Contrasts in Sofia part one

Sofia like other post communist capital cities is a place of contrasts. The centre a mix of narrow streets, old buildings and stray dogs blending uneasily with high fashion outlets, cosmopolitan bars, restaurants and construction sites. It is knitted together by a ceaseless seam of cars and people. Off the wide main downtown boulevards the narrow side streets are a cultural patchwork of crumbling buildings, ankle high convenience stores, Turkish, Lebanese, Chinese, Japanese and Mediterranean restaurants, junkshops, fruit and vegetable markets, second hand emporiums, tea houses, coffee shops and Jewish bakeries.

On my way to a large outdoor market down a narrow dusty street that was home to both a synagogue and a Caterpillar earthmover I encountered a traditional barbers shop. The shops only occupant a dark haired man sitting quietly smoking and playing backgammon. The TV a soundless flickering ghost of an old movie for company. I asked first in Slovak then in English if I could photograph his shop. He replied without hesitation “Of course” After carefully considering and moving a piece on his board he added “You from London?” Our brief conversation amounted to him telling me he had lived in Sofia for ten years, was married and had a family.

“Business”? I looked around the shops corkboard walls, makeshift counter with two office chairs facing two picture frame mirrors, various religious icons, family snap shots, unlabelled bottles of lotions and potions, brushes, combs, a hairdryer and clippers hanging form the wall on a hook all bathed in a dusty unforgiving florescent wash of light. “Slow” He replied.

Contrasts I kept telling myself as the December chill bit my face and tears rolled down my cheeks. A few streets away I had been drinking hot tea made from fresh mint and cedar kernels after a steaming bowl of chicken couscous in a beautiful new Moroccan restaurant. Contrasts.