rick filosofeert

elitair, elegant, arrogant, sinds 14 mei 1977

Bucuresti

I didn't know what to expect of Bucharest
Was it still Little Paris, as it was in the Interbellum
Had Ceaucescu destroyed everything in the
Ceausima?
Or did Kapitalism finish his job.

I arrived in the rain
On a november night.
In a taxi, through an Arc de Triomph
On our way to a
very western hotel

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We had
management committees
Workgroups, and a conference,
But in the mean time, we could expercience a bit of the city.

The
metro, with wide modern carriages, but small platforms.
with a rather west-european line-network.
Plata Victoriei, with incredible big buildings.

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I went Steaua stadium, was in the south-west.
I took the most
filled tram in history,
Through communist blocks to get there.
It was time for Unirea-Rangers.
As i had noticed, when having breakfast with fat guys in blue

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We walked throuh Micul Paris,
It's lovely Atheneum,
Surrouind by this weird romance language
And painted Ceilings.
Dancing with Romanian Tango-girls.

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We went to a sports bar.
Watching Steau with the faithful,
Feeling the latin-passion, when they equalised
Fenerbahce.
Noticing Ajax & Roma banners with consent.
And imagining the tension of the
Marele derby

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We went to drink beer at Ceauceascu's
Strangly seeing,
That the square before his
megaloman palace,
Was used for a Wedding-fair
And BBQ meals.

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I am still confused what to think of the city.
It is warm., it is cold, it surely is a true city.