The end of November. Sofia, Bulgaria. I should be wearing a sweater underneath a zipped-up parka. A woolen hat, mittens perhaps. It used to snow here in November – a few centimeters, no more, the pleasant foreplay of winter, but enough for all the horned up skiers and snowboarders to start waxing their toys, glancing up occasionally at the white, diaphanous lingerie of nearby Mount Vitosha (2290 m).