Prides of the former socialist bloc

Beach side at Vama Veche. Photo by Katerina Novikova

Black Sea flank

Our train approaches the Danube – the largest river in this part of Europe. After having crossed a series of its tributaries it leaves Wallachia, a region south of the Southern Carpathians, to enter Dobruja. The latter is a historical area that, since the 19th century, has been divided between the territories of Bulgaria and Romania. It is located between the Danube Delta and the steep hills at the Black Sea near Varna, a popular Bulgarian resort town. Over the course of its history the Dobruja region was ruled by the Scythians, the Sarmatians, the Romans, the Bulgarians, the Vlachs, the Tatars and the Turks. Thus, its residents were witness to changes in borders, languages, regimes and alliances. Today, both Romania and Bulgaria are the Black Sea flank of NATO. However, it was not that long ago that they were part of the Warsaw Pact.

For centuries Dobruja’s hilly steppe was used by nomads and shepherds bringing their herds for grazing. It is also a marine area; a land of fishermen, sailors and shipyard workers. Not surprisingly, the region’s emblem presents two dolphins against a blue background. Far away from Europe’s business and cultural centres, this land is dusty and, at the same time, sleepy. 

To get to the Romanian sea port of Mangalia we first caught a train in Constanța. Waiting for our connection, we grab a bite to eat at the railway station’s restaurant. Given the location, this place is quite unusual. Aspiring to be luxurious, it offers cheap entertainment in the form of pinball machines and a play area for kids. It is full of sweaty customers who drink cold beer while waiting for their kids to get bored of diving in ball pits. Behind the window a monument-ship lurks over the customers, drawing attention to its large sign with the name of the city spelled out.

Constanța has been a harbour town since ancient times. It was established by Greek colonists over one hundred years before the famous battle at Marathon in 490 BC. At that time it was called Tomoi, to be later renamed Tomis by the Romans. The place served as the empire’s borderland and was thus a constant victim of plundering by nomadic tribes. It was probably the reason why the Roman poet Ovid was banished to here by Augustus and where he spent the remaining eight years of his life.

Over time Constanța belonged to many different states. Eventually in 1878 it was incorporated into the united Romania and became its main harbour. It still plays this role today and is also a “window to the world” for landlocked countries like Austria, Hungary and Serbia. A majority of the goods that travel through the Danube are transferred here onto boats. They later travel onward, mainly through the Danube-Black Sea channel, a flagship construction of Romanian socialism. Unofficially, it was called the “channel of death” but it was also referred to as the “channel of Romania’s bourgeoisie”.  Reportedly, its building took the lives of tens of thousands of people. Construction work was halted after Stalin’s death in 1953, but resumed again in 1973 upon the order of Romania’s communist leader, Nicolae Ceaușescu. In 1987 the entire waterway was open to ships and sail boats. Two years later, when the Fall of Nations swept the socialist regimes across Eastern Europe, the Romanian dictator was toppled. He was executed together with his wife, Elena, on December 25th 1989. The channel continues operations today and the cost of its construction is expected to be paid off in the coming decade.  

Local multiculturalism

The train to Mangalia is awfully slow. On route, it passes limans which are enlarged estuaries found at the widening mouth of a river. From the window, one can also see sandy beaches and small railway stations hidden among the sunflowers and bulrush. When we reach our destination we are taken by a jolly taxi driver to a small village called Doi Mai. In English it means Second of May. The locality was established at the end of the 19th century, after Dobruja become part of Romania. Even today the village is an example of local multiculturalism. It is inhabited by Eastern Orthodox Romanians and the descendants of Russian settlers as well as the Lipovans – Old Believers, mostly of Russian ethnic origin, who escaped from prosecution in the Ottoman Empire. It is also home to a Tatar community.

The bed and breakfast where we plan to overnight is on the other side of the village next to the shipyard and the harbour where the Romania Naval Fleet is stationed. Seemingly, the shipyard has managed to survive the harsh period of the system transformation. Today it employs a large number of people who are working on three shifts, building at least two ships at the same time.

