MY ONLY PLANET

The question whether the glass is half empty or half full tells a lot about how you think about the world. I’m not the person who says the glass is half full. There was a time when I believed that the glass was half full, even if there were only drops in it. A nice way to get disappointed when you are thirsty and you start drinking from that glass. Later I learnt to measure things and tried to be on the safe side: expect the least - probably an empty glass - and get surprised when you find something at the bottom. This is my way of being optimistic (does that mean realistic?). But the question of the half full or empty glass has another aspect, too that we usually ignore. Namely, who is filling up our glasses? I think this is the essence of the whole glass issue and it took me to a conclusion that might seem far from the original question. Because the glass doesn’t get filled by itself. Somebody fills that up so that you can elaborate yourself in the philosophy of the empty-or-full pro...

You told me to write something more human, because otherwise people will start to be scared of me, or at least they will start to worry. Therefore I have collected the top ten reasons why it is worth running in Vondelpark. 1 You can sweat and spit as much as you want, the only look you receive will be that of admiration. 2 You can smoke weed without practically entering any coffe shops. (and you can still say you are more of a sportive person) 3 Running suit makes you invisible: the easiest way to get familiar with the every day life of any person you wanna learn more about (or maybe you don’t want, but you will) 4 On a sunny day you can have an overall outlook on the compound of the society of Amsterdam (It also includes some asses in obvious positions. Unfortunately, they don’t always belong to dogs.) 5 You can experiment how much time it is necessary to erase a puzzle of 5000 pieces from earth (The puzzle parts were spread at Queen’s day close to the bird statue. I still see th...

88 more days. My third day without running. I’m on paracethamol, trying to hope my swollen glands give it up very soon. The days without running are frustrating in themselves, the pain besides that only deepens this feeling. And I still don’t have my own key to the apartment. I’m trying hard to get rid of the symbolic meaning I gave to this small, insignificant object. My real home is inside. My real home is inside... Actually, I have realized that everything that doesn’t let me run pisses me off. Everything that moves away from me suddenly becomes more important. I was always like this. I have to admit that I got accostumed to being alone and being surrounded by the ghosts of those who are far from me, but they graved themselves into my life for eternity. I think it is the natural state of those I care about. If they come closer to me, I lose them. I feel stupid and awkward, because I cannot handle their very presence. I think sometimes I hurt them when I wish they were coming as they...

Wszystko znaczęło się z moją pierwszą samotną podróżą za granicę. Pojechałam do Francji. Poitiers był najdalszym miejscem co znalazłam na liście obozów dla wolontariuszy. Organizacja Emmaus znajdowała się w średniowiecznym klasztorze na środku starego miasta. Tutaj spotykałam Anitę i Michała, to sympatyczną parę z Polski. Byli bardzo mili kiedy dowiedzieli się, że jestem Wegierką. Rozmawialiśmy dużo o historii i innych rzeczach. Zostaliśmy przyjacółmi. Wtedy dowiedziałam się że Polacy lubią Węgrów. Po latach korespondacji nasza komunikacja przestała istnieć. Moja ostatnia wiadomość od nich jest to, że ich syn ma na imię Dragan i rodził się w tym samym dniu kiedy syn mojego brata. Kiedy pojechałam do Hiszpanii, ten sam instynkt mnie podpowadził: wybrałam najdalsze miejsce z ofert biura wolontariatu. Pojechałam do małej południowej wsi, która nazywa się Plasenzuela. To malownicza, ukryta wieś (myślę że utracony Boski Raj był coś podobnym) ma nastrój szczególny: zdarzają się tam surrealis...

Meglepő prózaisággal vázolom, miért nem írtam eddig. Visszautam fennkölt hangulatban telt: a repülés alatt próbáltam értelmet találni a két otthon közötti állapotnak, amibe kerültem. Értékeltem az elmúlt, túlzsúfolt napok eseményeit, valamint az előttem álló időszakot. Tele voltam élményekkel, tervekkel, amelyek bizonyos beszélgetések visszhangjaiként rögzültek bennem. Az ismerős utcák és terek mind arról tanúskodtak, hogy megfelelő helyen vagyok ahhoz, hogy minden, amit elterveztem, be is következzék. Utólag persze mosolygok naiv képzelgéseimen. A házunk elé érve ugyanis csúnyán szembe kellett néznem a valósággal: otthon hagytam a lakáskulcsomat. Ennyit a fennkölt hangulatról. A lakáskulcs története azóta hömpölyög az életemben, afféle apró hegyi patakból örvénylő folyammá nőve ki magát, és én, aki tényleges hazatérését ehhez az apró, jelentéktelen tárgyhoz köti - különösen az elszakadás óta - úgy érzem, hogy tulajdonképpen még mindig úton vagyok... Nem egy nyugalmi állapot. Különösen...

Before I leave town, I have the urge to tell you things that are still in my mind but I haven’t found the appropriate way or time to write them down lately. This might be also the way I want to rememer the past months I have spent here in Amsterdam. It was a really nice period in my life, I have to tell you. Careless, mostly. Maybe a bit passive, if I think of the books around my bed. I couldn’t finish any of them. My greatest reading experience was The Unbearable Lightness of Being by Milan Kundera, that I found on Manyi’s bookshelf. Although I had read it years ago, I was reading it again as if it had been the first time. A book I could connect to so many people and things here. The importance of repetition in life etc… I also discovered the experience of reading poems in Dutch and understanding them as well. Allow me to share with you one of my favourites from this beautifully illustrated children book by Hans and Monique Hagen - Thank you, Manyi again! IK DROOM als de nacht nog nie...

What a weird day, my friend. Those dreams coming out of the blue. They were so real, I couldn't resist them... But this is not what I want to tell you. Hopefully most of you are watching European Championship at the moment, and the rest of you are already accostumed to the fact that I don't say any relevant thing in my blog. Because this blog is still not about a story of characters who have conflicts in their lives, they are struggling and there is catharsis at the end. The story in which a character recognizes movies by its music and spends most of his time attending concerts. This is still me getting on bike every morning to work, going to run in Vondelpark after and trying to go to sleep at midnight. Not much to say - to be honest. And it doesn't mean nothing happens to me. So much things are happening, but still. The question - is it really happening to me? - is still there. I need time to integrate everything in my life. Actually, I think I have a special definition w...