Sea, sun, gorgeous girls and parties on the beach, beer and fun, good happy folk and a great time. All that in the little village of Vama Veche, Romania.
I had spent four years without taking a vacation and not seeing the sea, so there I was again. On the beach. In Vama Veche.
The decision had come fast and was taken before even thinking. We’d go to Vama Veche. Me, my flatmate and two other friends. To cool off a bit, to take a break from work and the mountains. To chill and to forget about going up and down thousands of meters. I needed this. I had to know that the highest climb I would do for the next couple of days was about… a few meters. Below the sea level.
So off we went. Five in the morning, four of us, my flatmate’s car and several hours on the road. Destination Vama Veche. As we reached the first seaside resorts, the heat, the lack of patience and my longing for the sea made us stop in the first available parking spot which happened to be in Eforie Sud, and we went straight for the sea. But not after having a quick brunch in the trunk of the car. Cheese, tomatoes and some more cheese.
After a few hours on the beach, thirst had hit us so we set off again on the road to our destination. Of course we didn’t reach it. We stopped for the night in 2 Mai, the village before Vama Veche. The bar on the beach was perfect and we didn’t give it a second thought. The night in the tent was chill, the morning on the beach was splendid, but there wasn’t much going on in 2 Mai so after lunch we went straight to Vama Veche. Finally.
Steps in the early morning
Looking for accommodation was an arduous task, since it was a hot Friday afternoon in the month of august, high season. Stupid thing to do. The heat, the dust and the lack of availability in most of the locations was stretching everything too far. The time, our nerves and my eagerness to jump in the waves.
After three hours in the heat, we had found something. But that something was an expensive hotel room. Yes, I know. Embarrassing. My tent was sleeping peacefully in the trunck of the car.
Afterwards, we went to the go-to place in Vama Veche. At Stuf. It’s a bar on the beach, but think of it more like a base-camp.
Some other friends were already there and beer was going fast and cold down their thirsty throats. I tasted a bit too, but I had a more wild desire. I took off my clothes and set out to meet the sea. The sassy girls running around, lots of lovely pairs of blue eyes and those sweet luscious blondes lounging on the beach, they all made my path… sinuous.
But the call of the sea was louder. I jumped in the waves and felt the freedom. That freedom of belonging to the vastness of the sea. People having fun, girls giggling as the waves were hitting them, the noise of the sea and that feeling that I’ve been missing for such a long time.
Everything was perfect. I was happy. I had the sun, the sand and the sea. I had everything I wanted in that very moment. And a feeling of thirst in the next one. So I remembered the beer left on the table at the bar and went back for it.
There was an interesting phenomena going on in Vama Veche. Something was dragging me and everybody else around, to that bar. To Stuf. Especially in the evening, after the Sun and the Moon had changed shifts up on the darkening sky.
Back to Back
Then the large crowd would move in a slow, dance-like manner, to the wooden totem in the middle of the beach. A large and wonderful crowd of people. All kinds of people. All of them looking for fun, connection, love, freedom and dreams. Or the occasional sex on the beach. All this under an almost full moon. Gorgeous girls, blue eyes, drunk people, happy people, weird dancers, good dancers, more gorgeous girls, fun, cigarettes and empty bottles. All that until the sun would go up again.
To be honest, every evening I drank around two litres of water. In the morning I was doing the same. Four litres a day in total. Bad habit some would say, but I knew what was waiting for me. Others didn’t know. In the morning, I would find them fallen on the beach. Like pins on a bowling alley after the ball had passed.
There were lots of them. Some were trying to gather themselves, to locate their group, to find their friends. And somwhow, they did. They were going back to the same bars they had drank the night before. It was a rule of thumb.
A coffee, a soup, a beer and then everything would start all over again.
This is how a normal day unfolds in Vama Veche. If you’re wondering, I was sunbathing on the move between the bar and the sea. No, I’m not your perfect-bronze type of guy.
What else could I tell you? Beer, girls, sand and lots of pairs of adorable, charming and captivating blue eyes. And more sand. Yeah, sand everywhere. I started with the wallet full of money and went back with it full of sand. That’s another rule of thumb to be aware of if you go there.
The part that I loved the most was the early morning. The bowling pins were down on the beach, the survivors of the night at Stuf were in a sweet deep-sleep state in whatever corners they had found to lay their drunk tired bodies, so nobody stirred the sea. She was free and was calmly rolling her waves around. So I could swim in peace.
But don’t imagine that everything was perfect. There were some bad moments also. For example, a girl tricked me one morning into buying a 14 lei omlet. She said it was great. It wasn’t. Neither the girl. I was just stupid.
But all in all, I’ve had a wonderful time there.
I know you want more pictures, but I don’t have too many. I didn’t catch the sunrise every morning, due to objective reasons.
For example, I missed the last one like this. I had left early in the morning, at around half past three. The idea was to get to a special place. The special place with that magic door by the fish restaurant for the folks who’ve been there. It should have taken me ten minutes, but with the camera in my hands the ten minutes were two hours. Nothing to worry about, I had plenty of time. Just that my camera’s battery didn’t. It was empty half an hour before the sunrise.
That’s it, I said. This sunrise is only for me… and for those drunk guys ten meters next to my right.
That was it. That was Vama Veche.
Back home, right in the moment when I closed the door and left my backpack on the floor, a strong feeling of longing filled my heart. I wanted to run.
To run back to the sea…
P.S.: The first image of the post is also the last one I took before my camera battery died. At the same time, it's the one I'm the most proud of until this very day. Curiously, it's the only photo I've ever taken while hangover.