A recent Tuesday started off as a beautiful, sunny, autumn day. I was well organised for the day with a series of appointments ahead of me. First stop: delivering guides to the Museum of National History. The sunshine and picturesque setting added to my cheer and lots of friendly greetings were exchanged.

Next was an 11am meeting in the city centre. Traffic on Bulgaria Boulevard was relatively relaxed (another reason to be in a good mood).

As I came to the corner of Fridtjof Nansen Street and Vassil Levski Boulevard, there was a cluster of pedestrians trying to cross. I stopped and gave them the signal to go ahead, waiting patiently. Suddenly I noticed, to my left, a big, black vehicle trying to push past my car (there was really only room for one car). I looked in horror at the driver of the black Mercedes who seemed quite prepared to mow down the pedestrians. At that moment, I noticed the blue and red flashing lights in the front of the vehicle. As soon as it was safe to, I drove on and then pulled over into the right hand lane so that the Mercedes could pass.

Before I realised what was happening a policeman (who was standing on Levski Boulevard) pulled me over, demanded my documents and wandered off talking on his phone for several minutes. After 10 minutes, he returned them to me.

Exactly what did I do wrong?" I said.

"You obstructed a government vehicle," he said.

"But you saw that I pulled over to the right as soon as I was able to move."

"Actually, I didn't really see what happened - they called me to complain from inside the car - when you see government cars with flashing lights you must get out of the way immediately," he said. The policeman was actually quite polite and friendly. "I've had to record that you have been warned."

With that, he still briefly enquired as to how long I'd been in Bulgaria and whether I was married to a Bulgarian. I couldn't help but sense that he felt uncomfortable about the situation. I was now late for my meeting and as I thought about his words and the whole scenario, I started to seethe.

I don't know who was in that car and what their hurry was - it could have been the president for all I care - but does it really give you the right to be a law unto yourself and behave in such a disrespectful (and arrogant) manner towards other people?

For 15 years now, I have watched the pretentions of ministers and government officials and seen how little they really care about their country or their people (with a few genuine exceptions).

Several years ago, an acquaintance actually witnessed a "government vehicle" knock down a pedestrian, then scoop her up and throw her into the boot of the car. There was no way to ever find out what happened to this woman, as it never made it into the news and our friend was too scared to enquire. It would have identified her as a witness.

When I finally got to Shipka Street, many of the blue zone spaces were taken. I did spot a space, but it appeared a bit tight. The driver of the adjacent car was still waiting for the attendant, so I asked her politely if it was possible for her to reposition her car in such a way that two cars could use the space.
"Ne moga" was her reply, which baffled me so much that I thought that maybe she had broken down. No, she just couldn't park her car any better (or wasn't going to try) and the attendant also didn't seem to care that one car took up two valuable city centre car park spaces.

That was it - my good mood had completely evaporated in a matter of 20 minutes.

For years I have tried to promote Bulgaria in a positive light, but recently I find myself getting more and more disillusioned and the arrogant and stupid behaviour described above deeply hurts me. Why? Because incidents like these happen to many of us on a regular basis and that is what makes it so sad. Bulgaria is sick - is there any way to stop the cancer?

Thank goodness the sun is still shining… At least it nourishes the hope in me.

Paromita Sanatani is Editor-in-Chief of Sofia - the insider's guide.