Auschwitz: going solo vs paid tour

Is it better to visit Auschwitz independently or with a tour guide? This post outlines the practical considerations of each option. I’ll try to stick to the facts, but there is some bias in my summary.

What are Auschwitz and Birkenau?

Names can be confusing. “Auschwitz concentration camp” is a network of camps consisting of three main camps and 45 labor subcamps. The three main camps are Auschwitz I (the original camp), Auschwitz II–Birkenau (concentration and extermination camp), and Auschwitz III–Monowitz. These camp names may be prefixed by KL (Konzentrationslager) for concentration camp. The “Auschwitz tour” includes (the now tourist attractions) Auschwitz I and Auschwitz II–Birkenau, but in conversation we shorten these to “Auschwitz” and “Birkenau.”

Auschwitz and Birkenau are the respective German names of Oświęcim (town) and Brzezinka (village), hence the names of the concentration camps.

When a tour guide talks about something that happened in Auschwitz, you don’t always know if they mean overall, in the original camp, in Birkenau, or even in a subcamp.

For those of you who need something visual:

Partial map of Auschwitz

Last thing, I promise. Technically, Auschwitz the tourist attraction is called the Auschwitz-Birkenau Memorial and Museum. Informally speaking, people will refer to Auschwitz I as “the museum” (which has a reputation of being very crowded and touristy) and Birkenau as “the preserved site.” I imagine you’d get blank looks if you talked to visitors about Auschwitz Memorial.

How a typical paid tour operates

There are lots of people advertising paid tours to Auschwitz around the city center—you couldn’t miss them if you tried. The cheapest tour I saw was 99 PLN, the most expensive was 135 PLN. Tours run for six hours. Various starting times are available if you ask around. Tour guides are privately arranged and may be leading over 20 people at Auschwitz (who might not have signed up the same way as you or went by the same vehicle). Thus, you will not have a tour guide during your transit. (But you can talk to the driver maybe.)

Approximate timeline

1. Drive from Krakow to Auschwitz I. By private transport this takes 80 minutes or longer in case of heavy traffic.
2. Toilet break. Can purchase small bottles of water, etc.
3. Register and meet tour guide. (I believe tour guides are privately arranged, not randomly assigned.) Spend roughly two hours in Auschwitz I (“the museum”).
4. Same toilet break as earlier.
5. Drive from Auschwitz I to Auschwitz II–Birkenau, which is 3km away. Wait for (same) tour guide and other people to arrive.
6. Spend roughly one hour in Birkenau, which will involve walking outside mostly. (Many people bring sunglasses.)
7. Drive back to Krakow.

Officially, the tour at Auschwitz is meant to be four hours long. There is also a film at the museum, but you might not get to watch it on your particular tour. (Somethings vary by day and time due to the high volume of bookings.)

Touring Auschwitz I

Everyone is given headphones and a receiver to listen to the tour guide, who speaks through their own microphone. (This is because your tour guide might be a full room or two ahead of you and you also don’t want to hear the German tour running behind you.) You will not get to ask questions. The tour definitely feels rushed. The museum is rather crowded and you won’t get to see every building nor every room/photograph/caption within each building. If you take photographs it takes time to wait until people aren’t in your way, so you’ll lag behind the tour guide. Reception can be patchy if you get a bit behind. The tour guide will basically summarize some of the captions, skip some of the less interesting rooms, and provide better context of each building than the captions will offer (although often it’s just comforting to know there isn’t much context or logic behind the exhibits). Despite the tour being rushed and not seeing everything, you get enough of it to not feel like you’ve missed anything. But the main downside is that you never get to pause and take in any given room.

Touring Birkenau

Birkenau is much less crowded for various reasons. No more headphones either. Most of the tour is spent walking outside. You’ll see some of the things mentioned or shown in the museum. The tour guide will explain some things about Birkenau and also repeat a lot of what was said before in the museum. You might visit one barrack, take a look at the ruins of the gas chamber, and walk past a memorial before heading back. You can either take photographs, daydream, or stay up the front and try to ask any dying questions you may have. The proportion of Birkenau that you get to see/experience during a guided tour is less than 50%. (Two or three hours could be spent here if you’re willing to do the walking, though the barracks are preserved so you won’t find an explanation of the living conditions on your own.)

Regulations

Check the website for the exact up-to-date details, but here’s the general idea:

• Large backpacks or handbags are not allowed, and you will go through a security screening.
• Throughout April 2017 to October 2017, it is compulsory to be on a guided tour when entering the museum between 10am and 4pm (peak hours). For individual visitors, this means you would have to pay to join a guided group at the museum, but apparently this would include Birkenau too and transport to/from there.
• Visiting Birkenau is free and you don’t need to be with a tour guide.

