A few weekends ago (er, almost a month now…) a group of 8 of us BSMers took a train to the village of Mohacs (moe-HOTCH) for a Pagan end-of-winter festival called Busojaras (boosh-oh-YAR-ash).
See those figures in sheepskin and wooden masks? Those are called Busos–sort of devils. The story goes that when Hungary was part of the Ottoman Empire around the 17th century, the people of Mohacs lived across the river on an island. To protect themselves from the invading Turks, they put on these masks and made lots of noise, and one stormy night, apparently, it was enough to scare them away. This is a tradition they now reenact every year as part of a Pagan saying-goodbye-to-winter festival–complete with an unsettling voo-doo statue of a Turk, which they ceremoniously yell at and throw various unpleasant bits of trash at.
So, although the Busos are supposed to be scary, they’re also meant to bring good luck to us, so it’s a good idea to be friendly to them. With that, everyone seemed to want a picture with one or two (or ten). Moreover, the festival is part of the Pagan festival of Farsang, which celebrates the end of winter. And I’m all for that.
On the train ride to Mohacs, we were trying to talk to one of the women, but, as she spoke only a few words of English (kicsit angolul), another Hungarian man came to our rescue, translated that we needed to transfer at Villanyi to get to Pecs, and then told us that he was, in fact, also going to Mohacs and would be happy to accompany us if he could practice his English (he was with his girlfriend, explaining that they were going to visit family in California soon). So, he told us all about the festival: about the parade, the dancing, the museum, the cannons, and the coffin they float across the Danube to signify winter, and finished by speaking to the four females in the group, saying that the people of Mohacs tend to be overly friendly during this festival because it also celebrates the fertility of women (how many ceremonies can they fit into one festival?), and that the Busos may be a little…sexual in nature…and sprinkle paprika seeds on us (fertility seeds), but, he said, they are harmles. “Don’t be hard.”
Us with the friendly Hungarian and his girlfriend. From left: Sam, Andy, Reggie, the Hungarian, his girlfriend, me, Sharon, Sarah, Mel, and Thomas
Mel stands her ground against a friendly Buso
After four hours of sitting on trains after a week full of math, we immediately brightened up when we reached the main square. I wanted to buy a souvenier, like a small mask or a noisemaker, but, since they were all genuine items that people dress up in and reuse every year, they all seemed expensive.
Still, we got to see the parade, the dancing, the music, Busos throwing things at the makeshift Turk, firing the cannons, more music and dancing, the livelihood of the town (it’s a small town of about 10,000 which at least doubles in population over this week), the coffin on the river, and Busos as far as the eye could see. We got to the hostel, in the nearby city of Pecs (pronounced “paytch”, actually a major cultural center itself) around 11 that night, and for 3000 ft each, we had 2 rooms, each with 6 beds, all to ourselves, along with a PC and a full kitchen. The owner was also fantastic, and we played with his son, who did not speak English. That night, we all slept so deeply and so gloriously that we were ready to take a bus back to Mohacs on Sunday for round 2 of Busojaras, which included a lot of the same as round 1. But we also went to a museum which provided the history of Mohacs. We all slept for at least an hour on the ride back and, upon arrival in Budapest, I barely made it to my bed before I conked out again. Two days, two train rides, two bus trips, non-stop festivities, and I was out.
But Monday morning, of course, I was back in class for Mathematical Problem Solving, which is always a pleasant way to start a week. The professor is actually a high school teacher, which allows the class a bit of uniqueness among courses that are entirely utterly lecture-based. In Mathematical Problem Solving, we actually work out different strategies in class; plus, every lesson is something of a choreographed performance by the professor.
Next, on Tuesday, is Combinatorics, which is cool because, since we’re still only a few weeks in, I have a grasp on picturing what we count. Plus, the professor is very clear. Similarly, I find the notes my Geometry teacher writes to be so clear that I barely use the book (although it’s definitely my hardest subject of the 4). As for Analysis, we’re about 3 weeks in at this point and are already past what my Semester I Analysis course taught. Here’s my schedule in full:
Monday: 12-2: Mathematical Problem Solving
Tuesday: 8-10: Combinatorics
12-2: Topics in Geometry
Wednesday: 8-10: Topics in Geometry
12-2: Topics in Analysis
2-5: Intermediate Hungarian
Thursday: 12-2: Topics in Analysis
Friday: 8-10: Combinatorics
12-2: Mathematical Problem Solving
With 4 maths and 1 language, I luckily have some leeway to drop one class if I’m drowning. At any point in the semester, I’m allowed to switch a class to “audit” and not receive a grade for it.
Last weekend, a Bryn Mawr friend studying in Prague, Caitlin, visited, so we tourist’d it up. I showed her friends and her the humongous synagogue on Dohany, took them to Szechenyi Baths in Varosliget (while it was raining–fantastic), and showed them Hero’s square on Friday. But on Saturday, while I was at Margit-Sziget, they took an epic walk from Kalvin Ter to Gellert Hill to Buda Castle to the House of Terror to Margit Hid to Hummus Bar, stopping at all the major attractions on the way. I only tagged along for the tail end, after searching out some thrift stores in my area. So, after having another delicious meal at Hummus Bar, we went across the street to Szimple, a bar, which was having a Purim party. Each of us voted for our favorite costume. Then I showed them Szoda and Mumus, the staples of BSM. After I walked them back to the hostel (they must have been so beat), there was still a BSM gathering going on near Astoria, so I show up, and what else is going on that a few rousing games of Set and Bananagrams. Neeeeeeerds.
And the aforementioned “supermarathon relay?” Over the weekend of March 20-21, I have officially been signed up, along with 3 others, to run 1 or 2 legs of a supermarathon (95 km, about 60 mi) around Lake Balaton, about an hour outside of Budapest. One leg = about 11 mi, so not too extreme. But I should probably start building up now. Our team name was my idea, a simple one: szigma–we are the sum of our individual efforts.
It’s going to be glorious.
Budapest and Beyond 