लीविंग Romania

Romania – 30/4/08

It's 7:32 and we're leaving Bucharest to head further south. Today we're stopping off at some caves, a couple of other places in Bulgaria, and then its free camping in the wilds tonight. Tomorrow holds the promise of Istanbul, the gateway to the “frontier” for many of the group. I have felt that this trip really begins there, where the eastern world meets the west, and many like myself are eagerly anticipating the cultural change across the border. Europe is the comfort zone. Beyond lies the unknown.

Romania has been the best place so far. There's a real sense of cultural difference here, especially in the more rural areas where horse-drawn carts vie for road space with thundering lorries. Both are carting their wares to the next town, both are fitting symbols of this changing country. Whilst the modern is creeping in, the traditional survives.

The survival of the traditional can be witnessed in other places too: old women in shawls stand on corners clutching bags of heather; tv channels are full of sanitised visions of a golden Romanian past, burly women in bright-coloured costumes singing folk songs in rural dioramas. But in Bucharest, the capital city, the modern world sweeps away the traditional with a concrete brush: tall grimy blocks rise from the streets, the stained windows staring out across the congested roads. 7 story adverts hang from their dilapidated fronts, Pepsi and Loreal vying for new markets. A giant Penelope Cruz stares like some giant plastic Khmer goddess, down the avenue, towards the “People's Palace.”

This building was built by Chauchescu during the years of his reign. It is the second largest building in the world, 2% larger than the pyramid and Cleops and second only to the Pentagon. Everything in it is built by Romanian skills, and with Romanian materials. There is a 4 ton carpet. A 5 ton chandelier. It took 700 architects to design. 20,000 worked on building it over 5 years, working in 3 shifts, 24 hours a day. Its cost is unknown, the documents holding this information being destroyed during the revolution.



Walking through the congested streets, winding through the old town, Bucharest seems alive with business. Upon entering (name of road) the streets open out onto a wide space, empty of bustle, empty of noise. Atop a small hill squats the “Palace.” Enormous and threatening, it grimaces down on the rest of the city. Chauchescu bulldozed a 6th of the city to clear space for this monstrosity, displacing the population fr his megalomanian vision. Approaching the entrance you are humbled into fear by the faceless, almost inhuman walls. At least with Cathedrals, or Mosques, or memorials, there is some sense of celebration, of the the human ability to build, or to be inspired. There is nothing inspirational or triumphant about this human endeavor. It is design to oppress, to make you cower. Ironically the “People's Palace” is anything but: separated from the city, inspiring fear, it is yet another triumph of Communism at the expense of the people.

We walked for an hour though high vaulted rooms glossed in marble. Cavernous halls echoed with our footsteps, unless cushioned by vast carpets. There are 9 floors, 4 were underground, the top two not being finished yet. According to our guide, we saw only 2% of the entire complex. The vast nuclear bunkers underground were hidden to the public. It is weird walking through such a space, a vast nothing rendered redundant and useless by revolution.

Sadly, in generations to come, when history has erroded the context and the reasons for it being built, people might look on this as a monument of human ability. The regime that tortured thousands, that starved the people, that claimed benevolence when it crushed the population with a fist of concrete and steel, will be remembered not for its rule, but for that ugly, squatting legacy atop that small hill. And people will say “Aren't humans amazing?” I wonder if this is the case with the pyramids, the temples at Angkor, Machu Pichu, stonehenge? Is every man-made world wonder saturated with the blood of its creators?

Its all getting a bit deep isn't it? Its having all this time to think - you start contemplating things in a different way.