The Wild East

"A policeman tried to stop us from taking photos,
but was distracted by a random drunk."

The main road Giurgiu-Bucharest was of better quality than I expected. Occasionally there were little stretches of dual carriageway (a little patch of yellow grass to separate the carriageways), but it was mainly 2 lanes of normal traffic.
The outskirts of Bucharest are a collection of white Stalinist concrete tower blocks, which we were admiring, then suddenly the bus swerved across a grass verge and stopped, and everyone got out.
This was presumably the terminus, we had no idea where we were, but luckily a metro station was nearby. A taxi-driver made a half-hearted attempt to lure us inside "Metro ist Kaputt" but we weren't falling for it. The Bucharest Metro system is very good. Tickets were something like 7p a ride.
There was no graffiti, or litter about either- signs of westernisation. Go to Prague or Budapest and the carriages are daubed with graffiti, and there are coca-cola bottles around.

Taylor looked excitedly across the road when he saw the Sydney Bar and Grill, a restaurant he frequented when he was here in '99. We would be eating there later in the evening.

We booked into a hotel, and started to explore.
It was my idea to get lunch at a bakery. It wasn't a good one.
I took a huge bite into my pastry. It was vile, there was the taste half-baked pastry, luke-warm cheese, raw meat…I couldn't finish it, though Mark made a brave attempt to finish his.
We began walking vaguely towards the centre. Looking around I could see why Bucharest gets so much criticism. Want a postcard? There aren't any. In fact there isn't really very much here at all. Even Sofia has much more to see and do.
If there was a stray-dog competition Bucharest would be world champion. Bucharest has 50,000 stray dogs that roam the streets day and night. Every so often the police shoot a few thousand, but they keep reproducing at an ever-increasing rate.

We discovered a new supermarket. It was very small by British standards, and very inefficiently staffed: Two and sometimes three women are employed to pack your bags, but they spend more time gossiping between each other. This is after you have stood in a long queue because only 1 of the 2 checkouts is open (!)

We managed to gain entrance into 'the house of the people' or 'the peoples palace', Caeucescu's (dictator of Romania 1965-89) lunatic invention. It was a Palace, but it certainly wasn't for the people. The tour guide, a young lady of about 20, gave a very personal view of the design and construction, and the devastating effect on the Romanian economy in the 1980s. To pay the 20Billion it cost to build, Romania had to export its food, and there were shortages of virtually everything. She seemed on the verge of tears several times. I think she was new, because she kept confiding in us, telling us things that the guides weren't supposed to say, like how corrupt the new leaders are.
She was concerned that MTs camcorder was picking this up.
She's probably been sacked by now.

We walked back towards the city 'centre'. Bucharest doesn't have a city centre, there are some streets that are busier than others, and some have a few more shops and facilities on. But there is no central square or river.
A policeman tried to stop us from taking photos, but was distracted by a random drunk.

Another problem Bucharest has is a total lack of ATMs. This city of 2.2million has 2 cash machines. It took us over an hour to find one.

We'd seen just about everything that the city had to offer, and embarked on the trek back to the hotel. A 3-legged stray dog ambled across the road in front of us. It epitomised Romania well, pretty much going nowhere.
We trudged back to the Sydney Bar and Grill (avoiding a 8 foot hole in the pavement) only to find it had closed about 6 months ago. Bugger.

We went across the road to the only café, where the nouveau riche/maffioso were siting. It was expensive.
Only bottled German beer was sold for a pricey £1.50 (presumably because it is not cool to drink home-grown stuff). The nouveau rich were drinking expensive (£10+ a shot) brandy, and whisky, and continually talked on their mobile phones.
We played safe and ordered spaggetti, but what we got was a few slivers of cold shredded pasta with a nondescript cheese sauce on top. It was an absolute disgrace, especially for £4.
I managed to stuff mine down because I was so hungry, but Mark understandably left his and began moaning about how he wanted a McDonald's.
The waitresses were extremely rude, but I could understand that. The guests (all Romanians) probably spend more in a night on junk than the waitresses earn in a year. Added to that the New Rich were probably the communists 10 years ago.
The guidebook lists a few decent places, all of which have closed down, so we resorted to McDonald's.

I don't know why but I was beginning to enjoy Bucharest in a macabre way. Maybe it appeals to my naturally cynical nature. This certainly isn't a tacky tourist trap, and I have plans to return!

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