The Name of the Game

Do you know what my favorite game is in Budapest, especially when I am coming down with a bout of incurable wanderlust?

I play tourist. 

I stick my camera on my neck, put my backpack & sneakers on, go to the most frequented places of the city, slow my steps down, like I don't have anything better to do, and start wandering around. (I should probably get a map too, just to look more authentic.)

I look at the place like this is my first time here, like I haven't been around for (almost) four years, as if everything was completely new, and I had only one chance to suck it all in and carry the experience with me for the rest of my life. I look up high at the facade of the buildings, observe the details, try to get to know and understand the city, wonder about the history, the people living here, and click the big button on the camera a thousand times. Then - surprise, surprise! -  I end up with very touristy looking pictures, a whole bunch of them. But wasn't it the point? Becoming a tourist for a couple of hours, see the city as tourists do, and take photos like they do? Actually, that was the point. 

Yesterday I ended up playing the same game, and these are the photos I came home with from my rapid holiday:

Such a beautiful city, Budapest really is! Most certainly worth visiting.:)

(Btw, I must go back to Párisi Áruház with the tripod, and take some proper long exposure shots, as the place is astonishing. Ah, that architecture (again)! The greatest advantage of being a native tourist is that you can return anytime to the places you liked the most and take more, better pictures.)

The Word of My Life

 I do not know what's going on with me, but an utter and incurable wanderlust has taken over me. Especially today. I cannot seem to be able to sit still on my butt, but I want go go go, and travel the world. 

Naturally I can't, since:

a, I have no money 

b, I have to study for the state exam & graduate. 

Unfortunaly, to me, a, is much more important than b,. Should I have some extra money, I would happily throw all my notes, textbooks, prospects, and plans away, ditch all exams, and take off.

I just want to go go go, hit the road like Jack did, carpe diem and all that crap, get lost in the moment, and not care about tomorrow. 

First I would most certainly go to the States, 'cause I have been dying to go there since secondary school. And my longing is just getting worse and worse, and it is starting to get out of my hands. 

Then, after a cross-country roadtrip and taking six gazillion photos, I would buy a planeticket to Hawaii. I would say Aloha! to a few people, walk around a bit on the sandy beach, read a couple of my silly little paperbacks, get a nice tan, take another six gazillion photos, then pop over to Australia. Now, there I would settle down for a month or two, bring my Australian accent to perfection, work in a tiny bookshop/coffeeshop combo, and learn to surf in the meantime. Maybe I would even write a book about all of my terrific and very adventurous adventures. Naturally, it would be an instant classic, and I would top all the big bookseller charts. It would provide me with enough money to travel, write, and enjoy the sunny days for the rest of my life.

But then I should propably also do a Gilmore Girls-style backpacking-around-Europe-and-sleeping-in-stinky-student-hostels tour too. Sounds fun, doesn't it? Now that would be the real just-out-of-college-I-am-still-young-I-can-do-anything-I-can-be-anything-I-want-to-be experience. 

Such a shame life isn't a box of chocolates, and neither does it resemble to Gilmore Girls. 

And, I am afraid, I cannot even make it resemble.

I wish, I wish, I wish.

But I can't, I can't I can't.

What's worse, that it seems like I am the only one around who can't. I am the only one around who has to sit on her butt, pretending to be patient and having fun preparing for finals.

Cause it seems like all of my friends, everyone I know is constantly dashing off to a million wonderful places like shooting stars*, following their dreams, living up to their expectations and aspirations, winning scholarships here and there, seizing their days, travelling around  the world, and carping the hell out of diem.

And I am green with envy and yellow with jealousy (see, how colorful person I am?!), because I want to be in their shoes.

I feel utterly and completely stuck, like my shoes are glued to the concrete of Budapest with a dozen tubes of superglue, and so are my feet to my shoes, and there's no way out, I am stuck forever, because the superglue is extra-super strong and extra-super-long lasting, and it will never let me go. Don't get me wrong, I still adore Budapest, it is still the love of my life. But there is a whole new world out there, you know. A pretty amazing one that is waiting just for me to explore it. 

