Kastos, Greece, September 9th 2020.
Fiskardo, Greece, September 9th 2020.
It’s been a few months and one season since my last walk around Cotroceni. With the holidays behind us, this time I’ve found the neighbourhood much quieter. Just the usual stoplight honks, but as soon as you start to stroll by the doctor named streets, the city’s noise suddenly calms down.
I’ve started my afternoon journey from Eroilor Metro station and, of course, I couldn’t resist the urge to “inspect” the bridge’s views.
The streets were empty. The sidewalks were white and slightly cleaned up. The only noticeable sounds were the dogs’ barks and the squeaking footsteps over the snow.
Hi there, mini mustard van! You’ve grown taller since our last encounter.
I’ve felt the awkward climax of nostalgia when the orange box of an ancient street payphone got in my way. Must have been a truly romantic scene to hear it ring back in the days.
And the never outdated street fluffy bathrobes.
My worst nightmare, red dotted buildings. The red stands for the high seismic risk. Bucharest’s old districts are full of these. Sadly, some of the signs have fallen due to the wear of time or thanks to the caring landlords.
At the edge of the winding Romniceanu Park, I took a few steps up the hill and there it was, sober as usual, The Carol I National Defence University.
Back on the bridge, the time has passed, colours have changed, couldn’t have turned down the offer.
“Casa Radio” (The Radio House) one of the biggest ruins left by the Communist Regime in Bucharest.
The end of the day caught me on the stairs of the National Opera House watching this spectacular sunset.
The children of Dristor going/being dragged to school.
Take your baby kid to work day.
That moment of the day when McDonald’s’ parking is empty and quiet.
Random morning thought: It’s a common belief that dogs look like their owners. If one has 2 pets, is that a sign for multiple personalities disorder?!
Queues will never die.