Visiting Auschwitz independently

In order to visit Auschwitz and Birkenau independently the recommended method would be to go early in the morning by bus.

Some notes:

• The overall cost is two bus tickets for Krakow to Auschwitz I and the return trip. (Getting to Auschwitz from Krakow is better by bus if you don’t want to walk from the station.)
• “Tour for individuals without an educator.” During the peak season you have to book a free ticket for this on the official website. This has to be done weeks in advance since there are a limited number of places.
• If you don’t manage to get a free ticket, you can book and pay to join a tour in your chosen language and still save money compared to an organized tour. You could also ditch your group at Birkenau. You shouldn’t do that at Auschwitz I but it almost seems doable.
• There is a free shuttle between Auschwitz I and Birkenau. You’ll have to come back to Auschwitz I for the bus to Krakow after seeing Birkenau.
• It should be quite manageable to time your overall visit according to the bus schedules. Buses run regularly throughout the day so there is no risk of being stranded even for someone like me. During peak season/hours you may want to be early for buses to ensure you get a seat.

So should I go independently or with a tour guide?

Going on a paid tour takes the hassle out of organizing and planning. I wouldn’t necessarily say that it’s good value for ~100 PLN, but that the cost is low enough not to be much of a concern. If you’re on a budget (i.e., saving that money for a dozen shots of vodka), I guess it’s obvious what to choose. There are pros and cons to both choices, and what I’ll focus on here is about the experience. But either way I think all options, including partial and hybrid options, are reasonable. There isn’t much to be missed or that could go wrong.

Tour group
– Whole thing is rushed; no stopping
– Might not see the film despite it being included in the tour package
+ See the most pertinent parts of Auschwitz
+ Rather crowded, which can slightly limit the tour
+ Content of the audio tour provides better context than the museum captions

Individual
+ Take as long as you like
+ Possibly see the film without paying
– Easy to spend too much time in the wrong places and you still won’t see everything
– Less crowd: better pace, better photos, maybe take prohibited photos
– Limited context/information with just museum captions
+ Can tag along with a tour group for free at Birkenau

Fe grip during my trip

Ah, the infamous Fe (Extraverted Feeling) grip. The Fe grip is a mood or state that Introverted Thinking dominant people fall into sometimes. It is associated with visible expressions of emotion and can seem rather uncharacteristic of their typically logical mindsets.

Every INTP experiences it differently. This is just my own hypothesis, but I think that emotionally unaware INTP adults tend to experience the Fe grip very infrequently and only for a short duration, emotionally aware but immature INTP adults (like myself) tend to experience cycles between “normality” and the Fe grip, and mature INTP adults start to get good at managing their energy/triggers and even deliberately manipulating their mood if they need to.

In this post I will talk about my own personal Fe grip, in particular during this trip. For a brief history, I first became emotionally aware about two years ago after my first emotional breakdown, and as I started learning I experienced a long Fe grip—two months. It was pure bliss, and I was almost overwhelmingly happy all the time. (I guess contrast is such a powerful thing.) Eventually that ended and I fell into cycles of intense logic and isolation followed by cheerfulness and almost normal feelings of sociability. And in my current stage, I’m simply learning how to detect and interpret my energy levels and triggers. However hard that sounds, it’s harder than that.

I think the main MBTI theory focuses on triggers for the Fe grip, starting or ending it. While I do have triggers as well, the typical outlets of anger and frustration for INTPs do not apply to me so much except with someone specific. Instead, I believe the primary thing for me to look at is my social/emotional energy levels. For starters, bad things happen if you don’t acknowledge your emotions (especially if you aren’t aware of them). That’s all I’ll say about that. The basic energy level then is the “introvert battery.” You’ll see this analogy a lot, and it just means that an introvert (as opposed to an extrovert) spends energy when interacting with other people and they need to recharge their energy by having quality alone time.

My current theory for me is that cycling between the default cold INTP state and the overly sentimental and sociable Fe grip is usually caused by charging energy for too long without spending enough, and then often discharging all too quickly due to overeagerness and poor management. A cycle can last between a week and a few months, with the Fe grip lasting at most 50% of the period and usually closer to a third or less. The problem with letting these involuntary or inadvertent cycles happen is that both phases get exaggerated. You don’t want to speak to anyone. You neglect even your closest friends for up to months. You’re possibly productive, really bad if you’re not, and highly stressed either way. You live without balance in terms of exercise and diet. And then suddenly you don’t wanna work you just wanna play and you really want to make new friends you clearly don’t have enough close friends and you wanna share your innermost thoughts and emotions and just hang out and you catch up with your best friend for hours and you have a great time and think why not do this next week again and this is great you feel like you’re almost normal you want this feeling to last and why not go further then you make a new online acquaintance and express a mutual interest in—BAM. Next cycle hits. You’re gone for months again.

