Caesurians,
Two months (!!!) of the summer are gone. History now. Is it not crazy? I hope you had a good summer.
There are slow changes that you start to notice as one season replaces the another. I feel that the sun is different now in Budapest. It is not as bright and hot as it was in July or June. It is still very hot, and it still bright — but with a bit of deepness. Bit of maturity and age. On the runs, I occasionally feel how cool waves of wind cut through the stagnant wall of a hot and humid air. Suddenly, for couple of seconds, the heat becomes history as the coolness, although welcome and refreshing, reminds you of the coming autumn. And during those seconds, I miss it — the heat, the sun, the summer.
Morning Runs
I start every morning with a run. I have been doing so every day for the past two months. I get up, get in my running cloth, pop-in a new jazz album that I haven’t heard before, walk to my starting point and go off. Passing by city workers raining roads and trees with cold water, children enjoying free mornings and coffee shops, serving good smelling dark liquid magic. I run in small places and cross small streets, sometimes hiding in the shadows of large trees, other times — enjoying the hot kisses of the sun on my back, knowing that I will miss this feeling in the long dark hours of the fall.
Jazz
Jazz is the biggest re-discovery of this summer. I always wanted to, but never connected to and in some cases — never understood — the full potential of jazz. This summer it changed. I have never explored jazz albums this much on a daily basis — and it’s amazing. I hear and find stories in songs where words are absent — in those unpredictable instrumental patterns, crazy rhythms and lovely melodies. Mastery, dedication, craft, improvisation and silent understanding between the members of a band — all of these, and much more, way more than my non-native English vocabulary allows to express. Jazz is my everyday running companion.
Parks
I went offline in social media and did not return ever since. There was a silence, filling every space in the apartment. Filling every space in my mind. There was nothing, and there was solitude, calmness and awareness. I disconnected to re-connect with my inner peace.
When there was nothing and silence, I felt free. I switched from knowing that there is only a single possibility — office, coming back, dinner, sleep — to feeling that there are possibilities. Anything can happen. It was boring, but in a liberating way — rather than being bored because of external factors that seek your attention all at once, I was bored because my mind was on a quest for something and I felt free to explore it.
One of the things was just to go out and walk around without purpose. Listening to jazz and wondering in small streets of the city. Another — to go to a park, and sit there. Watch and observe how nothing happens, and yet, everything lives and breathes. Dogs catching balls. Couples laying under trees. Just the simple act of sitting and paying attention to little things made me feel more connected to people with whom I do not share a common language.
Ramen
Food. Of course. The essential.
Ramen! Love ramen. And I am happy when ramen is good. The moment when the taste fills the mouth. Stars align. Lungs breathe in a hot steam. Mind, teased by the smell, finally satisfied.
I am happy that there are more and more places to taste different types of ramen in the city. My favorite trio so far includes Komachi Miso Ramen from Komachi Bistro, Dan Dan Ramen from Wafu Japanese Bar and Miso Ramen from Ton-Inchi Ramen.
In one of my favorite games called Judgement, you earn points for trying out every type of Japanese cuisine available in the small, virtually recreated district of Kabukicho in Tokyo. In real life, my Google Maps app turns green saved icons into pink heart icons when I move a new ramen place from “Want to go” to “Favorite” list. In my mind, I earn points for that too.