There exists, within our understanding of a city, a second map. What some might call a true map, which shows that place not as it is, but as we've, in the past, experienced it. An emotional map, and every man, through every city, at any time, walks in accordance to that map, more than any other.
A friend introduced me to the concept of emotional maps, and it fascinated me from the very first. This idea that we, each of us, experience the same place on vastly different planes, according to the events and relationships lived in that place. I've built my own understanding of the world by this concept. I think we all do, and today, I wanted to share a place that's very dear to me.
Funnily enough, it was through this dear friend that it became so, or rather, she was the first person I found I could share this place with, as it's just a few minutes' walk from both our homes.
Right near where I live, there's this wonderful, residential neighborhood. Very quiet, elegant, but not overly posh. Though I think, even if it was, I'd make an exception, and I'd love it. 'Cause I can't think of a better place to be than Cotroceni, right in my native Bucharest.
A place of majesty
Today, Cotroceni serves as the official home of Romania's President. The Romanian White House, if you will, and for good reason. Once, hundreds of years ago, this beautiful, winding hill was covered by a dense forest. It was here that Serban Cantacuzino (Romanian ruler in the 17th century) erected an important monastery, which later became a royal palace, under Carol I (Charles I, Romania's first actual king).
Like most places, the name was used to describe the place. As I know it, the area was christened after an old, out-of-use word that meant both to rummage and to shelter. It was a reference to the bandits and thieves that once hid in the lush forest atop this hill. A place that harbored both anointed majesty, as well as roadside thieves ~ there's something about that duality so appealing to me.
Today, Cotroceni is mostly a rich people area, though not so much, if you were to look at the people standing outside their gates on a Sunday afternoon. It's a beautiful mash-up of old houses in a variety of architectural styles. You've got 1920s, you've got traditional Neo-Romanian designs (not sure if that's how it's translated), Gothic architecture, Mediterranean windows, and of course, uber-modern glass constructions.
... yet, unlike most places, it's not tiring for the eye. It's novel. And sure, I'll occasionally walk by a house and shudder at the bright pink renovation, or the windows that don't mesh with the rest of the building. Just a couple of days ago, I came upon a house that had this beautiful, white-arches, elegant balcony. The current owners had installed brown PVC windows over the arches. Good God.
But all in all, it's a marvel.
A spiritual home
I was recently talking with that friend, and we both agreed that Cotroceni is home. Once you enter this beautiful neighborhood, even if you're still 15-20 minutes away from home, this counts as it.
I let my guard down when I come here. I feel like I no longer need to be me who ventures without, but the me from home. Here, there's nothing to fear. Here, I'm at ease. I can process my day. There's a feeling of belonging like nowhere else in the world.
I mean, I love London. I love a lot of places, and many feel like home, but this actually is home. There's days when I don't feel like going out, but usually talk myself into a short walk around the neighborhood. I never regret it, 'cause in a way, being here is like spinning around my own head.
Much as I dislike the word, it's got this brilliant vibration that resonates.
Weekends especially. I went shooting there yesterday (which is where all the photos in this post are from, actually), and there's nothing like weekends in Cotroceni. You've got everyone out in the middle of the street. Couples holding hands. Parents pushing strollers, and old folk walking the dog. It's almost like a corny commercial, except the context excuses it of the inherent corniness.
It's safe. Everything about this place is safe, and you seldom get a car during the weekend. The ones that pass are mostly locals who drive slow, and don't honk if you're walking in the middle of the road. Children play. It's the only place in our modern metropolis where I've seen that.
Last Sunday, we went walking here in the evening, and came upon a group of small kids, neighborhood kids, out in the street, playing around. Parents standing somewhere down the street chatting. Some at home. A dad said good evening as he passed us by. Not to get corny here, but it's the sort of place where people say hello and good evening, and they smile if they see you take in the inherent beauty of this place.
My grandfather grew up here, but he died almost 20 years before I was born. My great-grandmother, his mom, outlived her son here, and died alone, and largely self-reliant almost to the last. After which, they sold the house, as far as I know, though mom will often point it out when we go by. It's in disrepair now, and sometimes, I wish we'd kept it.
I long for a house on the earth, and a yard. And I think, if I chose to live in a house inside the city (as opposed to the country), it'd be in a place like this. Not for the good reputation, but for the feeling.
It's the sort of place I'd let my kids grow up in. It's where I went to school.
It's also the one place I came to every day, without fail, for those horrible 2 months in 2020. The restrictions just about covered the distance, and luckily, there's an open-air market nearby, so I'd say I was going there. It felt, with the pretty houses, the quiet streets, and the street vendors, almost like a small, compact village.
What I always found funny (and infuriating) about the lockdown was that most days, I'm glad to stay in this small near-home radius. I just never could stomach them telling me I had to, you know?
Next weekend's gonna be a street fair in Cotroceni. Kinda like a yard sale thing, with all the neat coffee shops (did I mention there's a host of great coffee places here? Naturally) involved and pitching in. It's great, wholesome fun, even if the prices are a bit high. I won't be here next weekend, alas, I'll be in Scotland, but hopefully next time.
I don't know how much my photos and words can convey, of all the history and love I have for this place, but I figured I'd try. I figured, tempting as it is to show off all the nice foreign places I've been to, why not shine a light on this next-door haven, for a change?
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