So, if you can prevent these rough cycles by balancing your energy, then maybe you can tap into logical efficiency and still maintain a satisfying social life as you see fit. I think I’ve spent most of my trip—two months and counting—in the Fe grip or near it. Is that unhealthy or suboptimal? In this case, I think not for a couple of reasons.

1. I came here to reset my stress levels. When you know almost nothing about Europe, trying to research and plan everything is a stressful activity. I could spend a whole month planning how to spend the next month, but that would necessarily neglect the quality of the month spent planning. I have a huge tendency to over-research and fall into analysis paralysis. I said no to all that and yes to impulsive decisions and relying on strangers to help me.
2. Relying on help from strangers. It would be difficult to do this in a hard logical state. In fact, the logical conclusion anyway would be that I need to charge as quickly as possible and risk falling into the Fe grip in order to make the most of social interactions and not burn out trying to figure out things on my own.
3. Being more reliant on instincts. An INTP in the Fe grip can struggle to force themselves to be logical, have an obviously biased sense of perception, and feel rather conflicted about it. Traveling is such an unpredictable and subjective experience anyway, I felt that yielding logic in favor of instincts was better for making sense of things in a short period of time without the stress associated with thinking.
4. Buridan’s ass. Similar to above reasons, but sometimes a decision simply can’t be logically computed or the decision doesn’t really matter in the scope of things.
5. Distorted sense of judgment. Canonically speaking, the Fe grip is associated with being triggered by stress, manifesting as unpleasant emotional outbursts, and resulting in all sorts of social paranoia fueled by emotional securities. My experience is the opposite in this case, with a distinct lack of stress and my Fe mood being rather optimistic. As an example, I don’t tend to rule out the possibility that a stranger I’m meeting up with (especially a woman) could be a serial killer. (This is logic speaking.) In fact, I can be rather paranoid about it. In one case, I even met up under ideal conditions for a serial killer, though I was clearly wondering whether those conditions were coincidental or not. My Fe mood said “well I hope the dinner is nice at least.”
   Another important implication was not worrying too much about what people thought about me. A negative Fe mood can cause all sorts of negative thoughts about people’s motives and being puzzled about why people are being so nice to you. I mean, I still had these kinds of thoughts because of my past, but thanks to my Fe grip being underpinned by childlike naivety, I’ve internalized these surprising social experiences through a positive lens. Perhaps even too positive than is realistic. But good memories can’t hurt, right?
6. No logical nightmares. There is nothing more torturous than what I call a logical nightmare. (It’s something that only happens to me.) In the past, writing as much as I have during this trip was a specific trigger for nightmares, though mostly also because I wrote for misguided reasons. Now that I’m writing because I want to, although it still seems like too much in terms of the time it takes, it’s good to find out that it doesn’t cause me stress anymore.
7. Willingness to make mistakes. ‘Healthy mistakes’ will be made and it’s good to not just accept that reality without beating yourself up over it, but to even enjoy it.
8. Get inspired. Being overly sentimental about everything can be a source of inspiration for INTPs. Unfortunately there has been a lack of suitable outlets for me while traveling. Sigh, I wrote a poem and went through all the associated stuff… really not a healthy thing from an objective point of view.
9. Eat less. I usually eat 50% more than what I have been eating during this trip. My brain is really energy inefficient and also generates stress as a by-product, but lack of stress and staying out of logic mode has made a huge difference in my appetite. While I’ve saved money as a result, it’s quite a disadvantage in terms of trying out different kinds of foods when a few Hungarian pastries is enough for a day.
10. Combating laziness. I’m extremely lazy and I’ve managed to respect my laziness while still doing a fair bit. It’s mostly to do with activation levels, and my craving for meaningful social interactions has given me a fighting edge.
11. My lists are always too long so I’ll end here even if I missed something. Although I make a lot of edits like when I remember later. :S

There are certainly downsides too, but I believe it’s been quite okay for me to be in the Fe grip for all this time. Despite my lengthy description, I’m still actually quite bad at reading my energy level or figuring out whether there’s actually two levels (social and emotional) I need to distinguish specifically. Quality of interactions matters a lot; different people/situations drain different amounts of energy. In theory, some rare people even top up energy when you spend time with them. I’ve never felt lonely this trip, per se, but sometimes on consecutive days I switch from “man I really want friends here” to “damn there are too many people now,” even if there was no change in number of acquaintances.

