July 2004 Archives

Come September, I'll finally be booted from my college room after three good years of spacious, slightly subsidised living, which means that I'm having to house hunt. I haven't done this in a long while, and I'd certainly forgotten how stressful it was, especially when you find something which isn't at all bad, but get the feeling that if you wait a little longer, you might yet find something better - at the risk of losing what you've already found, of course.

My rent is paid in advance to the end of September, as is college custom in the summer, and so far, I've found two places that are worth chasing up.

The first, £250.00 all inclusive per month, a large room, double bed with space yet to swing a cat in, in need of a coat of paint and masking of grandmotherly furniture. The common areas are a little grim, but at that price, there would be a little more money for food and future rent, and heck, luxuries (The cinema! Books! Broadband! New underwear! ). Available late August, to share with a foreign student and a fat Santa Claus who doesn't wear a shirt on warm days.

The second, up to £370 all inclusive per month, also a large room, single bed and pretty modern with pristine walls and carpet, furniture, broadband, a comfortable living room and kitchen with parquet and tile floors, a garden and four housemates (lawyers and engineering students). Available from August 1st.

Now the dilemma is plain as day; there are those who are telling me that if I'm going to be going mental with stress while finishing my Ph.D., I should at least live in outwardly clean, pleasant and bright conditions, even if it means a slow drain on my bank account that will take me well into my overdraft in under a year (I don't expect to be here that long). Conversely, at the grottier place, there would be enough money to pretty things up in my room, get high speed net access, and still have spent less each month that I would at the Shangri-la.

It's a tough fight between choosing to live frugally and living with just a touch of luxury. Though my family can't help me on the money front, they seem to think that I should go for the nicer place - use the money I have saved on something that is worthwhile, if you like, even if that runs down my savings - whereas I, I'm torn between doing that and exercising a little caution for my own longterm wellbeing. It's so very frustrating.

Cough, Help!

The reason for heading over to Hungary was to participate in a seminar day at the beautiful Budapesti Mûszaki és Gazdaságtudományi Egyetem (Budapest University of Technology and Economics) where a couple of researchers in my field are based; the sciencey part of the visit was actually very interesting, if difficult to sit through (08:00 through to 18:30) for the lack of air conditioning in a stuffy room in a still and humid city basking under sunshine at 35 °C.

Though eight people were attending from my laboratory, only two of that number were travelling with me; we arrived in Budapest a day earlier, on Malév, the national carrier, and I got the perfect seat, with a full view of the engine and the outboard section of the wing, the latter being something which has fascinated me since about the age of three; as always, my face and hands were glued to the window during landing and take-off, lest I miss the crucial changes in flap, slat and aileron positioning that give rise to the sheer craziness that is the lifting off of something that heavy into the skies (no, but seriously, a tiny 737-500 weighs in at 55 000 kilogrammes, a 747-400 F series at 390 000 [squillion] kilogrammes. I know it's all perfectly rational, but it's still bloody amazing and I can't take it for granted).

Okay, I've wiped the drool from my face.

Checking in to our student accommodation was an event, since the building was clearly a relic of the soviet occupation, and came complete with scary wiring, peeling, leaded paint, hole-in-the-wall showers (it was like having a giant piss a column of water at you from somewhere on high, but lacking the thrill of watersports), and those magical Eastern European shelved toilets that just defy further elaboration. And it was warm, fairly clean, and comfortable; good enough for me.

We had the whole day to go 'sploring. In fact, when we weren't playing academician and socialising with our colleagues, we were out exploring, and eating, and looking, and touching, and walking for hours at a time whilst getting very sweaty in the crotch. It was great! One of the attractive features of the city is certainly its architecture, and if you visit Szt. Istvàn Basilica (I'm guessing St. Stephen's) and climb to the top of the dome, you'll find yourself with the ideal 360° panorama of the city which affords views of many of the more famous landmarks.

King Stephen united Hungary under Roman Catholicism in 896 A.D., following a message from the Pope that ordered him to convert or get out. He converted, don't you know, and was later beatified for his display of exceptional courage.

The food proved very satisfying almost without exception, though it is widely geared toward staunch carnivores; we ended up in a restaurant called Fatál, which was anything but that (a fatál is a wooden platter), where we were served things like this, and more, for peanuts, which equated to one of the best meals I've had in a long while.

Following the end of the seminar programme, we ended up going to the Gellért bath house, a huge, famous, baroque affair of sculpted masonry, pools and thermal baths - all radioactive, and part of the attraction - which was really something else.

