It’s been too long for
this to be the first post, but that was one of the intentions. That and, of
course, the usual procrastination. I wanted to start writing once I was
immersed in the life I was going to live. I didn’t want to make my first
impression the image of my whole trip. I think with technology today it is easy
to get a glimpse of whatever everyone else is doing and the places they go. We
get “eyes” if you will. I think that is a great tool but it does not in any way
can substitute the experience of “being” there. I wanted to write when I “was”
here.
When I first got here,
there was that feeling of uncertainty, of everything being strange and fear of
not even understanding what the signs meant. But I thought that this was simply
the feeling of being in a new country. So it was not particular to the place or
the specific culture which I was to visit. It is incredible how many little
things can be different and I love how that places you on a perspective where
you see yourself outside your culture. For example one thing I noticed is that
people make much less eye contact while on the street but get much closer in
public transport, also people speak really loud really close to you, not to
fail to mention the clear high level of PDA (Public Display of Affection) which
is in nowhere found in the US or Mexico. That makes me think of whether I have
done something like that to someone who might not have been acquainted to my
culture.
One of the most
striking things I experience was the level of history this place has. The Buda
castle which stands at the top of the hill on the Buda side was built in the 12th
century. That is before there were any tracks of the place where I was born.
The streets and buildings of Pest also carry their fair share of history. It’s
not hard to find bullet holes on the walls of old buildings showing the many
conflict this city has seen. I got to visit a museum called the House of
Terror. This museum was built in an old building that served as a sort of
police station for different groups during the Nazi and Soviet occupations. Now
it is a sort of memorial to remember the many victims of, not only the place,
but the occupations in general. Just like visiting New York for the first time
made that horrifying event I saw on the TV years ago called 9/11 incredible
real, visiting this place made the holocaust and the communist regime
occupations that I had read about in history books very real. Not that I didn’t
believe they were real. It is just that here it ceases to be conceptual
understanding of history and, instead of understanding it, you are able to feel
it though your senses and comprehended through the empathy you feel towards the
people who lost their loved ones in the hands of these utopias. No picture can
convey that and no history book can encompass the feeling of such place.
(Despite all signs, this seemed like a really good way to direct people towards an exit.)
If you need to get the hell out run this way!
For now it enough to
say that this is a great city and everything has been working out well, people
on the streets and shops seem to be very welcoming of tourists and so do other
students and the people that take care of the dorm we live in. Another
interesting thing is how “American” I get to be here. It’s funny that now I ask
people if they speak a language I didn’t speak 6 years ago; back when I was new
to that place called Los Angeles where everything was strange and I couldn’t
even understand the signs.
