I Caved!

“Grab lantern there,” the Hungarian caretaker told me, “and follow tunnel into labyrinth.”

Alone with my flickering flame, I followed his stilted instructions, step by step, into a darkness so thick that I couldn’t see past my extended hand.   

“What the hell?” I said to no one.  I was completely alone in the dark.  My flame didn’t cast enough light to tell me which way to go.  The only thing I knew for sure was the way back and for a minute, I was tempted to retreat.   

As my pulse accelerated toward maximum fear speed, a second flame flickered ahead of me.  I caved in to my curiosity and pushed on.

“Silly,” is how my Hungarian colleague had described the Budapest caves “but worth a visit if you’re really interested.”  It certainly wasn’t a glowing recommendation, but I was determined to go.

My Mom was the first one to tell me about the caves and last week (my 5th time to Budapest) I finally had some free time to visit one of them, specifically Budavari Labirintus. Over a half million years ago, underground thermal springs began carving the labyrinth under the Castle District of Buda (the part of Budapest perched on the right side of the Danube) and throughout history they had been used for a variety of purposes – a refuge for prehistoric man, a secret military installation during WWII, a prison, a hospital and now a tourist attraction.

As I wandered through winding tunnels in the dark, I imagined prisoners still chained here and the near dead wandering nearby.  The building fear was the same as I used to get as a kid, when it was my turn to put the garbage can at the curb at night.  I was convinced then that someone or something was after me, lurking behind our bushes, waiting to pounce.  I’d drop the can at the curb, turn and run frantically back to the house.

Ironically, the flicker of distant light that had drawn me deeper into the labyrinth turned out to be exactly what I feared on those garbage nights – someone watching me, lurking, waiting to pounce.   

It didn’t matter that my stalker was simply another American tourist who, in the dark, mistook me for one of his friends.  He apologized in perfect English but the damage was done.  My cheeks were burning, my heart was beating in my ears and my palms were sweating. 

Pride nagged me to go on though so using the flash of my camera to better pierce the darkness, I headed for another glow in the distance.  With frequent snaps of my camera, I could make out satanic paintings on the cave walls and a staircase with some kind of effigy hanging at the top.  As scary as these things sound, I realized this was the “silly” side of the caves my colleague had talked about.  My heart eased a bit and my flush subsided.  But not for long because that glow in the distance led me to a small dank cave dominated by a large fountain gurgling with what looked like blood. 

That was it!  I popped like a cork and ran back the way I had come.

This Never B4 may have been about seeing the Budapest caves I had heard so much about but going down to those dark depths made me realize, like Never B4 (and with a good long laugh), how afraid I still am of being alone in the dark.

Am I alone in this resurgence of a childhood fear?  If not and you’ve had a forgotten fear sneak up on you unexpectedly, I’d love to hear it.  Click on the comment link below.

 

Comments

[dave]

Eating Shotgun Pellets...

OK, my never b4 this week consisted of:
Eating Pheasant a la Shotgun Pellets at a certain Hungarian restaurant. At least the pheasant was shotgun-fresh! If you go to Hungary, don't miss the delicious fresh game.

[Karen Perrin]

You're definitely not alone in having a resurgence of a childhood fear. As a kid from the Bronx, I had little contact with animals (other than the zoo). We had an uncle who lived in CT, and it was a great treat to go and visit him and swim in the lake. One day, while sitting in his garden, my Mother let out a blood curdling scream. She had seen a big black snake. It was harmless, of course, but very scary too us. Later, when we moved to the Catskills, my older sister and I encountered a huge snake sunning himself at the beginning of our driveway. He was as long as the driveway was wide. Kath jumped over it and ran home - I went to a neighbors and called my Mom. I stayed put till my Father came home and picked me up. To this day, I have an unreasonable fear of snakes - I don't even like watching them on TV. Silly? Yes - but something I don't think I'll overcome.