna.
I prefer to travel on my British passport. I do not hold a valid Bulgarian passport.
I am always elated when I see the new issue of Vagabond at the Onda located across the road from the Russian church. Since my arrival in Sofia two years ago, much of what I have learned about Bulgaria has come from your well written and interesting articles. I thank you for being a part of the English language community here in Bulgaria.
Michael Branch, USA
All had gone well on the outward leg of the journey. On our return we made our way via taxi to the bus station in Sofia at approximately 7:15 pm, just in time to miss the 7 pm coach. Then there was a three-and-a-half-hour wait for the next departure at 10:30. Now at 10:30 there are three coaches that all leave at the same time, all to the same destination, all stopping at the same places and each a third full. What great planning, whoever arranges timetables must have a strange sense of humour.
Even before acquiring that miniature idol for self-worship in the shape of his own superhero action figure, the notorious Tinseltown specimen had developed spectacular delusions of superiority over the rest of the world, my native country included. In an interview for The A.V. Club, while discussing the diversity of his film projects, Downey graciously offered the following revelation: "Am I going to be stronger, wiser, and gladder at the end if I go to fucking Bulgaria to shoot this whatever?
We decided after some searching to use a recruiting agency specialising in nannies, and found one which had an English language web page.
It also provides information about the "transparency" of everything and the mystical ways things seem to work here... For about three weeks now I've been trying to pay the postage fee of 60 leva through the bank – what an adventure it's been! Seems as though they never heard of such a thing as a money transfer. Today, suddenly, it seemed to work – until somebody called me back later to say it didn't, and I had to come back to the bank again, because of some ima problem, or there's a problem.
What happens when a psychology graduate with the nose of a reporter and the talent of a writer locks herself up in a flat for six months, only communicating with the world through Internet dating sites? In Stanislava Ciuriskiene's case, the result is an intriguing, insightful and edifying book that you won't be able to put down.
First of all, I am a guest in this country, so I have to follow the rules of my hosts, whether they obey them themselves or not.
Secondly, we can't complain of corruption here and at the same time find nothing wrong with passing a 20 leva note to a policeman. I know they don't get paid much and need some extra income in order to feed their children. But hey, this is not my problem. The Bulgarian state should pay decent salaries to its employees; it's not my duty to make up the deficit. Their job is to protect me, not to rob me.
According to the dust-cover blurb by Salman Rushdie, Solo is a novel of "exceptional, astonishing strangeness... confirming Rana Dasgupta as the most unexpected and original Indian writer of his generation."
An Indian writer? Writing about Bulgaria?