Оddity, just like beauty, is in the eye of the beholder. Dozens of monuments, large and small, have been erected throughout Bulgaria, both during and after Communism, in the sincere belief that they are appropriate, interesting, beautiful and/or profound, even groundbreaking. The public, however, disagrees – and gleefully has mocked some of the most outrageous, expensive and propaganda-laden projects. Other monuments, which now seem odd, have been forgotten because of their small size or remote location.

What all these oddities have in common is that they may seem strange, incomprehensible or preposterous, but they all have their own stories to tell. Here is a selection of some of the most fascinating odd monuments in Bulgaria – from the most famous to those that no one pays attention to anymore.

Buzludzha Communist Party Memorial House

The most famous piece of Bulgarian architecture, the memorial and congress centre built for the Bulgarian Communist Party, is also the most divisive. To detractors, it is an ugly monstrosity built to erase Bulgarians' memory of their true history. Its architectural design is suspiciously similar to that of an earlier Eastern Orthodox church in the United States, designed by Frank Lloyd Wright. For them, the building must be dynamited as a matter of urgency.

For leftwing Bulgarians and those interested in the legacies of Communism, the Buzludzha monument is an inspiring piece of architecture that remains awe-inspiring even in its decay. It is a piece of history that deserves to be preserved and even restored.

To people of all political stripes and feathers who claim to have a sense of humour, Buzludzha is just a giant concrete flying saucer that beats anything you might see in the vicinity of Nevada's Area 51.

When it was built in 1981, it was a showpiece of Communist architecture and propaganda. It commemorated the founding of Bulgaria's first Socialist party, which had taken place on the site 90 years earlier. Its architect, Georgi Stoilov, designed a lenticular congress hall with a diameter of 40 metres, covered inside with marble, plush and extensive mosaics, and two 70-metre-high pylons decorated with giant red stars.

The building was used for only eight years. It was abandoned with the fall of Communism in 1989 and soon began to crumble under the harsh elements and vandalism, as successive governments failed to take any concrete action for its future.

At the moment, an young and enthusiastic Bulgarian architect battles Bulgarian bureaucracy to preserve whatever is left of Buzludzha's flying saucer and make it accessible to visitors.

Nude Women bridge, Kyustendil

In 1969, the government in Kyustendil commissioned the sculptor, Lyuben Dimitrov, to make some statues for an early-20th century iron bridge over the River Banshtitsa in central Kyustendil. Dimitrov, who had been known for major design works such as the Freedom Monument on Mount Shipka as well as the National Library and the Bulgarian National Bank, installed at the bridge a quartet of women in various stages of undress, unabashed eroticism and teeming voluptuousness. Why the Communist Party leaders did not censor Lyuben Dimitrov's audacious sculptures will probably remain one of the mysteries of late 20th century Bulgaria.

Boza seller, Radomir

Most foreigners who have been brave enough to try boza would say that this traditional sweet drink of fermented barley looks as if it has already been drunk once. Bulgarians, however, love their boza unapologetically and even know where the best beverage is made: Radomir, a town in the west of Bulgaria. Hence the local monument of a boza seller, made by artist Evgeni Kuzmanov, in 2005.

Boza production was brought to Radomir, in 1880, by an Albanian artisan. The beverage is considered a staple of Albanian cuisine. 

Spaceman, Omurtag

A backwater town in northeastern Bulgaria, Omurtag is mostly a place that travellers pass by on their way to Varna. But in its centre stands one of Bulgaria's most curious monuments – a five-metre tall spaceman, with his arms outstretched to the sky. The statue, by sculptors Doko Dokov and Dimitar Koychev, was unveiled in 2013. It symbolises human progress in space exploration and is dedicated to Aleksandar Aleksandrov, who was born in Omurtag. Aleksandrov trained as a jet pilot, and in 1988 became the second Bulgarian to fly into space.

Arch of Freedom  

The Arch of Freedom at Goraltepe Peak, the highest point in the Troyan Pass, is 35 metres tall and was dedicated to Bulgarian-Soviet Friendship and the centenary of the liberation from Ottoman rule. It was built in 1978 on a location chosen because it was spectacular rather than because any important battle took place there. The reliefs by Velichko Minekov depict Bulgarian freedom fighters, partizani and the "Russian and Soviet liberators." The architect was... Georgi Stoilov, the man behind the Buzludzha monument.

