The Laughing Wolf – Commentary, Punditry, and More

Pilgrimage: Thursday Shopping

The center of the market is a long stretch of different vendors offering fresh foods of all types.

Yesterday morning dawning bright and sunny, if a bit chilly, I decided to go get my shopping done for most of next week. Friday was already filling up fast, including another cooking lesson, and Saturday will (hopefully) see me on a day tour to Rila. So, it was time to do shopping and I went to see if two of the vendors that had been recommended to me were there.

Literally almost directly across the river from me

The Women’s Market is not more than a couple of hundred yards (if that) across the river from the end of my street. For all that the street doesn’t connect to the “new” road, the sidewalks do and if there were a way across I could be there in about a minute. The Women’s Market is really the local farmer’s market with stores along the route hosting various butchers, fish mongers, and other stores selling various specialty goods.

One of several fish mongers along the route

Both were there, and I made out like a bandit at one of them. I fear the second one got the better of me, especially if I understood a comment made by an older lady watching the exchange correctly. Bad enough I won’t go back, and frankly won’t need to given all I can get at the other. More on that in a bit.

Repair/Renovations being done to the exterior of the historic synagogue.

I took my gains home and got them in the refrigerator, then had to go get more cash for round two. As long as I was at it, I also stopped at a bakery I’ve wanted to try and got some bread, and then I went and toured the local synagogue on my way back to the upper end of the Women’s Market.

Hoping you can read the English portion of the sign.

It’s not just any synagogue as the photo above tells the story. It is, in fact, the largest Sephardic synagogue in Europe. It was built after Bulgaria won it’s freedom from the Turks and has survived WWII and communism as well. Two things I will share real quick.

There is security, obvious and less-than obvious. Unlike here, I told them before trying to come in that I had a pocket knife. Gave it to them, told basically that it was nice and they would hold it for me while I was inside; but, be sure to get it back before I left. Here, security would probably have to change their underwear at merely being asked and I would never have seen it again had I tried to enter. Second, security was good enough that for the first time ever the plates in my chest were detected. I showed my card to them, explained I had to be put back together a bit after being hit by lightning and was allowed to go on in. They were shaking their heads at everything that came out of my Scot-E vest and my 5.11 shirt with the hidden pockets. Yes, I am a packrat.

The chandelier is one of the largest and heaviest in Europe apparently.

Second, inside, once you bought your tour ticket, they have a wifi set-up that brings up a guided tour in your language. Things are numbered, and you can pull that “station” up and either read it or listen to it. It was a great system that I wish more places would consider using.

I was glad I went, as I can’t remember the last time I was in a synagogue of any type. It may have been when I was in high school working on my God and Country award for Boy Scouts. Really don’t remember, so treating this as the first time in some respects.

I have the Fuzzy Slippers, I have the power!

Then I walked a couple of blocks and hit the Women’s Market at the upper end and started working my way down. The shoe shop I was looking for, having bought a pair of bath slippers from them my second day here, was open and I now have my fuzzy slippers! It started as a bit of a joke in conversations with others, and then became a mini-quest. A needed one IMO since we’ve dropped down into the 30s at night the last few nights. Not the model I was after, but finding them in my size was a challenge. Thank goodness this isn’t Japan as I would be out of luck.

Along the way, I visited the church of Saints Cyril and Methodius. I can see it almost from my apartment, but this time it was open when I went by so I went in to pray for a bit. Found out they do an early Liturgy every morning, and am planning to attend at least one next week. Want to ask an Orthodox friend of mine here about the church and get their take on it.

At any rate, I am now stocked up with farm-fresh whole raw milk, raw milk yogurt, fresh butter, various cheeses, fresh eggs, lunch meat, sausages, and more from my first run. I got most of the above from one vendor for about 20 euro. The big wheel of cheese and the dry sausages I got from the other vendor, and I’m not telling. Like I said, think I got taken. Smile. Oh, and no idea what is in the small bottle with red liquid, one of the vendors tossed it in my bag as a freebie. Oh, and from the good vendor you can also get fresh goat and sheep’s milk, yogurt, and cheeses. The feta you see is made from the sheep’s milk.

Oh, that wheel of fresh homemade cheese is delicious.

The second run netted me fresh strawberries, bread, a snack, and a local pottery dish used to make a special stew. This one is for me to practice with here. For the meal I plan to cook for my church after I get back, am going to order three large (5 or 6 liter) ones from the source so I can get them shipped. Got a matching mug as well because I have a thing for mugs/cups when I travel. Before I forget, the little dry sausages have a good flavor (this being Bulgaria there is paprika in them) and remind me a bit of the German Jaeger sausages. Thinking I will pick up some cherry tomatoes and fresh herbs to make a salad out of the mozzarella-type balls. Add some olive oil and a bit of balsamic, should be good.

Not planning on sharing any of the dairy with this fine fellow though. One of the many feral cats that haunts the area around me. I see a number of them up on the roof of the old garage. Some run as soon as I come out; some glare at me; some ignore me; and a couple just sort of nod. Not too worried about rodents and other pests in the area.

Onwards!

If you would like to help me with this trip, seminary courses, and more, feel free to hit the fundraiser at A New Life on GiveSendGo, use the options in the Tip Jar in the upper right, or drop me a line to discuss other methods. I’ve added Cash App ($CliffPow7) and Venmo (@Clifford-Powers-5). There is also the Amazon Wish List in the Bard’s Jar. Getting hit by lightning is not fun! It is thanks to your gifts and prayers that I am still going. Thank you.

