Vienna, 23 11 2023

I’m at Sepp’s apartment in Vienna, 4th district now, in the large living room with high ceilings and beautiful period wooden floors. The bed is cozy and I slept heavenly here last night. What a difference!

Malocclusion 

Budapest, 24 11 2023

I was just too tired to write anymore yesterday, and to be honest, the whole week in Budapest and Vienna is taking a toll on me, despite having wonderful moments  and great food.

I’m listening to 68 by Anima Sound System right now, the only Hungarian song I ever knew.

Ok back to chronological order:

After a more relaxed Sunday, fancy food and boujee spa treatment, Monday was less pleasant and more torturing with the dental treatment. I arrived there early in the morning, and almost didn’t believe the dusty store front with window foils peeling off was my dental clinic. First impression: iron curtain, dodgy, cheap.

I went in and people greeted me with an “Ostblock” mentality, just saying the facts and not trying to be super accommodating. Finally I went upstairs and was ready, having brushed my teeth and calmed down. I still waited ages and then my x-ray machine malfunctioned several times. 

The actual treatment by the dentist, Andreá, took 2 hours and was plain torture. The anesthetic injection itself hurt, and the drilling, the exposed nerves and the wide open mouth were hard to bear. She took my old inlays and prepared them for the imprint. It was not bad, but also not great. The office was old school, like 20 years ago, and not sleek and fancy at all. Also the talking, explaining and Q&A was minimal. I sometimes stopped to get my points across.

Finally she pushed in some temporary filler sloppily, and I was left to go. My entire mouth was so numb, I could not even drink water without spilling, my lips didn’t move, I looked like Joan Rivers in her last years!

Immediately, I had to call Silke back, and slurred my speech. Work was so busy and demanding this week, I even had to text and check things in the dentist chair!

Anyway I finally went back to the Airbnb, and was shocked how painful it was, especially when the anesthetic wore off. I think I slept in the afternoon, and went out later, but did not have much energy or enthusiasm for anything. I went for a nice afternoon coffee at Fanka, with finally nice, young staff that tried to make you feel welcome and understood. 

Chewing and even drinking was a pain, hard to enjoy. 

In the evening I wanted to have kinai büfe, just for the sake of it, but ended up getting a proper chinese takeaway. It has gotten so expensive though, for fried rice and soup around 12 Euro. I walked around the St. Istvan Christmas market, but it was not really appealing, and I was not in the mood. I honestly think I could skip xmas this year, not feeling it. 

The usual throbbing headache also was lingering for a couple of days. 

Bla bla complain complain. I don’t  know why, but it is hard to enjoy myself these days. Or has it always been like this? I walk around the streets, yes I do look at the magnificent architecture, and eat a great selection of foods, but I don’t get particularly high on it, and always feel tired and the need to rest. Is it the withdrawal from weed? I am actually quite glad I am off for a bit, to clear my brain and blood. I wonder if Topo is smoking up all the flowers while I’m gone.

So eventually Tuesday came around, and after checking out from my nice flat, I wandered around with my heavy bags and spent hours in cafes. I made it all the way back to Vaci Utca, our old flat, Corvinus Uni and the market hall. Old feelings came up, good ones, of a time when I was more excited about life.

It has also changed, though, not only me, but also the city. It is expensive now, more international and touristy. The old socialist flair is fading and the sour smell of pickled vegetables in the market has given way to touristy souvenir shops and food stalls. Even the coffee shop at the uni was closed.

Suddenly I was late and had to rush to Nepliget, the old hated bus station, to catch my ride to Vienna. I was perched into the back seat row, rubbing shoulders with a guy, and sweating my ass off in the heated bus with my several layers of clothes for 3 hours.

I was feeling dirty and smelly when I arrived, so I changed my sweaters at Hauptbahnhof, out in the cold, to feel decent when meeting Sepp.

His apartment in a classic century building is charming and full of character, as I expected. He was happy to see me, and after an awkward hello, he gave me a house tour and we chatted ahead. I was reminded of the grandiosity of those old houses, with wooden floors and double doors, and felt I was missing this so much. The living quality is just way superior. Imagine if I was still with Giorgio, we would probably live in a palace by now. 

