Budapest! One month to the end!

a man with a bird of prey on the castle grounds! roaaaaaar.

Well, hello, my loving and devoted public (hi parents!)... I am back from Budapest (although, in what may be the worst decision ever, I didn't buy a T-Shirt with a mock Back to the Future logo that said BACK TO BUDAPEST) and I had a really unexpectedly fabulous time. This picture post is mainly synagogues, but they're quite nice. It seems most of my blog posts are about life outside Prague, which is mainly because Prague has become so much my home that it seems bizarre to take photographs.

It was a dark and stormy afternoon:

castle on a hill. the "buda" part of budapest.

We were armed with just our transport passes, how to say "Cheers" in Hungarian, and an arsenal of Jewish historical knowledge.

I don't know what this statue from the metro station means, but it makes me so happy.

We explored some really kickass synagogues...

A fantastically ornate synagogue. I sort of want to live there.

Inside the second largest synagogue in the world.

The barren remains of another synagogue, now with a half-made memorial and rubble on the ground. This was one of the most affecting parts of the trip, to see this place, which once housed a dozen Torahs, completely ruined, with no one to care about it. It was a stark contrast to the tourist hubs and gorgeous sanctuaries of the other synagogues, an emptiness that was a testament to violence and hatred.

more ornate Hungarian synagogue


more synagogue in desolate disrepair


outside of the 2nd largest synagogue in the world (the first is in New York)

I spent most of the trip exploring the streets, seeing the sights, and, notably, spending 3 hours in a cafe with my friends, drinking fresh fruit tea (liberated from teabags!) and chatting with the kind waitress. Budapest was very diverse, alternative, and hip -- we also went to a bar for a classmate's birthday, and it was a renovated apartment building, with strange found objects and labyrinthine rooms with music and lights and a mix of different languages blending together, finding commonality, enjoying difference.

I had the best time at the Judafest, a Jewish festival on Sunday, full of delicious Jewish food (I ate amazing falafel many times over the course of the trip!) and music and dance and crafts. There were adorable Jewish children running around everywhere, and it filled my heart with hope. After going to so many cities which spoke about the former glory of the Jewish people, and related tale after tale of destruction, it was nice to see a place where the Jewish community was thriving and growing and living. Hungary is by no means perfect, and anti-Semitism is alarmingly common, but on Sunday, there was a celebration of Jewish life and renewal. I talked to a theatre company producing the works of a fantastic Israeli playwright (Etgar Keret) in Hungarian, bought some Judaica jewelry, and enjoyed the company of my culture.

I am one month away from returning to America, and I hope to have more exciting adventures, but being at the Judafest was a welcome bit of comfort in what can be a lonely road. It's a bit hackneyed, maybe, but whenever I find a happy, singing Jewish community, full of food and people and laughter, I feel like I'm home.

remember november

Ahoj, and welcome back to blog-world. I'm still a little sick and cloudy, but I needed to blog!

Above is the film crew that followed my class this Tuesday, November 17th, which was the 20 year anniversary of an epic student march. My art history teacher, Otto Urban, was one of the thousands of students who took to the streets, only to be stopped by police officers. Many students were brutally beaten; my teacher managed to hide in a building for several hours. Young people, most of whom were tiny children or not yet born during the communist occupation, took to the streets again, this time for a celebration of Czech culture and freedom. The police were there, this time to protect the marchers.

I missed the bulk of the festivities, because we followed our professor and the film crew to artist Jan Hisek's studio. He talked to us about the repression of art and culture under communism, and clandestine Frank Zappa records traded in the forest, but mostly about art and angels and creating whatever your heart tells you to create, regardless of political atmosphere.

The cops, ready to break up any funny business. Apparently they beat up some neo-Nazi demonstrators. Czech cops get stuff done.


Candles in tribute to the 1989 march.


Artsy close up of candles.


The weekend before last, however, was spent far from the bustle of the city, in the Bohemian Paradise, Turnov, Czech Republic. One of my Czech friends took us to her hometown, nestled in giant rocks, autumnal beauty, and adorable small town atmosphere. Some highlights: salty, fatty Czech food, a long, epic hike through natural beauty practicing the language, and bowling. It was a comfortable, delightful trip, away from all the smoke and noise.


The golem and I are equally amazed and terrified by our hands.


just another run-of-the-mill gorgeous castle in the Bohemian countryside.

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And a short note on Tuesday night karaoke, one of my favorite traditions here:

It's been a little hard for me to catch my breath --

the terrifying exhilarating newness,
the chronic sinus infection,
the smoke.

Smoking here is a national sport:
football
ice hockey
lung destruction.

It's a contact sport:
I have cigarette burns on my arms from shuffling in the street
and dancing too close to the sun.

This week, I sang karaoke, like every Tuesday,
(musical theatre, thank goodness,
is acceptable cultural currency)
and saw a lady through the veil of smoke
with a small Jewish star charm on a necklace.

"Your necklace!"

and she:
"It's small, because only my father is Jewish,
so real Jews think I'm dirty.
But my father was in Auschwitz.
My family perished in Auschwitz.
And they say I'm not a real Jew."

I tell her
I accept her
and she smiles

She is about to tell another story
express something profound

but she hears the opening notes
of a Czech pop classic

"This one's for me!"

And she hurtles herself toward the microphone
and sings and smokes
and smokes and sings