Getting off the U1 at Rennbahnwag, it takes me a few minutes to adjust. Then I recognize the place.
And it’s not just because one is always likely to recognize something they love in everything they see. It’s not because I have claimed before that there are many, many places that could be transferred from Budapest to Vienna and vice versa without anyone noticing discontinuity in style.
It’s not because I WANT to see a similarity. It’s something that is there for real. The huge apartment buildings that are too colourful to be called shabby and yet too shabby to be modern. The shopping passage with little cafés and pubs. Kocsmák, I’d like to write. The little Spar. Many, many little things. I always loved Budapest.
The cultural confusion almost makes me forget why I came here in the first place: I wanted to take a picture of “Falcogasse” – the second street-name-tribute to the Viennese popstar besides the “Falcostiege” in Margareten, my home-district.
Falco’s mother – her name is Maria Hölzel – used to live at Rennbahnweg from 1975 until 1996. Falco became world-famous in the 1980s. There is a term for the language he used in his songs: “Manhattan-Schönbrunner-Deutsch”. He died in 1998, in a car crash in the Domenican Republic.
Some Rennbahnweg-kids are playing music on their smartphone: The Bushido-Karel-Gott-mix “Für immer jung”.
Somehow everything here goes together, and it makes sense. But there are no words to figure out what it is. Not even in Manhattan-Schönbrunner-Deutsch, and probably not even in Hungarian.