First Random of 2016

Before we tackle any other subject, it must be noted that the prized exhibit of this series of shots is the absolutely worst picture taken of the festive trolley bus by anyone this season or, possibly, ever. If Henri Cartier-Bresson considered the decisive moment to be the best moment for taking a shot, this particular one was clearly taken at the worst moment. Since it’s also one of the first pictures of the year- well, I don’t know what that means, hopefully that it’ll be all uphill from here.

The up side is that, since it’s such a splendid failure, I very vividly recall the moment it was taken- I have a few other shots like that, mostly concert snaps which happened about a millisecond after the decisive moment, and are therefore of a somewhat undecisive nature. Yet, strangely, I remember them, in their possible yet never materialized glory, better than I remember some shots I actually took.

The rest is mostly fog and sunrises, as January is always about the mornings- the sunset comes so quickly that I am almost always caught up in something else and miss it altogether, whereas at dawn I am prowling after coffee just as the light breaks. Or alternatively I am getting chilled to the bone by a decidedly londonish wet fog, which looks great in pictures but is a pain to be in- literal joint pain and the very real struggle of pressing the shutter release button. 

Another Szimpla

So the other day we went to Szimpla, THE Szimpla in Kazinczy, and naturally whined about how it’s actually not really THE Szimpla anymore. Or at least, not the Szimpla we used to know, with low-lit backrooms, dingy tables and students hanging around for cheap beer and possibly a slice of bread with lard and paprika, depending on the current state of one’s finances.

These days it feels more like a showroom aimed at tourists, a snapshot of what Szimpla used to be- very few people keep coming here for their regular drinks, since you probably can’t find a proper table at any time, and even if you do, a tourist might just zap you with a tiny flashing camera when you least expect it.

Though at least in winter people who come in do actually stay in for a mulled wine or two, whereas in summer there are groups being lead around like on a zoo tour: here in the corner, under a dilapidated chair stuck onto the wall with fluorescent glue, is a Hipsterus hungaricus, sipping his craft beer while uploading a geometric shot of his shoes onto Instagram.

Yet Szimpla’s original spirit survives, a bit farther away, on Kertész street in the Szimpla café which has mercifully been spared the barbarian hordes. The beers have decidedly gone crafty here as well, but there’s still a whiff of derelict honesty to the mismatched chairs and the crowd is mostly area locals, plus a few travelers who first got lost and then overexcited seeing the Szimpla sign. Come on an early weekday, and it might be half empty, with random conversations echoing off its walls.  The good old days are still here, you only have to know where to find them.