Soon we headed out for a nice Austrian meal, Sepp treated me, and we had many things to tell and share. We  got to know each other quite well in the 3 nights I stayed there, and discovered a lot of similarities in our life stories. Both gay boys, growing up on a rural farm, dreaming of escaping into the world, living a vibrant cosmopolitan lifestyle. And we did it! His brother is a school janitor, too! 

We studied business and soon left home to eastern Europe first, to soon make the big jump overseas in our twenties, ok for me early thirties. 

The difference is, he also met his partner around 25 years old, and he and Steve are still going strong, married and together for 25 years, when I had lived, left and moved on 4 times since then. 

Anyway it was good to hear his stories, and to open up a bit more about private life and the past.

Wednesday came around, and I knew I had another mission to do, that I’d rather skipped or procrastinated to do another time. But I was determined to come clear and do it. 

So after frantically working in the morning to prepare for Black Friday, I took a train to Lower Austria. At first I was calm and relaxed, also still checking things on my phone for work on the way. I had not eaten yet, and was ready to get it over with first. But as we reached Baden, one stop before getting off, my heart started pounding and my stomach churning. Damn it really got to me, I was nervous like before a job interview! 

I got off the train and started walking.

It was cold and windy, dark skies and leaves flying around. I knew the way quite well, familiar yet so strange. It’s over 2km, and the harsh weather made it even more challenging, together with the fear of what to expect. After half an hour I finally turned left, into their street. 

I saw the grandparent’s house. Same as always. But the window blinds were  down, and the window in the front door was covered with cardboard. Was the house already empty, and grandpa moved to an elderly care home? I was weirdly shocked and startled. I would not dare to climb over the small fence. The gate looked new and was locked. So I  rang the bell from the street level.

Twice.

I waited a minute. Suddenly the door handle lowered, the door opened and a small, crooked but familiar old man came out. I was perplexed and almost moved to tears. I shouted it was me, his grandson, as he could not recognize me. But eventually he knew. His face did not light up or smile. He could not hear well. I asked if I could come in, but he replied he was sick and could not see anyone. I was nervous, scared I would miss my chance and he would turn me away. I kinda begged him to let me in for a bit, that I came all the way to see him. But he refused, and asked where “mother”was. I said I came alone. He also asked if she knew I was there, and if I didn’t talk to her. So he seems mentally not confused.

He stayed firm. Didn’t open the gate for me. Told me I can’t come in, he had to lie down, I could come again the next day. THE NEXT DAY! 

The door closed. I was left just stunned, disappointed and confused.

However, I was glad he was alive and seemingly able to live there, without someone taking over his space and duties. He mentioned he had no one, only a nurse watching over him.

After that I had to collect my thoughts, and think of what to do next. I had already spent so much effort to come, paid tickets and walked through the cold wind, I would not go all the way back here tomorrow so he would not open, turn me away or be rude.

So I walked back the 1km into the city center, bought some food and wine and herbal tea at Billa, couldn’t find flowers, and got an expensive mask from the pharmacy so he would not use his illness as an excuse. I marched back to the house, this time determined and self assured.

I rang a few times, but this time the door didn’t open anymore. I resigned, jumped over the fence and left the care package at the door. I turned around one last time and walked away. It was out of my hands.

I just hoped he would be touched by me coming, but now we both cannot get in touch, as he  does not have a phone, and he knows nothing about my whereabouts. 

I thought I would write one last letter or card, explaining the situation and leaving my contact details, so he could reach me. I doubt it. The man who not once visited his grandchildren, who never wrote a card or hugged one, would write down a lovely word? Or even a mean one. 

But I had to do it for my own peace of mind. And walking back to the train station, cold, windy and awful, I felt better, knowing I did what I could. Mostly. I thought had I brought a mask from the beginning, I would have been able to get into the house. Or had I jumped over the fence and rang the actual doorbell, instead of standing 20m away and shouting. But it is what it is. 

I was only eager to get back to Vienna, and to meet Paul finally. That was the straw I clinged onto. More tomorrow. Or another day.

xoxo