This all seems so strange now, but here’s a poem I wrote exactly a month ago. A lot of water under the bridge since then, but as Colum Mc Cann said, “If you stand in the same river for too long, even the banks will trickle past you”.
Danube city
I’ve just arrived, after a fashion, at ‘Hostel Blues’ in Bratislava. Which means I got lost.
Of course I relied on my sense of direction, which, though not infallible, usually pretty good. What I generally do is use Google Maps to find directions and commit it the directions to memory. This usually works very well, apart from things like hills and roadworks; however, that did not come to pass today. I checked the directions last night, after a couple of pints, and then this morning, I took the hydrofoil from Budapest to Bratislava, and although I tried to hold off the beer until after midday, I did not succeed. So it was optimistic to think that I’d find the place easy, with no map, just on memory.
What I did find was a pub, where the ‘dark beer’ Guinness equivalent was €1.30 a pint. Result! And the barman knew enough English to direct me to where I should have been.
Of course I have neglected to mention that the conference finished yesterday and that was very sad and it was all very impressive, yet somehow farcical, but that I will save for another post. Today I have more pressing concerns, which are mostly, but not exclusively, to do with getting loaded.
I am still swaying from the boat, which is disconcerting, but I will leave you with the first words that I heard about the conference, this typically European intellectual event, at which I was delighted to attend, but because of the change in flights that I mentioned previously I didn’t see any of the other attendees until the next morning, at breakfast.
I saw an old Norwegian friend of mine and joined his table, where he explained that his interlocutor had written a fascinating book about the ‘history of the psychology of aesthetics’. (I kid you not). As he explained, and we conversed, another gentleman, Finnish, sat down, and as he did, remarked, ‘… so early in the morning for Kant!’
We laughed: I knew I was in the right place.
Bud-a-pesht
It’s such an eye-opener being here, in a nation which is one of the newest additions to our elite European club, the EU. I don’t think I’m alone, as an Irishman, in revelling in our newfound cosmopolitan confidence, but at the same time, to find it shattered on travelling to some of the more exotic nations, is facile.
Hungary is a very different country to what I am used to! But at the same time, is extremely sophisticated, cultured, learned, and advanced. I understand nothing of their language, or habits, yet cannot be impressed by the depth of their technology.
What is a European? What will happen when Turkey join? (as they should)
What, as Irishmen and Irishwomen, have we gotten ourselves into?
Eastward bound
I am leaving for Budapest early tomorrow morning, for the annual ESHHS conference. It runs from Tuesday to Friday, and then I’m going to sail up the Danube to Bratislava for a few nights. Funnily enough, I am not excited about the whole thing. Apprehensive would be a better word, uneasy even.
It’s not the conference, nor presenting, nor is it travelling alone – all of which I have done before – I suppose it’s the combination of all three, and the fact that it’s Hungary, a place which is both exotic and peculiar to me. I don’t have high expectations, to be honest.