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".