Butchers of memory

But not in a bad way.

Arrival in Budapest has been difficult in some ways, jubilant in others and covered in such a layer of memory I had trouble finding myself in the present.
There is a lot of poverty, a lot of filth (how can Nyugati ter continue to smell like piss after all these years?) In fact, how did I love it so much then and can't remember that love now?
There are a lot of homeless people and people who beg.
But given a few days I've also seen places that sparkle with new life, and service levels have improved markedly. People return my smile, this makes me very happy.
Still no one asks how I am, and bus drivers look at me strangely when I say thank you when I get off, but I can live with that.

I went through all my old treasure boxes, all the old diaries, letters and keepsakes. I will be posting much of it home if I can afford to, but it was wild, revisiting those very old times. Love letters, how fucking wonderful are they!? And a lot of the time, how very juvenile. But it all mostly made me smile.

Seeing Balint again was actually pretty perfect. It seems enough time has passed for us to be genuine friends. I had forgotten how tall he was, and he said I had shrunk, but our humour is the same and we spent a lot of that first day laughing. Today I spoke to Bakos and slowly I will contact the whole old crew and hopefully get together soon. As much as I couldn't bear to live here, I miss these guys.

Which brings me to the butcher: I spent this morning walking the streets and reaquainting myself. On the way home I stopped at the Hunyadi teri market and went to the butcher where B and I used to shop weekly. Those guys were wonderful. And they're still there. Feri served me and I feel like he recognised me, but I was so overcome with this feeling of the pull of the past that i didn't know how to ask him if he remembered me. I will have to go again.

Time with mum has been intense and in the first day very very drunk (me), and accepting (her). Since then I've kept the beer consumption to less than 8 pints, but it's going well. Hungary pisses me off for not letting her have an easier life.
Speaking of life, Pista is still kicking on, in a very old-man kind of way but I am grateful he waited so I could squeeze him again.

Yesterday we spent some blissful hours in the Varosliget, me in the full sun sucking in as much summer as I can hold, mum in the shade, complaining about the heat. The way it has always been :)
We drank Edelweiss beer with lemon slices from plastic cups and it was wonderful. And then J called and it was good to think that there is more to look forward to at home than just vegemite toast.

I have now met Beni, my godson, who has more energy than I've ever seen in a tiny package like that. He really is quite perfect. And being able to spend time with Jutka again, in her calm and rational aura - I bloody adore that woman!

So, I'm off to the gym now and a swim - somehow I can't get my running mojo back in this heat so I need to do something to move and not drown in a sea of lard and beer calories.

I'm not going to write about H&M. I can't believe how much i love a bargain! It's shameful really. The first thing I bought though when I arrived here was a bright yellow Calzedonia bikini. I'm already getting lots of wear out of it.

Paul and I have been to parliament house together, so there is no danger of my madness diminishing.