In addition to seeing my supervisor in the buff -- well, fear kept me from looking right at him -- a Hungarian twenty-something rather bravely tried to give me the eye despite the fact that I was foreign, talking to another foreigner in foreign, and about 30 °C too far over my own body temperature to even want to contemplate contemplating getting any sweatier. I quietly flashed him an appreciative grin with "No" written all over it, knowing full well that I wouldn't have gone there whatever the situation. In any case, his swimming trunks offended me, which is just as well, and though there were a good sixty naked blokes running around the place, one looking like a younger, hunkier Vladimir Putin, hung like a dinosaur, that was as gay as it got.

More excitingly, they had the most powerful wave pool I've ever been in; elegantly surrounded by white stone balustrades and little renaissance statuettes, this incongruous pool of mammoth waves and crazy breakers had a unifying effect on all present. We stopped, if only for a moment, to watch and smile as our supervisor turned into a ten year old and threw himself into the foam, grinning like a kid; I plan to be that sprightly at fifty.

Thereafter, pretty much everybody left for the U.K., leaving Huey (my friend and colleague) and myself to explore all corners of the city on foot for an extra night and day. We visited; the parliament, purportedly inspired by the Palace of Westminster; Pest's huge and very tasty indoor market, where I wanted to steal most of the vegetables on display and smear myself with the local patisserie; Vajdahunyad Castle, which was surrounded by ducks, and an extraordinarily high incidence of nookie (I've never seen so many people making out as I did in Budapest as a whole); another bath house, Széchenzyi, which was rather pretty and a cheering respite from the tiring heat outside; a Japanese-style vegan restaurant, Wabisabi, because we just had to after four days of meat and pickled vegetable for four days in a row. Here, I encountered rooibos tea, a South African export that I've been drinking almost every day since I got back to the UK (right now, in fact!).

Our last few hours were spent at the Buda Royal Palace, which sits atop a hill accessible by funicular or on foot (we chose lazy and novel over energetic and commonplace, though it incurred a small fee). Up here, we sought shelter from the heat beneath a huge bronze statue of a horse and rider, sitting on its highly photographed limestone plinth and ruining everybody's pictures whilst admiring the fine views, our collection of fetish shots, and the travesties that some people elect to visit upon themselves.

After a few hours of sunning our toes, it was off to the airport; this journey we decided to make via metro and bus, and for a total of about ninety pence each, it was far better value than the ten quid taxis with the upside of a little extra adventure. I even saw my sister along the way, which was unexpected. At this point, Huey reveals to me that she is a closeted Taiwanese princess, and somehow manages to get us into the first class lounge for free drinks, food and internet before our flight back to the British sunshine. Budapest was memorable.

One of the things about him is his lack of willingness to trust people with his heart.
One of the things about her is her lack of willingness to see that some people just can't help themselves.
Neither is at fault, but both exercise an unintentional disservice toward the very essence of loving.

A few months ago, my mood was one emotional rollercoaster of ups and downs following the difficult closure of a long term relationship some time before Christmas. That has settled, by and large, though there are latent issues about the whole thing that will probably emerge if (argh, when!) I next become seriously involved with someone. Things these days are relatively stable; I tend towards being content, if not cheerful outright, every time I wake up, and that's a nice feeling, but at the moment it's a fragile state of mind, easily dissolved by the end of each day by the repetitive stresses; work; phone calls; lethargy; lack of sleep; money; the future.

I feel upbeat on the whole, so this is no portrait of despair in the painting, but I am finding that the difference between being stressed and being in distress (and these events are mutually exclusive) is really quite significant in terms of how it affects me on a daily basis.

Breaking up caused acute distress; it was bugger-all-to-hell whilst it was going on, but those difficulties that I perceived in my new situation became manageable after a couple of months. Being stressed, on the other hand, I have found more tricky to entertain; it's a punishing and chronic state that I'm constantly aware of, and do try to heal actively, but the problem is that for as long as the causes of that stress are still extant, I remain susceptible to it if I'm not careful. Irritatingly potent at wearing me down, it leaves me empty, tired, even misanthropic, and all I really want to do is to get past it and feel that smiling at people isn't so tough a thing to do.

In other news, the sun is shining, and I've had ice cream - this smile is genuine.

Just a quick one to say a general hello; I am currently sat in a tiny, smokey internet cafe a couple of hundred metres from the River Danube, having a wonderful time and eating as much as I would be expected to be eating in a place with good food at low prices and rather vast portions.

It is extremely taxing, but I shall prevail. I expect to be home fairly soon, at which point I might have something to share, but until then, take care all. And thank you, Mister C, for looking after my comment spam so diligently!