Traveling with Mozart

Budapest is notable for its cultural assets and centrality within Europe.  From here is it not difficult to travel down the Danube to other capital cities.  I took the bus to Vienna (Wien, colloquially) on a brisk Saturday morning and enjoyed the sunrise over the plains en route.  The bus let out at a station on the perimeter of the city, giving me two choices: I could buy a pass and ride the subway into the downtown, or I could just start walking toward the city center.  With camera in hand and the early light at my back, my decision was easily palpable.  Never knowing exactly where I was, everything took on a flavor of mystery, but I plodded on and duly encountered some idiosyncratic characters followed by some flummoxing spectacles.  Shops offering 8-tracks and phonographs beckoned to me.  Perhaps it was the early hour or the nonbusinessness of the day, but unfortunately, these franchises were not engaging in commerce, so I was relegated to negotiating with the frosty-glassed portals.  My stint of time travel would have to be postponed.  Each storefront and building offered to whisper secrets, but I was deaf to much because my budding understanding of Hungarian Awning labels was no help in the deciphering of this German.  Austrian tweenage hooligans returned me to the present reality, darting in slalom fashion betwixt the few pedestrian passengers like myself making their way onwards.  I suspected I was headed in the right direction because foot traffic intensified evermore as the wrist-bound clock hands climbed.  One avenue led to a boulevard, then to a causeway that opened onto a thoroughfare, which in turn clearly led to a gorgeous (and heavily populated) square.  My shutter release button could not keep up with the vistas and artistic sights beheld, so I took my time exploring the locality.  Fountains, sculptures, accordion players, gargantuan tour groups, Johannes Brahms, a lone yogi, and ostentatiously chlorophyll deprived leaves all captured the entirety of my imagination and reality in turn.

From this central circus, it was also possible to orient myself onwards.  Following a languishingly tempting stroll through an open market, a much-needed Austrian hot chocolate, a stop in an ingenuous playground and a perusal of the mercantile borough, I made my way to the hostel where I met my fellow travelers.  Including Professor Erdi, who came along to point out the best sights, we numbered three quarters of a baker’s dozen.  We oriented ourselves towards the museum quarter; Vienna has an impressive collection of storehouses for their wide array of culture.  Ambling over cobblestones shared by horse drawn carriages, I felt that my own symphony composing abilities were augmented by osmosis.  The Art Nouveau edifices were in sharp contrast with the modern street performances occurring in their lee.  When walking turned to trudgery, though, it was time to replenish in true Viennese style, with Sachertorte, the famous chocolate decadence.  Next, we went to the opera house and put in for balcony real estate: the deal is that an hour before each performance, standing room is sold off to the first half gaggle in line for 2€ apiece.  The marquee proclaimed Verdi’s La Traviata, and this is precisely what was performed.  You may choose against taking my word, though, because we know you get what you pay for, and it was only possible to see 5/12 of the stage.  The music was quite enjoyable and from what I could tell, the company had taken a minimalist conception of scenery and costumes.  Urbane discernment takes a lot out of a person, so by the curtain call, it was clearly time for a meal.  We found a traditional type Austrian restaurant near the hostel and ate heartily and to great content.  Someone needs to define “egg barley” for me.  Subsequently, we ventured back to the welcoming arms of just-too-stiff bunk beds.

Shonbrunn: fit for a queen

The following morning after another exorbitant meal (who thought it was a good idea to serve repast in all-you-can-eat style to weary travelers?), our company made our way to Schönbrunn Palace, imperial residence of the Habsburgs.  This is the largest building I have ever seen to house a single family, but it was spectacular to tour inside.  Every surface reflects the monumental wealth with which these rulers were burdened.  Each room has a purpose – for playing cards, for receiving foreign visitors, for combing the queen’s hair – and the tour did not even cover the entirety of the manse.  The accompanying gardens make the extravagance within seem trivial in comparison.  Behind this house there are acres of hills, impeccably manicured to the last pine needle, including a labyrinth, a zoo, a public pool, a private flower garden, greenhouses, monuments, secret alcoves, ad infinitum.  Before we arrived, I doubted we could possibly need a full day to see the attractions at some palace, but I was more than mistaken.  To start, we climbed up to the top of the hill, then to the top of the templum, and from there took in the glory of the palace grounds, Vienna, and the world beyond.  I must admit, when we faced the labyrinth next, I was skeptical of the challenge and confident about my abilities to conquer whate’er I found therein.  Again, I was put in my place when I discovered the lofty hedges, grown to impenetrable profusion.  

maybe it looks easier from above...