But probably not now. 

Maybe I am not ready for the exploration. Yet.

So I guess, all I can do today is (pretend) to be patient, and hope that my wandering days are going to come too, just not now, but some time later. 

I just have to be patient.

And to feed my wanderlust, I can look at pretty and insiring pictures like these:

So who's coming with me?

*It's a quote by someone, but I can't find it, argh... someone, please put me out of my misery and tell me who it is by. Is it Kerouac? Or is it Plath? It may not be the exact quote. But the words "dashing," "wonderful places," and "shooting stars" are in it. Am I making it up?

The First Hundred (Hopefully Not the Last)

On Sunday the number of  the followers on my photoblog reached the threshold of a hundred. (As of now it's 104 but who's counting?)

One hundred followers.

Every tumblr blogger says this, but I never thought I would ever have a hundred followers.

I could only hope, I could only dream about it. 

But somehow, with persistent, hard work, and a whole lot of patience, somehow the number of my followers reached 99 + 1. (well, actually, 99+5, but who's counting?)

It would be easy to say that it does not mean anything, especially since there are hundreds (maybe even thousands?) of blogs on tumblr with as much as thousands or tens of thousands of followers. Compared to them my achievement is nothing. But most of those other blogs reached such high numbers by the constant reblogging of other people's utterly popular posts. Now that, I do not consider very original.

Neither do I consider my own photographs that much original, for that matter. Still, they are much more original than reblogging other people's images. They are my own creations, the precious fruits of my not always blooming creativity. My very own babies, to whom I gave birth. I took all those steps, all the many miles, came up with the compositions, shot them, deleted most of them, edited the remaining few, uploaded the even fewer I thought were worthy of publishing. And, very most importantly, had a lot of fun while doing so. This is why I keep taking the steps, doing the shooting, the deleting, the editing, and the uploading. Because I love it, I still believe that the art of photography is magical. (There goes the cliche of the day, if you haven't noticed.) I am still amazed by how cameras work, but how it actually depends on me how I capture the moment. 

So I am happy to have reached this not so high but quite round number.

Because it means that there are a hundred people who:

a, do not know me at all (well, most of them)

b, therefore, do not feel obligated to look at my photos, but they still do

c, neither feel obligated to like my photography, but they still do

d, hence judge me only on my photos

e, think that I am talented to some extent

f, and it is worth to follow me

g, because my photos evoke some sort of emotions in them, hopefully positive ones. 

And that's a good thing. A damn good thing, if you ask me. Even if it's only 99+1. 

Still, let's hope that more 99+1s are to come in the not so distant future!

mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa

so here's the thing folks. i made a mistake. i screwed it up bad. i left the special guest star of the day out from the recap of our adventureous saturday. i have no idea how i could overlook him, especially since he was such a great part of our eventful day. 

we met him on the rainy street, he was jumping about right in front of the main building of elte. i guess he really likes spring showers, maybe even more than i do, cause he looked very happy bouncing about, hopping in and out of paddles. i mean how couldn't he, when jumping in paddles & splashing water is the best part of spring showers! the very moment i glampsed at him i wanted to grab his cute little squishy body, caddle him, and take him with me. but some strange guy was walking right behind him, and wanted to kick him away. lucky him, he managed to bounce away, then i cried out for him, wanting to safe him from further kicking. all of a sudden, the strange guy turned out to be a nice guy, as he picked him up, and handed to me, accompanied by a wide smile on his face. 

from that moment on, the rest of day with our cute & squishy buddy was a walk in the park. i reckon he really did enjoy himself with us, 'cause he kept bouncing about wherever we took him. first he got to take a look around in könyvtár klub and watched us having a cup of coffee. then he accompanied us in a chinese restaurant, acting like a naughty boy, not sitting still, but jumping about all the time. i reckon he must have been rather hungry, or just wanted more of our attention? ...i should have bought him some yummy chinese food! then he came with us to petruska andris's concert too. i am pretty sure this was his first real cultural experience. during the concert he sat still under our chair, hardly ever moving about, completely amazed and mesmerized by the music. i must say he really has a brilliant taste in music! 

