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We're leaving for Europe in a few hours.

My wife organized the most wonderful winter vacation, starting in Paris, going home to Hungary for Christmas (home for me, Tiffany is a born Floridian) and then staying in Oslo for a couple of days.

Other than being nervous about the cold weather (Norway in December, I'm looking at you!) I'm nothing but stoked. I don't even mind the incredibly boring flight, and dragging luggage around at the airport. It's all fun.

It's very strange to go back to my home country after a decade and a half. It's all the same, yet it doesn't feel right. I'm a tourist in the town I grew up in. It's a special form of time travel, since I'm not really there to make new memories, but to relive old ones. Meet old friends, visit old places.

For me, life is tightly connected to music. I can pinpoint any event in the past as long as I can connect it to the music I was listening to at the time. Certain places have their own music, and there are even people that have certain songs permanently attached to them.

I grew up in Szekesfehervar, a town an hour outside the capital. I only lived in Budapest for a short period of time, when I briefly attended college (surprise: I dropped out!). So, walking the streets of Budapest has a very specific musical flavor to me.

Getting on the trolley, or standing on the escalator at the metro station, sounds like this:


I listened to this Sugarcubes song a million times on my walkman. I was absolutely in love with Bjork's voice, and somehow Hetero Scum really spoke to me. Can't explain it, and I know that there is very little logic behind this, but still, this is what Budapest sounds like.