I lived in Budapest for a summer in the late-nineties. When I think back on my summer of interning at the Regional Environmental Center for Central and Eastern Europe, the palachinka and porkolt aren’t what first comes to mind but rather a punch, bruised eye, broken glasses and me attempting to sprint while wearing sandals. I left a dinner party at a colleague’s house one Saturday evening then caught a bus around eleven thirty in a central part of the city. ...