The monument's odd shape, however, provoked Bulgarians to come with a creative nickname. They called it Pantyhose.

Mother Bulgaria Pantheon, Gurgulyat

The Bulgarians are proud of their millennia-old history, but the 31-metre truncated pyramid near the small, depopulated village of Gurgulyat does not belong to some long-dead Thracian ruler. The rather pompously named Mother Bulgaria Pantheon, by – again! – architect Georgi Stoilov, is dedicated to the Bulgarian soldiers and locals who died in a fierce and strategically important battle with the Serbs on 7 November 1885, one of the most heroic events in modern Bulgarian history.

When the Kingdom of Bulgaria and the Ottoman province of Eastern Rumelia united on 6 September 1885, Serbia was far from happy – it saw a bigger, bolder Bulgaria as an existential threat and decided to strike first. Serbia hoped for a quick victory, as the young and inexperienced Bulgarian army was far from its western border, waiting for an Ottoman incursion from the southeast.
On 2 November, Serbia attacked Bulgaria.

Bulgaria's response stunned the world. Encouraged by the Ottomans' passivity and inspired by the idea of defending unity, the Bulgarian troops marched west, covering over 130 km of bad roads in just two days. Then they went straight into battle. Slivnitsa and Gurgulyat were the main war theatre. On 7 November, the  Bulgarian infantry, outnumbered by the Serbs, made the enemy retreat. Eventually, Austria-Hungary intervened and forced the Bulgarians to stop.

The world was stunned by the Bulgarians' bravery and success. But what happened after Gurgulyat? The fallen were buried and eventually forgotten. In 1935, for the 50th anniversary of the events, a church was built on the site of the fiercest battle, St Elijah. Under Communism, the church was abandoned and fell into disrepair. It was demolished in 1965.

The current  pantheon was built in 1985 for the centenary of Unification. It is grandiose, but is now itself in a state of disrepair.

Perhaps the strangest thing about this monument is not its shape, but the tenacity with which generations of Bulgarians have forgotten the heroic death of the men who died at Gurgulyat in 1885.

Partizani Monument at Barikadite area, near Koprivshtitsa

Some famous paintings are said to follow you around the room with their eyes. At the Barikadite Monument, a whole group of people watches your every step from the rocks. It is hard to say what is more unsettling: the serene faces of these long-dead Communist guerrilla fighters, the fact that you are deep in the Sredna Gora mountains, or the ghostly ruins of a former hotel and restaurant a few yards away.

The names of the partizani are all written on the rocks. The name of the sculptor, however, is not known for certain. It could be Ðorđe Radivojević, a political refugee from Tito's Yugoslavia who worked in Bulgaria until his death in 2011.

The monument is located southeast of Koprivshtitsa at the end of a former road built in the 1960s when the government decided to turn the Barikadite area, an isolated spot in the mountains that had been hiding rebels since Ottoman times, into a recreation area. It had to provide visiting Bulgarians with entertainment, trekking options, and ideological instruction. Everything was abandoned after the fall of Communism. There are a couple of more odd partizani monuments around.

Creators of the Bulgarian State, Shumen

Today, everyone is a content creator. The gigantic monument that towers over Shumen is dedicated to a different kind of creator – the men who founded medieval Bulgaria in 681 and became the state's first glorious rulers.

If you are looking for a medieval king whose policies still define modern Bulgaria, look no further than Prince Boris I. In the 860s, he enforced Christianity upon the pagan Bulgarians and welcomed a group of scholars who had mastered a new invention, an alphabet designed for Slavic languages. For centuries to come, Eastern Orthodox Christianity and the Cyrillic alphabet have been cornerstones of Bulgarian national identity

The scale of the structure  is astonishing – it is 70 metres high and 140 metres long, made of 2,400 tonnes of reinforced steel and 50,000 cubic metres of concrete. The 1,000 tonne lion at the top is made from 2,000 pieces of granite. However, the design is the real showstopper. Come here and you will understand why some Japanese tourists think they have suddenly found themselves in an anime theme park.

The monument was designed by sculptors Krum Damyanov and Ivan Slavov and architects Georgi Gechev and Blagoy Ivanov long before anyone in Bulgaria had heard of manga comics. It was simply their creative style.

