Tie a string
“…and I’ll tie a string around my finger so I don’t forget not to get so tied up to the things that I regret.” – Clem Snide, Summer
So I’m thinking from now on, I’ll start my blogs with a quote or a line from a song or something. How do you feel about that? Oh, what do I care how you feel, it’s my blog, and I’ll use all the cheesy quality writing infractions I wish.
So here I am in Budapest. “Budapest?” you ask. “Yes,” I say. I went to Munich from 7am to 12am but seeing as how hostel prices are currently double what I paid in March, I booked an overnight for Vienna. “So,” you ask wisely, “why are you not in Vienna?” “Well,” I reply, becoming somewhat agitated with all of your nosey questions, “I was tired, so I slept on the train through Vienna all the way to Budapest.” And that’s how the former soviet block cookie crumbles. I really like it here. For one, I have found an internet cafe which charges less than a euro for an hour, which is outstanding. Furthermore, the keyboard is an english one, so no more hunting out apostrophes. ‘ See? ‘ Isn’t that nice? ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ I’m so happy. I enjoy this city so much, I have booked 3 nights here and am contemplating booking a 4th. This really says something considering the most I’ve stayed anywhere else is 2. That’s committment. Actually, in all honesty, I haven’t seen as much of the city as I’d like, at least not above ground. But everything here is very cheap, and I had to do laundry and other time consuming things, like sleeping, so I needed a place where I could just relax for a while. Tonight, I’m planning on gourging myself at a Mongolian BBQ with an Aussie and a Canadian I met at the hostel, though I can’t say I’d mind if the Canadian changed his mind, I think he has the Black Lung. But I digress. I should tell about yesterday and my new passion, caving. I arrived at the hostel at noon and was still tired, so I slept for another few hours, but then, I signed up for a tour of the caving system below Budapest. My experience in the past has been these guided tours through really big holes underground, but that was about it. ‘Look at the stalagtites. Look at the stalagmites. Little girl, please stop climbing on that.’ That sort of thing. So when I signed up for this, I sort of expected something of the like, but the people at the hostel said it was a really good experience and the overalls and helmets were incluced in the price. Overalls and helmets? Ok, that sounds a bit more my speed. So into the caves I go. There’s an engaged couple in the group that likes me and wants me to stay in front of them, behind the guide, which I don’t mind. I like to play leader, you bump your head more, but there’s no one telling you what to do next, you have to figure it out.
Everyone’s sort of unsure what awaits them around the next dimly lit corner, and all I can do is follow the guide, trying to contort my body the way that he does, on to the next big opening. I wait for the rest of the group to scramble through, and there you all sit together, wondering if next, you to proceed through a large dark hole a few feet away. Instead, your guide points to a hole the size of your head and in his deep Hungarian accent says, “We go this way”.
I am not a claustrophobic person. I don’t mind the dark. But there is a moment when you are crawling on your stomach, straining your arms because you can’t bend your legs to push off; you don’t know how much further you have to go because you can’t look ahead, the passage is too narrow to hold your head anyway but sideways. In that moment, you remember where you are. 60 meters below the earths surface, solid rock above you, solid rock below. Well, from here it looks solid, but you know it isn’t. You know that here and there are caverns, spaces created by earthquakes, loose rocks and boulders, and above all, cracks, running along this “solid rock” that could at any moment make it not so. You feel suddenly, the weight of all that earth falling in before you can yell and remember that nature and its forces have never laid down their arms to the protests or pleadings of man. Yet there you are, alone now because your guide is experienced and nimble and has disappeared before your very eyes. Is this the way? How could this possibly be the way a body is meant to go? At this moment, I have no control. Then you feel it, room to turn your head, and as soon as that, it’s over and there’s more space than you know what to do with. You stand up. Breathe in. The air, cool, stale, saturated with sheer time, thousands of years this air has been here, long before humans knew this place existed. But it’s also the same air shared with those first spelunkers who climed into these depths one hundred years ago. Their voices are still there, lingering, the emotions escaping their lips and expressed in their caution as they explore dark trenches for the first time, it’s all there, hovering above you, all around. It’s in the layer of dirt that coats your body, gets in your lungs. You breathe in. What a rush.
And that’s caving. I love it. I think I’ve just discovered new criteria for decideing where to live. It was mountains, ocean, etc, now it is caves. I suggest it to anyone not afraid of small spaces, and maybe even those who are, just to add a little umph to your day.
Tags: Budapest, Hungary, spelunking, Travel
Blair
That was quite good… I was just in the underground cities created by the Vietnamese during the war.
You finally made it to Budapest!