2005-The year it all started
2004 was the year that called for the last trains into emerging Romania. Or so I felt, within my deepest layers. And on I jumped, hopeful, happy, unsure… but ecstatic with thoughts of being home again.
Time seemed to be insufficient, as discovering or rediscovering Bucharest is a full time job. Coming from New York City, inertia was making me look for references that were familiar: I wanted to find the SoHo of Bucharest, I wanted to see live bands that not everyone and their brother knew of, I was looking for the people who stenciled the walls, I wanted to walk inside yards and deserted houses, I was longing to meet with the artists who conveyed the beauty of the city, I was curious about Chinatown or if there even was anything like it. And I looked for all this not because I couldn’t get the city’s nuanced identity from what’s been here all along, but because I knew that there just had to be pipes that defined Bucharest differently than the news, the books, word of mouth, or the recollections debated over a beer.
I just wanted to find that undercurrent made out of people and their aura that lured me back to Bucharest. I knew there had to be some sort of network, ephemeral, not easy to find, hard to grasp, difficult to explain, pretense-free, overflowing with attitude, and sometimes boiling and spilling over with opinions. But where was it, really, and how can I weave my way in?
It took me a year. It was already the end of 2005, and, just when I expected it least, the inevitable crossing paths with Bukresh happened, effortlessly and naturally, while talking to Milos one afternoon: “what, draga, you cannot find Romanian underground. Please, have you used a computer before?”
My search was over, discovery began.
A year later I have traces of hot stamps all over me: Vlad Nanca, Sipotul Fantanilor #15, teatrul de vara, Bumbapa, Stefan Tiron, Sinboy, Omagiu, insula din Lacul Morii, Gypsy Bogdan. But I’m the black sheep, as I love to love Bukresh.
PS-I don’t know if it was a coincidence or if it truly was the time it all converged at once, but when Bukresh materialized into a blog, almost everything else made the transition from the “dispersed” to “collected reality”.
2004 was the year that called for the last trains into emerging Romania. Or so I felt, within my deepest layers. And on I jumped, hopeful, happy, unsure… but ecstatic with thoughts of being home again.
Time seemed to be insufficient, as discovering or rediscovering Bucharest is a full time job. Coming from New York City, inertia was making me look for references that were familiar: I wanted to find the SoHo of Bucharest, I wanted to see live bands that not everyone and their brother knew of, I was looking for the people who stenciled the walls, I wanted to walk inside yards and deserted houses, I was longing to meet with the artists who conveyed the beauty of the city, I was curious about Chinatown or if there even was anything like it. And I looked for all this not because I couldn’t get the city’s nuanced identity from what’s been here all along, but because I knew that there just had to be pipes that defined Bucharest differently than the news, the books, word of mouth, or the recollections debated over a beer.
I just wanted to find that undercurrent made out of people and their aura that lured me back to Bucharest. I knew there had to be some sort of network, ephemeral, not easy to find, hard to grasp, difficult to explain, pretense-free, overflowing with attitude, and sometimes boiling and spilling over with opinions. But where was it, really, and how can I weave my way in?
It took me a year. It was already the end of 2005, and, just when I expected it least, the inevitable crossing paths with Bukresh happened, effortlessly and naturally, while talking to Milos one afternoon: “what, draga, you cannot find Romanian underground. Please, have you used a computer before?”
My search was over, discovery began.
A year later I have traces of hot stamps all over me: Vlad Nanca, Sipotul Fantanilor #15, teatrul de vara, Bumbapa, Stefan Tiron, Sinboy, Omagiu, insula din Lacul Morii, Gypsy Bogdan. But I’m the black sheep, as I love to love Bukresh.
PS-I don’t know if it was a coincidence or if it truly was the time it all converged at once, but when Bukresh materialized into a blog, almost everything else made the transition from the “dispersed” to “collected reality”.
Madeleine Florescu see Bukresh through Psst.ro
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