M-whY

I got off the tram after four stops, and ventured off the main road in the direction I thought the hostel was. Under a flickering street lamp, I tried making out the tiny print on my map. Bulgaria, like Russia, uses the Cyrillic alphabet, which made things even more interesting. Two blocks this way, turn right, then walk another block, and it should be on my left. The streets were looked deserted; If felt as if not a single soul was up at this hour. Like a scene of a horror flick, I thought to myself.

I expected to the place to be well marked, and the barely-noticeable-in-the-dark sign caused me to walk past the entrance twice before noticing it. I had to ring the doorbell several times before I got any responses, and it wasn't even from someone working there. A guy who happened to have a bed near the entrance was the one heard me and let me in.

He roused a guy sleeping on a couch in the common room. "Hey, there's someone here." Groggily, this second guy led me to a dorm and indicated I should choose from one of empty bunks.

"I'll check you in in the morning," he yawned, then went back to sleep. Pretty beat myself, I kicked off my boots and crawled under the covers.

Noon marked the beginning of Day 1B, as I didn't stir again until then. The guy who was supposed to check me in was still dozing, and rather than interrupt him a second time, I let him be. This place had a real flexible feel to it, and they probably didn't care when I checked in as long as I did eventually. Quietly, I slipped out the door and wandered around Sofia. The Bulgarian capital has even fewer must-sees than the Romanian Bucherest. There was the Party House and the golden skinned chick on a stick facing it. An orthodox church, and a museum that looked promising from these unusual piece of work displayed at the main gate.

What salvaged the day were pavement vendors selling some interesting antiques outside of Aleksander Nevski Church. They had something for every type of collector. Old instruments, coins, matchbox cars. Soviet-era cameras, Nazi war memorabilia, stamps featuring the Fuhrer himself. An old Cyrillic typewriter and some Elvis Presley records. I don't have any experience determining authenticity or value of antiques, but I'm betting some of this stuff could fetch a something on Ebay.

What really interested me was the paper money some of them were selling. I think I began collecting foreign currency back in high school, and if nothing else, this current tour I'm on has significantly expanded my stash. Some of these vendors had notes that were no longer in circulation, or notes that still were but a little harder to obtain. (For example, I don't forsee myself going to Iran in the near future just to pick up some riyali.)

I couldn't resist the opportunity to add to my collection. Flipping through their plastic holders, Yugoslavian dinara really caught my eye. I've always loved currencies that traded at tens of thousands of units to the dollar, because going to an ATM and coming away a millionaire is something that never gets old to me. And even though these notes were probably worth much less, it was fun paying only a couple dollars and becoming a billionaire!

Thanks to everyone for their support and comments! Knowing people are reading keeps me motivated to continue the updates!