July 2024
Bucharest is a city of contrasts, where grand boulevards meet crumbling communist blocks, and hipster cafés share walls with Orthodox churches. I arrived in July, expecting a gritty Eastern European vibe, but found a place that’s rewriting its story with every step. It’s not a polished capital—it’s raw, reflective, and full of surprises, like a bookstore-café where I spent hours with a poet named Ana.
I started in the Old Town, a maze of cobblestone streets lined with bars and Belle Époque buildings. It’s touristy but alive, with live music spilling from every corner. I wandered to Carturesti Carusel, a bookstore so beautiful it feels like a cathedral. There, I met Ana, a poet who seemed to carry Bucharest’s history in her words.
Ana, 34, writes about Romania’s past and present. “Bucharest is a wound and a dream,” she said, sipping black coffee. “It’s still healing from communism, but it’s alive with ideas.” She grew up in the 90s, watching the city shed its gray shell. “We’re learning to be free.” Her favorite spot? The ruins of the Old Princely Court at dusk, where history feels alive. Ana’s poetry blends folklore with urban grit, much like Bucharest itself. Her advice? Visit the Macca-Vilacrosse Passage for a coffee and a glimpse of the city’s past glamour.
Skip the Palace of the Parliament’s tourist crowds and explore the Bellu Cemetery, where ornate tombs tell Romania’s story. For a quirky detour, check out the Museum of Broken Relationships, a small space filled with heartbreak and humor. If you’re up for a walk, stroll through Carol Park at sunset for views and quiet. For a hidden gem, try Caru’ cu Bere, a historic beer hall with stained glass and cheap sarmale.
Reflections on Culture, Food, and Habits
Bucharest’s culture is a tug-of-war between its communist scars and its creative rebirth. The food is hearty—sarmale, mici, mamaliga—meant to warm you through harsh winters. Locals eat with gusto, toasting with tuica and debating everything from politics to art. The city’s habits are resilient; people linger in cafés, unafraid to argue or dream aloud. Bucharest feels like it’s still finding itself, and that rawness is its charm. It taught me to embrace the unfinished, to find beauty in the cracks.