Despite Romania’s economic growth, time seems to be passing slower in Doi Mai. The street colours resemble those of a Ukrainian village or a small town. Like Ukrainian villages, the houses are hidden in a greenery of small gardens and fruit orchards. Local life is centred on tiny shops where neighbours sit together and chat. They witness carriages pulled by donkeys pass by, as well as children playing games on the street. Today, however, Doi Mai’s economy is mostly supported by it beaches. Its surroundings are full of hotels which were built for the employees of state enterprises during the communist period. Their names refer to Greek and Roman mythology – there is a Saturn, a Venus, a Jupiter and an Aurora hotel. Evidently, Ceaușescu loved references to antiquity. In addition, the old fishermen and shepherds’ houses have been turned into commercial entities. Operating as popular bed and breakfasts, they promote agro-tourism; while the area near the beach is full of stylish cafés and restaurants.

The beach is long and sandy. On the one side it is protected by the breakwater, while on the other it is guarded by cliffs. At the foot of the beach is a concrete bunker which was moved here during one of the winter storms. It divides the beach into two parts: the “ordinary” and a “nude” beach. So far, neither the local Muslim community nor the conservative Old Believers have seemed to care much about the latter. Ironically the bunker that was there to protect communist Romania from a potential attack is now used to separate the nudists from the clothed beachgoers.

During the Cold War, a potential Warsaw Pact attack against Romania was not something completely unthinkable. The Romanian communist state, ruled by Ceaușescu from 1965 to 1989, was an unusual mixture of neo-Stalinism and strong nationalism. He liked to emphasise that Romania had a special alliance with Moscow, which was not a form of dependence by any means. Thus Bucharest did not listen to Moscow all the time. There were even moments when it openly showed its claws. For these gestures it was admired by other socialist states and praised by the United States and the United Kingdom. 

Save Vama Veche

A few kilometres from Doi Mai along the Bulgarian border is the village of Vama Veche. During communist times it was a unique place of freedom, even if limited. It was the destination of many students, artists and intellectuals, as well as a place of work for secret agents who were trying to monitor the liberated minds. After the transformation, Vama Veche remained the “capital of Romania’s youth” and continues to be popular for its nude beaches where hippie-looking youth chant mantras at sunrise, organise night parties and spend time in clubs and discos. Over time, however, Vama Veche has turned into a very commercial village. As is often the case with such places, the natural desire to keep things as they were competes with the natural desire to make profit.

And the profits from tourism can be quite large. Young people come here in search for summer parties and fun, while older visitors come to relive old memories from their youth. It is also a popular destination for international travellers. They stop here en route to Istanbul, Mount Ararat, and sometime even Kathmandu. In response to the massive inflow of tourists, a group of local activists launched a “Save Vama Veche” campaign. They lobby for the area’s environmental conservation and to halt the growing tourism in the village area. Despite these efforts, the resort remains a place for luxurious holidays and is a popular destination for well-off travellers from around the world.

Mangalia, meanwhile, is a typical post-socialist city on the Black Sea. Most of its architecture is made of light colour socialist blocks. Like Constanța, it was established by Greek settlers. At that time it was called Callastis, which today is the name of the city’s archaeological museum. The museum is host to items from antiquity, dating back to ancient Greece, Thracia, Rome and Byzantium. Unfortunately they are all cluttered in one tiny room and their descriptions are not the most informative. The second room in the museum is more like a warehouse where various vases and the remains of ancient columns and chapiters are thrown into piles without any descriptions. The impression of chaos is completed by poor lightening.   

Under the Ottomans the city was known as Mankalya. Today the remnants of Turkish rule is evidenced by the Esmahan Sultan Mosque which was built here in the 17th century. It is located in a cemetery-garden, where it stands in the shadow of old trees. Recently the temple has been renovated, mainly thanks to financial support from the Turkish government. The part of the mosque that is available to tourists is separated from the part where prayers are said. There we could see a young Tatar uttering his prayers. His casual clothes (t-shirt and shorts) were covered with a black shawl so that he could be dressed respectfully in the house of prayer. In front of the entrance, an old Tatar speaks to Romanian tourists about Allah, Mohamed, Aristoteles and Plato.