The end of the Fe grip

The Fe grip will always end; the only question is when and how. I’ve been expecting it for most of this trip actually, just anticipating the crash. Somehow it just hasn’t happened yet, despite how much energy I’ve expended. I guess there must be something that’s different from the circumstance at home that has allowed me to sustain a positive charge no matter how I have spent my energy (often unexpectedly). I don’t believe that exploration does that for me. Exploration makes me tired, and it’s something I keep having to force myself to do during this trip. (Although I do tell myself it’s okay to not explore.) That said, I’m very curious by nature, and my curiosity can be sustained for a very long time under ideal conditions.

It’s important for me to note that I’ve been emotionally overwhelmed several times during this trip. A large part of that is because I’ve experienced so many firsts, and first times always leave a stronger impression on you than subsequent times. My main emotional outlet this trip would have to be crying. I used to be really good at crying as a child, and I lost that ability due to how I coped with the trauma of emotional neglect I unknowingly went through. Crying feels much better now, and I wonder if there is some special interaction with my introvert battery.

The Hiddening

If this Fe grip ends with a hard crash into cold logic, it’s a possibility that I’ll act like nothing from my trip ever happened for a few months or more. What trip? What new friends? What inspiration? On the other hand, if I land smoothly and can regenerate and maintain a reasonable balance as I try to approach so many aspects of my life afresh, maybe I’ll be able to integrate the me I’ve discovered during this trip with my present situation at home. I have no idea how it will go.

I gambled my life and future on this trip. We’ll see if I was a smart gambler after all.

First ever vodka and tequila with Canadians in Wroclaw

Favorite thing in Pécs, Hungary

Whenever asked what my favorite thing in Pécs was so far, my answer was always the clouds. I’d then get confused looks, and trying to explain why would prove to be futile. When even artists think I’m crazy, I guess that’s something. Is it so hard to believe that clouds can differ by region?

If one local asked another what their favorite thing was in Pécs, would their answer really be any less arbitrary than mine?

That is not to say that I didn’t enjoy some more conventional stuff:

1. Cathedral of St. Peter and Paul (or just “Basilica”). Honestly, the only real contender to the clouds in Pécs, but then I went up the tower and saw clouds. I felt like I couldn’t be impressed by churches anymore this trip but was instantly proven wrong after I entered the cathedral.
2. Zsolnay Kulturális Negyed (Zsolnay Cultural Quarter). Most of the exhibits close at 4/5/6pm, but I think it’s enough to just enjoy it from the outside. Colorful buildings.
3. Pécs TV Tower. The view is nice. It can get really windy up there; don’t underestimate that factor. The restaurant is warm, and I found their ice cream reasonable (and it matches the pictures on their website). By the way, locals might try to claim that this tower is the tallest building in Hungary, but that’s wrong because it’s classified as a structure, not a building. (It’s taller than the tallest building in Hungary but not even close to being the tallest structure.)
4. Homemade food. Any homemade food is always good. Except burnt rhubarb cake.

As for my favorite thing from Pécs:

A little expensive, but how could anyone resist? ;D

 

Finding iconic Hungarian dishes outside Budapest

Outside Budapest, it’s not that easy to find the Hungarian dishes you’ve read about and want to try specifically. You definitely need to be proactive about it.

Protip: Find a local Hungarian friend who likes food, not someone who says “Oh you can find all of these dishes in almost any Hungarian restaurant.”

In case it’s not obvious, I’m trying to be facetious. Finding a friend isn’t that easy if you’re like me, and Hungarians are… to keep it simple we’ll say they’re not that friendly and many Hungarians will say that about their own people.

So let’s say, hypothetically, that you don’t have any Hungarian friends in the city you’re visiting and you’ve been struggling to tick any dishes off the advertised “must-try” list and you’re fed up and just don’t want to go home feeling precisely as undiscerning as when you arrived. Okay, then it might be okay to listen to my advice below, because I obviously don’t know much about Hungarian food myself.

In short, these are Hungarian foods that were actually possible to find (based on my brief experience):

