I remember that a long time ago, on my account, I once had the courage to call myself the “queen of descriptions.” Back then, even though not very often, I did have inspiration and wrote, in my opinion, long and richly detailed pieces about things that fascinated me at the time. Lately, it feels like I’ve lost that skill, and I’d like to try to bring it back. And my “guinea pig” will be a story about a recent trip to Romania—specifically, one of the dark nights there.
The original goal was to get to Poland, but we found very cheap tickets to Bucharest and thought that seeing another new city is always a good idea. In total, during our 4-day stay, we changed two accommodations. On the first evening, after moving into the second place, we had a must-do plan: to explore the area around the city center. But it was getting dark, and it was raining. Actually, we were quite unlucky with the weather—it followed us on almost all our routes.
But only the weak are afraid of rain, so of course, despite everything, we headed to the center. As it turned out, even though on the map the apartment seemed close, it was still almost two kilometers away. Walking that distance in winter, in the rain, is not the most pleasant experience—but I was in a strangely elevated, cheerful mood, and everything somehow still felt positive. My expectations of an old, historic Bucharest were shattered by reality.
For me, this city became an embodiment—and a rather vivid demonstration—of the Soviet era, with its tasteless gray buildings, mostly square, uniform, Khrushchyovka-style blocks. Not very inspiring, especially if you compare it, for example, to the capital of Hungary, where not only the old center but the entire city has its own unmatched charm and grandeur in every corner. That said, the historic architectural part of Bucharest absolutely deserves admiration and respect, and offers a calm, almost magical walking experience through its streets.
I also want to mention that our route through one of those gray districts included crossing the Dâmbovița River. It was surprisingly cozy, with string lights glowing along the trees, and it caught my eye. I decided to add it to my collection of spontaneous shots that together form my vision of Bucharest.
I’d also like to emphasize something. Taking into account that during the time of mass construction of these giant “apartment cells,” it was probably necessary—because, of course, everyone needs a home—still, the sight of these completely tasteless buildings feels strangely oppressive. Why did the authorities or architects settle on this type of housing? Why did no one think about the future appearance of the city and how it would feel for the people living in or visiting it?
But maybe I’m exaggerating, because not all of Bucharest is like that. During my stay, I photographed many beautiful buildings while walking along certain avenues. Still, it feels strange—in dialogue with modernity—that I’m left with a question for the creators: why mix architectural masterpieces with these gray masses?
It reminds me very much of a Turkish approach, particularly in the city of Manisa, which we visited unexpectedly. There, the main historic mosque of Sultan Suleiman was mixed in with modern, tasteless buildings, almost stuck right onto the historical monument, without any effort to separate or highlight it. Maybe, in some way, it harmonizes within their own kind of illogical harmony.
But let me leave all that behind, because today’s selection includes only the brightest, most pleasant, stylish, and beautiful fragments that I saw in Bucharest. I simply don’t feel inspired to photograph things that don’t attract or fascinate me—I value my phone’s memory too much. So that part will remain described only in words, untouched by my lens.
Right away, I want to highlight a landmark that truly captivated me. With its blue tones, it made it impossible for me to look away. As I later found out, it’s the CEC Palace, which is also the headquarters of CEC Bank, built in 1900. And a symbolic detail—it stands on Calea Victoriei - Victory Avenue.
There were many interesting moments. We wandered through streets lined with charming, beautifully decorated cafés. The architecture, the evening lights, the coziness—all of it was there. We passed by a place hosting a Van Gogh exhibition.
My sister got really excited because she loves his paintings, but there was a long line, and it was cold outside, so we couldn’t wait. Still, I managed to take a few aesthetic shots through the windows.
Another very interesting detail was the colorful cafés set inside transparent dome-like structures, with heaters and tables inside—it created such a romantic atmosphere.
I even captured some shots of artificial flowers. Another place that caught my attention was the Macca-Vilacrosse Passage. The hum of conversations, the lighting, the chandeliers, and the diverse interior drew me in.
They say the passage is shaped like a fork—I didn’t really feel that while walking there, but I was more drawn to the ceiling of the main dome at the entrance. There were many cafés inside, all kind of connected to each other, creating a slightly chaotic atmosphere.
At every step, people were inviting me in, trying to get me to have a cocktail—but I don’t like cocktails. Still, the colorful chairs and heaters really added to the vibe of cold Bucharest—though I think it’s not just Bucharest that has outdoor heaters. There was also beautiful lighting on many buildings.
And one of the more interesting examples of Soviet-style architecture was a round building—probably some kind of technical center selling mobile-related products or something like that, though I’m not entirely sure. You can also find a photo of it in my collection. I guess that’s everything I wanted to share. Thank you all for your attention.
