I forgot to mention earlier that the reason for sleeping only 4 hours was that I made a reservation at the hostel for the wrong date. By the time I arrived at reception there were no beds available for the night. I had met a spaniard earlier on Saturday that had gone mad trying to find a place to sleep as all cheap places were fully booked.. Knowing this and relying on the warm Bulgarian hospitality I asked if I could sleep on the sofa in the lobby. And that’s how I saved a few bucks.
Today I walked and walked. Sofia is a beautiful city. The architecture and the roads remind me of Berlin. Although everything here is raw. There are also very beautiful churches and palaces, I guess they have their own eastern soul.
After walking I had a siesta and got ready for another walk. This time with a project in mind. There are so many empty spacesbin the city which allow for a beautiful urban horizon line when using by 14mm on the 35mm.
Tomorrow I will venture to the nuclear power plant. I saw it from the plain yesterday, never seen one from so close before.
Arrived at Sofia. It’s Sunday morning now. I’ve lost two hours with the time change and happen to have slept only four.
But not all was lost. I took the bus from the airport and was told to get off at the very last stop, where the bus “finish”. The only problem that came was that the bus did in fact have a last stop but never finished, so I found myself thinking the city was repeating itself when in fact I was on my way back to the airport. After that was solved I could not find one person that could tell me where Makedonia Boulevard was. I finally met a couple that could not tell me themselves, but who had a son that spoke spanish and could. They lived just across the street so they invited me in to get some assistance from Philip, their son. I was there for an hour or so. They were a family of artists and film makers. The had recently made 2 movies. The mother wrote the script, the father was cameraman and the son director. They also had some beautiful paintings. It was positively shocking to meet such welcoming and warm family of artists. After some small talks talks they gave me directions and pointed out in a map the many wonderful buildings, churches, museums and art galleries.
My girlfriend Thea came with me to kiss me goodbye at liverpool St. I always miss her when im off travelling.
On my way to Gatwick airport. The trip starts with Bob Dylan’s biograph album. The sight on the way: nothing but endless tubes of the London underground. Later, a coach train over the river Thames reminds me of the wonderfull city I’m living in. I tend to feel blinded and caged in London.
Obnoxious Encounter (or Paranoia in London), 2009.
Electromagnetic beams running between us.
This is evidence that I have seen La Gioconda.
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I was just a passerby in Cuba. I found myself in a beach not very far away from La Habana, the air thick with moist and the sun burned on my skin. People mingled along the seawalk. Back and forth, it seemed to me they were not really going anywhere; but it wasn’t sunday. Neither was I, but I was just a passer by and a hungry one at that moment. There was a small place about two hundred meters across the road from where I was standing, so I walked some more to find out if there was any traditional food I could get my hands on.
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Frankfurter read the sign. Ahhh, I haven’t had a good one in some time, why not? I approached the bar, shaded by the palm trees and bushes, and looked into the kitchen. Small place, a fridge with drinks, and a frankfurter machine. The bread lay on the counter between the fridge and the frankfurter machine. A big chap, white addidas shorts, havaiannas and some kind of surfer t-shirt sat reading a magazine, a smile on his face told me that he would not start to take my order unless I waved or cried for attention. But I was wrong, he looked up and said “Un minuto hermano que esta geba me ha alegrado el dia.”, “Se te nota en la sonrisa” y replied with a smile.
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“Que le gustaria hoy?”
“Un Frankfurter y una coca por favor.”
“Enseguida. Caluroso hoy.”
“Si, pega el sol.”
A few moments after a scilence, he handed over the frankfurter and said:
“Condimentos?”
“Ketchup y mostaza por favor.”
“Sirvase”
“Gracias”
“Gustaria un sorbete?”
“Como es tu nombre?”
“Fidel.”
“Ah, el mio tambien.”
“Que barbaro… sorbete?”
“… No.”
The guy was awfuly kind to me, but so was everybody else in Latin Amercia.
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I munched my Frankfurter. To my surprise it was an original Frankfurter, none of that latin-american crap. The one and only Frankfurter. Odd to find foreign things in a country like Cuba, you know, communist country, a threatening country to the world trade. But i did not care about what the political situation was at the moment, to me, everybody is the same in the eyes of god. Not in my eyes of course, I would never consider myself divine. But everybody is good in my eyes, good hearted.
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I turned my back to the bar and looked out into the sea while I had my Frankfurter. I can never stop to be amazed by the endlesness of it, and the uniqueness to, every sea or ocean is different, feels different. It was a moment to remember. Being satisfied with my meal I had a sip of my Coke and turned back to the bar. Fidel was back to his magazine. I wanted to pay for my food and take a walk. The side of my eye got a glips at the price list stuck on the bar. It read:
Frankfurter: €200
Coca-Cola: €150
“Cuanto es Fidel?”
“€ 200 por el Frankfurter y € 150 por la coca Fidel”
“Comooo..?!!”
“€ 350 en total.”
“€.?!!”
“Si”
I looked again at the price list and realized this was no joke. How could I ever afford that, how the hell was I going to pay for that, all I had on me were thirty five bucks. I felt so stupid, spending that kind of money on a Frankfurter and a Coke.
“Pero Fidel, no puedo pagar eso..!”
“Bueno, no te preocupes, no hace falta que lo pagues ahora, te puedes quedar un rato mas chico y lo pagas mas tarde.”
“Bueno, supongo que si.”
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So I sat and looked at the sea and waited. During this time, my mind went as fast as it could.