Pilgrimage: Basilica of Saint Sophia

I just realized I never did get this posted the other day, so, time to make up for lost time. The basilica may well be the oldest church in what is now Sofia, in that the original church was built pretty much when Christianity became legal.

Then, Sofia was a Roman town known as Serdika (Serdica according to some), and it was a town without a founding mythos: it simply was regarded as having always been there. The Romans made it their hub in the region because of the hot springs that were used for the baths. If I haven’t already posted such, I will post a picture or three of some of the many Roman ruins here. In the heart of the old city, I don’t think you can dig down more than ten feet without hitting Roman ruins.

The original “basilica” was a simple, small, church built over the site of the necropolis (city of the dead, aka the town cemetery). Later, a larger church was built on the same site, and finally the current basilica was built. You can still see portions of the walls of the original church and the second under the current church.

And, yes, I said under. Extensive archeological excavations and preservation were carried out starting in the early 1900s and today you can go into the basement, pay a fee, and tour the tombs and other things unearthed in the process. Being a history geek, I found it well worth doing and probably spent an hour (or more) happily going along the walkways and paths. The signage is quite good, and the English portion is very well done.

You can see down into parts of the excavations from the floor of the current basilica. It was also quite neat to look up from down below and watch what was going on upstairs as well. For anyone interested, I paid the fee to be able to take photos, worth it.

The current basilica was only reconsecrated and made a working church again fairly recently. At least in archeological terms. Sadly, pretty much all the original decoration is long gone but what is left is beautiful in it’s own way. To me at least.

For those not familiar with Saint Sophia, it really is the Basilica of Saints Sophia, Faith (12), Hope (10), and Love (9) as the latter three were the young daughters of Saint Sophia, who was a widow. During the reign of Hadrian, they all openly lived and professed their faith during a time of grave persecution. They were denounced directly to the emperor by a (minor) official, and the emperor had them brought to Rome to stand before him.

He tried individually to get each girl to renounce their faith (no go), then brought them together as a family to try. Again, they refused. So, Hadrian did the worst thing he could think of to try and get them to renounce Christ: he had the girls tortured in front of their mother, who was made to watch their sufferings as they were burned on grates, hit or dunked into boiling tar, etc. The youngest girl, Love, was bound to a wheel and beaten. I don’t recommend looking up what those tortures, especially the wheel, actually entailed unless you have a strong stomach. Eventually, all three girls were beheaded in front of their mother.

During all of it, none of them renounced their faith. It’s one of the reasons they beheaded the girls, and tradition says they willingly bent their necks to the swords. Again, Hadrian thought the worst thing he could do would be to send Sophia out with the bodies of her girls, so she got a cart and caskets, and took them out beyond the walls of the city and buried them on a hillside with honor. Then, she sat down beside their graves and three days later died. Local Christians then buried her beside her children. Their relics are currently housed in a Roman Catholic church.

There is a huge statue of “Sophia” here in Sofia, and while I have a photo of it I choose not to share it. Frankly, the statue is pagan at best, and poorly done on several levels in my opinion. It looks more like a witch-queen with her in black (white is the gown of a martyr), and an owl on her arm to help emphasize that Sophia is supposed to have great wisdom. The local Christian community raised a stink about the statue, but nothing was done. The reason why is why I might should be more careful with my words here, as it turns out the mayor’s wife was apparently the model for the face of the statue, and the mayor is the one who said that even though most don’t like it, it stays as is. Smile. Some aspects of politics are universal.

Pilgrimage: Rainy And Cold Wednesday

Yesterday proved to be a good day to concentrate on my seminary class as it was cold, overcast, and a bit wet. The sun did peak out for a little bit midday, but it really was another wee gra da.

A good day to stay inside for the most part, which worked out well as the lecture turned out to be four hours instead of two. I was not entirely thrilled with that, but it is what it is. Taking the class is an experiment on and for me.

After the lightning strike, I had some short- and long-term memory issues. One of the therapists explained the long-term issues as being from my root directory getting trashed, and the brain having to figure out where everything was stored again. Most was good, but there were some odd gaps and I still occasionally “find” a memory that was misfiled.

The short-term memory issues we spent a lot of time dealing with via coping mechanisms. I still use a number of them, and live by lists to this day. If I don’t have a list, things often don’t get done. I have gotten to where I will, often, remember those things but it can be a while. As in days or weeks, not hours.

According to the latest round of cognitive testing I did last year, the neurologists say my memory is fine. Unofficially, the doc who oversaw the testing had a talk with me about the fact that it’s not that I can’t remember things; rather, it is that the conditions to form new long-term memories are not always present. In fact, they may not be present a good bit of the time.

Yes, the testing can be gamed and yes I have gamed the tests (I still do good at pattern recognition). Not long after I got struck, insurance and others (who stood to make a lot of money off it courtesy of federal funding) pushed home care and assisted living — hard. I wasn’t interested in that at all, and like being independent. So, I played the game with the tests even though there were downsides (including financial).

I’ve been trying to do some of the things that can provide the right conditions for long-term memory development with the class. It’s not natural for me and frankly I’m absent minded and as a result don’t always do what I should. It is one reason I make extensive notes, as the process of writing can help with retention as does repetition. Give me a few thousand times and I will eventually memorize the Trisagion Prayers. A few thousand times is not always an option for a class.

