A journey to the past: traveling to Budapest after 10 years

On this trip, I quickly moved past outward observations to connect with feelings, time, memory, and human bonds. I have used an intimate tone that lacks exaggerated literature; this is an inner journey in Budapest, not a travel guide; welcome.

Nearly ten years ago, without any prior plan, I set off for Hungary. The reason for the trip was to attend the wedding of my friends, Viktória and Zoltán; but Hungary itself had, from years before, from an unknown place, turned into a beautiful and "cool" country in my mind. I still don't know why or how. I don't even remember where it entered the world of my mind. Maybe because in my teenage years I was friends with a girl from Hungary who transmitted good energy to me; or maybe before that, a corner of my mind had opened up for this country; a place where today finding its root is no longer possible for me, or I need to think more.

The trip to Hungary at the beginning of my youth became a beautiful point on the timeline of my life. With the help of Zoli and Viki, I gradually came to know the culture and traditions of Hungary. Through them, I met other people and discovered Hungary not from a map or a book, but through its people. Even in my last days in Budapest, I celebrated my birthday alongside my Hungarian friends. However, my stay was short, and I left Hungary very soon.

Now, after nearly ten years, a wonderful opportunity arose to return; a trip that, more than revisiting a country, felt like returning to a part of my own past. A trip that, just like last time, took shape completely by chance and without a plan.

The human mind has a strange desire to store memories. It creates memories with smells, tastes, and colors; it takes photos, records videos, writes, collects souvenirs, creates albums... and years later when it looks back at them, a strange and pleasant feeling comes alive within. Maybe dopamine gets activated in the brain, or a combination of oxytocin and endorphins fills one's being; that same sweet and strange feeling we have named nostalgia. A feeling that seems to turn back time for a few moments and reminds us where in the world we once stood and what paths we have crossed.

Even the mere thought of holding a ticket to Budapest awakened all those nostalgic feelings in me; as if I had pulled an old album out from under a layer of dust. Everything had an air of repetition, as if events were slowly taking shape all over again. Even my seat on the plane, just like last time, was on the left side by the window. Perhaps "a journey to the past" or "a journey into one's own history" would be the best name for this trip.

I boarded the plane. Norway was very cold and raining softly. During takeoff, the Hungarian pilot said: "At the destination, the weather is sunny and beautiful, not like here." On my first trip to Hungary, I had changed my flight once, and on the second flight, I didn't get a window seat; this made me think of Liza this time.

I arrived at the airport and everything was familiar to my eyes; the colors, the lights, the sounds, even the weather. I remembered that ten years ago I had stepped here with these exact same bags. At that time, Viktória was supposed to pick me up, and I was in touch with her through a three-person group on Facebook; a group we had named "Vahid in Budapest". Now, I was in touch with Zoltán in that same group, and this time he was the one coming to get me. It felt like everything was repeating itself...

Outside the airport terminal, almost nothing had changed. This image was so repetitive to me, so familiar, as if it was just yesterday that I arrived here.

Zoltán arrived. His behavior was exactly as I remembered. I told him: "Why haven't you aged?" The same smile, the same glasses, the same way of talking, he looked the same way. I wondered to myself, is it natural to expect people to change a lot over ten years? Or is it just Zoltán who seems to have come to terms with time and remained unchanged?

When we reached the house, Viktória looked a bit different; as if she had exercised more and slept less at night. They now had two cute children; children who made their lives busier and more boisterous. Gradually, I realized this time travel hadn't only happened to me. Seeing me had brought back past memories for them too; memories that went back twelve years ago to the days we first met. It felt as though life had made a giant leap for all of us.

That night we talked about past trips and memories, and the next morning I headed to the city center; a city I had left almost ten years ago.

I think I have become a different person over these years. On the way to the city center, it wasn't just memories of Hungary passing through my mind; many of the events I had experienced during these ten years were coming back to life in my mind, as if images that had sat under dust for years were slowly revealing themselves again.

Budapest Castle was almost exactly as I remembered; I didn't see any change, except for a few corners and surroundings I hadn't seen the first time.

If you have read the story of "Luna", that lovely dog, its beauty, innocence, and fate have probably impacted you too. Her story was not just the story of a dog for many; it felt like it awakened something of simple, defenseless emotions inside a person. Among those who followed that story, there was a lady from Hungary named Krisztina. I didn't know her, and before that, there was no acquaintance between us, but during those days she sent me a message saying that she had made a doll of Luna with her own hands; a doll she would love to gift to me one day.

At that time, I just smiled and got a good feeling from seeing such a message. But life is full of sentences that one reads and thinks might never have a continuation. When I came to Budapest this time completely by chance, I suddenly remembered her; I remembered that old message, amidst hundreds of events and memories from the past that came alive again in my mind. I messaged her and didn't expect to get a response so quickly. But very soon, she brought herself here to give me the gift.

