A terrace somewhere in the city of Rotterdam

How good it is to have a terrace in the city center, the birds sing to you, the cars honk, the people talk, you're here when life is happening!

So, today, I had a good day. I went to see my supervisor and talking to him, counterintuitively, helped my stress levels, I felt better and reassured about what I was doing.

Wait, sun is back from behind the clouds, I will come back to finish writing this overly inspirational piece in 5 mins. 

OK, so I'm back but I had to go out, because as I was typing the previous sentence, I was listening to a happy song called "Walking on the Sun" and suddenly the sun reappeared. So, you see, I had to enjoy it. 

After seeing my supervisor, I was on the tram, where I played pick-a-boo with a 1-year-old-or-so toddler, a really cute one. I hid behind the seat, and he laughed heartily, like nothing else mattered in the world. Sometimes, rarely but it happens, children are awesome, they make you smile.

I then got back home, opened up a beer, put on some songs, opened the balcony door and sat on the terrace, enjoying the sun, sippin' my beer and smoking  a cigarette. [yes, smoking is bad and I'm still a non-smoker, except for exam times and the two-three weeks before submitting my master thesis. Understandable, yes? Now get off my case]  I sang out loud, my voice merging with the thousands of other sounds- cars starting up, cars parking, a couple making out right there, a woman opening up the door to a boutique, someone paying for a pair of shoes worth hundreds of euros, laughter, the chocolaterie Specker downstairs where it smells of butter, cocoa and dreams, the wind going through the trees...

At that moment, there was nothing more sublime than the feeling of the great music of the '90s, the cigarette in my hand and the beer. 

The sun's back. So, I'm off... you know where to find me. Listening to the sounds of the city of Rotterdam.

Trumpet in the city

I was going to go for the more obvious and, surely, better selling "sax in the city" but here I am, demonstrating a surprising quality of judgement.

Where I seemingly lack a sense of judgement, however, is my preference in cities. Call me crazy but I don't like London, yet I am so fond of the smaller, dustier, poorer, described-by-many-more-pejorative-adjectives capital of my native Bulgaria, and my home town, Sophia. Recently, a rare opportunity presented itself for me to show that it isn't only for silly subjective reasons that I like Sophia so much. For all its shortcomings, it is a city with soul and life to it. There is particular vibrancy in the spring and summer, when the streets, much like the trees and nature, blossom with colour. Countless small festivals, events and other cultural curiosities sprout in the city.

This time, Sophianites awoke to the sound of 11 old pianos, each uniquely decorated, spread around various locations.

Photograph: Dnevnik.bg

Photograph: Dnevnik.bg

Photograph: Dnevnik.bg

Photograph: Dnevnik.bg

Photograph: Dnevnik.bg

Photograph: Dnevnik.bg

 I was proudly showing a friend of mine around Sophia. We'd been walking around in the sun for a while when we decided to sit down and seek sanity under the shadow of a tree. As we sat and rested our legs, we found ourselves next to a piano which was "dressed" particularly remarkably. Take a look.

A young boy played beautifully, while his friends patiently waited. He finished and I don't think he had even realised we were listening, because he was surprised when he heard our applause. It must have been clear by the enthusiastic, albeit shy, clapping that it was more than just a polite gesture on our part because he continued playing, dedicating the next song to us. We smiled, half coyly, half proud of ourselves.

As he finished his beautifully played song, and just as we wished him and his friends a good day, we saw what must have been the coolest moment, and what was the reason for me to say out loud to my friend: "This is so going in my blog!". First, our heads were pulled in the opposite direction towards a surprising sound. This was no piano. We then saw the source, a friend of theirs, smoothly biking with no hands because his hands were preoccupied playing a trumpet. Yes, take a minute and visualise. You stand up to leave, and out of nowhere, the sound of  a trumpet melts into the symphony of the piano in the summer heat. He was so cool, he could play the trumpet and cycle at the same time, no hands.

When you have a trumpet so breath-taking, the beauty of its reality blows away the semi-accurate, vulgar and easy pun of "sax and the city".