The English Passage

Pasajul Englez (the English Passage) is perhaps the weirdest among all Bucharest passages.

Like all the other passages it was built some time in the second part of 19th century, following the Parisian ways, as Bucharest aimed to become the Little Paris. A jeweler built it in 1855. It was sold in 1885 to an entrepreneur (the famous Grigore Eliade, who should deserve a special place in this blog, sometimes before long). Mr. Eliade transformed the building into a hotel (named English, hence the name of the passage), with all rooms aligned along two balconies framing a long, narrow thoroughfare, glass roofed. Like all the other passages it linked Calea Victoriei to Academiei Street.

It was a cheap hotel, with some of the rooms getting the light from the passage, and a toilet for all rooms along the balcony. After some time the hotel went out of business and the building became a brothel. Some other time passed and the prostitution was declared illegal, so the rooms were offered for rent. Their lack of any modern comfort kept the whole in some very insalubrious status.



And so it went down more and more. With all efforts of people living there it is impossible to keep it proper and it smells the decay. It could disappear: the space is hunted by today's entrepreneurs who would rather replace the whole enchilada with a new sky-scrapper. For someone who loves Bucharest it would be a pity: a passage built with Paris in mind, carrying the panache of its English name, calling in mind the outskirts of the old Istanbul by its narrowness and darkness, and looking like some of the ugly spaces that can be found here and there in SoHo - well, it brings together the spirit of all major cities of the world!

I came here often, as I love Bucharest (you may already know). I passed through the narrow passage, dreaming at Paris and at London, at Istanbul and at New York, and falling more and more for this place which is unique.

I came again a couple of weeks ago, having in mind to make a video. I took it this time from Academiei Street, across Union Hotel. It starts with the window of a fur shop or something, followed by a door where ten years ago an inscription indicated the existence behind the door of some obscure company offering sexual consulting. The funny thing was that the acronym of the company was identical with the acronym of the research institute where I was working.

The sign disappeared. Possibly Bucharest males don't need advice anymore.

Well, if you advance, there are three or four stairs to descend and then you are in the middle of the thing.

There is a jewelry there, also a watchmaker's, and the entry to a night club - it seems that they are always closed.



What is absolutely unique is a very small pub whose appearance calls in mind Atget, the great Parisian photographer. I entered inside. The sign in front of the pub was presenting martini, brandy and champagne, but that day they had vodka, rum and beer. You could start with a shot of vodka, then pass to beer mixed with rum, you needed another shot of vodka after that.

There were only two very low tables inside, and the counter. The patrons, as well as the bartender, looked very familiar to me, only ten years older than I had known them. Honestly, I looked ten years older too. I smiled and said, Hey guys, I left you here in 2001, you have waited for ten years for me to come back! One of them had a great phrase, Sir, we are the last bohemians!

(Musical Background: Demolition Man, Absent Minded, from the album Waging War)

(Bucuresti)