a tale told

As every narratologist knows, a good story has a beginning, middle, and end.  In the most engaging of examples, the transition between these elements occurs without notice.  If it hadn’t already, I can safely say my story or at least the present chapter has begun.  Today marked the beginning of the beginning in the form of the first day of orientation, our first week.  The setting of this epic was the university campus; we became acquainted with the location of our classes and the means of arriving there.  Our transportation, namely, is the tram – which is ironically disorienting as it scoops you up in one part of the city and deposits you elsewhere like a biblical fish, intergalactic wormhole, or any quality library book.  In addition to where, we became friendly with whom: those students who will participate in our program without staying in the dorms and some of the faculty. 

Professor Peter Érdi, who will be tackling introduction to Cognitive Science next week, is a jovial fellow.  He takes his work very seriously and he can likely be deemed a genius without any reservations, though he won’t be the one to broach the subject.  Rather, he will confuse you with his immutable logic while cracking jokes and having a grand old time.  In addition to his participation through teaching, Professor Érdi helped found the program and so he is quite concerned with its continued success.    

Dr. Gábor Kutrovátz serves as the headmaster of the program, and he does so with myriad enthusiasm.  I had received a few emails of welcome and introduction from Dr. Kutrovátz before I arrived, but with no obvious alternative, I assigned him a mental personage akin to Dumbledore, wizened and wrinkled by years of cognitive science burdens and toils.  I would still like to meet such an individual, even if they do not possess a silver beard or half-moon glasses, but Gabor does not quite fit the profile.  No, he is quite young and lively; on the weekends, he rock climbs. 

With the addition of characters and settings, we declare enough exposition and ask for plot! While aware of certain hidden gens in the Budapesti rough, I had yet to discover them.  I set out on a fact-finding mission, reconnaissance if you will, toward Pest.  After crossing the Green Bridge – itself a gem of design, I came to my first destination, the Great Market Hall.  This is akin to a Farmer’s Market that grew up, had children and invited those offspring to come and live at home after they too had grown.  Stall after stall offers fresh produce, cheeses, and meats.  There is an incredible abundance of colors, smells and motion; I was pretty overwhelmed and sought refuge on the second floor.  Just as large as the first, this area hosts native artisanal crafts, cafés, and souvenirs.  Amazingly, the same bustle and sensory overload can be found here – a product of the artists’ hands.  I saw Rubik’s Cubes (invented here!) and 3-way chess sets (how now?) paintings, traditional clothing, glass, ceramics, and a plethora more.  Seeing simultaneously everything and nothing I realized it was time to move on.  I swiftly pulled out my map and charted course for the Jewish quarter.  The plot now in motion, I searched for the necessary street signs and landmarks, in time spotting the Moorish architecture of the Dohany Synagogue.  The first week in September marks the Jewish festival of Budapest.  I missed Idan Raichel by a day, but supported a local klezmer group exuberantly.  As I reveled in clarinet and accordion, I realized how the addition of a (heroic?) quest can certainly spice up a story.  Signing off, I am yours in the telling.