Small bands of domestic dogs have shown up roaming streets on the outskirts
of Sofia, most of them abandoned by their masters who can no longer afford
to feed the animals.
A Bulgarian informed my wife and me that the average salary for his countrymen
is now between $10 and $15 per month. Translated into leva, the Bulgarian
currency, that amounts to about 18,000 to 24,000 leva per month, or about
700 leva per day (slightly less than 50 cents in U.S. currency), perhaps
enough to purchase a small lunch at a downtown restaurant.
Most Bulgarians earn barely enough to pay their bills, I was told. Few can
afford to spend money in the shops and kiosks that line the streets of downtown
Sofia.
One way to put the leva in perspective
is that a bunch of bananas cost about 2500 leva, or about two- to three-day's
salary.
My Bulgarian friend spoke of a former uranium miner who hasn't worked in
seven years. That miner's children help him and his wife meet their daily
needs.
Shops in the downtown area are a mixed bag: Large department stores, whose
clerks aimlessly lounge or chat in tight clatches, have half their shelves
empty. Whatever stock is available is on the shelves; there are few options
or varieties of styles or sizes. What you see is what you get.
Some shops with foreign goods are well stocked. They are frequented, I was
told, by wealthy German, Yugoslavian, and Italian tourists who come to stay
in the stately hotel in the center of the city.
I saw one auto dealer with prices listed in German Marks, 17,000 DM will
buy a new sedan. With the German Mark exchanging somewhere around 800 leva,
the average Bulgarian would have to work close to 30 years to earn enough
to purchase a new car. Obviously, such shops are mere decorations on the
Sofia streets.
My wife and I traveled here on
personal family business, not as tourists. We spoke to no diplomats, no
politicians, no officials, no journalists. We were guests of American friends
working in Sofia and were guided around the city by a Bulgarian friend of
theirs.
This nation between the Black Sea and the Pirin Mountains, a former Soviet
Republic still reeling from the communist-Socialist era, stands as a diamond
in the rough in Eastern Europe.
In 1990, the five-pointed star of the Supreme Soviet was lifted from the
steeple of Communist Party Headquarters in central Sofia, a new hope of
democracy, focused in a new president driven by a democratic dream, filled
the nation with optimism.
Two years later, the same crowds that cheered the democratic hope demonstrated
for the president's dismissal. In his place, a new communist government
-- Socialist in name only -- tried to retain the Soviet economic aura.
Last month, following about 30 days of peaceful demonstrations by democracy
supporters on the brick streets in front of the national government buildings,
the Socialists agreed to call new elections.
By the time this article is read, those elections will have taken place
and will probably serve as a litmus test for the future of Bulgaria.
[UPDATE: On April 19, a pro-democracy coalition won more than 52 percent of the seats in parliament. The pro-democracy party's leader was elected prime minister.]
No matter how the government goes,
the economy lies in shambles and most experts say it will take a minimum
of a decade and massive amounts of foreign investment for the nation to
recover. Most Bulgarians resignedly agree with that assessment. Rumors tell
of the imminent failure of one or two of the banks that are still operating.
Sofia shows signs of a city in throes of economic crisis.
Potholes are as common as dust, even on major thoroughfares. The city appears
coated with a veneer of gray, and were it not for the brightly colored winter
clothes worn by many residents -- two inches of snow fell on Sofia on the
first day of spring -- the dominant colors would be gray and the rusty orange
of the trolley cars.
The city's electric buses are big and painted blue, but every one I saw
appeared not to have been cleaned in months. The blue had turned to a grimy
blue-black.
Street signs are big, mostly written
in Cyrillic, but occasionally one sees a sign in English. The billboards
appear the cleanest items in the city.
In a week of roaming the city, I saw only one construction project ongoing.
The skeletons of reinforced concrete buildings, apparently unfinished when
the Soviet structure collapsed, sit still unfinished, mute testimony to
the treading of water that appears to mark contemporary Bulgaria.
Sofia has a reputation for being a key entry for drug-runners in Eastern
Europe and into Western Europe.
When I commented on the heavily armed guards at the airport, I was told
that the city recently was known as a chief staging ground for Palestinian
terrorist organizations and that until very recently the entire airport
was shut down whenever a flight arrived from or departed for Tel Aviv, Israel.
Mafia influence is well known, especially in the auto insurance industry.
A joke in Sofia is that if you have the right insurance and your Saab is
stolen, you'll get one like it back from the insurance company, but another
driver of a Saab who is not insured by the same company will be reporting
a stolen car.
Hustlers prey on tourists downtown
offering high exchange rates for foreign currency. In exchange for a $20,
the tourist gets a "block" with about 60 cents worth of leva on
top and worthless paper underneath.
A security police force of internal affairs still monitors mail, both electronic
and written, and police control just about every affair of life.
Through these crises, Bulgaria remains a proud nation with a high sense
of culture and intelligence. Studies of national intelligence rank Bulgarians
second in I.Q. to Israelis, and Bulgarian pupils rank fourth among all the
world's secondary students in achievement scores in science and mathematics.
For the meager finger hold that democracy claims in the Bulgarian government
to become a firm grasp, massive amounts of foreign aid from democratic nations
will be required.
With neighboring Yugoslavia apparently
split at the seams and nearby Albania in a state of chaotic anarchy, Bulgaria
is glancing carefully at its neighbors, trying to absorb lessons while it
focuses on its internal affairs.
Russians, Germans, Italians and other European neighbors continue to flock
into Bulgaria for its Black Sea beaches, its Pirin Mountain ski resorts,
and its cheap wares in its cities. Shoppers in downtown Sofia, I was told,
are foreigners: Yugoslavians or others who earn their pay in German Marks
and scurry to Sofia in search of bargains. In a way, Bulgaria is being looted
not by street-marching, window-smashing mobs but by sophisticated international
operators.
My sense is that the time is rife for western democracies to export to this
struggling nation something more than McDonald's and Marlboros.
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Allan R. Andrews can be contacted at allan.andrews@reporters.net