• Pálinka. Supposedly “much better than Rakija,” even though I feel like it’s just the Hungarian name for the same thing? (Someone please let me know, I couldn’t find a reliable source.)
• Gulyásleves (goulash soup). If you have trouble finding this you’re blinder than me lol.
• Kifli (cresent bread). Different bakeries sell different stuff but this is preeeetty common.
• Pörkölt. A traditional Hungarian stew and a national dish. It might look similar to goulash soup but it’s not the same.
• Rétes (strudel). Found in bakeries with a variety of fillings such as cheese, poppyseed, and walnut paste.
• Palacsinta (pancake/crepe). Try nutella flavor.
• Nokedli (dumpling noodles). A common side dish to eat with stew for example.
• “Pöttyös” [brand name] Túró Rudi. Chocolate bar stuff with cottage cheese. There are some weird cheese combinations but this actually works for me. Make sure to get the classic version, though you might need some help in identifying it. Also, I found it in the fridge section of the supermarket (oh right it has cheese in it).
• “Mizo” madártej ízű tej (Milk with bird’s milk flavor). I bought this by chance because “floating island” flavor (thanks Google Translate) seemed worth trying alongside cacao flavor lol. Later I realized madártej (meringue custard dessert) was on my hunting list. Unfortunately I’m told that despite being popular, madártej is only ever made at home. This milk flavor is the same as that of the custard though, and is a bit like vanilla.
• Töltött Káposzta (stuffed cabbage rolls).
• Tokaji Aszú. Sweet dessert wine.
• Meggyleves (cold sour cherry soup). This dish exactly matches the description lol, I don’t know what I was expecting. Hungarians like strong flavors, but this is a controversial dish that some love and some hate. I personally would not recommend it, it’s enough to know that such a soup exists.
• Dobos-torta. Five-layer sponge cake with caramel. I only found this in a bakery not at any restaurant. I would not recommend unless you specifically crave this sort of thing.
• Pogácsa. Small pastry with cheese inside. For me it was enough to see it.
• Túrós csusza. Cheese noodle.
• Pastries at the supermarket. There’s this thing that looks flatter than a strudel and inside I think is custard, and it’s soooooo popular among locals. Just buy what every else is buying.
• Pickled vegetables. Not iconic per se, but commonly homemade and just another example of how Hungarians like strong flavors.

If you love meat and you don’t care what you try as long as it’s Hungarian, you can go to the shopping mall food courts. There will often be a place where you can choose what to put on your plates, and you can just pick the stuff with Hungarian flags on it.

Things that are iconic but hard to find

Street food like Lángos and Rétes are not necessarily that common unless there’s a market thing happening. It really helps to distinguish between where you are likely to find something: on the street; in a cafe; at a restaurant; at a pub; in bakeries; in the supermarket; at a fast food place; or at home. Some foods are only made during specific seasons/holidays. Not all Hungarians will have tried or even heard of everything that might appear in a supposed must-try list, so don’t get too sucked into the hype.

 

Traditional Hungarian folk music

Here’s a recording of Hungarian folk music from one particular region/village.

Unfortunately my transcription of the name seems to be a complete failure when I search online. And let’s skip the part on how I obtained it. Traditionally, this music is for a young man to dance to and show off to the girls. I believe it might also be common to have some singing. The instruments in this case are four Transylvanian violas, a double bass, and a classical violin. The Transylvanian instruments have three strings instead of four, a flat bridge to facilitate playing chords, and optionally use a folk bow that offers less precision but more volume than the classical counterpart. The viola players rest their chin on the side/rib instead of the usual place.

I’ll let you judge the music for yourself, but I will remind you that alcohol probably makes a good accompaniment in a real scenario.

Hungary, you only have Budapest and a superiority complex

I should start by warning the reader that I’m writing about my delayed first impressions of Hungary, and that this post is extremely partial (though not necessarily inaccurate). Why then, do I bother to share what may well contain a fair portion of misinformation? (How can I even talk about Hungary as a country if I haven’t spent more than an hour in Budapest?) My gosh, the internet lied to me and Hungarians lied to me and I can’t believe I was naive about it for so long. Of course, I can’t say that without acknowledging that I made an incorrect assumption somewhere along the line. All the dependent calculations… I could not possibly have known it could skew things so much.

Based on my research, this is roughly what I expected of Hungary:

To the foreigner, Hungary is basically a better version of Romania in terms of its attributes. The most notable downsides are that it’s more expensive and Hungarian is much harder to learn than Romanian.

This expectation was the core reasoning for my initial plan to spend one and a half months in Hungary after one month in Romania. Build up some confidence and skills in Romania, where it’s cheaper, then go all out in Hungary. Save the best for last.

Now on just my fifth day in the country, that whole idea has come crashing down. I’ll start by talking about the good things I’ve noticed in Hungary (mainly compared to Romania):

• The everyday architecture and streets are much prettier (but less interesting) than in Romania.
• Jaywalking is easier and feels safer.
• The standard of living is better. I’ve almost had a good shower.
• Better economic standing and less political corruption, though is this really a pro for a tourist?
• Menu aside, the average restaurant serves better food.
• The customer service is much better, though I still get the “What are you doing in this restaurant?” thing sometimes.
• The process of paying the bill, giving a tip, and receiving change is streamlined into one step so you don’t have to wait anymore.
• I find the clouds interesting and picturesque. Some of the pastures on the train ride look quite nice, though the view is blocked a lot of the time.
• People are generally more polite and the look of depression seems to be replaced by something like arrogance.
• The selection of pastries and cakes is more foreigner-friendly than those in Romania.
• Ice cream (especially gelato) is cheap and popular, although the consistency/taste usually feels a bit artificial.
• Shopping malls are smaller but more accessible and closer to the center.
• City centers seem to feel more well-defined, compact, walkable, and yet less crowded. This might have to do with the major cities (other than Budapest) generally having noticeably smaller populations than the major cities in Romania. Kecskemét, for example, has a real toy place feel to it (in more than one way).
• Wider range of electronic goods.

