Little Bloc by the River

Yes! Welcome to Sofia, city of the imagination. We didn't have as smooth of luck couchsurfing here as in Bucharest, but found a charming small hostel right away. Our hosts in Bucharest were strikingly good-looking, long-haired Moldovans with boundless hospitality. They had a painting on their door pictating the following rules: No ice cream; no boots; no heroin; no big boobs; doobie okay. We asked, why no big boobs, & Alex said he no longer appreciated them. We asked, what if someone with big boobs showed up with a doobie, & he thought for a long time & said "she could hang out." Bucharest is a city with humongous gray buildings imposing along every grand boulevard, culminating in this bafflingly huge palace, the second-largest building in the world (after the Pentagon) which all Bucharest residents begrudgingly ignore (it was built by their old wacky dictator.) Grainne Proinseas spent all day getting some footage for some mini-documentaries, which we're narrating in an exaggerated Werner Herzog impersonation. I wish I could divulge more about this project, but I am bound like a furious chasm.

Mr Quill & a friend met us in Ruse on the border, where we were met with rakia, traditional bulgarian feast, pub-crawling, & a drink on a yacht in the dirty Danube. It was the night before the election, & the sure-to-win center-right Gerb (flag) Party was sponsoring some national dance in the town square, this dancing was so tight. It ended with fireworks on July 4th, which worked out fine for us. We have several more places to hit around Bulgaria before we go with Mr Quill up to the Big Little, & we plan to work on some of the Herzog narration around Sofia today & elsewhere this week. He's been discussing the mannequins, which are terrifying & ubiquitous in this town. Pictures to come. Mr Olaf Mary & I have been learning new songs on our two ukuleles, so we will hit the streets today & hope to make enough leva for domen & the nasty beer in this land.