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Thinking back on Budapest a bit this weekend. Or maybe a lot.
I'd not spent much time being *in* cities since I've come back. For example, I'd not taken any public transportation. So I got off the co-op bus at the airport, to go see Hazel, and got on the light rail, which I love. It was empty, or rather sparsely populated, and the cars are wide compared to Budapest metro and tram cars. Not to mention the directions about when the doors will open and close are in English. It was all rather disorienting. The bus after that was good, though, much more crowded (as usual) and lots of people speaking Somali, a perfectly adequate substitute for Hungarian in the languages-I-don't-really-understand category. Better, even.
It's also still a bit weird to go in grocery stores with large and well-stocked produce sections.
Also consent. At the "Can I Kiss You?" program on Friday, I spent a lot of time thinking, instead of quite listening, while he said things I'd heard and said before. Doing explicit verbal consent with Hazel is good, feels normal now (or at least, this weekend it did.) Not just healthy, but also normal, pretty easy. This is nice. A good situation. Even knowing this, though, I don't expect that kind of focus on consent with other people. Mike surprised me by worrying about consent, being careful, once in the tram asking permission more even than I would ask Hazel or she would ask me. I was disconcerted. He said that I, in particular, was important, what I wanted was important, he wanted that to be clear. This was even more surprising, I think. I wasn't expecting to be, in particular, important to him. For him to become important to me.
No good end, here.
I'd not spent much time being *in* cities since I've come back. For example, I'd not taken any public transportation. So I got off the co-op bus at the airport, to go see Hazel, and got on the light rail, which I love. It was empty, or rather sparsely populated, and the cars are wide compared to Budapest metro and tram cars. Not to mention the directions about when the doors will open and close are in English. It was all rather disorienting. The bus after that was good, though, much more crowded (as usual) and lots of people speaking Somali, a perfectly adequate substitute for Hungarian in the languages-I-don't-really-understand category. Better, even.
It's also still a bit weird to go in grocery stores with large and well-stocked produce sections.
Also consent. At the "Can I Kiss You?" program on Friday, I spent a lot of time thinking, instead of quite listening, while he said things I'd heard and said before. Doing explicit verbal consent with Hazel is good, feels normal now (or at least, this weekend it did.) Not just healthy, but also normal, pretty easy. This is nice. A good situation. Even knowing this, though, I don't expect that kind of focus on consent with other people. Mike surprised me by worrying about consent, being careful, once in the tram asking permission more even than I would ask Hazel or she would ask me. I was disconcerted. He said that I, in particular, was important, what I wanted was important, he wanted that to be clear. This was even more surprising, I think. I wasn't expecting to be, in particular, important to him. For him to become important to me.
No good end, here.
