More interesting to me are the people: what they do, where they come from, what's their story. The good thing about living with a local is that I get to experience what the every day Hungarian does in the city. One thing for sure..no one notices what anyone wears. In fact, it looks as if people put on whatever happens to be hanging on the doorknob or bedpost. Just throw it on in a different order. It could be hot pink leggings, white heals and t-shirt, or a long dress, oversized sweatshirt and crocs with socks. Anything goes. For me, that's cool. No one feels bad about how they look. Anyone dressed in "cute" would definitely look like a tourist. And speaking of clothing: NEVER LEST TRAVEL TIP #4. Never go into a Jewish Synagogue with in a sleeveless top lest you have to wear paper towels on your shoulders.
Today's neighborhood visit was to Ujpest (pronounced ooo-i-pesh), which is a middle class working neighborhood not too far from here. Each neighborhood in the city has it's own market. The goal today was to visit the market. It began with a ride on the blue line subway; a very old subway reminiscent of the communist era. Rows and rows of communist block housing line the streets. Buildings were built after WWII when the Russians came into Hungary and defeated the Nazis. Communism took over the government and people were brought into the city to work in factories. You either worked or went to jail. Everybody worked. (not a bad concept....accept the "jail" part.) Most every job was paid the same. Most every one lived in government owned housing. These buildings were built with elevator shafts that serviced only two apartments at a time. The communists designed things in a way to keep the peoples communication and grouping together at a minimum. Many of the buildings are still bullet riddled from WWII and the 1956 peoples uprising against communism.
At the neighborhood square was a church, a park, a few restaurants, and the market. Look at this market! I wanted to buy something from every farmer. The one that endeared me, however, was the butcher and his son. The butcher did not speak English but his son did. Of course, I had no idea what I was buying, but I felt I had to in order to get their picture. At first, they were shy...but once I took interest in the salami, I had their attention. The little boy would translate for me. Still....I think I ended up buying "horse". I mean....it said, "PICK" on the label. So I did. After leaving them, I wandered over to the "beer" corner. Figured, "if I buy it, they will come. " And they did. Two elder gentlemen walked up and bought their beer and stood, drenched in their hand waiving conversation. A couple came. And gentleman came. The last one smiled with his toothless grin and began, with a rapid, enthusiastic stream of conversation. NO CLUE what language. I asked "English?" Obviously not. He smiled. Kept talking...I heard "deutsche"a few times. I asked.."German?" "Dutch?" "Slovak?""Hungarian?" No. He did not associate with any of them. I continued to pick and pull at words...he did too. I would laugh. He would sheepishly grin. Then we groaned. Eventually, we gave up and sipped at our beer.
Today's HIGHLIGHT. Watching this security guard gently and respectfully escort this lost little women down the sidewalk.
Writing this, I am back now at Brios, the cafe around the corner from where I'm staying. The World Cup is about to begin. Australia is about to play the Netherlands. The screen is on now and people are beginning to sit down. One thing I noticed back in Ujpest was that, in the town square, was a huge screen with chairs. The square was filled with a large sand box, ping pong tables, huge chess boards and checker sets..all set up for the kids while the parents watched the soccer game. It was clearly a neighborhood event. The World Cup. The World Cup is in neighborhoods everywhere. Even Hungarian neighborhoods.
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