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Cultural Ambience

Budapest, like many other European cities, has loads of cultural activities to offer. I have only recently taken advantage of these opportunities. There are dozens of free museums, cinemas, galleries, and of the like. This past weekend was the fourth Verzio International Film Festival in Budapest, which showcased quite a few interesting flicks. Although I had ten lined up on my "to watch" list, I only made it to four.

The first film I attended was Between the Lines: India's Third Gender, about Hijras within Indian society. Hijras, a growing third gender, are previously men who get castrated to become this gender. What is unique about this particular gender is that they self-identify not as women or men, but simply as Hijras and are known for spiritual blessings or curses. Within Indian society, these individuals appear to be not only discriminated by somewhat accepted at the same time. Many of those within the film interviewed appeared to live very poverty-stricken lives, begging for money on a constant basis, selling their bodies to men for money, or dancing in clubs. Walking through the streets of Mumbai, it appeared the Hijras attracted stares of not only difference, but of disbelief and disgust. Despite these types of non-acceptance by the Indian society, they are heavily relied on--both for their supernatural powers and their bodies as objects for men--within Indian society. The film captures this sub-culture within India and reveal both the pains and joys of a minority class.

Two out of the three other films are worth mentioning. One of which is Exile Family Movie, a story of exiled Iranians throughout the globe. The film takes us through Arash T. Riahi's personal history of his own family, both nuclear and extended, who have either left Iran for political reasons or remained within the suppressive regime. The film begins in 1994 in Vien, Austria, where his nuclear family resides. Images and clips depict the pain his family members face as they are torn apart by politics, displaced across the globe, and separated by cultures. It has been years since the family has been together until they decide to meet in Mecca, in Saudi Arabia. Arash takes us through a personal journey filled with cultural differences, family connections, sorrow and ecstasy. This film encapsulates not only a personal journey, but reflects the notions of political subordination, determination, understanding, and most importantly love.

In Africa, the Democratic Republic of Congo, plagued by war, famine, disease witnesses the rise in Evangelical Christianity. Many of the Congolese are inflicted by deep poverty, AIDs, unimaginable hardships, looking for a way out of this life. Thanks to a handful pastors who claim they are God's messengers, preaching what the poor Congolese wish to hear, are not only creating a sense of false belief, but also a rise within their own bank accounts. The sad reality remains in the continuity of this practice, where individuals infected by AIDs and other detriments truly believe that through the prayers of these prophets to God, their ailing will heal. The film concludes with a very powerful scene, as one Congolese women lies frail and ill, flies circling her body, perhaps infected by cancer or AIDs, repeating that God will save her from her condition.

The wonders of international film festivals, such as these, is that it allows one to visualize the varying cultures, struggles, issues throughout the world. Simply reading a newspaper or an online article is indeed informational, but with this visualization, one is able to conceptualize the realities of the conditions of individuals. Taking a peek, even if only a minute one, into the lives of these people, we can move beyond the vague understanding we might initially possess.

two months

86,400 minutes, 1440 hours, 60 days, two months. Sitting at my laptop at 11:37 AM, it has hit me that two long months have passed since my arrival here in Budapest. In thinking of this time period past, too many things emerge within my thoughts--the first initial feeling of the city, my integration, my friendships, my travels. Outside of these thoughts, the one thing which tends to emerge from time to time is the fact of familiarity.

I wake up to the sun shining through the square windows each morning. I walk down Kiniszi Utca to either the Kinai Bufe or the burger joint for lunch or dinner. I stride over to the university where three big buildings stand--the main building, the sohaz building, the new building. I attend class each day, and see the same people within these classes. The topic changes of course, but when one simply observes this schedule without sound, its like looking at a set of the same pictures. I've become accustomed to my schedule, and have no problems. The people I have met are amazing.

My weekends consist of socializing, either at someone's flat, or at a local pub. I have grown attached to specifically three pubs--Szimpla, Klub Vittul, and Kuplung. They are all dive type bars, really Bohemian type environments with old stone walls surrounding the main area, grafitti on the walls, obscure designs floating around.

I have become used to the pace here. It is much slower in comparison to most cities of the States. Although the drivers on the road are absolutely mad, there still exists this sense of relaxation. I walk down the various Utca's of Budapest and even with this cold weather, people are sitting under the umbrella's covering the tables and sipping on their coffee or tea, intimately discussing something.

I have become familiar with the political situation here, somewhat. Weeks ago, there was the riots/protests against the government which tends to embody socialist ideas. Speaking to a local Hungarian man on the street, he mentioned the corruption of the government, the lack of even distribution amongst the citizens, and the vicscious cycle of poverty with no institutional aid. The man reiterated variuos times, "It hurts my soul to see this in my country."

Budapest is not simply the picturesque setting one sees upon arrival. It is not only the beautiful Danube with marvelous bridges lingering above. It is not only the fancy tourist streets such as Vaci Utca or Raday Utca. It is not only what lonely planet speaks of Budapest. Budapest has become a city with personal connections for me. Within only two months, I have grown attached to the life here. I am not saying that I'll drop everything and move here, or stay here rather, but to really understand what the city is about and feel part of it is a great thing.

About 86,400 minutes, 1440 hours, 60 days, two months remain.