Let the games begin

Amid all the fun and games, let’s not forget that I came to this faraway land of carburetors and vitamin c to learn.  The first class of the term, rather fittingly, was entitled Introduction to Cognitive Science.  Through lecture and discussion, we established the interdisciplinary parameters of the field and sought to recognize the essential questions posed by theory and discovery.  These initial lessons were chock full of information along a wide continuum of topics.  Having diverse opinions of what constitutes cognitive science and noting the number of different relatable fields reinvigorates my intrigue in this field of study.  My program is made up of students of mathematics, philosophy, psychology, and design in addition to the cognitive science majors like myself.  Thus, not only is the field heterogeneous, but our little class stands as a reasonable cross-section of the greater composition.  Everyone had something unique to contribute to our consideration of informatics, logic, and neural networks.

We had our first class in Hungarian culture this week, also.  Our instructor, Maria, is dedicated to using “didactic, but effective” anecdotes and experiences to expose us to her native culture.  She is going to teach us about food, history, music, and politics.  The homework for her class is often simply to go somewhere or see something.  Truth: I’ve never been instructed to eat pastries as a mandatory assignment before.  Truth: I am willing to oblige such orders.  It has become clear that while our weekly appointments are established for our edification, Maria is terribly curious about our perspectives as Americans, as tourists, and as “young people”, which means that we, like all good students, do our fair share of teaching too.  Maria is terribly self-deprecating and painfully honest in her responses to our questions, which is refreshing and off-putting.  Additionally, she is prone to biting quips which, when combined with the Hungarian lack of sarcastic inflection change, lends itself to unpredictable class time. 



One of the many colorful characters I saw from the tram



Training continues outside of the classroom as I am becoming evermore acquainted with this city of inventions and conventions.  Like every good labyrinthine metropolis, the Magyars have their Thesean ball of string: the BKV public transit system. My monthly pass gets me onto crowded trains, buses, subways, and trams, but alas it does not whisper which of the many routes will carry me to my destination.  For this, I have made friends with a map and begun the process of trial and error.  Such a technique is without fault, for even the wrong answers provide scenic experiences and open new doors.  This also supplies ample interaction with Budapest’s best, with which to listen to the language and see as the locals do.  Once and again, a fellow rider will mistake me, and ask me some likely casual question that far exceeds my Magyar knowledge.  A simple “Nem beszélek magyarul.  Beszélsz angolul??” is sometimes sufficient, but more often, I am reduced to mime artistry to express that while we do not speak the same language, I do know the time.  In these ways, my life of late is somewhat of a large-scale game of hide and seek, mixed with charades, Trivial Pursuit, and Mousetrap…