Personal space, its uses and abuses, is one of those things you seem only to become conscious of when you start to travel.
Living space in Hungary was severely restricted by the communist government. One person was allotted a mere 10 square metres, meaning a family of four was only entitled to 40 sq.metres of living space. Those living in larger apartments were forced to divide their flats up, invite relatives to share their home, or have complete strangers foisted upon them. Thus, if you have ever wondered about the bizarrely ‘planned’ layout of your flat, you’ll know why!
The ‘flat problem’ in Hungary was alive and well when we arrived here. Just as for the telephone, waiting lists for flats averaged ten years or more, unless you were willing to have three children in as many years, putting you to the top of the list. In the meantime young couples lived with one or other set of their parents – no doubt a factor in the high rate of divorce. (Renting was not an option – rents amounted to an entire wage for a month, and there was a high degree of mistrust on the side of landlord and tenant alike. This solution to the flat problem was extremely rare.) It was not unusual to find three generations of a family living in one flat, sharing one bathroom and one kitchen.
Possibly it is for this reason that I have found Hungarians to be quiet and unobtrusive in public places: used to living in such confined spaces they have adapted in order to maintain a modicum of privacy. They generally talk in lowered tones, reminding their children also to keep their voices down; and on the Margaret Island which is deluged with people on a sunny weekend, there are no ghetto blasters and wailing children, as I remember in English parks. Foreigners are instantly noticeable speaking at twice the volume of the locals (dare I say it? especially Americans!)
However, Hungarians have some instantly noticeable and quirky uses of personal space. Quiet they may be, but also blissfully unaware of those around them! The habit of sitting on the outside seat on buses and trams, even when they are only going one or two stops, leaves you with two equally unattractive alternatives: to attempt to climb over them, or to continue to stand – often adjacent to them, hoping they might slide over – but no.
On the London tube, something I detest for its overcrowdedness, any slight contact with another results in mutual apologies. In Budapest, pedestrians and public transport travellers seem to lack all awareness of others, silently bumping and pushing those near to them. Unless you stand within a dangerous proximity to the edge of the platform, it is perfectly likely that someone will wedge themselves immediately in front of you in order to be able to enter the tube or tram before you.
At the wonderful Turner and Italy exhibition a few weeks ago, I stood in contemplation of one of the paintings. I must have been no more than a metre from the canvas. Suddenly, a man walked between me and the picture, squeezing himself into the minute space, practically standing on my feet, and obscuring my view of everything except the back of his bald head! I wondered if sufficient inches remained for me, in turn, to manouevre myself in front of him, and what his reaction might be.
I adjoumed to the next picture.…
Living space in Hungary was severely restricted by the communist government. One person was allotted a mere 10 square metres, meaning a family of four was only entitled to 40 sq.metres of living space. Those living in larger apartments were forced to divide their flats up, invite relatives to share their home, or have complete strangers foisted upon them. Thus, if you have ever wondered about the bizarrely ‘planned’ layout of your flat, you’ll know why!
The ‘flat problem’ in Hungary was alive and well when we arrived here. Just as for the telephone, waiting lists for flats averaged ten years or more, unless you were willing to have three children in as many years, putting you to the top of the list. In the meantime young couples lived with one or other set of their parents – no doubt a factor in the high rate of divorce. (Renting was not an option – rents amounted to an entire wage for a month, and there was a high degree of mistrust on the side of landlord and tenant alike. This solution to the flat problem was extremely rare.) It was not unusual to find three generations of a family living in one flat, sharing one bathroom and one kitchen.
Possibly it is for this reason that I have found Hungarians to be quiet and unobtrusive in public places: used to living in such confined spaces they have adapted in order to maintain a modicum of privacy. They generally talk in lowered tones, reminding their children also to keep their voices down; and on the Margaret Island which is deluged with people on a sunny weekend, there are no ghetto blasters and wailing children, as I remember in English parks. Foreigners are instantly noticeable speaking at twice the volume of the locals (dare I say it? especially Americans!)
However, Hungarians have some instantly noticeable and quirky uses of personal space. Quiet they may be, but also blissfully unaware of those around them! The habit of sitting on the outside seat on buses and trams, even when they are only going one or two stops, leaves you with two equally unattractive alternatives: to attempt to climb over them, or to continue to stand – often adjacent to them, hoping they might slide over – but no.
On the London tube, something I detest for its overcrowdedness, any slight contact with another results in mutual apologies. In Budapest, pedestrians and public transport travellers seem to lack all awareness of others, silently bumping and pushing those near to them. Unless you stand within a dangerous proximity to the edge of the platform, it is perfectly likely that someone will wedge themselves immediately in front of you in order to be able to enter the tube or tram before you.
At the wonderful Turner and Italy exhibition a few weeks ago, I stood in contemplation of one of the paintings. I must have been no more than a metre from the canvas. Suddenly, a man walked between me and the picture, squeezing himself into the minute space, practically standing on my feet, and obscuring my view of everything except the back of his bald head! I wondered if sufficient inches remained for me, in turn, to manouevre myself in front of him, and what his reaction might be.
I adjoumed to the next picture.…
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