Out for a walk

As much as I love travel and the idea of travel, I am often frustrated by the problem of breadth versus depth; how many places will I visit and how well will I get to know each of them? On the continuum that runs from complete ignorance of a place to true expertise, I often wonder what it really means to have been to a city. I have an irrational aversion to tourist attractions - well, irrational in that I should judge something according to its own merit, not by the number of others who like it. But there is an element of rationality, too, because a bubble often forms around these attractions and keeps out the distinction of the locale.

To walk around the neighborhoods, though, is a start, especially today when the sun finally returned. Doing so confirmed a couple things I'd heard. For instance, people seem to love their dogs, leashed or not, but don't love to pick up after them. Droppings are everywhere, but I saw them before it was too late, I think. Also, few cross the street unless given the green light, a strange reversal of Manhattan and Saigon, but it did make me feel like quite the trailblazer to continue on where others had stopped. Even more gratifying were the people who talked to me even if I didn't understand them. I paused in front of one shop to look at the boots placed outside, and a middle-aged woman rambled about something while fingering $6.50 pants. When she walked away, I noticed a hole burned into the left leg, which probably wasn't her doing (though she was smoking). An older gentleman stopped me for directions ("Hol van a...?") but found the place right in front of us before I could say "Nem tudom." Now I know how Rory felt in the second season when someone mistook her for a New Yorker and requested directions.

On second thought, my encounter probably trumped Rory's because there aren't many non-whites in Hungary (but they must be somewhere because Chinese restaurants abound). I'm surprised at how international this city has been (students, and others who end up staying after visiting) in contrast to how few locals speak English. It's hard to know how well I 'fit in' because some speak to me and others stare, although it may be in my head. I'm self-consciously discreet about my camera and map, particularly today because a friend inspired me to explore with no particular destination in mind. Getting lost didn't bother me: I figured I would wander and then look up my location whenever I wanted to go home. But in general I like keeping my bearings because I'm a visual learner who can't know a place until I can picture it.

I was luckily quite near a metro as dusk set in, near the Keleti Pályaudvar train station (pictured) in fact. The problem was, I couldn't find the entrance. Theoretically, maps should be simple, but just because there's a metro icon where Fiumel and Kerepesi intersect on the map, doesn't mean you will see the actual metro once you reach Baross Square. To complicate matters, most busy intersections have entrances that lead underground so that pedestrians can "cross the street" without interrupting traffic - convenient, but confusing because they resemble metro entrances. So after several of those, as well as dead ends and construction detours, I found the red line.

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Listening to: Yeah Yeah Yeahs, "Y Control"