Also available in: Italian
I cannot stand the life of a barracks, sleep with a bunch of men who snore, I can not stand to be awaken by a drummer playing the trumpet, and I do not want to wear a rough green-olive shirt. I have very sensitive skin.
The former barracks are in Romania, a hundred meters before the border crossing Vama Veche-Durankulak. I found an easy entry: in fact is possible to go through the main gate bars (if you are small enough and thin) or directly overtake it. Remember to pay attention to the military troops who occasionally patrol the area.
The grass is very high, time is low and my left leg is still injured after the experience in Chernobyl. Also, at the end of the exploration, I will have both legs full of ticks.
I don’t mind about the part of the storage room and the garage as the grass is too tall and wet, so I head straight to the main buildings. A small piece of dirt road fortunately has remained. I walk all the way until I get in front of a door happily left open. And here I am in this cottage, empty and dusty, just 100 meters from the Bulgarian border. The walls are of a white-yellowish color discolored by the weather that contrasts with the blue of the doors. Two rooms, each inside a stube that is affected by the passing of the years. Inside another room shelves and empty furniture. Only the skeleton remains. Here is the room where the target was shot. Bullet bosses scattered everywhere, silhouettes and billboards for the shotgun and belts to hold guns. I try to look for documents or any other piece of paper that attests when abandonment dates back. Nisba.
Here I move and reach the nearby building. This would probably be the night zone where the soldiers rested. Inside there are only two beautiful big rooms. On the ground what remains of a chandelier and a metal box, with inside something I can not really recognize (a bullet-door maybe?). In the next room there is a broken door, left on the ground and covered with dust. Alongside the skeleton of what could once be a bed while hanging on the wall there is a poster of a little girl gathering flowers. All lit by the dim light that filter through the dirty window glass.