then, i am afraid, as we were leaving szabad az á, he suffered his first, and hopefully last, traumatic event with us. by that time we were such close buddy-buddies that i even took him with me to the cubicle to have a pee. but after i came out i got so excited taking a couple of polaroid photos that i almost left him in the loo. my-oh-my, that poor guy! he was lying on the filthy floor, in the corner of the tiny loo, looking very rejected and blue. upon realizing that we almost left him behind, we picked him up fast and cuddled him, and never let him go the rest of the evening. he adored his first ride on the underground, hugging Zsö, or rather Zsö hugging him strong, making sure that he would not escape. naturally, he took a look around with us on moszkva tér. similarly to us, he said his silent goodbyes, with crocodile tears in the corners of his non-existent, but ever so large and beautiful green eyes. you could clearly tell that a great gloominess overtook him as we were walking around the square, and taking photos of our admired moszkva tér. 

by the time we got home he looked quite tiny, his ever so shrinking body covered with filth from head to toe. still, underneath all that dirt he was glowing from happiness. you could just tell from the way his eyes were sparkling that it had been the best day of his life!

so now that you know quite a few things about the special guest star of the day, let me introduce you to Z. Ö(l)dön! (pronounced with a silent l!)

isn't he the cutest and most beautiful green balloon ever? 

he was so happy with us that he could not stop bouncing about... it was really hard work looking after him and always keeping an eye on him.

dear Z. Ödön with a silent l, thank you for entering our life and letting us take care of you! you really colored our day (green)!

The Tale of the Spring Shower, The Coolest Loser Guy, and The Last Days of Moszkva Tér

The first day of my just-regained freedom was quite an adventurous and off hand one, wasn't it, Zsö? Early afternoon we set off to Múzeumok Majálisa, and took a few laps in National Museum. I had been in such high need of some culture and a couple of history lessons, it was most certainly worth going & taking a look around. Oh, and have I mentioned that amazing architecture? I am more amazed by the incredible and ever so beautiful architecture of Budapest each and every day. I mean how can you not admire it when we have such astonishing buildings as the National Museum? Have you taken a close look inside? I have no words to describe the grandness of it: the whole structure, those staircases, every little detail, the symmetricity, the murals and the paintings on the wall. Can't you just adore it? I must must must go back - well I should already have been there quite a few times since I have been hanging around that neck of the woods for ages - and take photos, lots and lots of them. (Such a shame I don't have a better camera, and that a photo-pass to the museum costs so darn much...)

Anyway, as we came out of the museum we were taken quite by surprise as it was raining cats and dogs while the sun was still shining. Weird, huh? I guess spring weather could not have gotten more typical. 

And we, being typical humans, when any kind of moisture starts falling off the sky, run as fast as we can - some even faster than Forrest Gump - to any place that can provide us with some sort of roof over our head. This is how all, or many, of the visitors of the Majális escaped to the top of the stairs and the entrance of the museum. It was pretty much like sardines in a tin can, very nice & comfy - NOT, rather steamy & sticky. In fact, I almost burst into that cheezy song titled No air...

...and than we waited and waited, and waited...

...and it still did not want to stop... 

 ...so eventually some people started to lose their patience...

...then got so bored that they fell asleep on their Daddy's shoulders. 

I, on the other hand, was quite busy playing with my camera and findig some fun details in the crowd. 

 

Thank god there are still some people enjoying rain!

Then, in the spur of the moment, we decided to go to a concert, to Petruska Andris's in Tilos az Á. But we rushed off to the place so fast that we forgot to think twice about where we were actually supposed to go... This is how we ended up in a totally wrong but really beautiful place. (Again, that architecture!)

