Sofia is a city where Roman, Ottoman, Orthodox and communist histories overlap.

More importantly (at least for the purposes of this letter), it is a city with cigar lounges.

Unlike much of Western Europe, Bulgaria still allows indoor cigar smoking.

An opportunity I welcomed.

Tucked away inside the Hotel Marinela is a small, discreet cigar lounge. You will find it on the left-hand side as you enter the lobby.

We were greeted by an elderly gentleman wearing a red waistcoat.

He seemed as though he had operated the lounge for decades, less an employee and more part of the furniture.

I felt right at home as he ushered me towards the small humidor beside the bar.

The humidor was sparsely stocked, nevertheless the little that remained was of quality.

Three choices:

The Hoyo caught my attention.

Wrapped around it was an ornate band bearing the name José Gener, founder of Hoyo de Monterrey. It was a band I did not often encounter.

This stick had to be added to the collection.

Holding it, one might briefly feel like Don Corleone.

The cigar itself, however, offered an entirely mild experience.

Smooth as butter, it never came close to overwhelming me. It simply occupied its place within the room.

A statement.

A monument of a cigar.

Having smoked several full-bodied cigars in the days before, the gentle Hoyo was a welcome guest.

Beauty is subjective.

Not only from person to person, but from one moment to another. Context changes what we want, what we appreciate and what feels right.

On this particular evening, beauty felt almost objective:

Great company.
Great lounge.
Great cigar.

What more could one ask of life?

I have smoked cigars half its size that delivered far more force. This was a cigar one could genuinely relax with.

No cold sweat, no struggle, no contest between the smoker and the cigar.

Just time to be savoured.

I was there with a friend I have known for over a decade, the kind of company in which silence never feels uncomfortable and conversation never needs forcing (though between us we are seldom lost for words).

As much as the Hoyo contributed to the experience, it was the lounge and the company that ultimately completed it.

Cigars are often threads running through a well-lived life.

They connect us to rooms, cities, conversations and people. Yet it is often the company we keep, and the environments built around cigar culture, that make the ritual so meaningful.

Remember, a good life is not only made by where we go, but by who we share the room with when we arrive.

José Gener y Batet was 13 years old when he left Catalonia, Spain for Cuba.

He arrived in 1831 and began working on his uncle’s tobacco plantation in Vuelta Abajo, the region that would become synonymous with the finest Cuban tobacco.

Gener spent the following decades learning the trade.

Then, in 1860 at the age of 42, he acquired an especially fertile plantation near San Juan y Martínez. Above its entrance reportedly appeared the words:

“Hoyo de Monterrey. José Gener. 1860.”

The word hoyo means a hollow or low-lying basin. The name referred to the geography of the estate: a fertile depression known as Monterrey.

Five years later, Gener registered Hoyo de Monterrey as a cigar brand.

What began with a 13-year-old boy crossing the Atlantic became one of Cuba’s most enduring cigar houses. More than 160 years later, his name still appears on some of their bands, José on one side, Gener on the other.

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Until next time.

Yours truly,
The Cigar Lover

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