It was supposed to be a four-day train trip to Istanbul on the Orient Express, but Ib, my new travel friend from Amsterdam, and I managed to stretch it out to nine days. We had got on in Paris and got-off in Milan two days later to check out the city. We stayed at a cheap but clean pension and ate, drank, and walked around for two days flirting with lovely Italianas and meeting university students at their local hang-outs. We managed to drag ourselves back on the train for the next segment, the Orient Express midnight run to Zagreb. We had two crazy days in Z city but that’s another story. We arrived for the scheduled two-day stopover in Sofia to swap the Italian train crew for a Bulgarian one while the local gendarme checked the train for unwanted goods and people.
It had only been two weeks since I had left Berkeley, the first day after classes ended. I didn’t have much of a European plan other than a cheap RT Icelandic Air ticket and a goal to get to Istanbul and see some Byzantium sites and maybe smoke some really good stuff.
Ib and I arrived in Soffia just as the sun rose. We were bone tired from lack of sleep and dealing with increasingly funkier conditions as we made our way through the Balkans. The conductor banged on the cabin doors in our second class passenger car and told us all to get off the train with all our goods and return at 10 pm the following night to continue our train trek.
The Sofia train station unlike any of the prior train stations. It looked like a scene from a classic black and while movie. Our train docked at the main terminal station. It was alive with the screeches of angry steam engines that bellowed loudly with big spurts of black smoke mixed with the smell of burnt coal. At the far ends of the main terminal were several smaller docking stations that did their own smoke and sound dances. Only a few people were around as there was only one other train taking on passengers for the trip to Burgas, a city at the eastern end of the country. We had no plans for the stop and sat down on a bench in the central train station to figure out what to do as we knew nothing about Sofia. I took out my beat-up 5$ day paperback travel guide on Europe that was ten years old and checked out Bulgaria and Sofia. It was a short and useless description of three sentences that noted that Sofia was the capital of this Soviet vassal state, and that travel was strictly regulated by state agencies. It also warned the traveler of harassment by various officials and the need to keep a steady eye on goods. Good thing we had little to carry on our backs.
Ib and I decided to go find a beer at a nearby café or bar and consider our options. As we got up to leave a young guy, a fellow university student it turns out, walked our way and asked in broken English if we had any cigarettes. I took out two camels and handed them to the guy. He lit one and put the other behind his ear and said his name was Stefan and that he was taking the train to Burgas as it was school break time and his family lived there and wanted his help on their fishing boat. I told him I was a university student at Berkeley and Ib said he was on a six week break from his work in Amsterdam. After a few minutes of asking us questions about life in the US and Holland he suggested that we make good use of our time and go to the University campus where there were probably students and cafes. He said while it was summer break there were still a lot of students around and we would be quickly spotted as outsiders. He gave us directions and said we could walk there in about an hour as it was less than five klicks away. Ib and I looked at each other, got up, and strapped on our backpacks, said adios to Stefan and walked to the University. It took us almost two hours, but the end result was well worth the effort.
Sofia University was hard to miss. I learned from the students we met that the University was built in the late 1880s. I was impressed by the old main building as it looked like a huge Roman villa or Cardinal’s palace with several passageways lined by columns. We walked in by just nodding to the first set of gate guards and walked quickly through the entry hall. We found out later that we were supposed to go through the students entrance and that the building was the oldest building on campus where the University President and others had offices. Two guys with gray uniforms spoke to us in Bulgarian and we just nodded our heads and said “tourista” “estuidiante”. The two uniforms were pissed and herded us out of the building. We ended up in an inner plaza surrounded by clusters of smaller buildings, probably classrooms. We could see some students on blankets on the grass and others on benches next to tables littered with books, cups, and notepads.
We created a buzz when we walked in and several of the students pointed at us and motioned for us to join them. It all looked promising, so we made our way to their table, and they pulled up a couple of chairs. We shook hands with all five students, four guys and one girl. They told us their names, except for the girl. The main guy was named Doncho and they knew some basic English. They told us they were mostly studying to be teachers that would work in country schools for two years to pay back the state for their education. I said it sounded like the Peace Corps and none of them knew what about it, so I let it drop. Within a few minutes a couple of other students walked over and sat at another table next to us to listen to what we were all saying.
