Last night we went out on the ‘town’. We went to the old town and like carefree teenagers we went to a couple of bars that we had spied earlier in the day. It felt obviously very different from during the day, but there were still the young women outside the restaurants, charming us in. I was glad there wasn’t lots of hard sell, as this road in particular had them popping up in every direction. We declined all advances, we were still quite full from our picnic.
Working from home, I don’t seem to ever dress up, so an opportunity like this is very welcome. My £1.20 Joanne Hope dress has certainly been a great buy, with pockets, what’s not to love!
The first bar we went to was called Bazaar. I loved the music blaring out, so eclectic, one minute Gloria Gaynor, the next Wham. A buy one get one free night, so a very cheap night. The barmaid looked like Jenna Ortega.
This is what I mean about reviews, this one was damning, Sweet waiter, but just bad food. The food looked like something out of the freezer. The atmosphere were some kind of dark and not very pleasant to eat in. – a one-star review, whilst this was 5 stars and pretty much what we thought: Lovely place. Stopped off to have a drink as it said 2 4 1 beer on a Monday and Tuesday . Sat outside but the inside looked great. Staff inc Gabrielle were great and friendly. Would go again!
It has been lovely, just relaxing and having a good time. After a while we went to another bar, it was grungey and arty. Staying up past 9 o’clock has been a novelty.
Another good sleep, and we were ready for the next day of adventures. We had a long, long lie in, which seemed to annoy the cleaner, who knocked twice at our door. We ate pastries and watched Romanian television. It is pretty bad, but considering they didn’t have colour TV until 1983, they have come a long way. Most of the channels we found were generally people in national costumes singing against a variety of backgrounds. Romanians are proud of their agricultural roots and their relationship with nature, so most backgrounds were in the countryside.
We have walked everywhere since getting here because everything has been in close proximity, but today we were venturing out further afield. The underground is a minute or two away from the hotel.
Two journeys that can be taken at any time costs 6 lei, which is the equivalent of £1. To have a reasonable and reliable transport network in the UK would be fantastic. Our destination was the Dimitrie Gusti National Village Museum, an open-air ethnographic situated in the King Michael I park.
A beautiful park, very autumnal but at odds with the very warm weather.
Dotted along the path were busts on plinths of various famous Romanians and people Romanians admire. So, there was Balzac Mark Twain in a Romanian park.
I’m not certain why they particularly like these two literary figures, but the only connection I could find with Mark Twain and Bucharest is an International Mark Twain school. The first and oldest one in Bucharest, opening in 1995.
Then we came to a memorial that jolted my memory about what Romania had been infamous for, orphanages. This memory was triggered by a memorial for Michael Jackson.
Two years after the revolution, Jackson played to a crowd of over 90,000. He donated money to the orphanages, of which there were many at the time. Visiting orphanages and bringing more scrutiny and awareness. Reading the English language chat rooms here, there has been a lot of debate around the Romanian relationship with Jackson, but the overall feeling is that he did good things, and the focus should be on that. There is even a dedicated Michael Jackson radio station here.
Because of Ceausescu’s stance on anorion and birth control, the numbers of babies and children who could not be looked after escalated in the 80s and 90s. Female factory workers would be checked every three months for potential pregnancies. If they were found to be pregnant, they were monitored. If they didn’t give birth, they were thrown in prison. Overall, it is estimated that over 500,000 children passed through this system. Mistreated, starved of love, warmth, and food in appalling conditions. The grimmest treatment was meted out on disabled children. Mortality rates were high and rarely if ever were they connected to their disability. Investigations found children had been locked in cagesm even eaten by rats. The scale of the abuse was catastrophic.
There have been investigations to try to uncover what happened and to bring those connected to justice. Although it is felt by Romanians that this was a chapter in their history that is best forgotten. But those who experienced the system still bear the scars. One survivor said, “I don’t blame them. A lot of them were not educated to work with disabled children, and it was impossible for so few people to manage so many children. A lot of them had sympathy but would be punished by the meaner, older workers if they tried to help too much.”
Then there was the furore around adoptions. When the world found out the atrocious conditions in the orphanages, the solution seemed to be adoptions. It was an utter free for all. Known collectively as “Ceausescu’s children, they were farmed off to all corners of the globe.
The number of adoptions to families abroad skyrocketed in 1990 and 1991, the first two years after the end of the Ceausescu regime, with more than 10,000 adoptions to foreigners registered by Romanian NGOs. Money changing hands, corruption rife. Now, as adults some have tried to uncover their birth stories, but such were the systems in place, it has proved to be a futile quest
Adoptions out of Romania have now ceased. But I think it was one of the conditions for joining the EU.
So after Pete did some moonwalking around Michael Jackson’s memorial, we carried on with our journey. His moonwalking was very enthusiastic but not that good.
From here, we carried on the museum passing the Arc de Triumphe or Arcul de Triumf in Romanian.
On our way back, there was quite a buzz as someone had been knocked off their bike. Based on how many emergency vehicles there were, it didn’t look good.
It wasn’t the easiest to find the entrance to the museum, but after a few false starts, we managed it.
So far, everyone has been really solicitous and smiley. This changed today, when we bought the tickets from the most stoney faced and miserable woman. I got really flummoxed and proceeded to give a dazzling smile (or so, I thought). She was not going to be won over. Her face remained the same throughout. I have picked up that government funded places have staff that really don’t give a monkey’s, but elsewhere, they are definitely friendlier.
It was time for another rest, I have had lots of them as I am sick of wearing this boot! We headed to the cafe, a building from the Prahova County from the 19th century. All the buildings ha e been moved and saved from across Romania. It was so sunny and warm, we sat outside. The food was in keeping with the ethos of the museum, traditional and tasty.
We had grilled cheese, with rice and salad. Pete felt very nostalgic as it made him remember a similar meal with Andrew, his brother in Hungary. It was very tasty, washed down with traditional lemon, ginger, and mint tea.
“The creation of the Village Museum is the result of intense and sustained theoretical and field research, of museographic experiments, for over a decade, coordinated by Professor Dimitrie Gusti, founder of the Sociological School in Bucharest.” According to their website. Romania has quite a diverse population and this was reflected in the architecture.
On the edge of the lake, in the middle of a park,it made for a lovely day.
I really liked these masks in the gift shop but they were wildly expensive.
Heading back to the underground, we had another pitstop opposite a massive skate park. Mostly youngsters doing death-defying acrobatics, using scooters. Some of them went really high! Luckily we didn’t see any accidents.
On the way back to our hotel, we went into the very swanky Grand Bucharest Hotel, got the lift to the top floor, and took panoramic photos of Bucharest.
Back to the hotel for another break before going out.
Random Acts of Travelling 