It’s been quite some time since I’ve landed in the capital of Romania. I don’t have a clue if this is good or bad. I was born in Transilvania, and coming to live in Bucharest was a bit of a shock. The kind of shock one can never recover from. First the good things. Bucharest is a photographer’s heaven. Not like say… Havana. But definitely interesting. There are lots of smart folks in this city, nice and decent people, artists, or just dudes you can have a nice chat with. You need to buy something, there’s a shop in the city and they got you covered. You wanna go to a concert, there’s one just around the corner. You gotta say something nasty to the government, sure thing… There it is. All in all Bucharest is the brain of the country and a place where diversity is celebrated day by day. But this is where La-Vie-En-Rose ends.
I think Bucharest is the ugliest city I’ve ever lived in. Ceausescu’s program of systematization managed to spoil the charm and panache of the so called Little Paris. And current generations of builders don’t do any better. This city is an architectural kebab.
Nevertheless I like Asmita Gardens buildings.
Tineretului Park and Văcărești Delta are my favorites walking trails close to my home.
There are funny situations I’ve encountered also on the street.
And lots of dogs.
Bottom line, my relationship with Bucharest is a love-hate one. Just like the relationship between the boy and the lamb you saw in the beginning of the story. He hates Vasilică-the-Lamb because he has to carry it around in his backpack. But be sure he loves the poor animal, cause it brings him daily money.
