Tihany (June 2012)

Tihany is one of the beautiful villages that overlooks the crowning glory of the Hungarian land, the Lake Balaton. The village is full of lavender, restaurants, shops with porcelain and marzipan and delicious views from a height over the lake (God, it looked so blue, like some pure woman's eyes today). It also houses a church and abbey which awaits visitors at the top where you can revel in the aforementioned views. On a clear day the view of the lake is possibly the prettiest sight of the Hungarian countryside I have seen, which is to say quite a lot.

The village encompasses so much I have come to love about my current homeland. I feel like it could only be Hungary, only this place, only in its beautiful, unique and majestic way. It's true, I came, I saw, I fell in love. Tihany, another gem of place in a crown sparkling with wealth.

Budapest in Summer (2012)

Okay, so maybe today isn't the best time to write. It's 40 degrees out there, give or take a degree or two, but when it climbs to this kind of heat it is brutal either way. This city is colossal and gorgeous, but going out into that heat isn't appealing, and I lose time to rediscover, further uncover and reignite the flame with a city I fell for little under a year ago. I leave soon and I do not doubt I will miss the very bones of this place. In fact, only now have I been in this city for every month of the year and seen and absorbed much of the beauty, the wonder that she has to offer me and others, but I do not doubt there is much more, and I will leave here with more I want to experience, saving it for when I return.

Hungary has won 4 gold medals. It is 10th on the Olympic medal table. For a nation of less than 10 million I find it an astonishing achievement and I am proud to have lived here and walked amongst such a fascinating and unique race. Some of my most powerful and happiest memories ever have been collected here, and I can only hope to bottle them (in mind) and carry them with me for my days, as inspiration and little capsules of mental joy.

I'm gonna milk this last week, soak up the streets and their warmth, as it seems the temperature will drop slightly, and try to see a few of the sights I love here. I might even see some friends I haven't seen in a while. Special folk. Good souls, interesting, weird, lost and found. After this week it may be rare I spend much time here. For the memories alone, I will always love this place. In my heart, a piece of you, Budapest, forever. and ever. and ever.

Szentendre, Arty Little Brother of Budapest

A short journey away from Budapest (well, if the HEV train is working and a replacement bus service isn't needed, as we all know how they like to snake their way around villages and their streets) is an artistic haven named Szentendre. I knew what to expect having been once before around four months previously, but today seemed to witness the arrival of severe spring and it was a perfect day to walk the avenues of such a unique and fascinating town.

The colours, the buildings, the obvious abundance of creative folk living and working and displaying their work all over the town and its streets gives it a definite charm, its own Szentendre vibe. The Danube is particularly special and quaint on such a day, the sunlight glimmering on the water as children toss stones at pieces of tree bark floating down the river, as the trees seem to come to life, blowing in the wind. Spring is kicking with some genuine beauty.

It felt like being at a seaside town. Lots of little shops selling all kinds of souvenirs of Budapest and Hungary, quaint cobbled streets, restaurants to appeal to both tourists and Hungarians enjoying a day out. Everywhere I walked there was a photo waiting to be taken, a passage of writing that demanded to be written and paintings and ideas and people whose behaviour was worth observing. It was a genuine little heart of inspiration. The buildings of sharp yellows and also green and red painted houses and shops. The colour was symbolic of the town, the paintings and artwork of the buildings here were explosively vibrant as were the streets. It was dreamlike, especially in the hazy spring sunshine. The narrow alleys between houses, little lanes and old fashioned buildings around every corner. Every step uncovers a secret, some treasure, something special. The tea houses, the sensation of having stepped out of normal life and into a painting, the magnificence of Budapest's little sibling. A graveyard, the dates on the tombs, the music in the distance. An accordion. Filling the air around a Serbian restaurant. This place is buzzing in the warm afternoon's glow.

Take a visit, find another Hungarian treasure. The country never fails to bowl you over. It has it all. It is rich. Look deeper. It has all you could ever want. God bless this country. God bless the river and the streets. All of it. All of it. Open those eyes, my dear.

The Goulash Soup Is Made Of...

The ingredients. Of a dish, of a country, of a heart, of a person. What makes a person tick? What defines a country and is the beautiful land symbolic of the nation, the heart of it? The longer you care to watch something the more that you shall see revealed to you. The great unveiling.