At each turn, I expected to encounter a sphinx (or at least a blast-ended skrewt) but was equally befuzzled when it was another dead end.  I escaped in time, for I am writing this, but mum is the word on the duration required.  Baby animals improved everyone’s mood afterwards when we perused the zoo.  My friend Ashley heard that this particular zoo proffered giant pandas including a new baby pandaling!  The panda enclosure, then, was a high priority destination.  Of course, the fuzzy inhabitants were all in a deep slumber, but so it goes.  We unlike our black and white clad friends had work in the morning, so begged adieu, enjoyed the other exhibits, and then headed for the train station.  There was time to stop in a nice little restaurant before we hit the road.  Over his plate of fried foods, Paul summarized it nicely: “Wien is the schnitz.”

Hello Darkness, my old friend

See?

My last post may have implied that there is only good to be found in entities rich in color.  While I do love the chromatic joys of this world, it is only fair to consider what life would be like without this spectral benefit.  My investigation took me to an aptly named show in Pest entitled “The Invisible Exhibition” which seeks to simulate the life of the blind for a sighted population.  After depositing watches, phones, and any other light producing device in the designated drawers, my friends and I followed our tour guide, a blind woman, into the museum.  A heavy curtain swathed out any possible light sources from the lobby – inside was an overwhelming darkness.  To navigate, we needed to rely completely on the tactile information supplied by hands and feet.  Each room evoked a new scenario – a city street, a home kitchen, and a forest wilderness – complete with obstacles to make the experience even more real.  A real working café inside the exhibit forced us to try to negotiate a transaction sans sight, but it was made all the more difficult by the foreign currency.  I especially liked the statue park where the only way to enjoy the aesthetics was by getting in contact with the art – surely something forbidden in any other display.  The tour lets out in a room (lit!) containing tools to aid those with vision struggles.  In addition to Braille literature, we noticed the speaking computer, a grooved chess set, several tactile puzzles, and some specialized cooking utensils.  While our time in the exhibit was really only about an hour, the effects were lasting.  What is intended as a social experiment to initiate tolerance and consideration is also a case study for cognitive science.  Even in the space of that hour, my ability to locate my friends in the dark improved.  Such examples call into question how we allocate the resources of our brains and utilize our sensory input.  Without making any puns about opening my eyes or enlightenment, I would like to remark on how this outing was quite informative.  Several times, I found myself getting anxious, grasping at empty air or turned around.  All too often, my eyes played tricks on me and I saw shadows or flashes of light.  I learned something, sure, but I came to appreciate something I usually do not even think about. 



Color My World

It is possible not only to take pictures of the brain, but also to identify what parts are active at a given time, what stimuli cause activity, and how different regions are interconnected.  This and more was conveyed to me through some of the best lectures to date in Brain Imaging.  While I am not quite ready to perform a lobotomy independently yet, the course provided me with the means to really understand how fMRI is used in modern studies.  At the root of the topic, though, are some colorful pictures of the brain.  In Imaging, colors can communicate critical information about health, neural processing, and cognitive hierarchy.  However, the week past has shown me that colors are integral to every aspect of how we live. 

Stepping out of my dorm, this truth is epitomized by the myriad responses to the new atmospheric briskness, the turning of deciduous trees, the glowing cheeks of the passerby, the mountainous spectrum of garb concealing the school age children hastening both hither and thither.  In the rush of pedestrians crossing the square, there is a fair share of colorful language.  The farm stand on the sidewalk corner boasts a harvest cornucopia of color.

Votes are in: a beauty

Obviously, though, the week would not be complete without some added color.  Budapest has some valuable collections of color, one of which is housed in the Museum of Fine Art, where Eva happens to be a docent.  Not one to pass up a free ticket or tour, I jumped on the metro after class and perused the works of the masters.  Organized by regions, the museum’s collection includes most of the major movements, with contributions by some of the Old Masters, several notable Spanish painters, and even a few 19^th and 20^th century impressionist submitters.  The exhibit was nice, but I didn’t find it remarkable compared with some of the world class collections I have toured until Eva pointed out that the entire museum was nearly destroyed during the second world war.  A few photographs remain of the galleries practically demolished and filled with the snow of January 1945.  It is actually quite astonishing that I have the opportunity to wander among such colorful examples of so many styles of art at all. 