And some of the bad things:

• Everything except ice cream is more expensive. We’re talking about the cheapest reasonable stuff; places to stay, food, public transport, etc. Ballpark figure 50-100% more expensive. That’s quite a bit when you’re often paying for roughly the same level of quality/comfort as in Romania. Those cost-of-living websites I’ve been relying on… pretty off the mark here, at least in terms of my “lifestyle.”
• The train network is lame. It’s a star; everything goes through Budapest. That sucks for going from one non-Budapest city to another regardless of the population/size of the cities.
• Train transfers are confusing. I bought a ticket from Budapest to Pecs with no instructions given on what transfers I needed. I transferred twice at major transfer stations only to be told that I couldn’t go to Pecs on the unlimited transfer ticket I bought. I ended up illegally riding the InterCity direct train from Budapest to Pecs (which I had missed by a couple minutes at the station in Budapest) for the last leg, but I maintain that it wasn’t my fault.
• Prepaid SIM cards and all the prepaid plans are not cheap. They also have pretty strict rules on acquiring an active SIM card. I went to Telekom and the guy said “I’m sorry, you cannot buy a SIM card in Hungary without Hungarian ID.” He went on to explain how new laws in 2017 were stricter and so on. I’d done my preparation for this so I was pretty sure he was wrong, but either way he thought he couldn’t sell and activate a card for me. I went to Vodafone instead and there was no such problem, except it was way more expensive…
• Hungarians are less rude than Romanians, and thus it could be considered that they’re more polite. But Romanians are way friendlier towards foreigners, which makes so much more difference. Largely irrelevant, but one Hungarian guy pretended to come and attack me when I looked up from reading Maps just to make his girlfriend laugh…

Let’s talk about the downright disgusting stuff

Hungarians have a superiority complex. I’ve heard stuff like Hungarians think their neighboring countries (e.g., Romania) should be a part of Hungary as they might have once been. At least that can be explained by attitudes based on the past or lingering propaganda. What really sets me off is that Hungarians all talk about how the food is better and there’s really great nature spots and the villages are just as good as in Romania, and then no one can recommend a single city or village or hiking scene outside of Budapest. Not one fucking name. You wonder for a second whether everyone lives in Budapest or they don’t know the geography of their own country. The same is true of travelers; no one will be able to mention anything other than Budapest. Which brings me to my next point.

Budapest carries the entire reputation of Hungary as a tourist destination. My fatal mistake was the assumption that like Romania, Hungary had many good things to offer other than its capital city. Boy was I wrong. Budapest usually appears in the top 10-20 cities in lists of European destinations, whereas Bucharest wouldn’t even make it to a top 50 list if there was one. If Budapest and Bucharest didn’t exist, Hungary wouldn’t be popular whereas Romania would still be a great (and unpopular) country to visit. When people compare the two countries, they’re usually just comparing one really attractive capital city to a whole country with a far less attractive capital city. It’s going to be a very skewed comparison.

There is nothing particularly worthwhile outside Budapest. This is the only explanation I can think of that accounts for why no one has heard of any other place in Hungary. Look at the map of Hungary and its four regions. Read up on every major city except Budapest. Note the absence of things to do in each city like hiking or visiting a nearby village or any other highly recommended tourist attraction. Go to the city or save the trouble and just browse the audio walking tours for it. Look up all the waterfalls in the country. Ask the locals what you can do.

That superiority complex again. The locals will tell you how nice their city is while admitting there’s nothing to do except be there. Nothing to see in the villages and no nearby nature attractions. It’s embarrassing. People just want to share how good things are rather than share what those things really are. And often, those good things don’t even exist! Read the descriptions of each city. No matter how fancily you could describe any of the cities, there’s simply no substance behind it.

