One can learn a huge amount in the span of a week. Like the way in which a command of basic phrases in another language enables elementary integration into that society, the attainment of some knowledge is easily recognized and appreciated. That one has acquired other kinds of knowledge is less obvious; it quietly develops over time until all of the sudden one becomes conscious of it and progress is apparent. This is my favorite kind of growth, and I’d like to make the claim that I’ve subtly experienced it during my time here. You might say that being in Budapest for a week doesn’t qualify me to make such assertions, because, really, we’ve all traveled far and wide, and certainly for a greater period of time. But my response is this: traveling in a foreign country is a specific procedure, but setting up shop in a foreign country with the intention of amending one’s title to “local” is a whole different ball game. The former is generally defined by a large bag, a selection of guide books, an appetite for authentic sights and cheap eats, a desire to stifle the “dumb American” stereotype that haunts us all, and mostly, by a certain detachment in which you secretly know that you are only a ghost—you don’t belong—and when you leave that place, the memory of you there also departs. In the latter position, however, you undeniably feel the same isolation, but you cope with it another way. Like an infant, you are constantly expanding your capacity to intake new information, trying and failing but always progressing, and one day, you’ll raise yourself up onto your own two feet and walk as if you’ve been doing all along. In Budapest, I’ve been able to measure my assimilation through my grasp of the transportation system (walking is a bit too glorified), and yesterday I realized that I can hop on at one place and off at another without even referencing the map, despite the interruption of the Gay Pride Parade that shut down one of the city’s main boulevards and consequently many metro and tram stations. No big. P.S. The dynamics of the Gay Pride Parade are exceptionally interesting and appalling. For instance, I was warned by the State Department of the yearly violence that the parade triggers (AKA a ton a skin-heads on the loose).
Okay. No more bragging. But seriously, YOU try navigating when everything is in Hungarian. That was a digression, but I still want to stay on the topic of public transportation because history is alive in the BKV (Budapesti Közlekedési Rt.—the public transport company of Budapest)! There are three eras that come to mind. The first is the turn of the century. Budapest’s yellow metro line (M1) was constructed in 1896—the world’s second metro—and besides from the beautiful tile and woodwork that has been maintained through the years, one classic element remains that is less sober: a tune strangely reminiscent of the one played at the end of Splash Mountain, after you’ve pissed yourself from falling into the “briar patch,” and at the juncture when all of the Br’er animals have been recovered and are ready for a hoe-down on the river. Yes, that’s the melody I hear when the train roles through each station. The second era and mode of transport can be observed in many of Budapest’s outdated trolleybuses. These massive hunks of metal are terribly noisy and gaseous, and rusting is endemic. Another problem is that they cannot operate in humid weather, because there was a succession of incidents in 2005 when passengers and crew received minor electric shocks. If this is not redolent of the Communist era, I don’t know what is. Surprise! These rigs were built about thirty years ago in the former Soviet Union and they still plague the streets of modern Budapest. Public funding, unfortunately, does not allocate for luxuries. Finally, we’ve arrived at my favorite type of transport: the tram. Tramlines run around the city in circular patterns, and many of them, like the ones that serve the lines 4 and 6, are new and extremely efficient. I suppose that I am biased because they get me to school on time. There you have it—Budapest through the ages.
In less philosophical news, I moved into an IKEA palace right downtown with three other girls. We’ve already made use of the expansive space for Cate’s 21st birthday party. Around the corner is an incredible Indian restaurant, the Taj, as we affectionately call it, and across the street there is wonderfully greasy pizza parlor, from which I not only steal Internet but also frequent for a fix. I promise (maybe), food is not the only thing that I think about. Classes are another priority. I am studying at ELTE (Eötvös Loránd University-the oldest in Hungary), which is about a twenty-minute commute from the casa. Another place of importance thus far is the Széchenyi Thermal Bath, a bathhouse in the City Park. I spent an afternoon there in the many baths and pools of every temperature, and on the roof, with the leathery old ladies tanning completely in the nude. Good times, except for when I accidentally walked through the door to the men’s nude roof (“This doesn’t seem right…”).
I have a busy week of planning ahead. If anyone is interested in popping over, I encourage it because this is an incredible place to experience, and my palace is always open.
Egészségedre (cheers)!!
Monday, September 7, 2009
Saturday, August 29, 2009
The beginning and a quick look back into the past...
Szervusz, szervusz!
It’s been a very long time. Despite my best intentions, it has taken me a while to sit down at a computer and begin typing. But now, in my first full day in Hungary, I am sitting alone in my temporary bedroom, resting from the drain of yesterday’s travel, a lengthy orientation, and the introduction of twenty-seven new comrades (no post-communist pun intended), and mulling over the road that led me here.
