Last weekend, the group all came together in Bp to celebrate some birthdays and bid Roz farewell as she finishes with CETP this semester. Let me begin at the beginning and fawn over the wonderful city of Budapest for a moment.
As my train jolted into motion from the Szerencs railway station in the direction of Keleti pu. in Budapest, I got settled in my seat with anticipation. Two and a half hours away and I’m already giddy by the thought that I will be able to walk amongst the beautiful architecture, traffic, and city activity. When on the train or in any type of moving vehicle, I tend to space out, my brain either disintegrates like melting plastic or races with so much thought it’s hard to corral one specific idea (it really depends on the day I just had). Therefore, it’s hard for me to read on the train. I prefer listening to music and thinking while gazing out the window (or people watching on the train.) Anyway, during this time my legs and energy are gradually being wound up, tightening like a spring ready to pop.
Getting off the train in Budapest always warrants so much excitement. I glance happily at the newsstands, booths with chasing Christmas lights snaking around their poles, thousands of hats, gloves, and scarves for sale. Looking up at the big clock in the center of the arch at Keleti makes me feel like I am somewhere completely grand and important. There is a bounce in my step… I refuse taxi offers from the folks just outside the doors to the train station (I just casually shake my head in quick step, proud that I am confident about where I need to go tonight.) As I step outside, the cold wind bites at my nose and shakes my hair loose, but like a reliable drug, Budapest has immediately uplifted my mood once again. My legs feel like they could run a marathon uphill and regardless of the amount of weight on my back, I decide to walk about 45 min. from Keleti all the way over Margaret Bridge to the Buda side.
Watching cars in motion makes me happy, seeing people walk to wherever they need to go makes me happy, feeling completely anonymous as I walk down busy Rákóczi út turning onto the gently curving ring of Erzsébet körút and so on into the night makes me happy. The view of sprinkled lights in the Buda hills, the glowing mass of Matthias Church, and the Buda castle standing proudly above many spotlights near the snazzy lights of the Chain Bridge is a pleasant smack in the face turning onto Margaret Bridge. Legs are warm and the blood is still flowing…I’m not cold, my hair is windblown and my eyes are probably red from the wind coming off the Danube and onto the bridge. It is me, the 5 o’clock rush on the street, and a few courageous evening runners. This moment could keep me happily satisfied for months.
What makes me even happier are the real Mexican enchiladas that I ate at “Iguana,” the only true Mexican restaurant in Budapest. Several of us indulged in our need for chunky salsa, fresh salty tortilla chips, pitcher(s) of beer, fajitas, burritos, hamburgers? (Jeremy), and cheesecake…only to discover that yes we indulged in the price a little too. Good Mexican food doesn’t come cheap in Budapest. Good company, good wine, good tunes, good laughs got us through the night…this group just never lets you down on having a good time.
Even though I felt the inklings of a cold coming on Friday night, I wasn’t going to let it spoil my weekend. We all visited the market on Saturday morning, had some hot goulash to soothe the throat and the stomach…and then most of us with the exception of Jeremy (who was pursuing a map of Greece) went to the mall and marched ourselves right into a bad mood. It was exactly like the mobs you see the day after Thanksgiving in America. Christmas shopping, Saturday…it just didn’t click with us until about a half hour into the trip. We met up with the rest of the group later in the afternoon at Roz’s apt. anticipating the night of dancing and bar-hopping ahead. Roz did excellent research with the night buses and trying to find bars close to metro stops and we eventually hit up bar Picasso in our themed dress. Tonight was “dress like a Hungarian night…” this meant, very obvious highlights in our hair, rolled up jeans and knee-high boots, and huge earrings (although Harpswell’s red Christmas ornament earrings probably made a first appearance in Magyaroszag). We danced the night away until around 4ish and took cabs home after all of Roz’s research! 
Jenna and I spotted the Hungarian flag with a hole (freedom fighters ripped out the part of the flag with communist symbols in an act of resistance to Soviet occupation in Hungary).
After two hours of sleep Jenna and I decided to walk around outside to get some fresh air. An apt. full of around 12 –13 people who haven’t showered and been drinking certainly doesn’t smell like roses. We strolled to Margaret Island where we enjoyed the astonishingly peaceful scenery in the company several joggers, a few bums, and some overly friendly deer. The turtle pond in the Japanese garden was steaming…no sprouting flowers or fountains, but the ambiance of the island was so zen-like that it again reinforced my love for this city…and Budapest’s Central Park, Margaret Island.
