Sadly, for day three and four Keary had to go back to work so I was mostly on solo missions. But I still made the most of my time (although I absolutely refused to get up and go early and did not get myself out of her apartment before noon either day). On day one I wandered up past Old Town, northwards on Calea Victoriei, with the idea of visiting some museums. That didn't really happen due to just enjoying poking around the city, being aimless, walking my feet ragged. But on day two I did get myself up to the Romanian Houses Museum, which was really worth the journey. I'm a big fan of museums where you can walk around inside the exhibits, touch things, get up close, climb on some stuff. I think it comes from growing up right next-door to the (Ben) Franklin Institute, which is an insanely interactive museum that often encourages climbing on/inside its exhibits. [My all time favorite exhibit as a little kid: climbing through the heart. Philly/South Jersey kids will know what's up!]
Anyway, on day three I headed out at the bright and early hour of 1:30 PM [DECADENCE] and although I had a metro pass, decided I preferred to walk. I learn a city a lot faster that way.
Bucharest really is a strange combination of lovely and hideous. It's kind of schizophrenic and I like it. (Above is the People's Palace, the best example of fascist architecture that I have ever seen.) Architectural montage of beautiful buildings I saw on Victoriei Street in 3... 2... 1....
First National Bank
National Gallery
A shot of the... interesting... man/dog/snake tumor statue in front of the National Gallery, taken at another time.
Traditional Church 1
Traditional Church 2
Possibly my favorite picture from my entire trip. Looking through a rusting fence at a broken down building, windows shattered, ceiling caving in, with a temporary police stand set up in its yard, still somehow managing to maintain some of its grace and mystery.
Monument to commemorate the 1989 fall of Ceaușescu and revolution. I read somewhere that there is a symbolic reason why it looks like an impaled, bleeding turd but I don't remember. What I do remember is that apparently the statue has been nicknamed by locals as "the potato of the revolution". Perfect? Perfect.
The University of Bucharest Library, I think?
This may be something significant but honestly I just thought it was a pretty house.
Pink sky, pink giraffe, pink trees.
Heading up Kisselef Street towards the "Arcul de Triumf", which... is... exactly what it sounds like.
Real original guys.
Just a beautiful sunset, you know, NBD.
Once it got dark I grabbed a taxi and met Keary once again at Beer O' Clock. This is the bar across the alley from that establishment: REHAB. It was empty.
Presenting the 2013 winner of the Best Picture Ever Taken of Me Award (Sarcastic Category).
Dinner, day two. Notice the Silva Braun? I had tripe soup. Funny story: I do NOT like tripe. I didn't know this before but now I do. It tastes the way a goat smells. But the broth was delicious so I soaked up most of that with our bountiful bread basket. Then I ate some baby cow out of a skillet, with potatoes. As you can see from the last photo, I managed to choke it down.
Inside of the Hanul Manuc, the oldest operating hotel in Bucharest. Main takeaway from our brief visit there: the bathrooms were PRISTINE. Philistine, reporting for duty! (Originally, we had intended to have another drink here but we were both so unbelievably stuffed after our dinner that we just kind of rolled ourselves around Old Town for long enough not to feel bad about going home.)
By the way for anyone planning a trip at any point to Bucharest, I highly recommend this place. Student fare (they didn't even ask for ID) was 2 lei. Less than a dollar.
Probably my favorite of all the houses. So tall and pointy!
Orthodox religious art, how I missed thee!
What's a museum of traditional, rural Romanian homes without some chickens wandering the grounds?
This house is built halfway underground on purpose, and according to the very informative sign, was actually not a sign of poverty but in fact the home of wealthy peasants due to the extra amounts of lumber needed to build it. The more you knoooow...
GAH, GEORGIA FLASHBACKS
Adorable little rustic church.
Imposing, large rustic church.
Wine press from the 1800's. So... no I Love Lucy-style feet stomping then?
These photos were from a Muscovite (Russian) house in the eastern region of Romania. It was definitely the most colorful and ornate house of the bunch. I covet these doors. Actually, I coveted all the doors/gates/entrance ways. Here are my favorites:
Just a really cool braided fence.
Can you spot the cat in all of these pictures? After wandering around the museum for about 2 hours I was fairly convinced that this is actually a cat museum and the houses are just there to give the cats something to climb/sleep on. Still waiting to be proven wrong...
(No cat in this photo, just an interesting cross.)
Stump Manor.
Not at all relevant to the museum but I'll be damned if I didn't want to climb into this and do a little drag-racing, 1st grade style. (Also, these cars brought back fond memories of Gabriel. His car was... not dissimilar.)
For day 4, my final meal in Romania, Keary and I went all out at the most expensive restaurant we ate at during the whole vacation. And it was the most worth it anything has ever been. I should mention that for lunch that day I had a pork gyro in Old Town that was so good I wept (internal) tears of joy. So by dinner time I was severely dehydrated from all the walking, but not exactly ravenous. Still, when this beautiful pork leg came out, with accompanying fresh horseradish, mamaliga, peppers, pickles, and various other side bits, I could not be contained. For the skin alone I could spend the rest of my life composing sonnets. The pork meat inside, especially that close to the bone? Forget it. Words fail me. Keary also ordered some mici (Romanian sausage/meatball hybrid, essentially) and although I took a couple bites and found it delicious I could be neither distracted nor deterred from eating from this pork leg until it hurt. Which I did. The next morning, when I once again had to get up at 4 AM in order to get a taxi and catch my flight at 6, I felt deep, roiling, salt-induced heart palpitations of regret. But in the heat of the moment, my love for the other white meat could not be denied. Afterwards Keary and I poured ourselves into a taxi, got some cakes and some wine from her local haunts, and watched Attack the Block. Perfect last night activities.
Finally, some random photos from both days, of various things in Bucharest, like:
park bench
terrifying statue of Vigo the Carpathian/Mark Twain love child
Bucharest parks handling its dog poop situation far more efficiently than New York City has ever managed to
Although I had originally considered taking the exceptionally cheap train ride back to Budapest, it turns out I am becoming an old woman and the thought of another 14+ hours spent in a wifi-less, freezing cold second class train car was just a touch beyond the pale. So I found a slightly more expensive and still time-consuming- curse you, layovers!- return flight through Poland. Still not as bad as the train ride would have been. Still got home with plenty of time to catch the bus to the metro to the train back to Göd, and all was well with the world.
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