To begin, I must confess that I do not know who will take interest in this blog, so I am not “speaking” to any one group of my friends or family in particular. As a side note, this is promoted by DPE, so I want to express how much I miss all of you guys and how much I enjoyed reading all of your accounts of the summer, wherever it took you. I hope mine will prove to be just as interesting, if not faintly amusing. I know that I also agreed to write a blog in the summer, but unfortunately I didn’t feel like my activities warranted any web-space (aka hanging out with my cousins and drinking). So, I will fill you in on that in a short paragraph, and if you don’t give a damn about frivolities, please skip down to paragraph four.
Summer: I can’t really complain about staying for two months in Australia in the household of my wonderful family, except for the fact that it was winter in the southern hemisphere. Sad story for tanning. Still, we managed to get to the beach at least once a day and the water was easily as warm as it is in august in SB. The highlights of the trip include seeing heaps of migrating whales (almost on a daily basis), camping on the beach, Nimbin (google it), market days, trips to Brisbane, custard apples (my new favorite fruit), spotting wallabies, the Bloody Beetroots, Splendour weekend!!, the boys, and the Byron lighthouse. Wait…and pies, the most disgusting food ever invented and an Australian favorite. What kind of meat is inside a generic “meat pie” (enveloped by some other goopy substance)? Nobody knows; it’s a mystery, but it’s sure to kill you. Oh yes, I failed to mention that my exact whereabouts were just a few kilometers north of Byron Bay.
In August, I was home for only a few days before heading to New York with my dad, where I stayed with my cousin in Manhattan for a few nights, ate at my favorite restaurants, hit up some nice bars, and experienced a few new places like Sammy’s Romanian Steakhouse, a cultural jewel that I will never fail to remember. This place served up bottles of vodka in ice blocks while our waitress prepared chopped liver at our table (chicken fat and all) and the entire restaurant sang and danced to Bar-Mitzvah classics. Old New York=QUITE A SCENE. If you’re ever in the neighborhood, look it up! Afterwards, I traveled upstate to pay my grandmother and uncle a visit before returning home for less than a week. I dropped off my dear friend in Berkeley, stayed the night, saw someone special, and returned home the next day in a very tired state.
Early the following morning, the time came to say Bon Voyage to the USA, and I arrived in Dublin the subsequent morning. Although I was only there for six hours, I still managed to sample an indigenous Guinness and tour the city center with my new friend Jenna. Because it was a Sunday morning, the city actually looked like a ghost town, and it took us a moment of bewilderment to realize that the Irish do love their religion. That afternoon we flew to Dubrovnik, Croatia, “the pearl of the Adriatic” according to Lord Byron, where we met Cate, the third member of our extempore travel party. Despite being overcrowded with European tourists, the Old Town was undeniably enchanting behind the city walls. We stayed for two nights without expectations. For the first time, I embarked on a trip without a destination, accommodations, or a plan in general, and it was lovely. In retrospect, I can safely say that from this moment onward, I intend to travel in this manner. Arbitrarily, we chose Korcula Island as our next location to see, which turned out to be smaller and far less congested than Dubrovnik. In the day, we lied dormant on the beach, taking in the views of the Croatian mainland’s stunning mountains (wow, I should work for a travel agency), and we consumed as much seafood as humanly possible in the evening. The locals are obsessed with Marco Polo, and they believe that he was born there in the 13th century (which may or may not be true). I must not forget Boris, the lovely proprietor of our $15-a-night room on the waterfront, who declared that he would happily do business with me again when I return on my honeymoon. Two nights and an early-morning ferry later, we came to the island of Hvar, with the most beautiful beaches I have ever seen. Once again, a great room at a great price, with an owner mumbling about honeymoons. Luckily, this brief trip made up for the lack of sun in Australia. The next day, we took a ferry to Split, where we hopped on a flight to Budapest.
So that brings me to the present. I apologize for the exhausting recap, but I feel that you now accurately understand my frame of mind, having hardly had a chance to even conceive of this new life, this new part of the world where I am now to live for the next four months. What struck me almost immediately at the airport was the lack of spoken English in this country. Unlike in Western Europe, communicating here is very challenging. Today, the group of UC students had a tour of the beautiful Budapest, and in the next week we will be obtaining a visa, learning survival Hungarian, hunting for an apartment in the city, and working out the rest of the tedious steps toward establishing ourselves. It is very exciting and daunting. Fortunately, I have goulash to get me through the days. Many, many more travel plans are in store, so prepare yourself for an exciting semester. Well, that is all for now, but I promise I will never write this much again.
Over and out.
It’s been a very long time. Despite my best intentions, it has taken me a while to sit down at a computer and begin typing. But now, in my first full day in Hungary, I am sitting alone in my temporary bedroom, resting from the drain of yesterday’s travel, a lengthy orientation, and the introduction of twenty-seven new comrades (no post-communist pun intended), and mulling over the road that led me here.