One thing with doing this class and doing the open-book tests with this class is that it helps me to determine how well I could do in a traditional class. Sad thing is, I’m not sure I would do well in a traditional class. In fact, right now, I’m pretty sure I would not. Got to do some serious thinking about such, and give the issue up to God. Meantime, I want to pass the class and if possible, do well at it. I can be a touch competitive on occasion, and this time it is in part with myself and what I used to be capable of doing. I don’t want to just pass, I want to ace it. Probably not going to happen, but…

Meantime, working the logistics for Mount Athos hard. Plan to go out in a bit and see if I can find out when a church near me is having services, and also check on a couple of others. Meantime, I’ve booked a day trip to go visit Rila on Saturday, and have my second cooking class tomorrow. Need to hit the Women’s market today or tomorrow morning to shop for fresh goods (milk, eggs, cheese, fresh veggies, etc. Also, see if the shoe guy is open again so I can get my fuzzy slippers. With temps dropping back down into the 30s at night, want them. Life is too short not to have fuzzy slippers.

Also, am amused at watching trucks and other vehicles back down the street out front. Since it doesn’t connect on one end, most traffic has to back down. Watching the garbage truck back down each day is entertaining.

Onwards!

Pilgrimage: Rainy Tuesday

Anti-pigeon defenses are good defenses period

Tuesday was a cold and rainy day, so I opted to stay in and try to get work done on my seminary class. Didn’t get as much done as I should have, but should be able to get finished up for the week today.

To answer a question on security, here’s a glimpse of why I’m not too worried having the windows open while home. The anti-pigeon defenses are also pretty good anti-critter and anti-personnel defenses too. The long sharp needles are actually part of the concrete, and the smaller spikes are not likely to easily go anywhere. Can someone get by them? Yes. However, they are probably going to be fairly noticeable and I am prepared to welcome them.

Sorry, couldn’t resist the Billa as Borg joke. My sense of humor is questionable at the best of times, and that hit me just after 0400 local time. Pre-coffee even. As I noted the other day, I have hit either the local equivalent of redneck status, or have been thoroughly assimilated as I have not one but two Billa bags I keep with me.

Billa had it’s moment of fame (or infamy) in the U.S. back during the first Trump administration when the Bulgarian defense minister (I believe) deplaned in DC carrying his things down the steps in a Billa bag. The European/Bulgarian press had a field day as it was considered a bit low class, and became a local meme. They still laugh about it.

I did get one productive thing done yesterday. As longtime readers are aware, there are all sorts of interesting things that happen when you get hit by lightning. One of the things that happened was that the fascia in my legs hardened, effectively locking the muscles in my leg into a fairly contracted state — for four years. Between some physical therapy and a lot of massage therapy from a wonderful and gifted therapist, I’m now walking almost normally again.

I, rather we (massage therapist and I) knew that the trans-Atlantic flight was not going to be fun or particularly good for me. A good deep tissue massage was highly recommended, preferably the day of arrival or the day after. I procrastinated a bit as trying to find a good, legitimate massage provider is not as easy as one might like; and, because finding someone of the caliber of my regular therapist is even harder.

Things hit a point yesterday where I finally took a chance and booked a session at a place not too far from me. It was a spa in a hotel, and the spa is huge. As in olympic size pool, mani-pedi, hair stylists, all sorts of special treatments for adults and children huge. They had a special where I could get deep tissue and more from three different therapists using three different techniques. Good price, just a little over my planned budget, so I decided to try it after being assured they could and would give my legs extra attention.

I hadn’t fully appreciated that all three would hit me at once, and once they got going I would be tag-teamed. Various limbs were grabbed, I was twisted into a pretzel, imitated a bowl of cereal (snap, crackle, pop) and with each pop I felt better. At the end, I was tossed into a jacuzzi, had the oil cleaned off me, given a cup of ginger tea, and left to simmer for a bit. By that point I was hoping I had read the price right, and on leaving found out the price was indeed the price and there was no way (or demand as it would be in the U.S.) to leave a tip. I’m moving a lot better, feel better, and at need will make use of them again. I will also listen to my regular massage therapist and do as she says, as while she is not Ivanova, she is right.

Another rainy cold day, but it’s good. Will work on the class, hope I didn’t mess up the midterm too badly (triple and quadruple guessing my answers/approach by this point), and do some more laundry. Think doing a smaller load twice a week will work better for drying than one big one.

More soon.

We Are The Billa

We are the Billa. You will be assimilated. Resistance is futile. Our bags are everywhere.

Pilgrimage: Saintly Monday

Yesterday was a chance to visit some Saints and get to a new church in the process. I also had to take care of a few things before I left, so by my standards I got off to a late start.

Before I dive into the day, I want to explain a few things for new readers, especially those not of traditional Christianity. I’ve found that for all a number of Protestant churches are named after saints (Saint James, Saint George, Saint Joseph, etc.) it almost seems as if it is a lip service. I know from my own upbringing in the Methodist church that it seems like saints are almost an afterthought, both in concept of how one becomes a saint and why they are important.

The fact is, saints are role models for Christians in terms of how to live one’s life — and to die for Christianity if need be. Every Christian is called by scripture and tradition to live as saints-in-training and to strive to live such a life as fully and completely as we can.

