Eastward to Tartary

Last night I could not sleep. It very well was due to the fact that while reading the memoir I fell asleep at 8:30 and woke up at 1.

During my time awake I continued reading the memoir, which continued, if not strengthened my fascination with the East/West divide within Europe. Perhaps it is my insatiable yearning to return to Europe and take a little trip through the Iron Curtain, perhaps it is because I have had a small taste of the East through my experiences both in Berlin and in Budapest, I really do not know. But as I read the novel, I found myself imagining my trips through the rugged terrain of the quickly developing ex-communist regions, experiencing first-hand the confluence between the Protestant West and the Orthodox East. When arriving in Budapest, I remember vividly after stepping off that train telling myself that this was not the Europe that many people imagine. No, there was something strangely different and enticing in this area. At the risk of sounding orientalist, I do have to say that there was a sense of exoticism in this area not found in Western Europe. When I was there I struggled to pinpoint it, but now it makes sense. Budapest starts the merging of the east and west; it is the point where Western Rome's Latin and Christian influence end, and Byzantium and the Ottoman Empire's influence begins; the meshing of the Christian and the Muslim worlds.....fascinating.

Jetzt spreche ich auf Deutsche, damit kaum jemand mich versteht. Warten kann ich nicht, auf mein einiges Wohnung zu haben. Fast jeden tag gibt es ein Argument oder sowas, und ich glaube nicht daß die Jugendliche so viel mich ärgern können. Manchmal fühle ich mich daß ich meine Nichte schlugen will, für alle der Scheiße die sie baut. Kwatch...