When I held the doll in my hand, for a few moments, I thought more about what was hidden behind the gift than the gift itself; that a human being, who until recently was completely a stranger to you, spent a part of their life making something, just because a story touched them and they wanted to share a piece of their feelings with you. Maybe she thought that when Luna was no longer by my side and a new owner was found for her, this doll could remain a keepsake of Luna for me so I would always remember her; this very subtle and deep perspective was completely meaningful to me.

Sometimes I am truly amazed and dumbfounded by the kindness of some people. In a world where people very often pass by each other without looking, there are still those who, without any expectations, gift a part of their time, emotion, and heart to another.

Perhaps in the end, what remains in a person's mind more than cities and buildings are these exact moments; moments that remind us once again that the world, despite everything, is still a beautiful place to live.

Margaret Island

The next day I returned to the city. Right in the middle of the Danube River, there is an island about two and a half kilometers long, connected to Buda and Pest via two bridges. Margaret Island is considered one of Budapest's most popular and peaceful urban spaces; a place where lush green parks, walking and cycling paths, a musical fountain, and beautiful gardens give it a delightful atmosphere. Alongside its tranquil nature, the remains of medieval monasteries and buildings add a layer of history to this island, bringing together a blend of nature, peace, and the past. The people of Budapest mostly come here to run, exercise, relax, and escape the daily hustle and bustle.

Ten years ago, I enjoyed being here. The very idea of an island in the heart of a river and in the middle of a big city is attractive on its own. It feels good when you know that just a few steps away, a bustling city flows, but here everything seems to move slower.

Here, you can sit quietly and gaze at the hustle of a city whose noise no longer reaches you. You can walk, meditate, take photos, or just look at the gentle flow of water. And I am not the only one who came here for this feeling; I see many people sitting without any rush, enjoying the view; as if each has stepped away from the outside world for a short time.

Right here, ten years ago, I stared at the incredible landscape of Budapest. I think one of my best photos in this city was taken here; a photo that László, one of the most lovable Hungarians I've known, captured of me. But now I have found that spot again; a place where being in it revives a strange feeling in me, a feeling that is not easy to explain. I sat here for a while and stared ahead. The Danube flowed gently through the city, and the city across the water, indifferent to my memories, continued its daily life. But in my mind, time no longer seemed to move according to its own laws.

I thought about the past ten years; about the days when I was a youth with pockets full of dreams and a mind that constantly flew into the future. About my desires, my friends, the people who entered my life, and some who stayed behind on that path. About the paths I chose and the paths I never set foot on.

It is strange; ten years have passed, many people have come and gone, I have seen many cities, and I have gone through many events, but it feels like in a corner of one's being, a part never changes. Something is still left right there; the same young boy who followed the horizon with his eyes and built large worlds in his head.

I am still the same; perhaps with more exhaustion, more experiences, and more stories to tell, but my feelings are the same. Still, my mind sometimes lets go, crosses the borders of reality, and flies uninvited in its dreams.

For a few minutes, I just sat. Not to watch the city; to watch time.

Now it was time for photography. To make the new photo look as much as possible like the image we took ten years ago, I had to place the camera carefully on the tripod; so precisely that the frame would not deviate even slightly from the old photo's framework.

Probably, if someone watched me from afar, this scene would look a bit strange or even funny to them; a man who obsessively shifts a tripod a few centimeters and constantly stares at the camera screen. But they couldn't know what story was hidden behind these few simple movements. Humans are interesting creatures; when we don't know about something, our minds wander to strange places. We make a story for every image, every movement, and every event, stories that might none be real. And perhaps that is what makes the world more beautiful; that there is always something unseen hidden behind what we see.

Margaret Bridge

I returned to Margaret Bridge; and this, perhaps, was the main challenge of Margaret. A bridge that I still don't know how ten years ago I dared to sit on its ledge and take photos from up there. The height to the Danube River is significant, and from up there it is completely obvious that the water depth at this point is shallow; meaning if someone falls, the result is death. This thought alone was enough to make me pause for a moment. Before starting to take photos, I asked myself, has my fear of heights increased over these ten years? But I got the answer very quickly in action; I didn't stop myself.

With caution and a bit of difficulty, I adjusted the tripod on the wall and started shooting. From the outside, this scene probably looked strange; a man sitting calmly and focused in a place that from others' perspectives might be irrational, just to capture a photo. But the story was something else; a piece of memory, a repetition, and perhaps an attempt to get closer to a past that no longer exists, except in these very moments.

Sometimes I wanted to tell this story to every passerby who crossed here; that this act is not just a photo, but a short conversation with a version of myself from ten years ago.

