Given that we only had a couple of hours, since Benjamin needed to be on the Tram at 5:00, we were somewhat limited in our options. Benjamin wanted to see a movie, but there was not enough time. I suggested we visit Margaret Island, as I had not yet been there. I pass over the Island every day I am in town, but was saving my visit for when I had a good bit of time to fully explore it. Today seemed like a good day to at least get a taste of it. Plus, I imagined that it might be someplace that Benjamin would enjoy, as he had his roller board in tow. He settled and off we went. (I know settling is not the best solution, but given our situation, it worked!).
Margaret (Margitsziget) Island is a beautiful little island in the middle of the Danube (Duna) River. It is a great place for people to gather together to enjoy nature, with large old shade trees, comfortable grassy areas for lounging , and pretty walkways lined with an array of blooming flowers. It is one of those public places where many different life forms converge, nurturing the soul of the City. A sacred space within the midst of a very large and bustling City, at that. There is a lot of activity on the Island, everything from jogging, walking, bicycling, peddle carts, tennis, sunbathing, football (soccer), playgrounds for the kids with swing sets, jungle bars, sandboxes, etc, roller boarding, thermal baths for soaking (much more on them later…they are quite a large part of the culture here) and plenty of opportunities to snack. Now that I have a better sense of the treasures that it holds, I will indeed go back, sooner than later. In fact, I have wanted to get in more exercise than just the walking that I do. Regular bicycle rides around the Island sounds like a great plan. I will check that out.
Here are pictures of some of the finer street art, done in the underpass on the way to the Island.
So, onto the Island we go. The Danube River is beautiful. Not as blue as it is referred to, but quite beautiful. After a walk across the bridge and onto the Island, it is not long before Benjamin spots a play ground to explore and then even better, a football game to join in. I am pleased that he is finding a way to get his needs for fun met, and welcome the opportunity to just hang out and get better acquainted with Andrew. Out of my curiosity and interest in connecting more to who he is and his life here in Budapest, I ask about Benjamin. Who by the way is quite a dear, delightful, precocious little guy who loves to read, has played the cello for 5 years and has a real eagerness for adventure. And most engaging of all, he has a real twinkle in his bright blue-eyes and seems to wear a smile quite naturally, even in the midst of disappointment. I enjoy his presence.
So with authentic interest, I ask about his life with Benjamin. My inquiry generates a willingness on Andrews part, to share with me his story. Later expressing some vulnerability, in that the depth of his sharing was unexpected. Not the “light-hearted Sunday afternoon in the park chat” he anticipated. And while I am able to appreciate those kinds of easy and playful connections, my inclination leans more towards deeper conversation. For better or worse, I am not at all surprised. Without going into a lot of detail, I will say that what I hear is difficult to take in. While I know that we all have our stories and that all stories are our own very personal interpretation of how things are/were, as a listener I found myself wanting to rewrite his story, as he is telling it. Rewriting it, because I do not enjoy the story he is telling. I have a hard time believing it. I am telling myself that surely it did not, could not have happened that way. It does not fit my idea(s) as to how life is. Not here in this wonderful new place I have just discovered.
Yes, I know about the oppressive Russian regime, and I have a very small inkling of an idea as to how horrific the German holocaust was, and that the Hungarians to some extent participated in that human atrocity. But to hear a story that indicates that the psychic underpinnings of that deep culture may still, in some form, exist is alarming. Briefly, Andrew, born in a Jewish family married a Hungarian woman. 21/2 years after Benjamin was born, he was told to leave his home, and that he was to have nothing to do with his child. As a father who dearly loved his boy, he refused to accept these demands, resulting in repeated acts of violence. Leading to multiple hospitalizations and repeated empty promises that “they would find out who did this and that justice would be served”. And while Andrew was quite sure who had assaulted him, never was he asked who it was, nor was anything ever done about it. Also, during that time, teaching positions that he held at the University were terminated. Court documents forged and any attempts he made for parental rights were denied. There evidently is a power structure based in the dark and not too distant past that remains in tact today.
As a tourist, this is more than I want to hear, especially from someone that I relate to.
And yet, what I appreciate about being here for 3 months, is that it is actually long enough to get a real sense of the place and the people that live here. So I say!
So with authentic interest, I ask about his life with Benjamin. My inquiry generates a willingness on Andrews part, to share with me his story. Later expressing some vulnerability, in that the depth of his sharing was unexpected. Not the “light-hearted Sunday afternoon in the park chat” he anticipated. And while I am able to appreciate those kinds of easy and playful connections, my inclination leans more towards deeper conversation. For better or worse, I am not at all surprised. Without going into a lot of detail, I will say that what I hear is difficult to take in. While I know that we all have our stories and that all stories are our own very personal interpretation of how things are/were, as a listener I found myself wanting to rewrite his story, as he is telling it. Rewriting it, because I do not enjoy the story he is telling. I have a hard time believing it. I am telling myself that surely it did not, could not have happened that way. It does not fit my idea(s) as to how life is. Not here in this wonderful new place I have just discovered.
