Marina, our intern wrote a short text about the Bakelit... It’s going to be difficult to write this without getting too sentimental. I’ve lived in Bakelit, eaten in Bakelit, made lifelong friends in Bakelit, and partied in Bakelit for six weeks. Without fail, each experience has been something that brought immense, inexplicable joy to my core. As ridiculously cliché as that is to admit, I write it with complete honesty. You know that feeling when something is just so wonderful – almost too wonderful – that you feel this growing surge of something powerful in your chest? Like you’re ready to burst, and no smile is big enough to communicate how much joy is building up inside of you? It’s that. Bakelit has been the perfect supplement to my stay in Budapest. My life here balances out my life in the heart of the city. I am lucky to be able to travel from the busiest streets in the city center all the way to this post-industrial area further south. One of my favorite parts of each night is coming back from the crowded, buzzing bars and winding down on the 15-minute long bus ride to the hostel. I walk down the alley in the peaceful darkness, thinking about all the people I’d met that night, musing over all the conversations I had. More often than not it would be two or more of us heading back to Bakelit. We would debrief our night, in a sense, sharing stories and laughing over all the interesting characters we encountered. The interns here have it good. We have an amazing set up, and I’ve really come to appreciate that. Even though we don’t get paid, we get accommodation, food, monthly transportation passes, and some awesome company. Work is from 9:00 AM until 5:30 PM (17:30), but our commute consists of a 30-second stroll from the hostel, through, the studio, past the bar, and into the office. We’re in close proximity to the city and to a large supermarket. And what shocked me the most was how safe I began to feel here. At home, we’re instructed from an early to age to be cautious – of everything and everyone. With that in mind, paranoia creeps on many occasions. My first time walking back to Bakelit alone, I was heading down the cobble wood path. I suddenly saw a man out of the corner of my eye, walking a few yards behind me. It was like he appeared out of nowhere. I picked up my pace and grabbed the keys out of my bag, spreading them with my knuckles, preparing myself for the words possible situation. I reached the door and began fumbling with the lock in the darkness. The man was approaching closer and closer and my heart beat louder than a bass drum. I thought that was going to be it; the moment I had learned to fear but assumed I’d never actually encounter. I turn around, not knowing what to expect…and the man just keeps walking. Not a single glance in my direction. I turn back to the door, shove the key in the lock and fly up the stairs into the hostel. I later realized it was the security guard doing his regular check through the area. Something else I learned: I’m not alone. There is a substantial number of people who live there, as a matter of fact. I didn’t think to consider what all the cars in the parking lot meant, but it soon dawned on me that even if I can’t see them, people are there. Business owners, other workers, etc., all reside in the same area that we do. Bakelit itself is a really cool place. It’s the true hipster world that hipsters back home think they’re a part of. What has been created from an old factory is astounding. A building in an apparently run-down, abandoned area is transformed into a fortress full of spunk and life. Everything is convertible and malleable, and the openness that results from this ability welcomes artists and visitors alike, with arms wide open. Marina Vernovsky Thank you Marina :)
Posted on: Thu, 01 Aug 2013 15:01:04 +0000
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