BLOG: GENESIS
It was a leap of faith for me to leave my business and ministry in order to journey to a forbidding place in Eastern Europe. Forbidding because it has earned a reputation as a socialist country for more than five decades. But of course, Mexicans still wear their sombrero everyday and Filipinos live in nipa huts on the beach, while the Russians are seen feeding their pet white bear in the backyard. On the contrary, Budapest was an enchanting city and a treasure to behold once you set foot on it.
This is my life in Budapest, a half-year life experience compressed only into a shameful series of blog entries. A life of uncertainty, adventure, frustration, humor, drama, pain and love. Yes, love. Isn’t it wonderful how it conquers all? And this is where I will start and end with, love.
I proudly wore my T-shirt as I stood at great length in front of a Dutch immigration officer. It said, “A Rich Man’s Joke is Always Funny.” After being scrutinized like a terrorist they finally let me walk in. I am still not certain why the delay but what I am certain of is that I made the lady security laugh so hard after reading the print on my shirt.
A rich man can buy laughter and probably love too. Maybe not true love, as we know it, but still love on its shallow definition. Love fills the air of Budapest. Across the street, along the Danube River and even on tram stations, you will see the passionate public display of intimacy that even makes the French squint (I know this for a fact). Years of restrained freedom has fashioned how Hungarians display their love for each other at present. Intense, no holds barred and truly “hungary” for each other.
Coming from the Philippines where the public transport system is as complicated (or oversimplified) as the chop suey dish, I was threatened by the idea of riding the tram or worse, the Metro. I drove almost all my adult life and taking the public has always been daunting. Because of this, I would brave the winter chills while walking several miles in order to reach at my destination. No Hungarian in his right mind would be seen walking on the sidewalk during this time of the year. None but this Filipino nutcase (who would pass for a Mexican-Indian and perhaps Chinese). And those that I chance upon would walk like a galloping horse! Too fast, too furious. It is quite unbelievable how at one point, even an old woman went past me as I was struggling to keep the pace. Yes, Hungarians do walk fast during wintertime.
On my next blog entry, I will introduce you to a drink that was truly new to me. The drink itself is not new but how it is served is quite unique! Till next time!
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