III.III.I – An Ancient City
III.III.I
AN ANCIENT CITY
Just like that, Nepal was yet another memory. Back in Malta, I didn’t really have much time to stagnate. I was ready to leave the minute I set foot on the fish-shaped prison. And leave I did; this time to Hungary; specifically, the city of Pécs for a medical exchange program.
Oh Pécs, my Pécs… You have changed my life forever and impermeably. By now one would probably expect me to go into a detailed description of the city. I’d write all about the fact that it’s a really charming university town that would make one think of the Citadel from A Song of Ice and Fire (okay, not really, but I’m weird and it gave me similar vibes). But don’t be fooled, it really is a medieval city – and, its history is as florid as they come; being colonised by Celts, Romans and Ottomans alike. No wonder it won the title of European Capital of Culture back in 2010.
I’d also write all about the mosque at the centre of the city square and all the quaint cafés and pubs and whatnot. About the soothing pastel colours of the city. About the sense of peace and tranquility it gives off. But I’m not going to. For starters, if anyone’s remotely interested, there’s Google, and if anyone’s genuinely intrigued there’s planes. Plus I also think it’s fair for me to allow TripAdvisor to serve its purpose. That said, I will add one piece of essential information that most traveling sites failed to mention. Pécs? It’s pronounced ‘pay-tch’. Trust me. If you wanna get to Pécs, you need to know how to say Pécs. Sounds simple right? Well, not to the guys who arranged my airport transfer.
My month in Pécs – sorry, I just love writing this name down; Pécs, Pécs, Pécs, Pécs – was one of the best in my life. It was the first time I had ever set off on my own.
I’d be in my own dorm (along with three other roommates); preparing my own food (McDonalds was two minutes away), doing my own laundry (had a small sink in my room), cleaning up after myself (we don’t wanna go into the tales of The Clogged Shower), being independent in every single sense (never before had I been as spoiled) and spending time by myself (along with some twenty other exchange students). Not to mention, I’d be an orvostanhallgató attached to a neurosurgical firm at a local hospital. Neurosurgery – the pinnacle of my ambitions!
The hospital? Let’s just say it wasn’t all I had expected it to be. Educational opportunities were limited at best; there being a language barrier and all. I’m pretty sure my Dothraki’s better than my Hungarian. By the end I could memorise a whopping five words; which, by now, have been reduced to just three. And let me tell you, knowing five words doesn’t quite get you anywhere – especially in a hospital. On a good day I’d get to observe surgeries and hope to understand what would be going on simply by having watched medical dramas on TV. On a normal day I’d get there, hear them mumble something in Hungarian and then I’d be sent back home – on account of there being nothing for me to do.
To be completely fair, I did get to observe a few surgeries I’d be lucky to observe ever again, let alone perform myself in the future. Anything from routine spinal stenosis surgery to cranioplasties or this one giant paravertebral tumour that was removed from a twenty-something year-old lady’s back. I got to scrub in and assist in minor procedures a couple of times; which was practically the highlight of my exchange, but there wasn’t much more to it really.
In fact, I remember myself thinking how rare it was for me to say that the social part actually trumped the medicine part. And the social part? Let’s just say what happens in Pécs stays in Pécs. Or not – otherwise I wouldn’t have much else to write about!