Days 111-112: Vama Veche

Vama Veche is a small village of a few hundred people near the Bulgarian border.

This otherwise unremarkable village has an interesting history as a gathering place for bohemians, pre-revolutionary intellectuals, and other fringe groups. Today, it is possibly the most popular party spot in all of Romania. Every May 1st, the "season" opens, and bars, clubs, and campsites along the beach open for business until the season ends sometime in early Autumn. This being opening weekend, thousands of people converged onto Vama Veche in an annual tradition.

To get there, Antonio and I caught a ride with two other friends of his. We booked a night at Sandalandala, a good quality campsite with grass covered grounds, dozens of showers, sinks, toilets, and a bar restaurant.

Sandalandala has a piano theme, but no actual piano that I could find 😢

Then the drunken revelry began. The bars, clubs and convenience stores near the beach don't ever close, and hundreds of people stay up all night partying, drinking and dancing till past the sun's rising the next day. One club has a tradition of playing Ravel's Bolero just as the sun breaches the horizon each morning.

Only one of the half dozen clubs that line Vama Veche's shore

Saturday night I only managed to stay up until 4 in the morning. Smoking is extremely popular in Romania, and even though Antonio knew I didn't smoke he gave me the "be open to new experiences" talk and convinced me to try a single cigarette. From what I gathered, when taking drags from a cigarette you can either suck the smoke into your mouth, or further into your lungs. Most of my drags were merely into my mouth, but one drag managed to get sucked slightly into my lungs, and I got a hint of what I presume smokers find so pleasurable about the act (besides temporarily satisfying a nicotine addiction). It's very similar to hookah. I didn't hate it, but I far from enjoyed it -- so I think that will be both my first and last experience smoking a cigarette.

The weather was unusually cold for this time of year, temperatures peaking at 12 or 13 degrees Celsius during the day and hovering around 10 degrees Celsius at night. Fortunately, sweat pants, a sweater, and a sleeping bag was enough to keep warm at night.

A view of the boardwalk after the previous night's debauchery

Hundreds of people camp (illegally) on the beach

Looking South towards Bulgaria

Sunday night I didn't even try. After a pre-party nap from 9-12pm, I told Antonio to go on without me and I got another 6 hours of sleep while he stayed up long enough to see the sun rise once again. Monday, May 1, was a working holiday, so we took a few buses to the town of Constanța, where Antonio's friend once again picked us up for the trip back to Bucharest (he and his friend had gone to an "alternative" weekend destination at one of Romania's seaside resorts, for those who have more sophisticated tastes than camping on the beach).

Our first afternoon in Vama Veche, foggy and cold

A walking path a mere 400 meters north of the Bulgarian border.
Looking north you can see the port city of Mangalia

I'd heard tales of the epic parties they have in Europe, and they really aren't exaggerated. While continuous drinking and staying up all night isn't generally my cup of tea, it was an awesome experience and I'm glad I went.