“Grand McChicken” burger. ^

My only regret in Romania

INTPs are pretty good at accepting the truth. We’re the type that is least prone to bias, but we’re certainly not immune when it comes to things like emotional trauma, which can damage our sensitive ’emotionalogical’ circuits. Anyhow, regret is one of those emotions we see as logically pointless and a waste of energy. To indulge in regret would mean that accepting the truth of the past is difficult, which it is not. Accept the things you cannot change, and focus on the things you can change. (However, one common INTP bias is to assume we can’t change something all too easily, usually something that requires social interaction.) You can reinvent the past, but you can’t change it.

With that gnarly introduction out of the way, I’ll talk about the only thing that I “bothered to regret about” in Romania.

I regret not having taken advantage of people[‘s kindness] more.

For anyone who’s known me for an extended period of time, this is not at all a controversial statement. On the contrary, it’s somewhat evident that I would be a better person if I was better at taking advantage of people. I’ll clarify for good measure, since INTPs can operate by pretty weird definitions (relative to everyone else) when it comes to standards of behavior (such as honesty).

To me, taking advantage of a person(s) means willfully taking and receiving what excess they were already willing to give, in a manner that results in a positive outcome for both parties.

Like I said, probably not the definition you expected. Why is it so conservative? Despite being prone to breaking rules, INTPs have a strong sense of moral principles. Mix that in with social awkwardness, a lifelong attraction to autonomy and independence, sometimes crippling beliefs about whether one in fact deserves good things, and an uncanny respect for other people’s right to be left alone. And that’s why you have such a strange definition. I mean, normal people would probably call that kind of behavior something else, not taking advantage, but I struggle to identify what it might be.

Life gets better for an INTP once they realize they deserve what they get and what they take. The INTP population is split in terms of this metric. I hypothesize the main predictors as being age and presence of childhood emotional trauma/repression. A large proportion of us (possibly even a majority) suffered from childhood trauma in some form. We’re at greater risk than other types because of how specific our needs are and how different it is from the norm.

Childhood trauma is obviously a barrier to healthy adult development, and it seems to be a rather polarizing barrier that is difficult to cross. Personally, I believe that I am now aware of the appropriate tools to overcome the limitations brought on by my own past. It has been two years since I first became self-aware, and although I made great leaps and bounds initially, it wasn’t until I reached another all-time low in February this year that I realized my methodologies were far too shallow and that I had to deconstruct myself once again to move away from the plateau.

In particular, the mindset that I needed to “fix myself, crawl out of the abyss, and become a normal, healthy adult” was harmful and unsustainable. Although it might not be so far from the essence of what I want to achieve, as a human being I cannot (successfully) navigate through emotional truth in such a precise manner. I’m a human, not a computer. I need principles, strategies, the use of the senses, feedback, reassurance, and light to guide me. But I digress, so I’ll try to wrap up my point quickly. Lasting positive change must come from a place of self-acceptance. (The media and commercials don’t want you to know that, because it’s not a message that sells; in fact, it scares us because it involves confronting our uncomfortable feelings rather than ‘powering through so quickly we don’t have to think about it.’) This leads to one of my favorite quotes, which is the mantra of Sierra Boggess (my favorite Christine Daaé by the way):

“You are enough! You are so enough, it’s unbelievable how enough you are!”

The incident I regret the most was the second time I consciously distanced myself from friendly locals because I didn’t want to burden them. I was afraid that they would invite me a second time, and ashamed to admit how much I would have wanted that. I was afraid that they wouldn’t invite me. I left in a hurry so that I wouldn’t put them in the position to have that decision over something I felt vulnerable about.

It was stupid, but understandable given my flawed upbringing. Expressing my true desires has always been a shame trigger for me, because I grew up under the idea that my wants and needs were mostly a source of trouble. This misconception was something I could not change as a child, so I accepted that “reality” and silenced my needs.

I should have loitered around. I should have expressed further interest, asserted my presence, and given myself a chance to be invited. Because of that cowardly decision, I never ended up discovering the limits of Romanian kindness, which had been one of my specific missions. (And I never got another chance to speak with the first girl to ever strike me as ‘angelic’ in appearance.)

While it still takes courage for me to accept kindness from others, I did eventually realize that I wasn’t the only one to gain from obliging. To be able to give freely is a privilege that I envy. But people received the benefit of my presence too, and if only for a few passing moments, I felt that it was real.

The ultimate question: did I find home in Romania?

I finally left Romania after more than a month, and with great sadness. In my previous megapost on travel advice myths for Romania, I gave a list of pros and cons that basically explains why Romania was a logical choice of destination for me. For those who prefer to be convinced with their heart or emotions or whatever, there was one common sentiment among visitors that definitely intrigued me: people say that they discover an unexpected sense of home in Romania. Even though it’s rather vague what is meant by this or how it could really be the case, my logical instincts believed it to be possible. But would I experience this too?