The monument in Shumen was inaugurated in 1981, on the occasion of the 1300th anniversary of the foundation of Bulgaria. The event was part of a highly publicised campaign aimed at boosting Bulgarian patriotism at a disheartening time when the Communist economy was increasingly struggling to meet people's basic needs, such as decent housing or toilet paper in the shops.

Lenin with Children, Shumen

Communist public art tended to portray Lenin, who launched the 1917 Bolshevik revolution, as a fierce leader or a laid-back politician. A monument in a residential area of Shumen, however, took a more creative approach. It depicts Vladimir Ilyich as the protector of... a couple of children. Or their spiritual guide? Or the shadow that will determine their future? We all know how world history unfolded after 1917, but at least (for now) we are free to interpret the statue's meaning as we wish.

Red Army Monument, Burgas

On the surface, there is nothing strange (or is there?) about the triumphal statue of a Red Army soldier in Burgas. Many large cities in Bulgaria still have such a statue – despite the fact that the Soviet army did not fight on Bulgarian territory during the Second World War and none of its soldiers died in combat there. But if you look closely at the details of the monument in Burgas, created by architect Minko Minkov and sculptors Vasil Radoslavov and Aneta Atanasova, you will notice an odd couple. A Bulgarian worker and a Russian soldier, both handsome and virile, are locked in a passionate embrace, kissing.

Of course, this has nothing to do with latterday LGBTQ values. It is Communist propaganda. The passionate embraces and kisses between Bulgarians and Soviet soldiers, seen everywhere in public art between 1944 and 1989, were intended to cement in the public's mind how happy the Bulgarians were to greet their Red Army "liberators". In fact, when Soviet tanks rolled into Bulgarian territory in September 1944, they were supporting a Communist-led coup that changed the nation's history forever. But the deep kiss in Burgas now has meanings no one thought possible when it was created.

Snow-White and Dwarves, Borovan

The modern eye is so accustomed to Disney's renditions of fairy tale characters and their presence in children's spaces that it is actually refreshing to encounter another artistic interpretation of Snow White and some of the dwarves. This one is made of stone and adorns the garden of an orphanage.

Hristo Botev monument, Kalofer

A young man with a thick beard and a pair of burning eyes: this is the popular image of the 19th-century poet and revolutionary Hristo Botev, who died in battle in 1876 at the age of 27. This image is so well established that if you happen to visit his birthplace, Kalofer, and stumble upon the bronze bust of a grizzled sexagenarian in front of the mayor's office, you will scratch your head and wonder: why does the inscription say this is Hristo Botev? And why is there another inscription in... Chinese?

The bust really is of Hristo Botev. It was made by a prominent Chinese sculptor and was first placed in Beijing, where it was officially inaugurated by the then Bulgarian Prime Minister Sergey Stanishev, in 2006. The Chinese government later donated the bust to the people of Kalofer. Apparently, the decision to depict Botev as an old man had nothing to do with artistic ineptitude – it was because in Chinese culture, age is synonymous with importance. By making Botev old, the author showed his respect.

Soon after the statue was installed, someone stole it. After a well-publicised hunt, it was found in a scrap yard and reinstalled.

King Samuil, Sofia

Sometimes, you do not need much to turn tradegy into farce. A great example for this stands proudly a few metres from St Alexandr Nevskiy Cathedral, Sofia's main tourist attraction. It is the monument to King Samuil (995-1014) by the sculptor, Aleksander Haytov, unveiled in 2014.

Samuil was an energetic and talented man who successfully organised Bulgarian resistance against an increasingly aggressive Byzantine Empire. When the reigning Bulgarian king died without heirs, Samuil took the crown. He ultimately failed to repel Byzantium and had the misfortune to see hundreds of Bulgarian soldiers returning from the battlefield blinded by order of the Byzantine emperor. Samuil suffered a stroke and died shortly afterwards. Four years later, Byzantium conquered all of Bulgaria.

The 2014 monument to Samuil has little to do with the king's tragedy and pathos. Instead, it looks like an oversized garden gnome. And its eyes glow in the dark. Or they did, until the built-in lights ran out of power and it transpired no one had thought how they could be replaced.