A very common misconception is that saints were born saints and lived as saints from infancy. That is not the case for many if not most, as anyone who has looked at the life of Saint Paul (Saul), Saint Moses the Black, the original Saint George, and a host of others. They led rather unsaintly lives up until the time they met and accepted Christ. For some, even then, it was a struggle. I strongly suspect that for many of us it was, is, or will be a struggle as the evil one really doesn’t like to see you go, much less let you go without a fight.

In many respects, that fight, that charge to live a Christian life despite the temptations of the world and the evil one is the truly important part. They stand as beacons, challenges even, that if they can do it, you can do it too. You see a pale (and debased IMO) imitation of this in the way society looks at major sport or entertainment figures. For Christians, the saints are the ‘rock stars’ who’s poster is on the wall to inspire you. Forgive me that analogy, but it is apt for most of society.

Contrary to any ignorant or malicious charges, we don’t worship the saints. They are not God. However, they are the only people we know for sure are with God in Heaven given that Judgement Day has not yet taken place (at least in terms of Chronos, the time of the world). What we do is ask them to pray for us and to intercede on our behalf with God since they are there and by their lives and actions they have the boldness to do so.

There is a lot more I could say right now; but, those things really are a topic for another day. Books have been written on the subject, but the above lays the groundwork for how I spent my day yesterday. The only other thing I will add right now is that for many people, a relationship develops with one or more saints. Traditional Christians believe that there is real communication (again, topic for another day or post) though it isn’t like picking up a telephone.

For me, one of the first saints I “met” when I joined the Orthodox Church was Saint Xenia of Petersburg. An icon of her hangs in our church and something about it spoke to me, and I inquired of my Godfather (a priest) about her (and ended up getting homework, a not unusual occurrence). The more I’ve learned, the more I’ve come to appreciate and respect her and her life. She chose one of the hardest paths in life, which is to be a Fool for Christ. Again, topic for another day, but I want to note strongly that those on that path accept training before embarking upon it.

Back on track, I talk to her. I share things with her, and ask her pretty much every day for her prayers and intercessions with God. The rest is personal, though I will say I can usually tell if I’ve messed up and gone astray. She was known to have a sharp tongue on occasion in life, and I don’t think that has changed.

Thing is, most interactions are personal though some saints seem to have a larger presence than others. It’s hard to describe, but more people recognize that saintliness and power, and less personal connection seems to be needed at the start. Thing is, once you ask them to pray for you and to intercede with God on a problem or issue and you get a result, you can face a choice. For some people, it’s a one and done thing. For others, it is the start of something more.

Yesterday, I started my day by visiting Saint Seraphim of Sofia. I delivered letters requesting prayers and intercessions that were sent with me, including my own. Even before I arrived here, I had heard a number of stories about those asking for his prayers and intercession on problems. I’ve heard even more since landing, and there is a steady stream of people coming in to either deliver letters or write them on the spot.

I won’t go into too many details, but I asked for prayers and intercessions on behalf of a number of people, and one request I will share is that I asked for his help with my seminary course and any future studies. He is reported to have a soft spot for students given some of his own academic trials and tribulations, and quite a few students visit him to ask for help. Again, they are not asking him to do magic; but, to pray for and intercede with God on their behalf. Sometimes such things do result in miracles. I believe in them, as I’m sorta living one.

Without saying too much, it was a very moving experience. If you are in Sofia, whether you are of the Christian faith or not, take the time to visit, be respectful, and be open. I don’t think you will regret it.

My next stop was at Saint George’s Church. It is the oldest surviving structure in Sofia (Serdika) being built in Roman times (200s best guess) and surrounded by Roman ruins. It is also surrounded by the Presidential Palace, administrative buildings, and a high-end hotel. It is a little surreal walking past the ceremonial guard for the President/Presidential Palace and through a car tunnel to get to the central courtyard with the Church and ruins. There is more security than meets the eye, but I dare you to try that in DC.

It most likely was not built originally as a Church. Some theorize it was first build as part of the Roman baths. Others hold it was originally built as a baptistry. Side note: Baptisms were not originally performed in the Church. Running water, as in a river, was common but what emerged was a separate building called a baptistry where baptisms were performed. Another side note: baptisms were done in the nude, as that is how John the Baptist did it and how it was done to the Lord. Naked you come into the world. Naked you wash off the world and come into the world of Christ. Glad that’s changed as no one needs the mental trauma of seeing me naked.

It is a very rare round church, and it is impressive in it’s simplicity. I very much would like to attend a service there, plan to work on that. You can still see parts of the original interior inside. Once it was understood I was Orthodox (lots of tourists, not all of whom show respect alas) I spent time there in prayer and then lit candles with prayers. Yes, I’m doing a lot of that as it is what this trip is about.

I also spent some time at the grave of the Bulgarian Saint George. Named for the original Saint George (and former Roman soldier), he is remembered as a handsome youth who was beloved of the people. He was also an open Christian under the rule of the Ottoman Turks, who wanted him to convert to Islam. As always, that means convert or die.

Here, the accounts vary but all agree on one thing: when blandishments failed, they went (as usual) to torture. All accounts seem to agree they were rather severe though specifics vary. All agree he was tossed alive into a fire and burned/cooked to death. I say cooked as that was often done by the Ottoman Turks even into the 1800s. Look up the account of the Greek revolutionary who was tortured (apparently including some flaying), impaled, and then cooked over a slow fire with the impalement rod used as a spit. Charming people.