Everyone in the program had the chance to experience another colorful field trip when we toured the Parliament.  The most heavily guarded building in Budapest is also the most ornately decorated.  I could almost feel the wealth and beurocracy rubbing off as I admired the hand-sewn carpets and gold leaf gilded pillars.  The coronation jewels of the St Istvan, First king and pope-recognized bringer of Christianity to Hungary, are also proudly exhibited in the adorned halls.  I learned that the council reverted to a unicameral system in the middle of the 20^th century, but continue to use human stenographers to document parliamentary procedure.  Despite the largess and largeness of hall, the tour did not last very long.  Every year, exactly half of the building is under renovation because of the intense upkeep required of the fanciness.  I will have to come back next year to see the other half!  Still, I saw enough to sate my appetite for color.

Animal House

Cognitive Ethology is the study of animal behavior; a department that seeks to answer what aspects of evolution, development, biological mechanism, and action determine what animals do. This specific yet applicable subset of Cognitive Science was the centerpiece of the last week of classes. When you consider that “animal behavior” does not exclude humans, it becomes especially clear how this course of study is relevant. However, many topics are certainly not exclusive to humans: learning, memory, communication, and attention. The lectures for this week were fun because they included videos and sound clips of exotic creatures demonstrating unique behaviors. Recordings are helpful teaching tools, and the collection of examples was useful when it came time to take our test, but afterwards my friends and I decided we needed the real thing. This weekend we voyaged to the zoo! Budapest Zoo is a lovely oasis of wildlife with an impressive cross section of biomes represented. You can find an aquarium here along with land and air animals from Africa, Asia, and the Americas. It was nice to hang out with the sloth and chill for a while with the polar bear, but I noticed some interesting differences with my zoological experiences from home. For one, patrons are encouraged to feed the animals. “Zoo Titbits” (a brusque version of tidbits) are sold at all the concession stands to toss into enclosures. It is also possible to encounter many of the zoo inhabitants personally: pet the giraffes, feed the gibbons from your own hand, carry a macaw on your shoulder and pirate some DVDs, etc. What I don’t know is if the Budapest Zoo is simply lax, or if all the others zoos I have seen are overprotective of their clientele. Still, we enjoyed the freedoms afforded to us, exercised our new knowledge of animalisms, and all for minimal cost thanks to a double discount (being both students and a party of 10).

Cognitive Ethology provides the opportunity to evaluate the animal behavior you have seen in others, but also in yourself. The timing of this class and its inherent offer of reflection were well timed to coincide with the New Year. Were my triumphs and trials in the year past the result of evolution? Are my decisions the product of animal instinct? These questions mingled with consecration and reflection as I went to observe and celebrate the Holy Day. While far from home, I carried my family with me (I carried them in my heart) when I went to synagogue with my new friend, Eva. The small sanctuary was ornate, each pew marked with the name of the evening’s occupant, necessitating division by gender. My neighbors welcomed me and I found that the traditional Hebrew well wishes provided a universal language we could share. Admittedly, it was strange to follow the service conducted as it was in Hungarian. Melodies and liturgy, though, were all familiar to me – worldly constants and elements onto which I latched to derive meaning and tradition. Luckily, I had a home cooked Rosh Hashana dinner to enjoy that night, even though it would not be from my own home. Eva guided me to the apartment of her in-laws where I found another worldly constant of the holiday: the urging of Jewish mothers to eat beyond one’s appetite! I took my fill (and more) of matzo ball soup, salads, and chicken paprika. Everything was delicious, it’s true, but I do not know how well I relayed my appreciation to the hostess. “Köszönöm, minden finom volt!” Clearing your plate turns out to be another univeral. Celebration continued the next day with a wandering tour of the Jewish district, which was an appropriate choice for the season, but also a foolish one because most businesses were closed. After an afternoon studying in a coffeeshop there, I ended the day with sweet things – challah, fresh autumn apples (Jonathons!), organic honey from the street fair, and Nutella of course. Walking back, I cast my crumbs into the Danube, my taschlich and symbolic cleansing of sins from the year past. Watching the ducks converge, I thought about the coming year. One mallard hung back patiently and allowed a fortuitous braided chunk to float into his waiting beak. Shana Tova Umetukah!

