A different kind of wonderful

Much of what I saw in Bulgaria was shabby and not in a chic way. It was shabby in an unkempt, paint-peeling, windows broken, "what happened to this place?" kind of way. There's graffiti, cracked sidewalks and renegade gypsy camps. Lots of buildings are blocky and gray and worn, some with exteriors that seem to house the remnants of a horror story inside. (The country has a fair share of stunning buildings, too, I should say.)

Vratsa

I saw lots of people who were noticeably hardened -- not mean but hard, haggard, perhaps struggling and losing. There isn't the brightness, the carefreeness, the "let's grab a beer and work later" mentality that's so classically Spanish. For the 20 percent of Bulgarians who work for the equivalent of 1 euro an hour - minimum wage - it's about surviving. People sell tarnished coins and animal pelts and treasures from Grandpa's attic at makeshift markets to make ends meet. (Bulgaria, of course, isn't the only country where people do that.)

Even so, Bulgaria is an eclectic, endearing, intriguing ex-communist gem - nothing like the traditional European beauties of Vienna, Venice or Prague. I adored it and would love to go back someday. It's unconventionally beautiful, like a guy with a gap in his teeth or a crooked nose -- you have to look past a superficial flaw or two to see that he's peculiarly handsome.

Sofia

Vratsa

Veliko Tarnovo

Vratsa

Veliko Tarnovo

Veliko Tarnovo

Sofia

Bulgaria has plains, hills and mountains, green in summer and white in winter. It's got charming medieval towns that have endured centuries of Ottoman rule and later, communism. It's got what I'm told is an awe-inspiring Black Sea coast on its eastern side, which I sadly didn't have the good fortune of visiting.

Vratsa

And goodness, the food. MMM, the food. It was the most glorious sort of hearty and heavy - think meats, bread, potatoes. Even the salads alone were enough to over-stuff an empty stomach. Eating our three- and four-course meals was like de-layering those Russian dolls; when you think you've reached the end there's yet another surprise. And all of it was guilt-inducingly cheap: You can get a delicious meal with way too much food for the equivalent of five euros or less.

Is it lunch time yet?

Typical tomato and cucumber salad with delicious Bulgarian cheese.

Mix of veggies with chicken and pork

Potatoes and more of that delicious cheese

Pork and more delicious veggies

This was a starter...for one person (served on traditional Bulgarian ceramic).

Bulgaria may not have the Statue of David, the most well-manicured face or the most notable European architecture (we've got Churchill to partially blame for that. Sofia, the capital, lost something like 12,000 buildings when he ordered the city's bombing during WWII). But sometimes conventional beauty is boring. 

Un saludo,
Teresa

Drugs, sex and (no) rock 'n roll

With all the weed, sex and general debauchery, Amsterdam isn’t exactly the ideal place to celebrate the birth of the Lord Jesus. But that’s where we were on December 25, so we did what anyone would do: We ate Turkish food and went to bed. Festive, eh?

As you can imagine, winter in Amsterdam is not ideal. It’s worse than that, really, but I don’t want cold, gray, blues-inducing weather to cloud my overall judgment of the place. It rained intermittently each of the four days we were there. It was cold, sometimes through-the-coat bitingly cold.

Even so, Amsterdam maintains a certain charm. It’s enjoyable enough to spend a day wandering alongside the winding canals, breathing in the generally pollution-free air (thanks to all the bikes) and window-shopping. But of course, you have to be careful what you’re window-shopping for and what you’re breathing in, if you catch my drift. Any “merchandise” in windows backlit in red is best avoided if you’ve got a wife, girlfriend, religion or conscience. 

And about breathing…puffs of marijuana smoke wafting out of the ubiquitous “coffee shops” are unavoidable. “Coffee shops,” as you may have gathered, don’t specialize in caffeinated beverages. I’m not sure if they even offer coffee at all. Even so, contrary to popular belief, marijuana is not legal in Amsterdam. The Netherlands are part of an international pact to keep weed illegal. But the law just isn’t enforced – it’s not to the country’s economic benefit to do so.

You see, coffee shops do hundreds of millions of euros’ worth of business every year. And a fair share of tourists flock to Amsterdam to get high. When they get high, they get hungry. When they buy food, they buy drinks. After they drink, they pay 50 cents to use the bathroom at KFC (yes, you have to do that). Then they realize it’s cold, so they buy an “Amsterdam” stocking cap (seriously, they’re all over the place). While in the tourist shop they give the postcard rack a couple of twists and high-ly laugh at the postcards of graphic genitalia and cannabis leaves. They decide they’ll send a couple to their friends who couldn’t make the trip. Then they dip back into the coffee shop to repeat the cycle. Surely there’s a trip through the Red Light District (and perhaps a purchase) in there somewhere, too.

Are you following me? As our walking tour guide explained, Amsterdam tolerates just about anything that is to its financial benefit, with weed and prostitution being the most prominently taboo income sources.

You gotta admit it's pretty, regardless of how you feel about the way it financially thrives.