The grave to his right is believed to be that of his mother. According to several histories, she was dead before his martyrdom; but, according to local beliefs she was brought in by the Turks to try to get him to agree to convert. Instead, she is reported to have said, in essence, don’t you dare and so was tortured to death alongside him.

Afterwards, I had to do a little bit of shopping. The apartment is wonderful, but for my cooking I need a bit more than the typical tourist. I also had some things I thought would be handy to have so set out to get them. One was an umbrella as today and tomorrow are supposed to be cold and rainy. And I mean cold as down into the 30s overnight. May not sleep with the windows open tonight. I was very disappointed that the gentleman selling fuzzy slippers wasn’t open yesterday.

I went back to the store where I got my storage containers the other day and got a container to hold my spices. Instead of jars, spices are mostly sold in pouches, and I wanted something to hold them. The first pouch you see is the unofficial official spice blend of Bulgaria and used with everything. The rest are in alphabetical order. Yes, I am somewhat compulsive and yes anal-retentive is indeed hyphenated.

The important part of my apartment, the kitchen.

I also picked up a bathrobe, though it is more than I wanted. Both in price and style. Came close to giving an unintentional show the other day, and decided to splurge. I turned down one that was hooded and trimmed in gold as I could hear my friend Sergei giving me heck and yes I would have looked like a pimp in it. Heck, I should just go full Slav and wear track suits if I had gotten it. By the way, Sergei confirmed he would have given me unending grief had I gotten it. And, yes, I did indeed see someone wear their formal track suit to the service at the Cathedral on Sunday. Sigh.

Also, one of my new local friends has given me some cheerful grief over having not one, but two Billa bags. Billa is a chain store and having bags from them has earned me the equivalent of redneck status. Or at least thorough assimilation. A former defense minister here is still mocked in memes for showing up in Washington carrying a Billa bag as he came down the steps from his plane to meet the diplomats greeting him.

I’m working today on coursework and resting up a bit. To be honest, I dehydrated rather badly last week. When traveling, I like to stay right on the line as getting to restrooms between flights can be a challenge, and airplane toilets are best avoided. I then pushed out here and tried to keep riding the line as you can’t always find a restroom when you need it. Or, it takes some time to find where they are and gain access. Thanks to a very kind waitress I now have the code to one near several of the churches I am at on a regular basis.

Saturday I pushed it, and that wasn’t bright. I had been putting off taking one prescription as taking it while dehydrated is, to be polite, highly contraindicated. Worked on getting rehydrated Sunday afternoon, pushed it a bit again yesterday; and, today took the pill and have been pushing fluids as it really went to town.

Besides, it is what the Scot’s would call “a wee gra da” as in a small gray day. Raining and cold, going to get colder, and I have a warm and dry apartment. I’m getting this done, working on classwork, and not pushing anything. May do the same tomorrow as I need to get to work on some of the other portions of this trip. I am likely to be revising some of my plans on the fly, as opportunities arise. All to the good, but feel free to hit the tip jar.

Over on X I’ve shared a bit more on cooking. This morning’s breakfast of sausage (definitely not American breakfast sausage), fresh mushrooms, eggs, and cheese) was quite tasty. Looking forward to hitting the Women’s market again later this week to pick up local made cheese, yogurt, eggs, fresh milk, and more. And fuzzy slippers. I am definitely going to get fuzzy slippers. Life demands them.

More soon!

Pilgrimage: Sunday And A Synopsis

Yesterday was a wonderful day on several fronts. Including that I finally rested a bit.

I knew I was tired and had gotten dehydrated on the way over, so when I left to go to the Cathedral for liturgy, I took the subway. It’s only a mile or two walk to get there (really do need to measure it), but it is uphill and I was feeling the dehydration. Since it works out to about 95 cents I think, not a budget buster though it felt rather decadent.

Got there early as I wanted to get some prayers said others and myself, and get candles lit for others. I also wanted to get my paperwork to the priests as when one travels it is good manners to let them know who you are and that you are Orthodox before showing up for service. Part of my first few days here involved doing just that at other churches; but, I had not been able to do it at the cathedral.

It took a bit, but I finally got someone to take my papers and they assured me they would go to a priest who spoke English. (smile). Not knowing the confession schedule or how they do it at the cathedral meant that I did not get to do confession. That said, I now have options to do it elsewhere and have a better idea of how to do it at the cathedral.

The service was interesting. I was surprised that the crowd wasn’t larger, and at least part of the crowd were tour groups. There were tour groups coming in and going up front just a few minutes from the service starting; and, I strongly suspect some came in during and stayed in the back. A new friend was supposed to be there, but didn’t make it.

The “kliros”/choir loft at the Patriarchal Cathedral

It was good to just be a regular attendee. At my church I am a Chanter, which means I sing in the choir and I read Psalms and certain prayers. Which means you tend to focus on what you are doing, getting ready for what comes next, adjusting to things on the fly a bit. Which means you are not able to truly and fully live in the moment of the Liturgy and the progression from time to Eschaton that is the Liturgy.

