When we began our efforts to master the Budapest transit system this morning, I was already contemplating the cultural stresses in the societies we’ve been visiting that nearly totally elude us. Perhaps that’s just as well. As the innkeeper in Jaipur told me, the task of tourists was to take in the sights and leave a bit of money and they took needless risks if they made any attempt to connect with local people.
In this instance, we thought we’d get a family transit pass that would allow 1-2 adults and their kids – up to seven—to use transit in the city for two days for 2200 forints, which seemed like a better deal to us than an individual day pass that would have cost 1500 forints. Silly us. The ticket seller refused us because we didn’t have any kids in tow, forcing us to buy individual passes. A bit of Hungarian family policy, I guess. Perhaps part of a broader effort of a society with an extremely low birth rate to encourage people to have kids. Reminded me in an oblique way of the Indian practice of charging foreigners an entry fee to attractions like the Taj Mahal ten times the amount Indians pay.
I’m not sure either practice would be legal in the United States, but I’m not faulting either. I’m a relatively rich visitor who can afford it.
And these practices in turn remind me of other things I’ve seen that appear provocative. They raise questions that I lack answers to. First, there was the sign at the convenience store in Kuala Lumpur reminding customers that the sale of alcohol to Muslims was illegal. In Istanbul, a city that clearly has more mosques per mile than any other I’ve ever visited, the call the prayer can be heard everywhere (in fact, often two or more can be heard simultaneously and a bit jarringly when they’re slightly out of sync).
But it has no visible impact on behavior. People in the streets, riding the trams or sipping tea in the cafes go about their business as before. I don’t know whether any of them actually heard the calls (they were more habituated to the sound than I) and, if so, whether it meant anything to them. Which led me to reflect on how little I know about the Muslim-secular political tensions in Turkey that I witnessed no evidence of – though I remain a bit curious why Turkish Air, which flies to Tel Aviv several times daily, includes flight maps that seem to hide Israel.
A few days ago our dinner in Istanbul was punctuated by a noisy street demonstration, apparently political. A few hundred folks for carrying flags, making noise to attract attention and holding up posters that I couldn’t translate. They were surrounded by nearly as many police carrying riot shields. An hour later, both groups melted quietly away. What was happening? Was it a protest by the Turkish Communist Party or an effort to form a chapter of the gay liberation front? I don’t know.
That mystery summarizes this wonderful trip. I’ve been surfing several disparate cultures, but remain mystified by what lies beneath the surface. I don’t return to the US with any compelling answers, but I’ve collected some new questions.
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