CLOSED!
Surrounded by the windows of Hanul lui Manuc, at 62-64 Franceza St., I walked in at Festival 39, the cafe of the old Bucharest.
A place where one can see at every step efforts made to send you in the first half of the last century. At ground level, the floor has a fine mosaic with typical faces from those "times". Forged iron chairs sit around little tables where you have enough light to read the newspapers. As a matter of fact, from the entry table, on the left, you can choose whatever newspaper you want.
The morning is very sunny and the entire mix of old and new seems pleasant under the strong light of the sun. The stairs lead to the first level, they have an embers iron on each step and the walls are full of framed pictures from that period. The first floor, in the same tone as the inter-war cafe, is spacious and arranged with a lot of good taste.
The menu, personalized, starts with a short story written in the fashion of the period, a little story that has a "to be continued" at the end, written in brackets. Is the follow-up in the next menu? Inside the covers one can also find a laminated copy of a newspaper from around"’9 with an anniversary article. Mandache’s coffee was turning one.
The non-smoker can find here a completely isolated space with no sign of cigarettes. A room next to the stairs, with a door that remains closed. Its walls are covered with red tapestry and if the lack of windows does not bother you, you can drink your coffee calm and happy that your don’t have such a vice. You?re even closer to the toilet (the smokers have to climb down quite a few steps). By the way, at the toilet door, two arrows guide your way to "misters’ toilet? and "madams’ toilet". I go in, although a bit more appropriate would have been the term privy. Clean, spacious and in order not to forget where you are, you can find some pictures even here. Nudes from the old times.
Pleasant music, in a low tone, with a saxophone playing old songs. Captured by the atmosphere of the place I could have thought it was coming from a gramophone. As for drinks, I ordered coffee with milk and the order came quickly. A waitress, not very smiling, put the coffee on the table and immediately, plainly told me the price. Since this was not one of those places where you ask for the money in advance, I told her I knew how much the coffee was and I took a sip under her watchful eyes. She wouldn’t go. Although it’s against my principles, I paid her in advance. So I could carry on enjoying the sun rays and this pleasant place, without a "sentinel" at my table. Could this be a customs from the old days?