Of course, this was where I thought that maybe I should have a few newer photos of Budapest so that ten years later I can create comparison photos.

I headed towards "Pest". Everything felt familiar to me, but the details of the buildings hadn't remained much in my memory. I visited a few shopping centers and stores, mostly to see the locals and experience the feeling of this city's daily life again. In those moments, it felt like I was facing a younger version of myself; someone who saw these exact streets, breathed this same atmosphere, and is now standing there again.

I think the things we see act just like smells, sounds, tastes, and even photos; they don't just get recorded, they settle inside us. The atmosphere we place ourselves in silently affects the mind and changes the shape of our experience of the world; even if we don't notice it ourselves.

Budapest Parliament

I moved towards the Parliament. A calm sunset covered the sky; a warm light that seemed to have decided beforehand to make the mood of this moment beautiful. These kinds of sunsets are not just about Budapest for me; each time they connect me to a collection of scattered memories from my life, to very beautiful moments. I have always been sensitive to sunsets; it feels like time pauses in them for a few minutes and allows a person to breathe.

I was walking along the bank of the Danube, passing by the Chain Bridge to reach the Parliament. The river flowed calmly and the city, in the fading light, showed another face of itself.

Along this path, I reached the "Shoes on the Danube Bank" memorial. A collection of iron shoes left by the water; simple, silent, yet heavy with the meaning behind them, some people were placing flowers on them.

This memorial refers to the Jewish victims who were killed at this very spot by Hungarian fascist militiamen during World War II. Before that, they were asked to take off their shoes, shoes that were valuable at the time and were later taken and sold by those same forces, and then they were shot by the river, so that their bodies fell into the Danube water.

What we see on the shore today is only a trace of that event; shoes that no longer have owners, but their presence still recalls the weight of that history. I stood there for a while, amidst the sunset, the river, and a silence that had suddenly grown heavier.

I reached the Parliament. This was the place where I wanted to capture the most important photo of this trip.

The Rubik's Cube is one of the most recognized symbols of Hungary; a puzzle invented by a Hungarian and later became one of the most familiar objects of my childhood, in fact my favorite toy. Something simple in appearance, but infinitely complex in practice.

Ten years ago, right at this spot, opposite the Parliament building, which itself is one of the main symbols of this country, I had taken a photo that held a meaning for me beyond just an image. In that photo, I was in the middle of solving a Rubik's Cube; in the early days of youth, days when the world for me was full of unsolved questions.

That image, for me, was something like a metaphor; as if I was sorting out the chaos of my mind, trying to understand the world, and building a future that hadn't formed yet. That day, after taking the photo, I solved the cube.

But time, like that cube, is not simpler than it seems.

Now, ten years later, I have returned to the same spot. The same building, the same river, the same city. And I, with the distance that time has built between these two moments, stand before the same symbol once again; as if part of a cycle, not a straight line.

It feels like life sometimes brings us back to the exact point we thought we had left behind; only this time with hands a bit more tired, but a gaze that perhaps understands more things, I am solving that same cube of life.

Gellért Hill, Budapest

Budapest has a place called Gellért Hill; a place I fell in love with the very first time. Reaching it again this time, I felt something had changed in it, as if they reconstructed or renovated a part of it over recent months.

Gellért is one of the highest points overlooking Budapest and the curves of the Danube; a point from which the complete city can be seen beneath your feet. This hill is also on the UNESCO World Heritage list, and on its slopes, evidence of human settlement from a very distant era, even up to tens of thousands of years ago, has been found.

But for me, these numbers and dates are sidelined. Most important of all is that exact moment when you stand and see the city below your feet; a place where past and present gather in one frame.

This was the exact spot where I repeated one of my photos; an attempt to connect two versions of myself, across the distance that time had made.

A bit further along, I see one of my favorite statues from all these years; one of the side elements of the Liberty Statue complex (Szabadság-szobor) that completes the main frame of this height.

This bronze statue, made by Zsigmond Kisfaludi Strobl and installed in 1947, shows a man in motion; running, with a torch held above his head. An image of movement, of progression, of something like enlightenment. On the other side of the complex lies a statue of a battle with a dragon, usually interpreted as a symbol of victory over the forces of darkness and fascism. Together, these two build a complete narrative of hope and resistance.

Standing at this height, among these statues and facing the city, brings a strange feeling; a combination of lightness, vastness, and a type of freedom that is felt more in the body than in the mind.

Ten years ago I stood right here too, with a professional camera in hand. A man from Africa, whose country I don't remember exactly now, came close, held his mobile towards me, and asked with a smile: "Could you please take a photo of me?"

