The narrow, claustrophobic space seems to press in on you. The smell of machine oil, metal and people. The sense of the unknown… Descending into a submarine is an unforgettable experience. If you want to try it – and learn more about Bulgaria's submarines – your destination is Beloslav, a town west of Varna. Here, on the southern shore of Lake Varna, is a surprising museum: the last submarine of the Bulgarian Navy. Its name – Slava, or Glory.
Beyond the E871 highway and after the last premises of Sofia's Business Park, a white metal palisade shields an immense building site. The borehole drilling resonates from within. The summer sun is burning. With Vitosha mountain against a clear blue sky for a background, a sandy country lane meanders up a plateau.
Colourful weeds grow tall on both sides of the lane. Modest houses in peeling orange, green or yellow hide behind the old trees. Above them, towers a massive concrete structure, rising from the plateau: Kambanite, or The Bells.
When the young Patrick Leigh Fermor – a man considered one of the 20th century greatest travel writers – visited Ruse in 1934, he stumbled upon a strange town.
А wise ruler who made Bulgaria a regional and international political and technological leader, and who tirelessly worked for the prosperity of the entire nation. A stupid person who caused the Bulgarian economy to collapse at least twice. A sly politician who played Soviet Union leaders like a fiddle, securing much-needed resources for the Bulgarian economy in the midst of a global oil crisis. A national traitor who was ready to make Bulgaria just another republic of the USSR. A patriot dedicated to protecting this nation's sovereignty from a possible attack by Turkey.
Аt first glance Dobrich might disappoint. The town is in the heart of Dobrudzha, in a region that's one of the first where the Proto-Bulgars settled at the end of the 7th century. Nothing of note has remained from these early times; after the Pecheneg inroads in the 11th century, this part of Dobrudzha remained depopulated for centuries. The precursor of Dobrich appeared in the 16th century, in Ottoman times. Its name was Hadjioglu Pazardzhik.
Devoted freedom fighters, manly Red Army soldiers and workers, visionary or thoughtful Communist leaders: this is what comes to mind when we think of Communist-era public art statues and monuments. Indeed, these archetypes of exemplary regime citizens were produced en masse between 1944 and 1989 and can still be found all over Bulgaria.
If there is one river that defines Europe in terms of landscape, history and economy, it is the Danube, a 2,850 kilometre ribbon of water that flows from the Black Forest in Germany to the Black Sea in Romania. Some 470 km of its course make up a significant part of Bulgaria's northern border – and of its history, economy and life.
About 2,000 years ago, the Romans invented an ingenious way to deal with the frequent change of emperors and the costly replacement of statues of the incumbent ruler that stood all over the place. Instead of making new monuments from head to toe, they would replace only the heads.
Under Communism, there was hardly a place in Bulgaria without a monument to Lenin, or at least a street, a school, or a kindergarten named after him. Sofia, the capital, had a tall statue of him in front of the Largo, where the main institutions of the People's Republic of Bulgaria were situated.
Juicy, aromatic and bursting with the tender sweetness that comes only after ripening under the strong Balkan sun: the tomatoes that you can find on a Bulgarian plate taste like nothing else. From salad and stews to the emblematic lyutenitsa paste, they are a staple of local cuisine and a source of pride for their supposedly unique deliciousness. The fake news that the EU was planning to ban local tomatoes enraged hundreds of thousands of Bulgarians in the 2010s and 2020s.
When she saw Bulgaria's "Flying Saucer," the bizarre-looking monument on top of the summit of Buzludzha in the Stara Planina mountain range, Dora Ivanova was 12. A native of Montana, formerly named Mihaylovgrad (after a local Communist functionary), she was taken to the nearby Freedom Monument at Shipka Pass and the set of monuments commemorating the 1877-1878 Russo-Turkish War by her parents. She saw the oddly-shaped Memorial House of the Bulgarian Communist Party, as its official name was, from a far distance. Her parents never bothered to do the steep drive up the mountain.
The fourth iteration of the OPEN BUZLUDZHA festival is scheduled to kick off on 8 August and will last for three nights/four days. A plethora of local and international club scene bands will converge on the lawn beneath the controversial former Communist Party House Monument on Mount Buzludzha, informally referred to as the UFO. These include Wickeda, Hayes & Y, Kerana and the Cosmonauts, Two Cities One World, Funkilicious, Heptagram and others.
Some monuments impress with their size, artistic value or historical significance, and some have a hidden history to match. Sofia, as Bulgaria's capital, has a particularly high concentration of monuments and statues with unusual backgrounds. Some of these are just oddities and curiosities that add a pinch of spice to otherwise official public art and have become ingrained in the city's history. However, others are controversial and have caused various debates through the years.
A white mammoth dominates the upper part of Boulevard Todor Aleksandrov in central Sofia. Its massive, concrete surfaces are imposing. Looking from the lower ground of the Serdica station, the building, Unicredit Bulbank's headquarters, resembles a giant ocean steamer which is about to crush the Largo, the vast space surrounded by the Stalinist Council of Ministers, the Office of the President and the former Communist Party House, now parliament.
It has become a commonplace that a nation can be understood best by the sort of treatment it give its poets rather by its military victories or GDP levels. This notion may be a bit outdated in a world run by social media where electronic "devices" by far outnumber fountain pens, and where a "content creator" makes more than a teacher of literature. But it is still at least indicative. Bulgaria, whose writers and poets have been translated into English only sporadically, is a case in point. On the one hand, it is very proud of its literary heritage.
Raised hands, bodies frozen in a pathos of tragic defiance: Bulgaria, especially its northwest, is littered with monuments to an event that was once glorified but is now mostly forgotten. It took place 100 years ago, yet researchers disagree on how to label it. Some call it an uprising, a word that evokes the gravity of organised and targeted efforts to achieve a clearly set goal. For others, it was an ill-fated rebellion of a handful of peasants foolish enough to believe the sweet talking of a political power outside of Bulgaria, Moscow's Communist International.
Bulgarians are present in many fields of modern science and engineering, from medicine to space exploration, pushing new boundaries and breaking new grounds. If you have not heard much about it, it is because the great majority of them work for foreign universities, scientific institutions and R&D teams. As a result of the decades-long neglect of the fundamental and the applied sciences and of engineering in Bulgaria, academically gifted Bulgarians go abroad the moment they graduate from secondary school.
One of the emblematic sights associated with Bulgaria is a group of barefoot men and women clad in traditional village costumes dancing over live embers. This is nestinarstvo, or firewalking, a supposedly Christian rite, where firewalkers dance themselves into a trance and eschew the perils of fire.
Now firewalking is performed at tourist locations and even in restaurants, but the only place to see the real thing is in the village of Balgari in the Strandzha. It happens on the night of 3 June, the high day of Ss Constantine and Helena.
A plant that everyone knows but few have seen in real life: by selecting the oil-bearing rose as its unofficial symbol, Bulgaria has made an odd choice. This particular variety does smell divine but is not particularly beautiful. Its attar is vital for the global cosmetic industry, yet its production and sales make a tiny spec in the Bulgarian GDP.
Sofia, with its numerous parks, is not short of monuments and statues referring to the country's rich history. In the Borisova Garden park for example, busts of freedom fighters, politicians and artists practically line up the alleys. On some of those, like the 19th century revolutionaries and national heroes Vasil Levski and Hristo Botev, people still lay flowers.