The National

Just replace LA with Berlin, and this is basically what's going down.

Hello again

I'm not sure how I'm going to return to normalcy with the blog after the ~2 week hiatus... chronological catch-up isn't so feasible, so I'll probably go for a smattering of impressions and topics.  To start, just some potpourri.

I saw a man crying in the subway as Katie and I came back from dinner on my birthday.  I saw him from the side at first and thought there was just a wire running down his cheek -- one straight line of tears down from each eye, not wiping or sniffling, just a thousand-mile stare across the tracks.

I'll have to have an eating post soon -- many delicious foods discovered here in Budapest.  Langos, gyros, Klassz, et al.

Be a philosopher, but amid all your philosophy be still a man. - David Hume

Oh, and I turned 21 on Monday.  No big deal.

Rickroll'd

I know I wasn't planning to blog again until Wednesday, but sometimes special circumstances tear us from our promises.

Case in point, tonight I walked into the local 24 hour grocery and heard the greatest song of the 80s:

They play some ridiculous American pop in Budapest, but Rick Astley is in another league.  There's nothing I wouldn't give for that denim two-piece.

Correction:  Astley is British.  Not sure if this is America's loss or gain.

On Hiatus

I've been away for a while -- Katie has been visiting this week, and we've had a fantastic time exploring Budapest together.  I'll be back on the blogging grind come Wednesday.  See you then.

Recommended Viewing: Joseph Beuys and the Coyote

This post isn't really related to the main themes of this blog, but you don't have to read it if you don't want to.  Okay?

 I Like America and America Likes Me, Joesph Beuys, 1974

Photo copyright Caroline Tisdall

The Joseph Beuys story is one of the most captivating and iconic artist stories of all time.  As a young man, Beuys flew for the Luftwaffe as a rear gunner in a bomber unit.  In 1943, his plane was shot down in the Crimea.  Beuys claims he was discovered in the snow by nomadic Tartars, who nursed him back to health with natural medicines.  He remained unconscious until after he was returned to a German field hospital, but he maintains that the images of the Tartars and their healing methods penetrated his subconscious.  Most notably, he recalls being packed in animal fat and wrapped in felt to help his body retain heat.  Read more about his story at the wikipedia page linked above.  Regardless of the story's truth, these images and materials featured prominently in his art for the rest of his life.

Beuys was later among the most influential art figures of the 20th century.  His first trip to America was to mark the opening of the René Block Gallery in New York with a performance art piece.  The piece, I Like America and America Likes Me, began with Bueys's ride directly from the airport to the gallery in the back of an ambulance.  At the gallery, he spent three days in a room with a coyote, interacting with the animal as the situation dictated.  After the three days, he was taken back to the airport, again directly by ambulance.  Beuys later explained his mode of transportation: "I wanted to isolate myself, insulate myself, see nothing of America other than the coyote."  This video clip gives more about the work and Beuys's life, well worth the 15 minutes.  If the quicktime video doesn't work for you, I believe you can select a different format.

Tidbits

One of the greatest oddities of class in Hungary:  the chalkboard erasers are giant sponges.  The building's meticulous cleaning staff washes the boards daily and stocks them every morning with a damp sponge.  It drives me nuts when my topology prof doesn't wait for the board to dry completely before he starts writing again... you end up with this smudgy, broken haze of writing rather than clean lines of chalk.   Speaking of the cleaning staff, they must mop the stairs twice a day here... it seems like they are always doing that.

Maybe a greater cultural difference still, nay, perhaps the greatest single divider of Eastern and Western culture for an entire generation:  the preference of how to demarcate the endpoints of a conversation.  While many cultures in the West, such as the US, France, and Spain, choose to indicate which is the beginning and which is the end, most Hungarians are content to simply indicate "This is one side of our conversation."

In the US, we say "hello" and "goodbye."  In France, one says "bonjour" and "adieu."  In Hungary, however, you will often hear "helló" and, indeed, "helló."  I can't tell you how many times I've had to double-take as I left a store to hear the shopkeeper yell "helló" on my way out.  Did I forget something?  Am I stealing something? Oh, wait... no.  Furthermore, one can even observe a blending-zone of these preferences in Spain.  One can specify the side, as with "buenos días" and "hasta la vista, baby" or one can simply be content with "ciao" and "ciao."  Oh, the wonders never cease.

The grossest phenomenon I've ever witnessed:  no fewer than three times have I seen someone pick a particularly long cigarette butt off the ground, presumably to finish what its original owner did not.  Big-city dwellers, I ask you:  Is this a universal hobo practice or is it limited to Eastern Europe?

Side note:  Hungarians will (sometimes vigorously) contest the point that Hungary is not in Eastern Europe, but rather in Central Europe.  They have a valid cultural and historical argument, but I suspect that the Iron Curtain will define much of the east/west division of Europe for my generation.  Eastern and Central Europe are perhaps the most poorly defined regions in the entire world, though, so maybe Hungary will wiggle its way across that line.

To continue that side note, I am boggled by how devastating WWII was to Hungary.  At the Terror House museum, I read that WWII destroyed every bridge crossing the Danube in Budapest (eight cross it today, I think maybe six or seven crossed it before WWII) and 40% or more of the entire national wealth.  That is staggering.  What's more, to think the oldest generation of Hungarians today bore witness to all of this as young adults.  Quite a silent sadness -- I suppose it is far enough removed that people don't talk about or notice it as much anymore.