He went and sat exactly next to the statue. When I took a photo with his camera, I realized just how old his mobile was and that the image didn't have much quality. Right there I told him: If you want, I can take a photo of you with my own camera and send it to you later. He happily accepted. Then I asked him to take a photo of me too. He agreed, and a few moments later, I was sitting in that same spot.

That day a few simple photos were exchanged between us, but what remained was more than a photo; a short human encounter at a height above the city, somewhere between history, statues, and two lives that had met for a few minutes. Where is that man now?

I headed downwards. I was standing along the slope of that same hill where it is said that thousands of years ago, even up to about 150,000 years, signs of human life existed.

Along this path, I remembered a photo I took years ago of an old man on a bench; reading, calm and unbothered by the world around him. A simple scene, but admirable to me; as if reminding us that the human need to read and understand is not limited by time and age. Now I had found that exact spot again. From the tree behind the bench and the sign installed on it, I was sure it was the same place. Where is that man now?

A bit higher up from here, I remember a bride and groom taking their wedding photos. I found that same spot again. I don't know how they stood next to each other those days, or what feeling flowed between them in those photos, but now that I have returned to the same place, I automatically ask myself, are they still together? Do they still look at each other the same way? Or has life taken them on other paths? Where are they now?

Great Market Hall, Budapest

A short while later I arrived at the Great Market Hall of Budapest; a building that from the outside looks more like an old train station or a historic monument than a market. Its high ceiling, metal structures, and colorful tiles draw one's attention from afar. This market has been a part of the city's daily life since the late 19th century, meaning for more than a hundred years, and still maintains its lively and bustling feel.

Once you step inside, the space fills with color and scent. The smell of spices, fresh bread, Hungarian sausages, fruits, and foods reaching you from every corner, all combine to create a strange sensation. Some parts are full of souvenirs and handicrafts, and some stalls still do the same old simple work; people who came for daily shopping and brought a part of the city's ordinary life with them.

I have always loved markets. Perhaps because cities can be known not just by their buildings and streets, but by their people. Museums define history, but markets show life.

I walked among the stalls for a while and watched the people. I thought to myself that ten years ago I had probably passed through these exact aisles; next to people whose names I never knew and will never see again. It is strange; in life, we pass by thousands of people, share a space for a few seconds, and then exit each other's stories forever.

The next morning, I headed to the city center with Viktória; her to run an errand and me to visit the Kerepesi Cemetery (Fiumei Road), a place where many of Hungary's important personalities, artists, politicians, and figures rest.

This place was completely new to me; on my previous trip I had never come here. Cemeteries have always been something beyond just a burial place for people to me; they are like silent history books, where one can search for traces of time and the stories of human lives among stones and names. I have written separately about this place and its specific atmosphere:

After a few minor purchases from Budapest stores, I gradually prepared myself for the next flight. However, there was still one more day left; an extra day that felt like it was intentionally given to me to wrap up this trip.

In this interval, I decided to cook Ghormeh Sabzi for them; an Iranian dish, something from home that could lessen these distances if only for a few hours.

I had found an Iranian store named Tehran Trade in Budapest, where one could obtain some things brought from Iran.

Two other people whom I met again after ten years came along with László, and a small party formed around us. A simple gathering, but full of things that are hard to put into words.

That day, more than anything, I thought about all the days I had spent in Budapest; about scattered pieces of time that now seemed to sit next to each other again.

Tonight was the last night. It's hard to believe how time passes through days with such speed. Once again the moment of farewell had arrived; and saying goodbye to good people is never easy. Nonetheless, a feeling has formed in my mind that perhaps this time the return interval will be shorter.

I thought about how time transforms everything. We have changed from the outside; faces, bodies, and signs of the passing years. But inside, many things have remained exactly as they were. It feels as if a part of us resists time.

Sometimes this outward look at old places and people turns into an inner journey itself; a journey where you don't just see cities, but you go back and review yourself. Who you have been, what path you have come, and what things in you have or haven't changed in the meantime.

Before this trip, I thought returning to Budapest might be a repetitive and low-excitement experience; that I had seen everything once and there was nothing left to discover. But now I understand that meeting familiar people and places again, after years have passed, is a different kind of experience. Something like re-reading an old book; a book where this time you see things in it that were hidden from your eyes during the first reading.

These kinds of trips take the mind somewhere else; not just to the destination, but inside yourself. Perhaps that is why I feel I want to repeat such experiences again; not to see a city again, but to get closer to past versions of myself.

Very early in the morning, along with the sunrise, Zoltán and I left the house for the airport, a beautiful sunrise through the clouds of Budapest. Saying goodbye to Zoltán wasn't too hard. 😁

Budapest airport has parts that go uphill and downhill, it is very interesting, I don't think it's a standard thing 😁