Yes, I know about the oppressive Russian regime, and I have a very small inkling of an idea as to how horrific the German holocaust was, and that the Hungarians to some extent participated in that human atrocity. But to hear a story that indicates that the psychic underpinnings of that deep culture may still, in some form, exist is alarming. Briefly, Andrew, born in a Jewish family married a Hungarian woman. 21/2 years after Benjamin was born, he was told to leave his home, and that he was to have nothing to do with his child. As a father who dearly loved his boy, he refused to accept these demands, resulting in repeated acts of violence. Leading to multiple hospitalizations and repeated empty promises that “they would find out who did this and that justice would be served”. And while Andrew was quite sure who had assaulted him, never was he asked who it was, nor was anything ever done about it. Also, during that time, teaching positions that he held at the University were terminated. Court documents forged and any attempts he made for parental rights were denied. There evidently is a power structure based in the dark and not too distant past that remains in tact today.
As a tourist, this is more than I want to hear, especially from someone that I relate to.
And yet, what I appreciate about being here for 3 months, is that it is actually long enough to get a real sense of the place and the people that live here. So I say!
Fortunately, Benjamin returns, with a smile on his face, and surely it is time to move on.
As we gather our things and begin to walk back towards the Tram, I am relieved to be moving on. I let Andrew know that I am ready to go home and that perhaps we can get together later in the week. Maybe for a Pat Methany concert this Friday, July 4, when we can listen to music -that lifts the spirit, as we remember Independence day being celebrated in the States!
As we gather our things and begin to walk back towards the Tram, I am relieved to be moving on. I let Andrew know that I am ready to go home and that perhaps we can get together later in the week. Maybe for a Pat Methany concert this Friday, July 4, when we can listen to music -that lifts the spirit, as we remember Independence day being celebrated in the States!
(No more conversations for a while..please).
So they go their way and I go mine. I get onto the tram, and then catch a bus that runs along the Danube River, on the Buda side, past the Parliament building. Getting on the bus or tram and just riding until in returns to my starting point is a favorite thing of mine to do. Effortless, mindless siteseeing. While enjoying seeing a new part of Budapest, I am tired and eventually find my way home. Into bed I flop, for a little early evening nap, before spending some time on my next blog entry about my journey to Austria, last week.
10 hours later I awaken, still heavy hearted. I imagine that if I am willing to stay present to the very uncomfortable feelings of yesterday, I will be able to re-connect with my self. That self that has so often refused to acknowledge the darker aspects of life. After all, I am a being of light, I crave the light. I have been blessed to manifest this love in the homes I have lived in, including here in Budapest. I am happiest in the light. And in reality, I live with a blindspot, a peripheral cut in my vision due to damage to my optic nerve from the brain abscess. The darkness is with me. I am imagining it has something to do with the development of a greater understanding of the nature of life.
Meanwhile, I am haunted by the metaphysical rap, that we create our reality, by where we place our attention. So, will I continue to chase the light, avoiding the ally ways, or be more willing to explore the dark places? I shall see.
So they go their way and I go mine. I get onto the tram, and then catch a bus that runs along the Danube River, on the Buda side, past the Parliament building. Getting on the bus or tram and just riding until in returns to my starting point is a favorite thing of mine to do. Effortless, mindless siteseeing. While enjoying seeing a new part of Budapest, I am tired and eventually find my way home. Into bed I flop, for a little early evening nap, before spending some time on my next blog entry about my journey to Austria, last week.
10 hours later I awaken, still heavy hearted. I imagine that if I am willing to stay present to the very uncomfortable feelings of yesterday, I will be able to re-connect with my self. That self that has so often refused to acknowledge the darker aspects of life. After all, I am a being of light, I crave the light. I have been blessed to manifest this love in the homes I have lived in, including here in Budapest. I am happiest in the light. And in reality, I live with a blindspot, a peripheral cut in my vision due to damage to my optic nerve from the brain abscess. The darkness is with me. I am imagining it has something to do with the development of a greater understanding of the nature of life.
Meanwhile, I am haunted by the metaphysical rap, that we create our reality, by where we place our attention. So, will I continue to chase the light, avoiding the ally ways, or be more willing to explore the dark places? I shall see.
While I have no illusions I am through with this material, perhaps now that I have honored and acknowledged it, I can return to the blog entry, in which I hope to be able to share the pure joy I felt as I experienced the most thrilling week, in the history of Abbey.
P.S.
Through sheer unyeilding passion and the death of Benjamins’ grandfather, some 5 years later, things have gotten easier for Andrew to be with his son. They are together every other week end and for a week in the summer. Their relationship is a very sweet and caring one. Andrew takes great pride in the fact that Benjamin knows very little of the trauma he has endured, in order to maintain their connection. From the love I feel between them, Benjamins' well-being is in tact, while Andrew continues to heal.
P.S.
Through sheer unyeilding passion and the death of Benjamins’ grandfather, some 5 years later, things have gotten easier for Andrew to be with his son. They are together every other week end and for a week in the summer. Their relationship is a very sweet and caring one. Andrew takes great pride in the fact that Benjamin knows very little of the trauma he has endured, in order to maintain their connection. From the love I feel between them, Benjamins' well-being is in tact, while Andrew continues to heal.
A few more photos:
Saturday night in Budapest, at Hero's Park, there was a free concert by Santana. There were thousands in attendance, with gigantic screens displayed in three different ares.
A woman after my own heart.
Lots of love to Sophie. 
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