retiredmartin

April 2024. Sofia.

Another early night, and early start, to end our Bulgarian mini-break.

Central Sofia seemed about the size of central Manchester, but with less Holt Bitter. I reckon there’s streets in Deansgate still unknown to me, but I walked every lane in Sofia.

In truth, there’s probably less hidden gems, less This & That’s or St. Mary’s Churches off the Sofia grid, but you certainly form a more favourable view with a second day here.

The coffee, available at kiosks and vending machines at 20 yard intervals, wasn’t Naples or Pristina levels, but it was dark and hot, and cheap.

With a 6pm flight home we left our bags in the room at the seedy but clean “Central Club” and explored the Northern Quarter, which hasn’t quite had the cultural makeover of Manchester yet.

But give it time. The art is great,

the seating wacky,

and the outdoor (“women’s”) market would have impressed my Dad more than Londoners familiar with Borough or Bethnal Green.

Lots of warnings from Americans about the risks of shopping here but Sofia felt as safe as anywhere, bar the unpredictable paving and the lack of spoken English.

No (free) breakfast with any of the hotels, so we’d become expert at shopping for Bulgarian rock buns (20p) and apple strudel,

enjoyed in the park outside the mammoth but ugly Palace of Culture.

Mrs RM had set her heart on the artisanal MOMA (pigs ears, caviar, quail ggs) for lunch, but the promised 12:30 opening came and went,

and we cut our losses.

And then came across Хаджидрагановите изби , or Hadjidraganov’s Cellars, which is barely easier to say. If MOMA was Sofia’s “Where The Light Gets In” then this is its “Arden Arms“.

We’d walked past this place a few times, assumed it was a bit touristy and cheesy, but now the Lunch Menu seemed quite reasonable.

Even the most expensive starter and main combo worked out well under a tenner.

Surely there couldn’t be too much of a rip-off on cover charges, bread, service, expensive wine etc etc ?

Nope. They charged what it said at the front, and served with a smile to locals and (mostly Japanese) tourists.

“If you know USA’s “Cracker Barrel” chain kind if like that but much more authentic and classy here” says Google. I thought the grub (soup, salmon, steak) was homely rather than artisanal, which is what you want for your last meal before a Ryanair flight.

Homemade Wormwood white, shamefully our only Bulgarian wine of the trip, in one of those jugs you used to get water in at primary school, was a gorgeous end to the trip.

And that was Sofia, bar an espresso in the OldSkool underground cafe accessed via Passage “Targovski Dom”.

A weird relic from a bygone age. Rather like me, I guess.