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Once upon a time there were two naughty cousins, two little cute girls: beady-eyed Miruna and fair-haired Marina. The little damsels wore their hair in plaits and fastened in ribbons and had frilly, fancy dresses. Except that little damsels stands not only for some ladies

Upon entering the narrow water thread, we are being gently rocked. It is quiet. The left and right side of our water path is bordered by high reed walls. Above them lies the blue, brilliant sky. Not one whisper, nothing. Only the ripple of water, which pats the thicket,

excerpts SULINA At dusk we get on a smaller boat and set off. Hardly do we lose sight of the windmills on the hills around Tulcea, when a third arm detaches itself from the Sulina arm – Sfîntul Gheorghe, whose white line bends to the right and disappears among the reed

Cultural tourism, with one of its most attractive variants – scientific tourism – has lately been gaining ground all over the world, being one the few forms of knowledge that unite relaxation and delight with a broadening of one's intellectual horizon. In its complexity

The world of the Danube Delta was the subject of several philatelic issues: The Danube Delta Fauna (1957); Migratory Game (1965); The Great White Pelican (Pelecanus onocrotalus, 1980); Protected Fauna – Sturgeons (1994); The Danube Delta (2004); The Eurasian Spoonbill

excerpts THE DELTA ISLAND An island: the most spectacular and unusual part of Romania, neither water nor land. Isolated, lacustrine, villages, depending very much on nature and fishing, a labyrinth of lakes, canals, realms overflowing with wildlife. An extraordinarily

Ion Bostan was born in Bucovina, in the city of Chernowitz (Cernăuţi) on December 15, 1914. He was an important personality in the history of the Romanian documentary film. I accompanied him as he was shooting for a number of his films in the Danube Delta. I can, of course,

listen to Georges Boulanger playing Gypsy Serenade click here to read more At the beginning of the 20th century, the Danube Delta was a cradle of violinists born in the towns on the land (Sulina, Tulcea) that the great river crosses just before opening its arms, as if

excerpts The wind is chilly and it is as though it has a taste, a taste of mulberries. The boat passes by a white poplar. Over the water hang scattered streaks of haze, whelps of mist. The boat leaves behind it a row of dwarf willows. What a bluish-black night, like ink!

I heard this story in Sulina one night, while waiting for a plate of golden herrings about to come out of the oven, as a boy about 10 years old was running towards us from the direction of the sea and shouting at the top of his lungs: “Rusalfa! Rusalfa! I’ve seen a rusalfa!”

Condrat stands, props the oar against the thick trunks of the oaks and pushes the boat through the wood. Bits of ice slam against the ribs of the boat-bits of ice mixed with broken boughs, clots of floating vegetation, old leaves, cormorant and heron feathers. The storm

From the hotel on the lake we proceeded to the fisheries. Leaden clouds began to lour in the sky, a sharp wind began to blow; and the willows on the banks writhed in every direction. Far off, in the lakes, as far as our eyes could see from the upper deck of the ship, the