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Hayden Kopser

Budapest: One Week In

Been in Budapest a week now. Aside from moments of late night dread about getting my residence card approved, things have become comfortable. I found an apartment to stay in. I know my way around walking, could even tell you some street names near me. I’m getting used to public transit too. Subways, trams, trolleys, and buses. Getting around Budapest is easy, especially when you have your phone handy. 

 

I’m also getting to know the restaurants, the cafés too. I’m learning what they’re called in Hungarian and same goes for the items they serve. No need to google how to order my favorite drink anymore. It’s become comfortable to say “dupla espresso hideg tejjel” (double espresso with cold milk). When I would try to order this same coffee in NYC, the request was met with a confused look more often than you’d expect (and I ordered in English). If there were words to accompany the looks of confusion, they were usually, “With oat milk?” “No, cold milk, just didn’t want it steamed.” Sometimes that reply led to new trouble because they’d only hear steamed. Here it seems to check out despite my choppy Magyarul. 

 

Speaking of coffee, I was looking for a place to grab one the other day when I stumbled across a sign for a shared workspace. Change of plans. I stepped inside the open entryway to view this European version of WeWork. The office space is sandwiched between an eco-themed Mediterranean restaurant and a hotel that manages said restaurant. The restaurant is sprawling, with seats spread across the base of the atrium of a building that may long ago have served as an apartment complex. Vines dangle from glass ceiling to the tile floor and from great clay pots sprout live trees. It’s not in a gimmicky Rainforest Café style. Looks authentic, in a forget the room is roofed and forget you’re in the heart of Budapest kind of way. 

 

I knew I’d want to find a shared workspace here, but I expected I’d have to do some research before decided which to tour. It’s funny, you go across the world and you can find a place to login and work that has most of the features you grew accustomed to at your office back home. Different people, different setup, different location, but the same in most ways, all the ways that matter. It’s the same thing only different. Globalization. 

 

Budapest remains unique, though. Each walk I take offers something new to see, every menu has items I’ve yet to try, and the language that marks the street signs, store windows, and conversations of passersby remains largely alien to me. John Von Neumann, Leo Szilard, and their Hungarian physicist friends involved with the Manhattan project were known as “The Martians.” I’ve heard that their unique language had something to do with the nickname’s popularity. My stay so far backs the rumor’s plausibility. 

 

In a way, learning this language – any language really – is like dusting off an artifact. I first experienced in Vienna what it feels like to play Egyptologist. It's not digging in the ground, and the information I learn is not undiscovered, but to me, nearly every glance and step uncovers something previously unknown that I’m forced to to consider, comprehend, compartmentalize. 

 

Hungarian is far from the only language around in this international city. I’ve also heard plenty of Russian, English (including English-English, Scottish-English, Irish-English, and even American), Italian, Farsi, Turkish, German, and Spanish. 

 

In the case of that last language listed, I had to dust that off too, an artifact from my own past, not someone else’s. I walked into a roast chicken restaurant named Feugo one night. Asked the hostess if she had a table available, but she replied in South American accented English that she doesn’t speak Hungarian. I asked in English which languages were better. Inglés o Español. Perfecto. She got excited when I continued with some elementary Spanish. “De Colombia.” She replied with a smile. My word choice convinced her it was wise to hand me a menu written in her mother tongue. After a bit of struggle, I began with Pollo and added other words I knew to decode the options. Eventually, and with a little help from the hostess who now played waitress, I figured out what I wanted. The rotisserie style chicken and duck that soon rested in front of me made the effort worthwhile. 

 

Fuego aside, it’s not just good South American food heating up this city’s international cuisine scene. Everything from good Pho and Greek food to Magyar classics like Chicken Paprikash, can be gotten with minimal effort. Here, the world’s cuisines are showcased on most Utcas one could think to walk down and these culinary discoveries make exploring the Hungarian Capital’s nooks and crannies even more worthwhile. 

 

A week in and there have been plenty of other surprises besides the languages of greeting and none of them have been bad. I suppose that’s part of the reason you go somewhere else. It breaks a routine, forces you to see new things, adds something to your day that you can’t predict, reminds you there’s still mystery in the world even if it’s only a mystery to you.








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