I also enjoyed a bit of nostalgia…back from the days in July and August when I strolled around the island often alone but also with different company. GOING BACK IN TIME to….
My first visit to the island was with Rachael from Tasmania who was in my CELTA course. We got along so well b/c she and I both love to walk and we conquered every inch of that island that day, along with half of the Danube bank on the Buda side. We discovered the summer festival on the Chain Bridge and had open-faced sandwiches w/cappuccino at a little outdoor café with a view of the river.
Second, it was Cat, my Scottish July roommate who was a self-proclaimed klutz like me. We both wanted to escape the daily rigors of our CELTA course and decided to hit up the island even as drops of rain plopped onto our heads. Well inevitably we got caught in a pretty intense thunderstorm and tried to wait it out under a somewhat leafy tree in the middle of the island…as the footballers escaped, the bikers fled, and the mothers ran carrying their children, Cat and I stayed under our tree and talked about the weather in Chicago and Scotland. She didn’t seem the least bit worried as I constantly glanced around us convinced that we would be struck by lightning, but trying to not look overly concerned about it. We eventually escaped drenched, but later admired the crazy clouds the storm had produced from the same outdoor café that Rachael and I had stopped at.
Before going out on Saturday nights, Cat and I would sit on the benches facing Margaret Bridge of course with ice cream and talk about what everything would be like when the course ended and when we were in our respective cities: me in Szerencs and she in Moscow.
Third, it was Swiss Michelle who was also on the course and was nice enough to put me up in her flat for a while after our course so anti-climatically ended one INCREDIBLY HOT day in July. We went to the island to relax, because most of the month of July had been spent preparing our lessons, writing papers, and then going to the watering holes of Budapest immediately afterwards and not coming home until our thirst for a good time was quenched….which usually tended to be pretty late or early (however you want to look at it). She brought her hammock and we tied it between two trees, got in and listened to music before napping. All around us people played badminton, football, rode by in tandem bicycles happily licking ice cream. I was just content to stare up into the leafy green tree above us as the sun shone through and let my body unwind.
Fourth, it was Lara from North Carolina. She was taking the CELTA during August and we became roommates b/c she didn’t have one and I desperately needed a place to stay for a month before my job orientation started. We went to the island a lot, rented bicycles, ate ice cream, actually tried a hostel bar one night (but got attacked by mosquitoes), climbed all over the ruins of St. Margaret’s church, and many times just lay sprawled in the grassy havens of the island with our books and music.
All of my visits to this island have been memorable, because it seems to breed excellent conversation with whomever I’m with at the time. But a lot of the trips I’ve made alone and now I’m quite aware of how long and sentimental this entry has become, but it’s sometimes very rare when you fall into that writing groove…so I’ll continue on. Plus, walking around the island spitting back and forth easy and wonderful conversation with Jenna on Sunday morning made me think about how much I missed it…
After arriving in Budapest in July, I had skipped over seven time zones, given up my first real job out of college, and left my long-term boyfriend wondering what the hell I was doing and when the hell I was coming back. I was so confused and had not been particularly happy with my life just before I left probably because I was overly stressed out and exhausted, not knowing what I wanted anymore in any arena of my life. Walking around on Margaret Island days after I had arrived helped me to start processing everything. I gave my story to each person I walked with and they in turn, gave me theirs.
They gave me their encouraging words and I gave them mine. It was not only nice to go for a lengthy, lingering summer stroll on an island, but to also hear the perspectives of people who come from all over the world. EACH one of them helped me see things that I was blinded by before. I was displaced from my old world and transported to an island in the middle of the Danube in Hungary and suddenly I could see what I needed to do. When in Budapest, in each direction that I looked, everything seemed to fit and everything was right. I didn’t feel stressed, just blessed to be able to have amazing conversations with people who were passing through my life one month at a time. At this current moment, I feel lucky to know that I can count on my friends in Hungary (fellow CETPers) to get me through rough patches that sometimes accompany isolation and loneliness…and to my friends and family at home who are supportive of my decision to be here. It didn’t take long after arriving in Hungary (maybe a day or two after initial jet-lag culture shock) to know that I was in the right place at the right time.
1 comment:
Aww, Kat, what a sweet message! Are you sure all you have is a cold? I woke up this morning with a wicked case of tonsilitis and, after visiting a doctor, have been barred from teaching for the rest of the week. I'm scared that I may have inadvertantly contaminated everyone over the weekend, so be careful and take care of yourself. I don't want you to be sick in Greece!
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