Budapest was serendipitously filled with people I had met at the beginning of my time in Belgrade. I not only appreciated being around people who already know me, but also their symbolism as bookends at either end of this chapter... Snippets:
Marjo from Finland sharing the story of her grandparent's love: A woman who lost her husband in the war meets a man named Hope and a man who has the war still in his lungs meets a woman named Peace. It takes my breath away when real life is as beautiful and right as fiction.
Met an Indian soldier at a hostal in Budapest. I so easily could have not talked to him, believing him to be hitting on me, but I did, and I my preconceptions were turned upside-down. He is a UN Peace Keeper in the Democratic Republic of the Congo, and talked to me about all the hundreds of rapes they are hearing about. He told me of his sense of utter despair and helplessness to help these women, he kept saying, "you feel so cramped by this pain"... Seeing this soldier nearly doubled over describing to me the vise of his emotions will stay with me.
Marjo and I missed our bus stop, and when we stepped off the next one she didn't miss a beat, but led us right into the bright pink bar which was a few steps away, ha. It was the kind of local joint we never would have met, but while sitting at the grimy bar she addressed my feelings of intimidation wit writing about this experience in anything longer than a blog post. She brushed away my fears of "where to start?" and said that there is never a clear beginning, you just start with what you know you want to say, and only later does it take a cohesive form. This seemed very wise, and metaphoric for life as well...
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