Even though I was aware of the parts and knew almost exactly where we were in the service at any given time, I was able to let go and live in the flow of the Liturgy. That said, I was also able to note and even appreciate some of the differences. They have a different musical tradition, and it looked like the choir was ten or fifteen people. The music moved more briskly than I am used to, but I liked it and it helped move the service along. It wasn’t quite as uptempo as the Russian Orthodox Church (reminded me of running a 33 1/3 LP at 45 in some ways, though I loved what it did to “Christ has risen from the dead”). Also, if any church I’ve attended so far has used the Cherubic Hymn, it’s not been a version I recognized.

I also very much appreciated what it meant to have the choir located where it was. I think I may have a touch of kliros envy, as our kliros is essentially a lecturn that we gather around. As you can see from the photo above, it’s just a bit different. It also really emphasized something that I think has been lost over time. The original Christian liturgies (there were several dozen if not several hundred, all theologically sound), the laity were equal participants with what became the Clergy (as we know it today). The music rolling towards the altar, and the chanting at the altar rolling back really did emphasize that interplay, though I was somewhat sad to see/hear that no one on the floor was really singing along.

One difference in the service that I will note is how the homily (sermon for you heathens, grin) was done. Instead of when we do it, the head priest walked out during the time the people go around and venerate icons and pray. No fanfare, no commotion, but simply came out a side door and went up into the ambo (raised pulpit area) and began talking in a conversational tone. Some people gathered around, others kept up what they were doing, but in many ways it made his talk stand out more. When he was done, he simply walked down the stairs and back to the altar area through a side door. No fanfare, no fuss, no muss — and oddly effective.

We then proceeded into the Eucharistic portion of the service. For those not familiar, traditional Christian services are the same now as they were around 33 AD in that they are divided into two parts. The first is the service of the Word, which features the Old Testament, the Epistles, then the Gospel (pretty much the order in which they were written). Once that is complete, those who were not baptized and full members were asked to leave. Once they had done so, the service of the Eucharist then took place, wherein the gifts of bread and wine become the body and blood of Christ and are consumed.

These days, no one is kicked out and all are welcome to stay. Those not members of the Church are not allowed to partake of the Eucharist, but can watch. At the appropriate time, I joined those going forward to partake and (no surprise) discovered the paperwork had not been delivered. However, the priest (deacon? Think he’s a priest though he filled the duties of a deacon in part) dispensing the Eucharist asked me if I was a member, and seemed positively delighted to find out I was a member of the Bulgarian Church in the US. I partook and enjoyed the rest of the service. Have a suspicion that the priest and I will talk if we bump into each other there during the week. Hope we do.

One thing did happen that I had been warned about. Everyone does some things differently; but, you are quite likely to be instructed/lectured/castigated (particularly by older ladies) at other churches if you are not doing something exactly as they expect it to be done. In our church, we cross our arms as we go forward to partake of the Eucharist. I was told very firmly by an older lady to get my arms down to my side as the line moved forward. Actually, wish my theology class instructor had been there as he would have appreciated it, as he holds that it was not how it was originally done — instead the hands were cupped. Then again, he would also be making a number of comments about inappropriate artwork (depictions of God the Father as an old man are not approved, appropriate, and are in fact a heresy) in the Cathedral and the Russian Church. For all that all traditional Christian Churches accept the seventh ecumenical council, few seem to live it when it comes to decorating the home church. I tend to find that amusing for some reason.

On the way back home, I broke my fast at what is rapidly becoming my go-to place for breakfast (served pretty much all day). The waitress I had the other day was there, and took the time to come over and talk with me and check on how my Bulgarian is progressing (slow IMO). Tried another traditional breakfast, this time a wild mushroom omelette on a slice of bread, with salad to the side. Most Bulgarian food is not light; but, they are crazy about salads and such. A particular salad is in many ways the national dish. So, not surprised to get a salad with breakfast.

Came home, finished my midterm exam — of course, as soon as I turned it in I began second guessing myself — and did a little set-up for this week’s class, then instead of doing needful things I rested. Well, I did get laundry done but that was a have to do…

I’ve been running (sometimes literally) since 0400 last Wednesday morning. Other than getting in from the airport, I’ve been avoiding using the subway. As a result, I’ve gotten in several miles of brisk walking every day until yesterday. I’m still tired a bit, and would love to take a hot soaking bath if I could.

That said, it has also been a productive and even enlightening time. Still a couple of churches I need to spend time at; but, I have a solid core for prayer, contemplation, and even participation via attendance. I’ve met some good people who are helping me along my way, and have been given some food for thought as well. I may end up changing up some of my plans as a result. We will see. This new week will be spent here and I hope to establish a bit of a routine. My goal is not just to explore the city, but to attend services and spend time in prayer and contemplation every day.

More to come soon.

Pilgrimage: Second Very Full Day

Local mob boss demanding a cut of the lesson

My second day was, in many respects, even fuller than the first. Again, I will have to split some things off into separate posts to do them justice.

Appetizer course, topped with Bulgarian “ketchup” which is made with pimento peppers and not tomatoes. Delicious.

My morning began early with a brisk walk up to the “Russian Church” (which is a stone’s throw from the Patriarchal Cathedral). A new friend was supposed to meet me there and provide introductions to the priests; but, they had something work-related come up such that they could not make it. So, we did a mix of in-person (me) and remote (them) introductions and I was allowed to attend the liturgy and partake of the Eucharist. Love their music tradition and they are not afraid of the bass…

Cucumber and yoghurt soup with toasted fresh bread

Being Saturday of Bright Week, it was a bit more than a normal service. Towards the end, everyone filed out and we processed around the church where various blessings and such were performed. The lead priest for the service (Father Seraphim?) was quite enthusiastic about blessing the crowd with Holy Water on a slightly rainy morning, evoking a good bit of good-natured laughter.

