Perhaps a better day

  

Dornbirn, Austria, 2015
Right before I left for Milan

  I have to admit that for a while I did wonder what it was that made me travel. I read some of the things that I wrote last year, and I remember thinking to myself, 'Wow, I haven't felt like that in a while.' My trip to Budapest couldn't have come any sooner.
  I came back ready to take on the world, but not even a week had gone by before I started craving my next fix - I ached for an escape. There was this incessant feeling, in the back of my head, telling me that I was stuck in the wrong place. It felt like I was being denied oxygen. The thought of having to endure feeling like this for the next three years was maddening. 
  I don't know when it exactly happened - I stopped drowning. I stopped finding the throngs of tourists pesky, the students that took up every inch of the streets annoying. I stopped needing a fix. 
I don't know what the next few months will bring, but I know I am not going to be trapped in this mental cage I had built for myself and I am going to start living my new life. 
  There will be good days and bad days. All I hope for is to remember, on those bad days, how I felt on those good days, and that tomorrow will be a new day. Perhaps a better day. 

The Timeless Castle Hill

The funicular taking people to Castle Hill
We walked like MVPs do :P

  It's been a while, hasn't it? A little over two weeks ago I embarked on a journey to see a city I have wanted to visit for a while - Budapest. The great city of Budapest presented a ton of surprises for me. It was nothing like I expected, in all the right ways. Then again, it occurs to me, for most Indians, we don't know much about Eastern Europe. Imagine my surprise when I stepped out of the metro station at Oktogon and was confronted by a magnificent square. I like to think of it as Budapest's Times Square. But this post is particularly about the Castle Hill.
  As any tourist worth his/her iota would, we, too, trudged up the hill to Castle Hill, expecting breath-taking views of Pest. I, for one, was adamant on seeing the sun set from the Fisherman's Bastion. More on that later.
  Once we reached up, we decided to walk in the general direction of the Castle Buda, which although we did not end up seeing the interior of, the exterior, I can vouch for. It was this architectural phenomenon for me. The intricate detailing that seemed to cover every little crack, although not really decipherable from a distance, was like the rest of Budapest. One might not grasp all of its history, but one is always in the midst of it.
  After we had clicked all the pictures we could - none of which did any justice to what we saw with our naked eyes - we turned to go to the other side of the Castle Hill, which comprised some of Budapest's most celebrated monuments/structures. Before we could make it far, my fickle nature got us to the once glorious, now desecrated labyrinth, a part of which led to a narrow path, which overlooked the old city of Buda instead of Pest. We sat on one of the few benches standing there, and we talked about culture, travelling, language and life, itself. It was the first time on the trip that I really felt connected to someone.
  Eventually, we did get up to visit the other 'attractions', and we kept strolling along the narrow trail that we decided would, at some point, lead up to Matthias Church. After walking a short way, we came to a  promenade, also, overlooking Buda, with trees in mid-bloom providing us shade from the late afternoon sun, and a pretty road littered with pink flower petals.

  It took me a hot minute to realise that not only were there no tourists there, but that the people around us were locals that lived on Castle Hill. You see, I had automatically assumed that the hill was  an array of attractions for tourists and just that. It never occurred to me that people actually lived here. Then, after a moments consideration, I noticed the house that were to my right.
  This was when my outlook on Castle Hill changed. Instead of seeing noisy tourists, I saw children on tricycles, old ladies gossiping about their days, couples taking romantic strolls, old men whiling away time, chatting, sitting on benches.
  Time bore absolutely no meaning in that promenade. That timeless promenade is what I remember from the hill and am nostalgic about.