It was an unexpected student mashup as they wanted to know everything about us and their English was compressed down to a few nouns and verbs but understandable. They sent over one of the guys to a food and drink cart at the other end of the plaza and he returned with a bottle of red wine and cups on a tray that had some odd-looking pretzels. Then the fun began as we drank wine and shared our American cigarettes with them. They were excited to take our cigarettes, including the only girl. They lit up and peppered us with questions about the war in Vietnam, student protests, pot smoking, music we liked and what we were studying. Ib said he was done with school and had a good but dull job that allowed him time to travel. I told them I was an anthropology and political science major at Berkeley, and they asked what could I do with a degree in those subjects. I told them I had no idea but enjoyed the subjects and I would get a masters degree in something that would make me money later and let me travel. Ib and I enjoyed talking and throwing questions at them and they responded in kind, starting to ask questions about US interests and foreign policies. I was wary about these topics and talked in circles as the two at the table about twenty feet away kept looking right at us.
Their questions turned to where we were going next and what we expected to do in Istanbul. Ib was pretty quiet and let me take the lead. He kept his eye at the men at the other table while I made conversation. While I continue talking to the guys I signaled Ib that I was also aware of the men at the other table. After about a half hour the only girl in the group turned to Doncho, the alpha male, and spoke to him. He turned to me and said that Daria was a cousin on his mother’s side and was studying to be an elementary school teacher. She also knew some English. She had said little during the first few minutes other than her name but now she asked me why I was so far from home, where else I hoped to go, how much longer I would be away from home and my homeland, and my race. She did not ask anything about Ib who was smiling the whole time.
I tried to look cool and worked hard not to stare at her but I felt like she was stealing my breath and sucking me in. Daria was probably my age, around twenty, deep green eyes, russet colored wavy hair that spiraled up like a white person’s afro, a beautiful nose, and high cheek bones. She was a graeco-roman-slavic beauty and looked very much at ease, maybe even in control. She had me from the first eye dance.
AI Image of Siren seducing young Odysseus
I felt like a young Odysseus captured by a renegade siren and too tired to resist. This siren dressed like a regular student. She wore thin jeans, a loose sweater over a colored t-shirt, and had on some nice leather sandals. Her toes were spectacular as they were thin and shapely, the two big toes were bright red. Her toes turned me on and not sure what that says about me. I thought I was a good tying to stay connected to the group but it was tough to keep my eyes off her. I aimed my words at Doncho and the other guys while she was the only one I was really talking to. After my last comments about my mestizo heritage, she said a few words to Doncho and extended her hand. I shook her hand and then leaned forward to buss her cheek. Her eyes caught mine and I panicked for a moment at doing something unknown in this new land, something not good, with her cousin and other guys catching it all. I was too far in and bussed her cheek. She moved her head so that I could also brush my lips to the other cheek. Doncho broke the spell. He turned to Ib and me and said that he and his student friends supported good, new social practices. Including education and handshakes for women. He said cheeks were for good friends and family. He went on to joke that his cousin was a force that he and others had to accept as part of their effort to deal with the world as it was, men and women, east and west.
Ib had regularly looked over at the two men who had been gazing at our group since the first words. When they got up to leave Ib suggested that we do the same. I didn’t argue as it was clear that we were becoming a public event. I told Doncho that we had to find a place to eat and rest before our train the next day. Doncho and his friends had also seen the two men observing us and said we should all go our ways and meet later at one of his favorite stalls in the main marketplace for dinner. He also told us about a cheap pension near the train station that had OK beds and working WCs. We said good and made for the pension that reminded me of the casa de huespedes that I my Dad and I used when traveling to see my Zacatecas family. It was spartan and barely big enough for a single bed with a bathroom down the hall.