Pimento peppers and cabbage stuffed with a meat and rice mixture

Once that was over, I walked over to the Presidential Residence where I met the lady who was to give me my first Bulgarian cooking lesson. It was much more than that, with a tour and history lesson thrown into the mix. We shopped at both the Central Market and then the outdoor farmer’s market, went back to her apartment and cooked up quite the meal. Much more soon, including links to her info.

More on this soon, but I have to get to the Patriarchal Cathedral for this morning’s service. Once that is done, I have to finish my midterm exam for the seminary course, and then I may just rest up a bit. I’ve been putting in a lot of miles walking, along with a lot of doing. It has been amazing, fun, and something very positive that I can’t fully describe. Thank you all so very much for helping make this happen.

Pilgrimage: First Full Day

First, apologies as this may not be all that I intended. I’ve been up and down all night dealing with various things that have popped up locally and otherwise. The intensity of the day did not go down with the sun. Smile. One of those issues is that the person who was to introduce me to the priests at a particular church is not going to be able to do so, and we had to work out how to get it done remotely around one this morning. Most of the other has been minor, but my phone kept going off all night. My thoughts on spam calls and texts is also at an all-time low.

As noted, Friday was the first full day of the pilgrimage. I had breakfast at a place I had wanted to try and came highly recommended. The time I had for it opening was off, but that worked out as I wandered around a bit and did some more exploring while waiting. More on this in a separate post, as I fully expect to eat there multiple times and want to do it justice. I will note that the young lady who was my waitress rather cheerfully worked with me on some basic Bulgarian, which is very much needed.

One thing to note: many, if not most, people here speak some English. Thank goodness. Being able to say hello, please, thank you and such only gets you so far. So far, every time I’ve needed that more, someone was there who could help with translation.

After breakfast, I made a quick stop back at the apartment then headed back up to the Patriarchal Cathedral. It was a beautiful morning for a walk, with the weather cool by local standards but felt good to me. Thank goodness a lot of the things important to me are located fairly close together, as I am starting to truly be able to find my way around on foot. Still need to explore the metro more, and really want to figure out the trams as they seem like a great way to get around.

Now, I’m not going to share any photos here — at least for now — of the interior of the cathedral. The signs all pointedly say no photography, which is the first thing every one does once they go in. And, yes, I did take some photos which I have shared with some of the members of my church as they can’t be here with me. Sharing such helps them share a bit of the experience, as well as sharing elements of faith and formation. However, I made the decision I did at the time I went in and see no reason to change it now.

Traveling here to the “headquarters” church is not something everyone can do or will be able to do. Sharing parts of my journey with them is, therefore, important and proper. Aside from a couple of more generic shots, most of what I did get didn’t feel right to post in public for now. I suspect that if you want to see the interior you can find those shots. For me, for now, I chose not to do so.

Now, I also suspect (strongly) that part of the no photo rule has to do with behavior, and particularly with inappropriate behavior on the part of some tourists. It wasn’t just the busloads of oriental tourists that were jamming things up stopping to take photos, or blocking those who were trying to worship. In fact, it was fairly easy to spot who was Orthodox and who wasn’t by such behavior. Sad to say, there were a few (and there always are)…

I also suspect money is a factor. A number of other historic churches and other sites say no photography — unless you pay a fee. Makes sense since historic buildings cost a fair bit to restore and maintain. A fee helps with that and since so far none have been onerous, I cheerfully pay when such is offered.

As for arguments that photography should not be allowed in any sacred space, the old me has a short one word answer that fits but is not diplomatic or polite. Instead, allow me to present the argument that photography and video can and do play an important role in the sharing and formation of faith. In this time, video rules and photography is a distant second, while the written word is effectively out-of-sight. This blog, for example, is an anachronism in the age of viral videos, influencers, and other ‘delights.’

Yet, by sharing words, photos, and (hopefully) even some video I can increase the ‘reach’ of what I am doing. That can then spark interest, answer questions, and more importantly generate good questions that can cause a person to explore within themselves matters of faith, Faith, and belief. It provides a window to a different world, a different way of thinking compared to that currently extant in the world. It can allow you, dear reader, to share a bit of what I am experiencing, including the joy and Grace attendant.

Enough of the introspection and controversy, as it distracts from the mission I just outlined.

I spent some time in the cathedral in contemplation and prayer. Some of those prayers were for people I know who are ill, facing issues, and have other needs. Some were for me to be guided on this journey and the larger journey underway. When finished, I left the cathedral and walked over to the entrance to go down into the crypt beneath the cathedral.

Today, it is not a crypt but a museum of Christian, specifically Orthodox, art and is part of the national art museum. It features Orthodox icons and other artwork (and even a few artifacts) from Bulgaria’s past. It is nothing short of amazing, and for anyone of Faith a powerful and moving experience. It really deserves it’s own post as I can’t do it justice in the short time I have left to get this post done. If I don’t get back to it this next week, remind me and I will do so.