Prostitution – legal since 2000 – is regulated like any legitimate business. The ladies must register, they must be legally eligible to work in Holland, and they pay taxes on their earnings. (Interesting side note: Because weed is illegal, coffee shops don’t pay taxes.) We were told the women charge 50 euros for 15 minutes, in case you’re curious. The owners of the windows where the ladies flaunt their “goods” aren’t pimps but rather businessmen who rent out the windows for 75 to 100 euros a day. In sum, the “landlords” aren’t sex traffickers and the ladies aren't victims. I’m not trying to justify prostitution here. I’m just explaining how Amsterdam does so.

Regarding marijuana…Amsterdam decided against enforcing anti-weed laws in the ‘70s because the city had a raging heroine problem. Police decided to stop worrying about potheads to focus on the harder drug, heroine. Dealers realized they could sell reefer without issue instead of the riskier heroine and voila, the city’s heroine problem eroded and weed exploded. Now, one could argue Amsterdam has had a “weed problem” ever since, but that sort of debate is beyond this scope of this light-hearted blog. 

Clearly not a coffee shop.

So, in sum, Amsterdam isn’t necessarily tolerant because it’s a liberal, progressive city but rather because money makes the world go ‘round. Tolerance equals euro signs. Does getting rich off of industries seen as social ills in other parts of the world make Amsterdam exploitative?

I pose that question rhetorically, and now I’ll tread into less-controversial waters and regale you with way less-interesting adventure tales.

We paid 11 euros at a tourist shop for a boat ride through the canals. I knew better than to pay that much because I always read blogs and guidebooks before travelling, and they insisted I shop around. I went against my better judgment and coughed up 22 euros for the both of us. Then we walked by a company hawking tours for 8.50 euros apiece. Lesson learned the hard way. And we ultimately didn’t get 22 euros of enjoyment out of the ride. A big group of shouting, cackling tourists ruined that one for me. If you’re ever in Amsterdam, I’d recommend you forgo the canal tour and do it on foot for free. 

A “free” walking tour is a much better investment. The name is a bit of a misnomer, however, because it really isn’t free – you’re expected to tip the freelance guide at the end because that’s the only way he or she gets paid. For ours, we paid 10 euros, but it was admittedly worth much more than that. The dang thing lasted for three hours, and our guide did a fantastic job of explaining the intricacies of laws, economics and tolerance.

Interesting tidbits learned on the tour:

-         Catholicism was banned for a couple of centuries in the Netherlands back in the day. Protestants took over the Catholic churches and knocked down the statues of saints adorning the buildings. But remember what I said about financially driven tolerance? The ban on Catholicism was a ban on the books but merely frowned upon in practice because they didn’t want to drive away the wealthy Catholic businessmen, who hid churches inside their homes. 
-    The building that now houses the University of Amsterdam was the birthplace of the modern stock exchange. The mighty East India Trading Company, which was given a monopoly on spice shipments from Asia, began selling shares of its company in the 17th century and was the first business to do so. 

-         There’s a church in the center of the Red Light District. It seems blasphemous, sure, but it was strategic. Sailors would come into Amsterdam and do one of two things: Visit a priest and pay for forgiveness in advance for sexual sins he was about to commit with the lady in the window across the street, or he’d commit said sins with said lady across the street and repent at the church afterward. 

Aforementioned church in the Red Light District

 We took a quick stroll through the Red Light District during the tour, and Todd and I took a few more by ourselves. Everything you've heard about that area of Amsterdam is true: Women really do set up shop in windows illuminated in red. And men really do take the bait (it's a bit awkward because the entrances are right off the street, so you can see the men as they go in). There are also plenty of blush-inducing blow-up dolls and sex toys screaming in the shop windows. But being perhaps the most famous neighborhood of prostitutes in the world, I had high expectations for the ladies. I thought maybe there was fierce competition for spots and there'd be some sort of beauty standards. Let's just say my expectations exceeded reality.

I hate to jarringly and insensitively transition from prostitution to the Holocaust, but unlike Amsterdam's ladies, the Anne Frank House didn't disappoint. The young author behind the world famous WWII diaries hid from the Nazis in Amsterdam with her family and family friends. The building still stands today, albeit as a museum. I've read her diary, and I'm generally fascinated by Holocaust history, so I really wanted to visit. It's a well-planned museum with a ton of information about Anne's life and, ultimately, her death at the Bergen-Belsen concentration camp. Her original diaries (her writings overflowed into multiple notebooks) are there. You actually walk through the rooms where they hid from - and were eventually discovered by - the Nazis. The original photo-covered wall from Anne's bedroom is in there. So is the original bookcase that concealed the door that led to their hiding space in the back of Anne's father's company building. 

The Anne Frank House

  Unfortunately, the furnishings were taken away after the family's arrest, but scale models and photo recreations are on display. It's a somber place and should be treated as so. The worst part is the crush of people moving through the museum simultaneously. I felt rushed and crowded, and I was annoyed by some visitors' ignorance; after multiple mentions of Anne's death at Bergen-Belsen, one guy asked his girlfriend at the end of the exhibit what Bergen-Belsen was. Even so, it's worth a visit.

I would say Amsterdam in general is worth a visit. It's a funky, eclectic place loaded with character and characters. Just stay away from the canal boats and the Amsterdam Dungeon (a haunted-house like attraction that is supposed to recount the city's dark history but really doesn't). Neither are worth your money. It's not a culinary capital by any means, either. However, if you're up for some raw ground beef sandwiches or pea soup, you're in for a treat. 

Before

After

Un saludo, 

Teresa