Okuyama no Sushi

I rallied a group of six (Kylee, Joe, Kumar, Lydia, Caitlin, and myself) to venture into Óbuda for what I heard was Budapest's most legitimate sushi.  Óbuda is a historical section of Budapest, literally "Old Buda."  Óbuda, Buda, and Pest fused in 1873 to form the city of Budapest.  Our destination was Okuyama no Sushi.  I had read a number of positive reviews, and I also had faith in the fact ethnic restaurants with atrocious websites tend to be authentic, if not extremely polished.

Indeed, we arrived at Kolosy tér, walked through the courtyard and downstairs to the basement to find Okuyama-san and his comfortable Japanese restaurant.  The dining space was fairly small, but didn't feel cramped at all, even filled nearly to capacity.  They give their tables, which provide seating for 25 - 30 at the most, plenty of space.  We all ordered sushi, but Kylee, having never tried sushi before (or fish outside its "stick" form, for that matter), was a bit apprehensive.  We steered her toward the California roll, which we hoped would be a success.  Kumar and I both ordered the small nigiri-and-roll combo, while Lydia, Caitlin, and Joe each ordered individual rolls.  Joe was perhaps the most adventurous and ordered the squid roll.  The house menu is mostly classic sushi: nigiri and basic, one- or two-ingredient rolls.  Definitely not abreast of the American souped-up maki sushi movement, which according to your sense of purity, could be good or bad.

A delicious bowl of miso soup (plenty of substance -- sprouts, kombu, scallions, tofu, and a mushroom or two) and a bottle of cold sake for the table helped the fairly short wait pass quickly.  I hadn't ever tried sake before but enjoyed it.  I thought the flavor was very gentle and a little bit like flowers.  Good, even thought it was a bit too sweet for my taste.

My sushi came with a single avocado-and-salmon roll and five pieces of nigiri:  salmon, shrimp, tamago (sweetened egg omelet), and ... the last two.  By sight and a little research, I'm fairly sure one piece was just shiromi, or seasonal white fish (or possibly it was white tuna, but I don't believe so), and the other was scallop.  I'm tempted to digress into commentary on my sushi research, but I'll save that for the postscript.

The reactions:  I enjoyed my sushi thoroughly and thought it fairly high quality, especially for a landlocked country without much interest in sushi.  I believe I read in a review that Okuyama-san flies his fish in freshly from abroad.  The scallop nigiri was very interesting -- delicate to the point of melting, a bit sticky, very moist, and semi-sweet.  The tamago was good:  I've always been intrigued, as it is a bit of a stand-out, both aesthetically and in that it is not fish, but I've never ordered it before.  This will probably join the group of my sushi regulars.  Joe was not such a fan of his squid roll, nor was anyone else at the table but me... I didn't find it thrilling, but the texture was interesting.  Not as rubbery as octopus, but like an extremely dense block of gelatin that chews (without difficulty) into a more watery gelly.  The flavor is there, but I can't say much about it... extremely light and non-offensive.  Kumar gave rave reviews to his plate, the same as mine.

Kylee, our sushi virgin, began her adventure with a dab of wasabi on the end of a chopstick.  So little, in fact, that I wasn't sure she'd get the taste.  I suppose I should have introduced the fact that Kylee dislikes spicy food of all sorts (she claims bell peppers are hot), as she did, indeed, get the taste.  Quite the reaction, and Lydia suggested some pickled ginger to ease the heat.  Unfortunately, pickled ginger has a kick of its own, so I'm not sure it really helped the situation.  Anyhow, on to the first bite of California roll.... not so favorable.  I should say this was a bit unusual by my experience of California rolls: a big, silver-dollar sized roll with a fat, thumbnail sized chunk of avocado at the center along with a piece of imitation crab stick.  Kylee was opposed to, I think, the texture of the nori on the outside of the roll, and perhaps the big chunk of avocado, too.  The salmon roll produced a similar reaction, but Kumar kindly offered half of his salmon nigiri (it takes a very generous man to share his nigiri), which she proclaimed the best of the three she tried.

One reviewer noted online that he often sees a table or two of Japanese people when he eats at Okuyama no Sushi, which he said he rarely saw at other Budapest sushi restaurants, and indeed, three Japanese men were enjoying a long dinner and conversation at the table next to us.  They seemed to have been there long before we arrived and stayed even after we finished our hour-plus dinner.  I liked the restaurant a lot and will be back.  The portions are a little on the small-and-expensive side, but not unusually so for sushi (they perhaps seem smaller and more expensive under the lens of Budapest's $2.50 street gyros and nearly-free produce).

To follow up on my sushi research, Slashfood has a fairly informative series on sushi basics.  Among other things, I learned that sushi purists dip nigiri fish-side down, in order to not sully the sweet, vinegared rice; that sushi purists also don't mix wasabi into the soy sauce, but rather apply it directly to the fish; and that picking up nigiri with your fingers is acceptable.  Info potpourri:

Katsoubushi is a dried, fermented, and smoked skipjack tuna that becomes almost wood-like and is shaved to produce shavings for dashi, the broth that is the stock for miso soup.

Real wasabi is awesome but unfortunately no one serves it (to wit: the site claims that even in Japan, only five percent of sushi shops use real, fresh wasabi).  The link also elaborates on the don't-add-wasabi-to-soy-sauce point, from the opposite perspective:  real wasabi is expensive and hand-grated, so diluting it in soy sauce is seen as a waste.

Finally, gari, the pickled ginger which accompanies sushi (and which I happen to adore), is naturally light brown and is of higher quality when served this way, as opposed to bright pink.  I think it's delicious either way, but the light brown gari served at Okuyama no Sushi was definitely softer and a bit different in flavor than the typical pink stuff.