Today, only a few hundred Muslims live in Mangalia – there are around 20,000 Muslims living in Romania and the majority of them live along the seashore. Thus, in Dobruja the skyline is not only marked by the domes of Orthodox churches but also minarets. This region’s Muslim community are mainly Tatars who came here with the so-called Nogai Horde tribe in the 15th century. Centuries ago Muslims were dependent on the Crimean Khanate as they were living on the territories between Crimea and Bulgaria. Today, just like their kinsmen in other parts of Eastern Europe, they are an integral part of the society in which they live.

Between Dracula and vampires

Competition for Romanian resorts comes from neighbouring Bulgaria. Varna, popular among tourists, is just over 100 kilometres away from Doi Mai. You can get there by bus or taxi. The road navigates through agricultural steppe with the Black Sea in the background. At the end the mountains, or hills to be more precise, arise. These hilly areas are green and steeply lean over the Black Sea beaches.

As we leave Dobruja behind, we see Varna approach on the horizon. The founders of the city, who of course were Greek colonists, called it Odessos. The similarity in name to Odesa, established in the 17th century, is clearly not an accident. Varna was, for a short time, also called Stalin. This now popular tourist destination is often referred to as the summer capital of Bulgaria. It is associated with carefree fun. However, its long history is full of stories about brutal attacks, battles and sieges.

On our way back to Bucharest, we catch a Romanian bus that arrived via Constanța. The passengers include a group of British retirees who are returning to their hotels around Varna. Closer to the border, Romanian tourists start to join us after their one day outings by the sea. Once we approach what used to be the border they all rush to the duty free shop. They fill up bags with all sorts of Bulgarian wine, juice, sausages and sweets.

Finally we arrive back in Bucharest – a city where all styles and architectural periods can be found. This mixture of styles is a result of both change in trends and it complex history. During the Second World War, Bucharest was largely destroyed. It might not have been as badly damaged as Budapest or Warsaw, but there was a lot of destruction nonetheless. The city again suffered in 1977 when it was hit by an earthquake. Unfortunately, most of the city centre was rebuilt by Ceaușescu’s initiative, which reflects his megalomania and sick aspirations rather than any historical accuracy.

The touristy area is near Unirei square. It was built in a Parisian style, with many cafés and small places. Their advertisements are often quite scary looking with images of Dracula, wolves or Carpathian vampires. Interestingly next to these old-fashioned monsters, a new one has emerged – Ceaușescu himself, whose face can be found on the gaudily pink banner advertising the Romanian Kitsch Museum. This “genius of the Carpathian”, as Ceaușescu was once called – who was probably the most brutal, and unusual ruler out of all the communist leaders of the former Soviet bloc – is now reduced to a grotesque quasi-vampire. His image can be found somewhere between Dracula and devils from Romania’s murky forests. For Ceaușescu that could have been an even worse punishment than the one that brought his end. Death by execution is nonetheless an act that is well known in regional history. It was used to kill ancient Romanian or Moldovan leaders as well as revolutionary fighters. Yet to be a face of the Kitsch Museum, that is a whole different story…  

Romania’s capital also greets tourists with its gigantic Palace of the Parliament. It is a pearl in the crown of Ceaușescu’s urban dreams. Some people love it, while others are terrified with its size, yet others are simply amused by it.

On route back to Poland, we fly over the magnificent South Carpathians, which – justifiably so – are sometimes called the Transylvanian Alps. They disappear from our view under the cover of thick clouds, which get dispersed only when we arrive in Warsaw. Waiting for our bus, we check the schedule to discover that the city bus can take us all the way to… Mangalia (the name of a bus stop in Warsaw). Along the line, there are other stops named after Black Sea resorts. Clearly these places were once the pride of the socialist bloc. Now they are trying to attract visitors from all over the world.

Translated by Iwona Reichardt

Katarina Novikova and Wiktor Trybus are freelance journalists and travellers of the countries of Central and Eastern Europe.

Romania, travel story, Vama Veche