... then, after reenecting that famous Bon Jovi video, we did make it to the concert on time, whoo-hoo! It was very homey and familiar, as there weren't more than 40-50 people in the audience. Nevertheless, it was pretty bloody superb. I mean that guy can really really sing & play the guitar & put on an entertaining one-man show. What a massive yet super-soothing voice, absolutely brilliant! And the really great/funny/interesting/weird thing about Petruska Andris is that he completely transforms once he is off-stage. Behind his guitar he is this confident, super-talented super-dooper singer/musician, but once he took his instrument off and got off the stage, all of a sudden he becomes this scrawny, insecure, wobbly loser guy. Still, he is the coolest and most talented loser guy I have ever known.

Upon our final stop, and to put the dot on the i, we took the last metro of the day and headed to Moszvka tér. Since it's being renamed, we wanted to pay our condolances and say our goodbyes to our beloved Moszkva tér. I still don't get it though: why-oh-why does it have to be renamed? To whom does it do any good? Whose pocket is all that money pouring into? Moszkva tér is not only a name, is not only a square, there is nothing communist about it. (I mean common, it's the name of a bloody city! If we really wanted to take revenge on all of our previous oppressors than we might as well demolish all of our Turkish baths and minarets too, aren't we? Common, it's the part of our history, deal with the damn thing!) 

Moszkva tér is an institution, it is a unique atmosphere, it is the title of a brilliant movie. Once it's named Széll Kálmán tér, nothing will be the same. And yes, I do know that it had been called Széll Kálmán before. But so much have changed since then. The square itself has changed so much since then. So what's the point then?

Anyway, we were sad to find that some signs were already changed...

...and there's a new sherif in town...

Still, there's plenty of Moszkva tér signs around (for another few days, at least). I could not stop taking a bunch of photos of them...

I wonder whether they will rename Moszkva tér Bisztró to Széll Kálmán Bisztró?

And what about this piece of art? 

That's one pretty address plate. Can I, please, please, please, have it as a suvenir? I must put my hands on a Moszkva tér sign & have my very own one on my wall. 

Say goodbye to Moszkva tér.

And say hello to Száll Kálmán tér. NOT!

Free, at Last

photo via intheflesh

It's hard to believe, but my very last semester as a BA student has finally, finally come to an end. What's even better is that I managed to survive it: I met all deadlines, handed in all essays, wrote & submitted thesis, gave all presentations, took all mid- and end-term tests, and passed all courses. (Well, to be completely honest, I ditched two pedagogy seminars, but who cares? They aren't compulsory, and I just could not take them seriously.) There was a whole lot running up & down during the semester, the constant feeling of anxiety, of being afraid that I would screw something up and would not be able to graduate this semester, etc, etc. Naturally, I should not be counting my chickens before they are hatched, as the state exam is still ahead of me. Yet, I feel that - by completing this last semester - a huge weight has been lifted off my shoulders, and this great, limitless feeling of freedom has taken over me this morning. Although I am well aware that the state exam (and the preparation for that) will not be a walk in the park either, yet, it is still an entire month away, and I decided to enjoy my survival and freedom for a day or two. As I have to read about 5000 (or maybe even more?) pages of literature for the US lit state exam, I will start preparing ASAP. But I don't mind, I really don't, 'cause I have to read some really good stuff. So the next couple of weeks will be about reading as much as possible. I am pretty sure it's impossible to read 5000 pages in two weeks, but I'll try to read at least half of it... And in the meantime, as a celebration of my freshly regained freedom, I will:

• go to a couple of museums and see some exhibitions
• unpack my cameras and shoot, shoot, shoot A LOT
• go to Margitsziget, lie in the sun & in the grass and read
• go to Pajtás étterem and eat some good old fresh canteen food and enjoy the nostalgic menza-atmosphere
• go to the restaurant that sells the best gyros in town and try it
• go to cinema, enjoy the big screen, the darkness, and the soothing air-conditioning
• go to Ünnepi Könyvhét (since I have never been to a book festival, shame on me!)
• go to Puskin, to the reading of Tóth Kriszitina and her new book
• enjoy the summer
• blog a lot

and most importantly

• read read read A LOT of pure American literature

Let the games begin!

