Advice for the Day: Take a Walk Through an Oasis

Aaron Joy, a sociology graduate of WWU and the former librarian for The Bellingham Herald, lives in Budapest, Hungary, where he teaches English and is an exporter of Eastern Europe collectibles.

When I was 21, I wrote and published a book uncovering the history of Bellingham’s parks (which later became the foundation for a series of articles on the parks for Whatcom Watch), aptly titled “A History of Bellingham’s Parks.” I explored through words and photographs every park in Bellingham, both past and present, throught 1998.

The book had its holes and errors, but I was proud of my work and more than willing to let future historians complete the picture of the past I had only just begun to create...if I didn’t get there first.

Now, many years have past and in May I’ll turn 26. My book is now just a memory (and its unfinished picture left to future historians to complete) and so are the parks featured within its pages. Last August I packed my bags and started a new life in Budapest, Hungary, where (when I’m not travelling) I teach English, fulfilling the life-long dreams of being a teacher and living in Europe. My many years of dedicated work as a Whatcom County historian are now a part of history itself.

A couple of weeks ago in late February, after an unusually long and bitter winter in Hungary, the snow and ice finally started to melt and the temperature increased enough so the scarf and gloves could be left at home; I grabbed a book and cigar and tucked myself away between the trees until darkness arrived in Városliget (“City Park”).

The park is a five minute walk from my flat and the home to not just a sprawling tree and path-lined park but also three century-old museums, a man-made pond surrounding a castle and small church, an enormous stone monument displaying statues of great Hungarian rulers (Heroes’ Square), a bathhouse, the city zoo and a skating ring.

Unlike Whatcom County, Budapest does not have numerous parks of many shapes and styles dotting its streets. Instead, we have a couple of large parks (including one that takes up Margaret Island, in the middle of the Danube River) all designed over a century ago. Every weekend, regardless of the season or temperature, these parks are as congested as a Hawaiian beach in the summer.

It seems that many Hungarians, young and old, gravitate to these few natural places with no goal but to walk around and relax with a cigarette in hand (smoking is as common as drinking coffee here). There are so many people meandering around one almost wonders if there’s an unwritten law about this being the officially designated activity for the weekend.

Today Budapest is slowly becoming as modern as any other European city and will soon be a proud member of the European Union. Life still is difficult for many and poverty is a commonly spoken word, but at least one no longer has to worry about thinking or speaking the wrong thing.

But, sitting in Városliget I feel pulled back in time. Perhaps, it’s because I imagine this weekend ritual of congregating in the park as being something that has existed for decades and will continue to occur well into the future.

When you walk through a park (whether in Bellingham or Budapest) life seems to temporarily stop and with it your worries, deadlines and pressures also stop. Out of the path of rushing traffic and shadow of looming buildings one has nothing to worry about except which path to walk on or bench to sit on.

There is nothing to do in a park but sit, walk, lie down or play a sport. There’s no boss looking over your shoulder or foreign country to enter a debate over.

I believe that the early designers of parks, such as Frederick Law Olmstead (who designed Central Park, Yosemite, Fairhaven Park, to name a few), knew that parks were actually relaxing oases trapped between endless pavement and buildings but yet accessible and beneficial for any and all.

I also believe the Hungarians I saw around me, particularly those who still clearly remembered Communism, also knew about the relaxing oasis quality of public parks. Under the watchful Big Brother eyes of Communism a visit to a park was probably more than just an afternoon walk and cigarette; it was a temporary escape from the harshness of life.

I believe parks also reminded them of freedom, in the same way that learning English was a connection to the enemy “America.” For them the stroll around the park was probably more than just a reminder of other worlds; it was freedom in its purest and most natural form.

I realized, sitting in the park reading and watching my adopted countrymen and countrywomen around me, that when I wrote my book so long ago I may have discussed every person, activity and date possible but I had failed to put into words the purpose for the existence of any of those parks, big or small. I took it for granted that I knew the purpose of parks. But, in reality I had only just begun to crack the shell.

Parks aren’t just a place to take the kids or a beauty spot to photograph but a permanent oasis dedicated to improving your life and clearing your head of cobwebs. It took a few years and a few thousand miles before I realized that.