Ceaucescu Territory

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Bucharest Arrival

And I arrive in Bucharest, the capital of all things bad in the 1980's. The train station is a very big imposing building, with the usual touts & taxi's that come to life when they see such a target appears on the horizon with $$$$ written all over his face.

I find the hostel and instead of tripping over the roots of communism walking in the door, it is probably one of the best organised hostels I have stayed at. The staff are great and there is a good travel crew there at the time. It was Friday evening and there was a bit of a going out vibe in the air, so investigation of the night life of Bucharest comes first, sightseeing will wait until tomorrow. The nightclub was called Fire, and instead of doubling the entry when they saw us coming, they somehow ushered us on, like as if  we were a promotion for the place. The place filled and was alive with locals. A great (and late!) night was had by all. Even the stop off for a bit of grub at three in the morning. Felt like home, except I actually still HAD money in my pocket when I got back to the hostel!!

Roaming About Town

So it's over to exploration of a city that for so long was in the grip of the Ceausescu regime. I get a bus into town and prepare to ware some shoe leather. I wander into the Piata Revolutiei, which as its new name implies was the center of events in Bucharest in December 1989. On the western side of the plaza is the former Royal Palace, on the northeastern side are the Athenaeum (for concerts) and the University Library, which was heavily damaged during the 1989 fighting. On the southeastern side is the infamous Communist Party Central Committee building, where Ceausescu made his last public speech on 21 December 1989.

In the area in front stands a memorial to those that were killed when the demonstrating crowd was riddled with bullets. It's one of the main thoroughfares of the city, but an eerie silence still seems to hang in the air. It's quieter because of it being the local Easter, but there's something about the atmosphere in the area.

I head through the cities historic quarter dating to the 15th century, to get to the scene of one of Ceausescu's biggest crimes, his infamous Palace of Parliament, or 'House of the People' as he called it. To create this and his own Champs Elysees leading to it he cleared a full district of 70,000 people, bulldozing 26 churches, two synagogues and a monastery in what was the cities most historic district. He knew that the people would love his replacement so much more! His Champs Elysees runs 3.2km to the monstrosity of a building. From the square at one end, then to circle the Parliament and back to the square took about an hour and a half to walk. It still functions as Parliament, and any country that would need a building like this to run a country must have a lot going on!! Surely some room at the inn to take in some of those poor Gypsies that are wanting! It was not open as it was the Orthodox Easter. The guards watching each entrance just seem to be chatting to each other on their internal phones trying to amuse themselves. The place is deserted.

'No, no photo, this side military. Other site tourist side', the guard tells me. It seemed almost like he was so bored he was going to invite me into his hut for tea. When I ask one on the 'tourist' side to take a photo for me, he seems almost relieved to have something to do. He tips out the gate, takes a quick look up and down the street to make sure nobody sees him diverting from his duties, and takes a snap for me.

The guidebook touts it as a rival to Prague, not too sure why. A fascinating city to take in, but mostly for the crimes of history. The main street is a drab affair of 60's communist buildings in poor condition. Orthodox Easter is a week after the Catholic Easter, so I get two for the price of one, sort of. Their Midnight Mass starts at 12 (none of this 9 o'clock for the softies out there) and lasts until 6 in the morning, so I gave it a miss. Orthodox Easter celebrations were a BBQ at the hostel instead. My exit from Bucharest is via an early afternoon train to Veliko Tarnovo, Bulgaria. With great difficulty I locate the international ticket desk (not marked in any way) and jump on my train.

And I depart Romania, not a single piano accordion did I see on the street. Cheated I felt!! It seems almost like attracting Americans to Ireland promising them they'll see leprechauns??