Pita

Photos by Dan Hayon excerpts My first adventure in the capital city, sometime in my early adolescence. Confusion and ecstasy, fear and the excitement of the unknown, as though in a foreign country where, strangely, everyone speaks my own language. A dizzying cocktail of

Both me and the editor of the show listened with great delight to the story of the young American, of Romanian origin, who had come back to Romania in search of his roots and to set up a business. The young man had married a girl from Humuleşti, and now he spoke wonderful

In those days they used to go to the Eastern Station, visiting some acquaintances: friends, as they might, after all, also have called them. Except that on this point, at least, Olga was right: they were not their friends; indeed, there was no way or time when they could

Government Palace in Victoriei Sq. a fragment from the novel Derapaj (Skid), Iaşi, Polirom 2006 Maria’s life glowed with a murky sort of splendor, her past, though committed to oblivion, constantly closing in on her and obscuring her thoughts like the spots of a solar

An interview with Dumitru Gorzo by Andreea Ciupercă Dumitru Gorzo from Maramuresh made friends with the Capital that gave him everything, and now he's heading for New York. 'The first time I came to Bucharest, I thought I would die after three days. I somehow

Like most people living and working in Bucharest, I've often wondered what it would be like to live in any other European city, to actually be surrounded by civilized human beings and not to collect a ton of dust on your shoes and clothes after a day's trip to

from left: buildings on Calea Victoriei and at Rosetti Sq. , University of Bucharest, building in Unirii Sq. According to the data from the latest statistical yearbook published in 2002, the average income per capita outside Bucharest is 82% of the average income of a person

top row: around Bishopric St. , Capşa restaurant, Magheru Blvd. , in Cismigiu gardens (see also Them in Gallery) If we take an X-ray of the articles published by the major Romanian dailies, we get an overwhelming abundance of unsettling, grotesque events created by outbursts

Bucharest is a city that is difficult to describe, and difficult is a term that tends to suggest the word impossible. Many of us have probably at least once in our lifetime been in the situation of talking about the city that we live in. And, just as probable, among the

Go take a walk down the boulevards of Bucharest these days and breathe deeply. With your nostrils widely open. What a wonderful scent of spring! Without feeling it, in this package made up of the perfume of snowdrops and violets, you have just breathed in some sulfur oxides,

Peeled off plaster, broken windows, rats scuttling at ease day and night. And above all, the filth. Complete and utter filth reigning supreme over a piece of downtown Bucharest. But also over a piece of our past. The only part still living is the sign above the door, reading

Red bricks are the distinctive feature of this construction, next to the white rosette, a huge round window above the main portal: thereby, the reader has most certainly recognized the Archbishopric of Saint Joseph's Cathedral. It is one of the landmark buildings in