The marks of communism in Bucharest aren’t just in the massive ugly blocks of apartments but also in the decrepitud left behind of that was once the Little Paris of eastern Europe. I’ve documented this before, but left behind the biggest symbol of this era – the Palace of the Parliament, most infamous creation by Nicolae Ceauşescu, currently the second largest administrative building in the world, with over 3000 rooms. It’s estimated to be the heaviest complex existing nowadays. What you see from the outside it’s simply the tip of the iceberg – underground, there is a massive network of tunnels and no one seems to know exactly its extent.
You can’t really feel how big it is until you are in front of it. I was tired at the time, so didn’t even tried to go around the building. The force of it, even psychologically speaking, can only be experienced. It was like the building itself was repressing me, a simple peasant carrying a camera in a country that wasn’t even mine.
The day was definitely cold and grey in November and the oppressiveness of the building was too much. While getting myself out of its surroundings, I did turn around for one last picture of that monumental building, just to find a construction worker posing happily for my photo, his open smile heavily contrasting with the somehow joyless background behind. Oh the little joys of travelling.
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