The social odds have always been against me, but I’ve been deliberately trying to improve my luck. After all, those of us born into bad luck have no better alternative but to manufacture better luck. I don’t feel like explaining this idea right now, but it’s something that’s important to me now even if it’s something I’ll outgrow later.

In short, I did find the feeling of home in Romania, multiple times. I think it can only happen when you least expect it. Maybe it can only happen because you don’t expect it. (‘Nonsense’, my left brain objects.) I felt that Bucharest could have been my workplace and haven, Brasov my coffee shop, Sibiu the place for childish delights, Cluj a social hub, Timisoara my campus, and everywhere in between the vast outdoors. Then again, everything I just mentioned is irrelevant. It’s not even the place, or the wonderful horrible buildings. It’s the people, and it could only be the people. There’s no home without people. “Happiness only real when shared.” ― Christopher McCandless.

The truth is, I don’t know what home is. I’m part of my family, but that doesn’t mean I have a place I feel that I belong to. On the contrary, I’ve often explicitly felt that I don’t belong. I struggle to grasp whether my sentiments about this profound homeliness in Romania is real or not. My feelings are real, but they may not be accurate. Even so, I don’t know if I care. The lie is often better than the truth, and it may not be a lie at all. I’ll bring it back with me if I can, because it’s so much better than what I have right now.

This post got a bit out of hand. I had actually wanted it to make sense. It made sense to me at one point. But I’m just going to stop here. All I can say is that Romanians are the some of the friendliest people I’ve ever met—a statement that I cannot possibly qualify. I chose Romania with my head and it captured my heart.

The face of Romanian men

In my previous post, “The face of Romanian women“, I described my impressions of Romanian women from the point of view of a foreigner.

Romanian guys

To be blunt, Romanian guys look intimidating to me. My instincts consistently tell me they look like they don’t want to be disturbed. If I think about it in terms of an overly serious expression or obvious signs that they’re busy with something, the same generally apply for Romanian women too. What the men have in addition to that is that they look rough even with a ‘neutral’ expression. What has this guy been through? Does he have a job? I wonder what he’s up to. Maybe better not to know. These are the kinds of thoughts that come to mind.

In terms of faces, I would describe the general impression as “hard faces”. Dark or various shades of gray hair is ubiquitous. Each age bracket has a prevalent hairstyle, and it suspiciously resembles a chronological progression. From the teenage years it starts as either unkempt or shortish, and then it just gets shorter and shorter through increasing states of baldness. I’m not sure whether this is due to genes, lifestyle factors, or a shortage of hair dryers. I think there is a distinct facial average at about age 50 and it may well remind me of a construction worker with a monk’s haircut. That said, there are “lucky” men at all ages and they flaunt their overgrowth either with no distinctive hair style (uncontrolled) or tidy with hair wax.

Guys in their early twenties or younger have more distinguishable characteristics, but there are a lot of things that are fairly uniform. The hair style, hair color, and skin color are the easiest to pin down. There are no obvious side effects of the meat-heavy diet and men who are overweight seem to be strictly beyond their teens. I feel like even the height is more uniform than what I’m used to. But to work in the other direction, like why aren’t there any guys who look totally goofy or stoned like you’d find in America or England for sure?

Another obvious thing is how much guys smile or don’t smile. Anyone who’s middle-aged or older never smiles more than 10% of any brief encounter, unless they’re that kind of elder who pats your back because they think you went against the grain in going to church or visiting the country at all. (Well, Asian tourists are indeed quite rare in Romania; I only spotted other Eastern Asians on seven separate occasions.) Younger people are capable of smiling for more than 10%. It seriously feels like there’s probably some specific year after which guys who were born grew up to smile as part of normal social interaction. Otherwise, the main triggers with older men are: “I like Romania” (especially if they don’t speak English); a mistranslation from Google; or use of some basic Romanian phrase (Hristos a înviat!).

So basically, Liam Neeson’s “I will find you and kill you” face is nothing compared to an older Romanian guy’s neutral expression. They’ll give you this blank death stare while asking questions like “Are you a student?” Something rather surprising happens when a little boy or girl (who ‘happens’ to be their son/daughter) approaches them. They instantly go from almost no smiling to all happy and cheerful, smiling 90% of the time (which would get very tiring for me personally). I cannot explain that degree of contrast or the reason behind it. The moment their kid leaves, it’s back to default state.

Despite, as I say, Romanian guys looking very intimidating to approach, every time I did it was apparent that my instincts were inaccurate in this social/cultural context. When I approached groups, they didn’t mind my interruption, and older men who looked menacing and unfriendly and too busy were generally not so at all; friendliness simply has a different face. I’m glad I allowed myself to be proven wrong again and again, otherwise I would have missed out on a lot.