photo via Crackbook Productions

“Nothing is original.
Steal from anywhere that resonates with inspiration or fuels your imagination.
Devour old films, new films, music, books, paintings, photographs, poems, dreams, random conversations, architecture, bridges, street signs, trees, clouds, bodies of water, light and shadows.
Select only things to steal from that speak directly to your soul. If you do this, your work (and theft) will be authentic. Authenticity is invaluable; originality is non-existent.
And don’t bother concealing your thievery – celebrate it if you feel like it. In any case, always remember what Jean-Luc Godard said: “It’s not where you take things from – it’s where you take them to.” Jim Jarmusch

(I stole this quote from here.)

Things about a Bookworm/Book-Obsessed/Bibliophile/Bibliomaniac

I must must must reblog the following post from 500DaysOfKissingMyPillow. I giggled and kept nodding affirmatively all the way from the very first statement till the very last one. 

So how many of the following statements ring a bell to you?

1. when you have bought a new book, you caress the front cover and then you smell it.
2. you have given a stranger a fright / shock when you suddenly gasped and talked to yourself a little loud when you are in a bookstore and you saw the latest book from your favorite author.
3. you hate folding pages of your book.
4. you have a stack of bookmarks.
5. you can withstand hunger, smell and lack off sleep just by being so hooked in a book/reading.
6. as much as possible, you don’t want to crinkle the spine of your book.
7. you get restless/irritated when your friend haven’t returned the book he/she borrowed even after being able to read it.
8. you rejoice when you see a discount or sale.
9. you pass the chance to buy a book when you see a discount or sale.
10. when in a mall, your feet automatically leads you to bookstores.
11. when you are with your friends who are not bookworms, you control the urge of going inside a bookstore because you know you will take time.
12. you rejoice when you are able to influence someone into reading.
13. you will manage to buy every book by your favorite author ever published.
14. you want books for gifts in any other occasions.
15. when asked what you want, you always say “a book/s” in response.
16. you get happy inside when you see someone who doesn’t look like a reader, holding a book, reading.
17. when you see a stranger with a book, you try your best to know what book the person is reading.
18. of course, you own books. lots of them!
19. every once in a while, you write a book review.
20. you can judge a book by its cover.
21. you feel week being unable to read a book in a week.
22. you enjoy reading.
23. reading is the best pleasure for you.
24. you always have a book on hand when you are going out.
25. when you travel, you already have a book/s on your mind that you will be bringing.
26. most of the time, you prefer the book than the movie adaptation.
27. you dream of having your own library, or you already have one.
28. you worry about fire because you don’t know how you will save all of your precious books.
29. you always have money to buy a new book.
30. you can never live without books.
31. books rule your world.
32. you dream about that particular book character - and you wish he/she could be yours - for real.
33. always - you feel a pang in your heart when the book you’re reading is about to end. you wish that it will not end.
34. you hate waiting for months for a new release but once you got your hands on that book, it will only last a day in your hands.
35. you take care of your precious eyes.
36. most of the time, you prefer reading novels than studying.
37. if you do not have a bookshelf, you always worry about where to put your new books.
38. you write down quotations that strike / appeal to you when you read.
39. your friends call you “the walking library/encyclopedia”.
40. you are good with words and writing.
41. you dream of being an author and want to make it happen.

Julia's Kitchen Wisdom

These days I am reading As Always, Julia: The Letters of Julia Child and Avis DeVoto,which gives a good insight to the blooming friendship of two astonishing women, the making of a classic cookbook, and the cultural-political atmosphere of the era. It is a fairly entertaining read, especially Julia Child's seemingly naive, but quite witty sense of humour.

I am only on page 104 yet, but I have already underlined a few sentences that I really liked and found either interesting and/or funny. Here they are:

"Do you think a cliche is less of a cliche when it is in two languages?"

"My, I get so depressed after a poor meal; that's why I can never stay in England for more than a week."

"And I hope you have a subtle mind, too. Myself, I am infinitely subtle and extremely worldly."

