Diary of a Bridge: part 2. LAB in Hungary

A new year, a new adventure.

A new place.

We cross Europe again and meet in Felsőörs, at a beautiful retreat space outside the town. From Bologna I drive to Slovenia, pick up Jus and Peter, and we drive the length of Slovenia until the street signs show Slovenian and Hungarian together. Then, suddenly all the highway signs change color (blue instead of green) and I realize we have crossed the border into Hungary.

The highway is nondescript, flat with naked trees on both sides. At a certain point we begin to circle Lake Balaton, which we have heard so much about: the largest lake in Central Europe! Hungary’s biggest tourist destination! Inhabited since the Bronze Age! Unfortunately all we see is a maze of properties built up around the lake’s shores: so much so that they obscure the lake itself.

Our retreat space is not on the lake at all, however, it is at the end of a residential street, bordered by protected forests, and sits right next to a clean and beautiful natural brook called Lovasi patak, which traditionally supplied water to the nearby village of Lovas. It joins downstream with a larger brook called Király-kút, or “the king’s spring”. The water is perfectly drinkable, our good-natured host Ferenc tells me.

Ferenc and Csilla are the best hosts one could hope for. They cook us excellent vegetarian food, cater to our every whim, and have an absolute love for this place that they pass on to their guests. Their middle-aged golden retriever, called Füli, from the Hungarian word for ear, is an excellent guide to the neighboring woods and one sunny afternoon takes me on a run around his favorite trail. He will often appear just outside the glass doors where we are rehearsing with a toy in his mouth and big, pleading eyes. It is impossible not to pet him even though he smells a bit like a goat, like all outdoor dogs do.

The first evening I run a slow 6K while the stars blink above me like cold jewels. I pass the Felsőörs church, from the 11th century. I discover we are close to Veszprém, the “City of Queens”, an important city of medieval Hungary where many queens were crowned. Legend has it that it founded on seven hills (like Rome!). The area seems to be proudly invested with all kinds of folk legends and myths, and is the site of a popular teen fantasy novel.

On the second day of labs, everyone has arrived, and the picture is complete. The artistic collective is all there and we can look each other in the face and finally play together.

It is not easy at all, this gentle merging between different ways of working and communicating between people from different countries, some of whom are meeting for the first time. But our common language, improvisation, helps us merge.

From the first evening’s timid dinner conversation the group evolves into an easy conviviality. In between work sessions we joke and converse on all manner of topics, play games, dance, sing, and cautiously begin to make fun of each other to see how far we can take it. This is the process of becoming a community.

The weather is unseasonably warm for February (perhaps the lake’s proximity has something to do with this) so we sit outside on breaks and enjoy the bright sun, that alternates with light rain (too light to be a bother) and clouds, like a succession of benevolent moods.

The nights are long and some of us sit and sweat inside the beautiful sauna and enjoy a plunge in Lovasi patak by candle- and moon-light. It is freezing and wonderful. The bottom of

the river is muddy and feels like clay, it makes me think of the name Balaton (from the slavic balto for mud.) Smoke comes off our bodies when we exit the sauna, and a light rain begins

to fall, melting the mole holes in the garden into slippery mud.

The work seems to flow effortlessly. Andrew’s workshops and his easy and caring manner of leading exercises set a beautiful tone. We try our hand at some collaborative work. Everyone is gracious, constructive and willing to try out others’ ideas. We keep 30 minutes at the start of each session to exchange languages. Even though I am not sure I will remember any of the words I am learning, I feel that this simple exercise of exchanging the role of teacher and

student is a status game that helps us build our little community. We sit at little table in the sun and repeat phrases to each other like “Of course!”, “I love you”, and “Would you like wine?”

I realize that learning someone’s name in another language is not banal at all. First you have to learn to pronounce it well, a word with which you have zero personal associations; and then begin to associate it closely with that person, as you get to know the person herself. An interesting process.

Leaving Felsőörs is sad. It means closing a small chapter. We cross Hungary and travel to a beautiful apartment in Budapest with a wooden canoe hanging from the ceiling in the living room. The courtyard of this beautiful old building is lined with the wrought iron terraces of the apartments facing in. I stare at this view for a long time and try to reconstruct all these unfamiliar details into a new familiarity.

At nightfall we meet at Lumen, a hip café a short walk from the apartment. It is spacious, with wooden tables and a greenhouse-style roof, filled with plants. The crowd feels between twenty and thirty. There are mullets and winged eyeliner, vintage sport jerseys and crocheted sweaters. A man with a teeny-beanie and a striped shirt has a baby in one of those special backpacks across his front as he amiably converses with people at a table. He looks over at the door with curiosity when we come in but doesn’t stop talking or smiling.

The local improvisers are warm and welcoming, and the show goes off without a hitch. The audience is extremely attentive and seems excited to be there. The show is billed as an English improv show and all the people present seem to speak English at a high level. After the show, we migrate back to the apartment or to find food at a local McDonalds. At the apartment the water is shut off for an hour and a half and this causes a brief moment of chaos. For some reason we decide we will perform a “ritual” involving the apartment’s plants, and we all “yes, and” this proposal. At some point we all fall into bed exhausted.

The next day at different times we all migrate back towards our homes. Four of us have a pseudo-American brunch at a beautiful café near the parking lot that is lined with a beautiful round window onto the street. The sun streams in through the window and the staff is casually dressed, young, and extremely solicitous.

Driving back, Vid and I pass below hundreds of geese flying in V formation. Hawks hunting out by the highway. I leave Slovenia along the Sava Dolinka river, accompanied by a luminous crescent moon and Venus, close to each other in the night and peeking out between the peaks of the Julian Alps.

Our journey home brings us back across Central Europe, back into familiar waters, metaphorically sailing home with a ship full of feelings, new faces, new ideas, and a general fullness of being.