"I didn’t arrive as a tourist, and I don’t return as a visitor. Once, with only a thousand forints in my pocket and fear in my heart, I crossed the border - but Budapest didn’t swallow me whole; it brought me to life. Join me where the cobblestones have stories to tell, and every bite holds a memory."
I stood there in the monumental hall of Keleti Railway Station with nothing but a backpack, a few changes of clothes, and sandwiches from home, packed by my father. Back in Oradea, I had lived at a relentless pace: teaching piano and giving private lessons by day, working as a night-shift dispatcher for the city’s largest taxi company, and spending my weekends at the college for Catholic religious educators. Although we lived in a large city, I learned the value of hard work during vacations spent in the countryside with my grandmother and aunts. By the age of ten, I was already tending to animals, working in the garden, and I had learned to bake and cook like a professional.
Despite my resilience, Budapest felt alien and terrifying upon arrival. It was particularly painful to know that my mother was also living in this city with my sister’s family, but due to a serious financial dispute five years prior, my sister and I were no longer on speaking terms. I didn't have their address, nor did I even have my mother’s phone number. My mother and I loved each other dearly, but we only saw each other on those rare days when she visited home in Oradea. And so, I found myself completely alone in the Hungarian capital.
I immediately dialed a recruitment agency recommended by acquaintances, which specifically helped Transylvanian Hungarians. Their headquarters was a rather dilapidated place right next to Keleti Station, but they offered me a place to sleep. One night cost 1,000 forints - exactly the amount of all the money I had. Since I couldn't pay upfront, we agreed they would deduct it from my first paycheck.
I wasn’t picky. Even with a degree in my pocket, I was ready for any kind of heavy physical labor to pay off debts and help my parents, whose pensions were no longer enough to get by. That very day, I received an offer: someone was urgently needed for a two-month substitution. I was relieved, especially because the job was in the countryside, far from the hustle and bustle of Budapest.
The next morning, I set off into the unknown. Little did I know then that this detour would be the first true test of my determination. How would a piano teacher fare in the world of grueling physical labor?
"Because Budapest is more than a destination: Budapest is a feeling. Come, let’s see what’s around the next corner together."