I had seen much of the heart of Hungary and its people in recent days. I had experienced school and its celebrations of the anniversary of the 1848 revolution, I had walked the streets of the city along both sides of the Danube, and past the Houses of Parliament as the country's very nucleus had been infested with people. They moved in waves emerging from all the surrounding streets, to display their support of the country, to fiercely portray which political party they were backing, to generally soak up the atmosphere of a wonderful day to be Hungarian, and absorb the golden Spring sunshine. The arrival of spring was seeming more and more inescapable and the city was increasingly alive by the minute lately.

When I was watching the morning displays of national pride and solidarity that were clearly an annual embrace of the culture here I had some strong feelings. This is a country with a united front, despite its European economic crisis and its political division. It is the proudest country I have ever known, and I see good reason for this. Yes, the country is proud. Not because it tells me so, many people are not vocally proud at all, as the folk of other countries I have been to are, it's in this nation's actions, the powerful heritage, and the symbolism and continued acknowledgement of its wildly significant history in the fabric of everyday life, but most notably represented on days like these past few.

I recall Wednesday at school. I wore smart clothes, with a Hungarian flag rosette pinned to my waistcoat. Everybody was dressed in black and white (more or less) with the national colours of a rosette or something similar adorning their clothes. I could sense the pride in having the colours everywhere, the national anthem filling the air. The re-enactment of past events. The weight of the culture here and the meaning is not only evident at times but it swallows you up. Some of the finest days at my school have been when true Hungarian life and history have been at the forefront and have remained prominent in my mind long afterwards. The reason for this celebration, the past events dating back over a century and a half now are as much a part of the country's existence as perhaps they ever were. The soul of freedom and the pulse of the nation.

I learn a little more at these times. I felt filled with illusion and energy for this country. Yes, the political edge could at times threaten to overspill and pull me into its gloom, and it certainly exists, there is no escape from that. As much as I need to acknowledge that I also need to appreciate everything magnificent and beautiful about this country and its people, and their search and right to live a happy life of opportunity and possibility. The people here are extraordinary in many ways. There is not a problem with the heart, the core here, it is as alive as any I have had the fortune to observe.

Joyous Revolution Anniversary Blues (1848 v 2012)

Hungary is calling. I must get it right. I owe it to her. It feels like I do. We shall see. Time, my beautiful friend, shall bring us wondrous gifts and treats. Wait for me, like I wait for you. Hungary, I shall do you no harm.

A Little Flat In Kőbánya, Budapest

The centre of the universe. A little room, a flat of sorts. A bathroom and a kitchen where I sometimes prepare a feast, mostly for my own dining pleasure, sometimes somebody else may be included. It isn't the prettiest area, some say it is the worst district in the city of Budapest. I suppose that depends on your criteria. Okay, the buildings are not as ornate and spectacular, in fact mostly they are downright ugly. It doesn't play home to any magnificent bars or museums or even parks. It is 'home' though, and in this and the surrounding experience it provides some form of magic, whatever its face looks like, in the days that pass by so rapidly. It also houses many of the unique, gifted and inspirational children in my school, my place of work. There is love everywhere. So I guess this district is awfully important and beautiful too.

Outside can wait. There are times when I genuinely believe it possible to change the world from here. Others it seems futile, a completely ridiculous idea. I have written so much in this small space, knowing that not far is a wonderful city centre, one that grabbed my heart, will not let go and where much beauty and magic have been unveiled to my senses. Closer to home many hobos weave in and out of the streets, crumbling, heading for their next can or bottle, heading for doom. Reaching toward the same door of death, only sooner. In the morning I see students and workers and all kinds of bodies and faces and life, moving in different directions toward the same fate. We are all reaching out for something. Some us know what, some of us do not. From my window the view is beautiful. Especially when I close my eyes.

The Secret City

Ah, Budapest. A city so fine, so exquisite, that many do not even know her whereabouts. She is a secret of sorts. People's ignorance of other countries and cultures and the languages they speak is immense at times. Quite simply, Budapest is an astonishing city with a vast, never ending well of history to learn about, to speak about, to get lost in. 

It is the morning of March 10, 2012. I live in Budapest. In the outskirts. The 10th district called Kőbánya. My flat is a delightful little space in a reasonably sized block of flats. It is in what can only be described as a questionable area. Many hobos and other strange creatures inhabit or frequent this area. But it is home. It feels like the longer I stay the more my roots grow into the ground. So to consider my departure several months from now is often rather sad.

It is another beautiful day outside my window. Golden sun entered through my curtains at will and when I woke it felt like entering a further dream of sorts. The day awaits me. The city will be pleased to see me. She always shows me that. Some kind of magic... in the city I possess. Deep in my heart. Lives the secret city. I know her. I know of her. My beautiful secret.