To begin, I must confess that I do not know who will take interest in this blog, so I am not “speaking” to any one group of my friends or family in particular. As a side note, this is promoted by DPE, so I want to express how much I miss all of you guys and how much I enjoyed reading all of your accounts of the summer, wherever it took you. I hope mine will prove to be just as interesting, if not faintly amusing. I know that I also agreed to write a blog in the summer, but unfortunately I didn’t feel like my activities warranted any web-space (aka hanging out with my cousins and drinking). So, I will fill you in on that in a short paragraph, and if you don’t give a damn about frivolities, please skip down to paragraph four.
Summer: I can’t really complain about staying for two months in Australia in the household of my wonderful family, except for the fact that it was winter in the southern hemisphere. Sad story for tanning. Still, we managed to get to the beach at least once a day and the water was easily as warm as it is in august in SB. The highlights of the trip include seeing heaps of migrating whales (almost on a daily basis), camping on the beach, Nimbin (google it), market days, trips to Brisbane, custard apples (my new favorite fruit), spotting wallabies, the Bloody Beetroots, Splendour weekend!!, the boys, and the Byron lighthouse. Wait…and pies, the most disgusting food ever invented and an Australian favorite. What kind of meat is inside a generic “meat pie” (enveloped by some other goopy substance)? Nobody knows; it’s a mystery, but it’s sure to kill you. Oh yes, I failed to mention that my exact whereabouts were just a few kilometers north of Byron Bay.
In August, I was home for only a few days before heading to New York with my dad, where I stayed with my cousin in Manhattan for a few nights, ate at my favorite restaurants, hit up some nice bars, and experienced a few new places like Sammy’s Romanian Steakhouse, a cultural jewel that I will never fail to remember. This place served up bottles of vodka in ice blocks while our waitress prepared chopped liver at our table (chicken fat and all) and the entire restaurant sang and danced to Bar-Mitzvah classics. Old New York=QUITE A SCENE. If you’re ever in the neighborhood, look it up! Afterwards, I traveled upstate to pay my grandmother and uncle a visit before returning home for less than a week. I dropped off my dear friend in Berkeley, stayed the night, saw someone special, and returned home the next day in a very tired state.
Early the following morning, the time came to say Bon Voyage to the USA, and I arrived in Dublin the subsequent morning. Although I was only there for six hours, I still managed to sample an indigenous Guinness and tour the city center with my new friend Jenna. Because it was a Sunday morning, the city actually looked like a ghost town, and it took us a moment of bewilderment to realize that the Irish do love their religion. That afternoon we flew to Dubrovnik, Croatia, “the pearl of the Adriatic” according to Lord Byron, where we met Cate, the third member of our extempore travel party. Despite being overcrowded with European tourists, the Old Town was undeniably enchanting behind the city walls. We stayed for two nights without expectations. For the first time, I embarked on a trip without a destination, accommodations, or a plan in general, and it was lovely. In retrospect, I can safely say that from this moment onward, I intend to travel in this manner. Arbitrarily, we chose Korcula Island as our next location to see, which turned out to be smaller and far less congested than Dubrovnik. In the day, we lied dormant on the beach, taking in the views of the Croatian mainland’s stunning mountains (wow, I should work for a travel agency), and we consumed as much seafood as humanly possible in the evening. The locals are obsessed with Marco Polo, and they believe that he was born there in the 13th century (which may or may not be true). I must not forget Boris, the lovely proprietor of our $15-a-night room on the waterfront, who declared that he would happily do business with me again when I return on my honeymoon. Two nights and an early-morning ferry later, we came to the island of Hvar, with the most beautiful beaches I have ever seen. Once again, a great room at a great price, with an owner mumbling about honeymoons. Luckily, this brief trip made up for the lack of sun in Australia. The next day, we took a ferry to Split, where we hopped on a flight to Budapest.
So that brings me to the present. I apologize for the exhausting recap, but I feel that you now accurately understand my frame of mind, having hardly had a chance to even conceive of this new life, this new part of the world where I am now to live for the next four months. What struck me almost immediately at the airport was the lack of spoken English in this country. Unlike in Western Europe, communicating here is very challenging. Today, the group of UC students had a tour of the beautiful Budapest, and in the next week we will be obtaining a visa, learning survival Hungarian, hunting for an apartment in the city, and working out the rest of the tedious steps toward establishing ourselves. It is very exciting and daunting. Fortunately, I have goulash to get me through the days. Many, many more travel plans are in store, so prepare yourself for an exciting semester. Well, that is all for now, but I promise I will never write this much again.
Over and out.
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