Sofia
by Nikolai · 18 June 2026 · Biography & Memoir
The street where Nikolai grew up: pharmacy where bookshop was, coffee chain where pharmacy was. What stays: Vitosha, balcony tomatoes, the same tram routes. His sons in Berlin and Toronto find Sofia changed and familiar. A city that only changes or only stays has given up. Sofia hasn't.
The street where I grew up in Sofia has a pharmacy where the bookshop used to be, a coffee chain where the pharmacy used to be, and nothing where the ironmonger used to be because the building was demolished in 2004 and they put up something glass that I still haven't identified the purpose of. This is not a complaint. Cities move. I'm sixty-five and I've watched this city move through more phases than most European cities manage in twice the time.
What I notice is what stays. The mountain is still there — you can see Vitosha from the end of my street on a clear day, which is roughly as often as it was clear when I was ten. The women in my neighbourhood still grow tomatoes on their balconies in summer, the same way they did in 1975, and the tomatoes still taste the way I remember. The trams still run on the same routes they ran when I was young, slightly newer but not much faster.
My sons are in Berlin and Toronto. They come back for a week in August and find the city changed and also find it familiar, which is the correct response. A city that only changes or only stays the same is a city that has given up on something. Sofia hasn't given up.
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