Taught in the crosshairs



Lenin; awfully smug



Were I at Carleton this term, doubtless I would find myself swimming in readings and assignments for my various classes.  It is a burden to be separated from my dear colleagues in Northfield, but I do not envy them the typical workload that greets them each evening.  This is not to say I lack any independent assignments, but the format of learning differs so from the Carleton convention.  Our lectures in biological neuroscience this week, for instance, stood alone without any supplementary readings.  Some might see this as a relief; lo, time off, ah glee!  It goes without blogging, then, that I begged to differ and took this as a challenge!  If no homework were to be assigned, then it would be my task to seek some.  Alas, public libraries are difficult to come by, and their collections are comprised of works beyond my comprehension.  Thus, I was charged to locate a proprietor offering books in the English language.  My quest took me to Vaci utca, a touristy shopping district on the Pest side.  No surprise; I was inundated with souvenir shops, gelato offerings, and overpriced restaurants.  Press on, I did.  Vaci utca turns to Oktober 6 ut, which is where I found BestSellers, the only English language bookstore in Budapest.  I assigned myself readings in Steven Pinker and Dan Ariely leaving room for a perusal of the fiction section, too.  Great success. 

My next assignment would be one of history; Stephanie, Patrick and I trammed out the Kerepesi Cemetery to pay our respects to some of Hungary’s past elite.  This is the final resting place of a majority of artists, writers, and leaders from the last few centuries.  As befits such public figures, the grave markers here reflect drama, grandeur, and sorrow.  Sculptures adorn many plots – the most benevolent are awarded decorative personal mausoleums.  Part of the challenge of this visit was discovering each martyrs claim to fame.  Though it had been a cheery Indian summer type of afternoon, as we strolled among the embodied epitaphs (many doubling as epigrams…) the environment responded in kind, becoming ever more chilled and gray.  I learned a lot by admiring this collection of history, but the lesson was to continue.  After the exam a few days later, I boarded the 150 Bus and headed out of the city southwest to Memento Park.  This is the place where the governing powers relocated Communist statuary after the Wall fell.  The pieces were not destroyed but rather preserved as a testament to the past and provocation toward the future.  As previously discussed, the Hungarians identify themselves through the lens of history.  Like in the graveyard, the stones that patrol the park fill the observer with particular emotions.  I was impressed with the narratives the collection expressed – one of toil and triumph.  As my education continues, I hope to earn a passing grade.



(Red Cross Country Team)



Slake your thirst

Pedal Boats, a daytime rainbow,
a nighttime perch

 After a rigorous week at study, it is always a good idea to kick back, put one’s hypothetical feet in the air, and breathe deeply.  Luckily, I had the opportunity to do just that when I went with eight other people on a cross-country jaunt to Lake Balaton.  The largest body of water in Central Europe is often known as the Hungarian Sea because it resides completely inside the borders of Hungary.  Balaton is among the most popular retreat destination around during all seasons for its natural beauty and outdoor activities offerings.  This bounty of plenty glimmers in the late sunlight about two hours from Budapest by train.  We knew we would have to make a transfer somewhere along the way, but without the ability to translate the timetable we relied on the kindness of strange conductors.  Scoff, you may, but we arrived in one of the larger resort towns along the northern shore without any difficulty and noticed the difference immediately.  The air smelled fresher and the ambiance warmer, though we had not travelled all that far.  Balatonfüred is a quiet community supported by the summertime travelers who frequent the luxury hotels and restaurants.  September, it seems, is at the tail end of this season and so very few other travelers sidled alongside us as we ambled down the main streets toward our lodgings.   Every day when you are walking down the street, everybody that you meet has an original point of view. Hey? 

We reserved two bungalows in a resort area overlooking the lake.  We had the camp almost to ourselves and promptly capitalized on this by joining the ducklings in a predusk dip.  The water was marginally chilly, but in a crisp exhilarating sort of way.  Though closed for the year, the shoreline was riddled with slides and attractions.  Still open, the marina boasted a few dozen yachts and sailboats, many moored like dancers off stage, while others spun and jumped on the waves in the distance.  We let the mariners capture our attention as we dried lazily on the beach and sampled in moderation the famous wine of Balaton vineyards.  The area is particularly fertile thanks to volcanic soil and a temperate Mediterranean climate.  Speaking of which, as the air lost its daytime warmth we retreated to the bungalows to piece together a meal and grab extra layers before returning to the shoreline to gaze up at the now clearly revealed night expanses.  A row of pedal boats moored for the season provided an ideal vantage point from which to take in the cloudless universal vista.  I regretted having to arise early the next morning, until in passing this same spot I witnessed the contrapositive as the sun rose over the lake.  

Soak it in