Hungary in a Week
My high school had an exchange programme with a high school in Hungary. You could stay one week with a Hungarian family during which time your Hungarian counterpart would introduce you to the Hungarian culture and life style. We would go to school with them. The next year, you would do the same for a Hungarian.
When I was 16, I decided to take part in the exchange. It was 1990 and about a year after the collapse of the Berlin Wall in Germany. It was said it was the best time to visit a former communist country since one would still be able to taste the atmosphere without it being too influenced by the West. I signed myself in and was excited by the idea of visiting a country that was shaking off communism.
The strange thing is, at this age I had no idea what to expect of Hungary or the capital city Budapest. Maybe because it had been a communist country, I had heard very little about how the people lived, what their cities looked like or anything. All I knew was one simple fact: it was a poor country. I cannot remember preparing myself by reading up on the country. In fact, I can't remember doing any prep work at all. And of course, I had my prejudices and preconceived notions about the country just like everyone else has prejudices and preconceived notions about things we know nothing about. I was certain that there would be a lot of cars called Lada on the road because that was what everybody was talking about in relation to Hungary.
After a full day in a bus where nobody had slept, my classmates and I arrived in Budapest. The girl I was going to stay with, Agnes, seemed nice but also a little bit older. We introduced ourselves and then she took me to her house. The car she drove was not a Lada at all, but a common and modern Western European car. I did see a lot of Ladas and Trabants, but already in the first five minutes one of my first prejudices had been completely squashed. I observed the bridge on which we drove that separated the Buda part from the Pest part, the rich part of the city with the poor part. The bridge itself was gorgeous and incredibly artistic. It was nothing like what one might expect in a poor country. It was decorated with giant lion heads and adorned with lanterns. It reminded me of Paris even though I had only seen pictures of Paris. Budapest was not at all the dim, grey and boring town I had imagined or what was commonly said about these former communist countries.
The house Agnes was living in was also surprising. While we were warned about not being shocked by poor living conditions--some of my classmates had to share their beds with their guest families, three people on one mattress was not an exception--I was enchanted. She lived in a wide, spacious house with more rooms than my own family had. They owned the newest and most modern electrical appliances like CD-players. I didn't even have one of those! I loved every bit of the house, especially her father's study where he had his Psychology practice. It was the room where I was going to sleep during my stay and every wall was plastered with bookcases stuffed full of books.
In the middle of the night the metronome that was in the room would start and every three seconds I would hear a startling tick. After a while it would stop. I imagined her father making the metronome tick on purpose so he could hypnotize me, but I decided I would not let that happen. I stayed wide awake, without closing my eyes, until it stopped.
My first lunch at her house was an unforgettable experience. I was kind of thirsty and asked in English, the language the girl and I were communicating in: "Can I have a drink?" The yellow fluid I received I swallowed in one sip and the next thing I know, everything seemed to dance before my eyes. Within one minute I kind of collapsed and was in a comatose sleep for 24 hours. To this day I am not sure what this fluid was, but I guess it contained some kind of alcohol. I had never drunk any alcohol before. The strong spirits, combined with a 24-hour drive on a bus where nobody got any sleep, knocked me out completely. The girl and her parents had a big scare, but were a bit vague about the drink. Later I noticed it had grapes on it so I am sure it must have been alcohol although it tasted like apple juice.
I got along with her parents well since we found out we could all speak German. Suddenly we could have conversations with each other without using hands and feet. Because I was not allowed to eat pork, I had told them I was a vegetarian. That way it would be the easiest for both parties, I thought. Unfortunately, that meant I was having Brussels sprouts together with some other vegetables every single day. After a while her mother asked me: "Do you like your food?"
Me: "Yes, yes, I love it."
Her mother: "But do you sometimes feed the dog with it?"
Me: "No, not at all."
Her mother: "Then why is the dog puking Brussels sprouts?"
Whoops! Totally busted on that one.
I don't remember much from the visits to the Hungarian school, one of the main purposes of the visit. Most of the lessons were in Hungarian, naturally enough, so I didn't understand much of what was going on. I only remember how much bigger the school was than my own school.
Despite my lack of school remembrances, I loved Budapest. The city was so wide and big. It even had it's own island, Margarita Island. I had not been to a European country other than Germany and there I had not even visited the big cities. Budapest was a very welcome change. I noticed the countless streets and many cars passing, the huge buildings with different styles of architecture and I even went to a discotheque for the first time in my life. The Hungarians sure know how to party and the music was the same that was popular in The Netherlands.
The excursions through Budapest were breathtaking. We did a romantic boat trip in the evening on the Donau where the buildings along the shore were illuminated. It felt like a dream. The Fisher's Bastillion--you could stay there forever and not get bored.
Doing an exchange programme is a different form of travelling allowing you to see aspects of a country in a totally different way. The interactions with the people make it a much more interesting and rich visit.
All in all I had an unforgettable experience, but what I learned most was that prejudices and ideas you form are seldom based on reality. I could have never imagined what Hungary would be like until I visited it myself. Even if a country has some kind of history, it does not imply that we know everything about it or is not worth visiting. In the end, it's the surprises that you encounter that makes the world worth visiting.