One but not united

A Sunday walk through town. Back home I took pleasure in waking early on a Sunday, getting my coffee, bagel and NYT and listening to the sounds of a city coming to life. Enjoying the peace and stillness and then the enthusiasm and drive that push local life forward. This afternoon I ventured out to take a stroll and was met with a ghost town. The town that thinks of itself as a city seemed abandoned. Few cars were on the street, no one walked the sidewalks. The stores were closed, and those open were empty.

I'd always considered Sunday the day that told what people would do if left to their own devices. What was once strictly considered a day of rest is now the time when you do what you needn't coercion to do. In a metropolis it means jogging and brunches and leisurely reads in cafes and farmers' markets and museums and home repairs. People enjoying their interests, living their lives.

Bulgaria, as I'm living it and seeing it, doesn't have a lot of outlets for people's interests. You can meet your friends and have coffee or drinks but other than that it's quite lacking. I've a time or two tried to move my reading into local cafes, just to be out and to do what I might be doing at home. The looks and whispers, however, made it clear that it was a social venue and that I was violating local norms. I became so distracted that I stopped enjoying any part of the experience and returned to my private sanctuary of Brit Pop and tea with milk.

Americans are a nation of joiners. We belong to clubs and subscribe to things. We even have silent memberships with the people who hold our interests and do what we do - people we routinely see at the gym or the guy behind you who orders the unusual thing you were thinking of ordering. Memberships are paradoxically bound as much by what we have in common with other members as they are by what distinguishes us from non-members. Membership, in some ways, is about being an outsider. It follows then that a country still valuing homogeneity and people not rocking the boat doesn't join much. Here there are few clubs and activities to make you join together because there's little interest in standing apart.

My Sunday walk left me feeling alone and longing for Sundays where I joined my interests with others, or at least had multiple options to pursue them on my own. A year later and I have nothing outside my apartment that feeds my love of art or theater or live music or great food or books or independent film or... anything.

At 3 p.m. the town still seemed to sleep. A people isolated by their own similarities.