The meditating Power of alone Time

The past three months have been intensive. I've just moved to a new city and started working full-time as a journalist the next day. I love my job and gladly give it all my time, but after I've worked four days out of the last three weekends, going through protests, elections, a refugee camp, and other intensive events, I started to feel my social batteries were reaching the bottom of their charge. 

I knew that for the sake of my sanity, I had to take a break. Thankfully, the Velvet revolution brought not only the gift of democracy and freedom to do my job but also a national holiday. This year it fell on Thursday. I took out a vacation day on Friday and instantly felt the excitement of a prolonged weekend. Although originally, I planned to jump in my car and drive to Gdansk, it was scratched by the realization that I still haven't swapped my summer tires for the winter wear and could quite possibly end up crashing a second car this year in an ice drift. 

So, I went to Košice, where I still stored my winter set, and cleared the drawing board. I knew I needed to simply get out of Slovakia because, as someone who has to follow the happenings in this god-forsaken country, I had just about enough. Instead, I decided to travel to a country that is just as bad politically, but since I don't have to live there, it doesn't bother me as much! I booked my train and accommodation in Budapest on Wednesday and already sat in the first-class (I treated myself) car the following day. 

When you really really feel you need a break from a stressful job, simply sitting on a train and reading a book seems like a gift from the heavens. I haven't read a book for longer than half an hour in so long because when I come home after ten hours of staring at a computer, my eyes are tired, and I'm on the verge of falling asleep the minute I turn the page. I gotta say, now I see what Theodor Adorno yapped about. 

I read it until I got off the train at Keleti pályaudvar. As soon as I hopped off the train, I took out my camera and enjoyed the freedom of not having to do anything. I walked towards my accommodation but wasn't rushing. I enjoyed the luxury of time. To some extent, I'm now just curing my frustration from my youth when I was traveling with my parents, and they always rushed to see the following tourist location. I never had time to take any proper images and always felt the pressure of hurry. When I traveled alone for the first time about five years ago, crossing Vienna, Salzburg, and finally visiting a friend in Munich, I felt such a breath of fresh air and freedom that it carved a separate dopamine trail in my brain. 

I just walked the streets, embracing their entirety but also watching for attractive light or details to capture. When I got to my accommodation, I was shocked it was actually a whole apartment with beautiful high ceilings near the city center. I had to sit down and finish an article for work, which at that moment, was incredibly frustrating, but it had to be done. 

Right after that, I took my camera and headed out. I knew I was meeting a friend in a couple of hours and headed in the direction of our meet point, but I took my own trail. I've downloaded a google maps layer, which provided me with the most interesting architectural points of the city, and therefore I've moved accordingly. And dear god, was it relaxing.

I plugged in my headphones, listened to a new album by my favorite artists and later podcasts, and simply walked. Then I had dinner and then walked again. I realized I probably never spent time by the Danube riverside in Budapest in the evening and so I just sat on a little concrete wall and watched a fisherman hunting in the river. Elisabeth Bridge bridge was lit up behind him. The immanent calmness of the moment was meditative. I got up and walked towards a bar I was meeting my friend. I have already walked a lot that day, and my legs hurt. I got there early and just sat, catching up on unread articles I've saved for later. I was just so eager to read everything once I finally could. 

Seeing my friend was magical. We met during a youth exchange summer camp in Belgium organized by Rotary in 2017. Since then, we've met twice in Budapest, the last time was four years ago. To me, it's incredible how long these exchange friendships last. Emese and I never text, but somehow, it's just normal to meet when possible and catch up. This way, I have many friends worldwide, which is great because I can travel alone but not feel lonely and feel a little bit like a local when I'm with friends. I learned a lot about Hungary that night, and all in all, it was a lovely time. 

I walked home, and I was happy about that. My watch showed over 21 thousand steps that day. I was tired, but still, I read a book before bed. I just couldn't get enough. 

My morning was perfect as well. I made breakfast and coffee and just took my time. No rush. Finally. 

I headed out with a rough outline of what I wanted to see, but I didn't have to stick to it. I've listened to a history book about 19th-century Europe. The chapter was about Hungary, a perfect fit.

I gotta admit. I was never the first fan of Budapest. I never got the hang of it. I don't know if it was the reservation towards Hungary that our school system has bashed into our heads or if I didn't have enough historical knowledge to admire the amount of energy and stories the city holds. Or maybe I got just too encompassed in the hatred towards dictatorships I hold in my heart as a die-hard democrat. Or… simply, I didn't spend enough time here even though I've visited the city many times before. 

Maybe it's all of the above. My relationship with Budapest started to warm up last year when I visited my friends during their Erasmus there. They have shown me around, and I have seen the enormous potential for exploration this city holds. And now, I have to say. I started to love it here. 

This progress is similar to how I've felt towards Prague as well. It was just a city too big to grasp and too important throughout centuries to absorb humanly. I've spent so much time there and crisscrossed on foot and public transport, so much of it that I grew into loving it. Like. seriously LOVING it. 

Interestingly enough, I've always loved Vienna and never considered any skepticism towards it. I think the reason behind this may be that I've spent really happy moments there since early childhood and always took my love for it as a given. While my relationship with Budapest and Prague is something, I've built as an adult with my own worldview and taste. Maybe it's some property of the Ostblok metropoles, given by their much less streamlined journey through history, which makes their layers complicated. It takes work to truly get through before admiring tem. 

One way or the other, the small shops, bistros, and cafes got under my skin. There are so many, and they are simply so cute. Then it's also the incredible mural art that I didn't realize was such a significant part of Budapest's nature. 

Rain hitting the hood of my jacket started to feel heavy, so I decided to take cover in a Mantra cafe and have a cup of a warm brew with cheesecake. Btw I still live in the mindset of a poor student, not being able to afford anything, but forint is so cheap right now that even I can affordably live here like a german pensioner vacationing in Montenegro. So coffee and cake cost me less than 5 euros. 

Once the rain stopped, I headed up and continued admiring the incredible architecture of the city. It didn't take me long, and I was already eating pizza in a small Italian restaurant. This freedom to just make impulsive decisions is something like a bandaid on your soul. Incredible. I was pressing down the handle of the door before rationality had time to react.

My clothes were still a bit soaked from the rain, but I decided to walk to the other side of town and visit the incredible building of the Hungarian national museum. Then, I waited to take photographs of the old Ikarus buses, the most legendary pieces of communist public transport, which, somehow, were still in full service here. 

Then I went to my Airbnb and spent the rest of the evening editing pictures and reading a book. I left the city in the morning. 

I've spent two days almost entirely alone, in my world, just looking around and listening to podcasts, audiobooks, and music. For someone who works with people day in and day out, it was like putting a piece of ice on a swollen wound. Generally, I am outgoing, but my inner introvert needed some air, and I gave it to him. I prescribe this treatment to everyone who feels life is a bit too fast sometimes and doesn't have anyone close to travel with. Just take your time, walk, and relax. It's a cure.