"I hate only a very few people, one being Mme. Brassard head of the Cordon Bleu who is a nasty, mean woman; McCarthy, whom I don't know; and Old Guard Republicans, whom I see as little as possible."

"If we ever get into the money I am going to have a kitchen where everything is my height, and non of this pigmy stuff, and maybe 4 ovens, and 12 burners all in a line, and 3 broilers, and a charcoal grill, and a spit that turns."

"...I was at that time living under the Queensborough Bridge being a career woman. I had intended to be a great woman novelist, but for some reason The New Yorker didn't ask me to be on its staff, and I ended up in the advertisment dept. of W&J Sloane."

"I never want to throw anything away and Paul wants to throw everything away; so between us it works out quite reasonably. (In one of Paul's throw-away moods, we threw out our marriage licence, some years ago, which was going a bit far, I think.) Paul says most women like to keep everything because it is their nesting instinct. Maybe he's right."

David Nicholls's One Day

I have recently finished One Day by David Nicholls. I loved it, it was just the thing I needed after the hard labour of thesis writing. I have to say, it is definitely a must read. A re-read, even. (Especially since its film adaptation is coming out this summer, from the director of An Education, starring Anne Hathaway and Jim Sturgess. Can hardly wait to see it!)

Here are a few of my favorite quotes from the book.

(A more detailed review should come some time soonish.)

"What are you going to do with your life?" In one way or another it seemed that people had been asking her this forever; teachers, her parents, friends at three in the morning, but the question had never seemed this pressing and still she was no nearer an answer... "Live each day as if it's your last', that was the conventional advice, but really, who had the energy for that? What if it rained or you felt a bit glandy? It just wasn't practical. Better by far to be good and courageous and bold and to make difference. Not change the world exactly, but the bit around you. Cherish your friends, stay true to your principles, live passionately and fully and well. Experience new things. Love and be loved, if you ever get the chance." 

"...you feel a little bit lost right now about what to do with your life, a bit rudderless and oarless and aimless but that's okay that's alright because we're all meant to be like that at twenty-four."  

"She drinks pints of coffee and writes little observations and ideas for stories with her best fountain pen on the linen-white pages of expensive notebooks. Sometimes, when it's going badly, she wonders if what she believes to be a love of the written word is really just a fetish for stationery. The true writer, the born writer, will scribble words on scraps of litter, the back of a bus tickets, on the wall of a cell. Emma is lost on anything less than 120gsm." 

"But at the best of times she feels like a character in a Muriel Spark novel - independent, bokish, sharp-minded, secretley romantic."

guilty pleasures

my oh my, i want this end-of-last-term-craziness to be ALREADY over. 

but it won't, and it's only getting more and more crazier until thursday.

so here comes a little daydreaming.

i want to lie in  mellow orangy pink sunsets

feel the balmy sunshine melting on my skin

blades of velvety green grass running through my fingers

the roar of the city is nowhere to be heard

only the perky little birdies are chirping around

and i read and read and read and read

sweet little nothings silly little romances

heartbreaking tales of the coming-of-age

young adult fiction for the braindead me

stupid brainless gossipy chick-lits 

glamorous covers yelling buy me buy me

pink paperbacks all  fantastically readable 

(says nick hornby on his blog and so do i on mine)

j'adore perfume oozing between the lines

golden sand pouring from sea scented beach reads

forgive me, they are delicous

so sweet and so cold soothing

guilty pleasures and daydreaming

especially on gloomy saturday evenings

are the best fun of all

but i am chained to this awful desk

writing not-at-all academic and hardly researched

research papers of the highest of literatures

or rather i should be 16 pages of them

double spaced times new roman font size 12

one inch margins MLA citing my oh my so strict

then cram the awful and dry and

who-the-hell-gives-a-damn US history

highlight all 400 single spaced boring pages

trying to fill my head until thursday and take the test

somehow pass then forget it all on friday

wish me luck 'cause i really need it

and cross all ten of your fingers for me

and all ten of your toes as well

if you dont mind and if you can

and especially: if you have ten of them

for all my fellow creative and color-admiring mates out there