I will just say for now that I literally don’t know how long I was in there, as time really ceased to have meaning. There were several icons that truly moved me and I will discuss at least two of them (Dormition of the Theotokos, and Saint Michael the Archangel) more fully later. Thankfully one of them had a bench in front of it as I kept going back and sitting in front of it in prayer and contemplation. The other did not, though such did not keep me from doing the same thing. In all seriousness, plan on at least an hour in there and you might want to budget as much as three hours.

From there, I went to the Basilica of Saint Sophia (Sofia). In some ways, it is the oldest church in Sofia. The original church was built in the 200s when this was the Roman city of Serdika, on the site of the necropolis (city of the dead, aka the cemetery). That first church was replaced by a second, and then later a third and the interesting thing is you can see some of the remains of each in the archeological excavations underneath the church.

I will have to post more on this later, as other things have kept me distracted and unable to finish this post as intended. I have another full day today, and need to get my head wrapped around it and not focused on those other issues. More soon.

Pilgrimage: The Adventure Has Begun

Guess where I am now? The last couple of days have been spent on travel, and most of you will understand why I fudged on exactly when, where, and how I was traveling. OPSEC is important, especially in case there were any unexpected issues that cropped up along the way.

More on the airlines and airports involved later, though I will have to admit I was most pleased with how one airline — that has a massive and well-earned reputation for problems with luggage — has significantly improved that experience. In addition to the fact that I can track my bags and certain items within, they actually texted me every major scan of my luggage so that I was assured it was actually on the different planes. Would that every airline did this, and kudos to this airline for a major improvement.

Note on one lesson learned: Do not let any airline tell you that less than an hour layover is okay when traveling international. I literally had to run (and was wishing I remembered how to say “Make a hole!” in German) to make a connection, and along the way also had to do passport/entry things. For the record, though, I did not flatten any tourists though it may have come close once or twice in the mad dash.

Given the new system for the EU (scans and fingerprints), it was more of a challenge than I cared for to make the connection since it involved also changing terminals and such. I am relieved to report that despite the travel alerts I had been getting the last few weeks that passport control there was running very slow, I found it to move fairly quickly and the people I dealt with reasonably friendly, polite, and professional — especially given they are most likely usually bored out of their gourds trying to chivvy people through the system.

Much to my surprise, there were no delays or issues, and as such I actually got into Sofia before the time I was to get my apartment. So, I found a nice little restaurant about a block away and relaxed a bit. The pork neck with fresh mushrooms was delicious and tender, and the Bulgarian beer a nice treat. My inner Hobbit is really enjoying how much fresh mushrooms are used in Bulgarian cooking.

Sadly, I had already finished and cleaned my plate by the time this fellow showed up. I apologized for not having anything to share, but I didn’t need to worry. The owner of the restaurant (and some of the staff) obviously knew him and brought him out scraps and such to eat. Clearly not starving as when given some chicken he didn’t touch it at first and gave a look stating he knew they had better than that. He did eat it all before departing, however. The fact that the owner and staff fed him guaranteed, however, that I will be eating there again.

Once I got into the apartment, got (mostly) unpacked, and cleaned up a bit, I took off on foot to explore. I need to do more of the immediate area around my apartment, but have some basic knowledge and evaluation of some of the areas nearby. Love the apartment, more on that one day soon. It may not be as huge as the photos made it appear, but it is more than ample to my needs. Planning on picking up a few things today for cooking and comfort.

I then took off to test my guess that the Patriarchal Cathedral is about a 20 minute walk from the apartment. If traffic and crowds are good, it is. There are two ways to get near it or to it by subway, but have not checked those out yet. Will be reviewing apps later in the trip, but found out the app that was highly recommended by some people claiming to have visited here/living here does not have Sofia in their system. Most disappointing, but most signs and announcements include station names in English and making it fairly easy to use.

I actually used the subway to get in from the airport. It was less than 2 euro versus about 20-30 euro for a cab or hire car. Other than a well-meaning gentleman trying to give me directions the exact opposite of what I had been given (he apologized profusely when others pointed out his error), it was easy and safe to get around. In fact, after the bad directions, two locals told me they were going my route and to follow them, and they made sure I got off where I needed to. More on mass transit later.

Before I forget, the trans-Atlantic portion of the trip was made wonderful by the seatmate next to me. A very nice German lady, she was traveling as a courier of bone marrow for transplant. A charming and engaging person, I found out that she (and others) volunteers to be a courier for bone marrow and adult stem cells needed for leukemia treatment. We had a lot of fun talking about what she did, airports and the ‘joys’ of traveling, and a bit more. She had been to Houston recently and loved it, and was asking my opinion about other cities and such. Her job is supportive of what she does, and so gives her time off when they can to do this work.

I really felt bad that I needed to sleep on the flight as she could not. When a transport is in progress, the volunteers are not allowed to have alcohol or sleep as they have to ensure the safety of the transport container. In fact, when the plane went dark so people could sleep, she took the container out of the overhead and put it between her feet just to be safe. Just a wonderful person doing a wonderful thing, and we are planning to stay in touch.

More soon. Right now, I am off to get breakfast (did not get to grocery shop yestersay) and then head up to the Cathedral and begin explorations. Before my cooking lesson tomorrow I will be attending a service at the Russian Church and meeting my teacher there. Taking copies of my letter of introduction and even a copy of my baptismal certificate, so I can not only do that but also be set for Sunday at the Cathedral.