Drought

I remember an old Hungarian fairy tale from my childhood: in a distant kingdom, a drought and relentless heat had been raging for years, caused by some sort of devil- or goblin-like creature. There was a hero, too, who eventually confronted the fire-handed monster and, after defeating it, brought the rain back to the land. We could certainly use a hero like that now.

Yesterday, despite the heat, we planned an all-day trip. After a refreshing swim in the Drava, we wandered off to some of my favourite places. The sight was both depressing and strangely fascinating. Along the endless sandbanks of the Drava, huge pieces of driftwood lie scattered like skeletons bleached white in the desert. The beds of the roadside canals and streams, once worthy of a better fate, are empty and cracked; a side arm of the Danube is waist-deep in weeds, and there is a boat graveyard nearby. If I didn't know that another six-metre flood wave could arrive at any time, I might easily be swept away by the apocalyptic mood that has been hanging over the internet for weeks.

But the great water will come again. It will cover the driftwood and the wrecks, and fill the lifeless canals once more. The only question is how quickly it will disappear from the country again, thanks to centuries of botched water management and river regulation – as quickly as an unripe plum flies out of Daisy. Will anything change? Perhaps. That depends on us. A well-thought-out water management strategy could make a difference. As for the climate we have already messed up, there is little we can do about it now – that horse has bolted – and in our own way, we are all partly to blame.

I made a short video of the trip, which you can watch below. If you're expecting shock and despair accompanied by a heartbreaking Hollywood-style violin soundtrack, you'll be disappointed. This video isn't about that. It's simply a quiet afternoon walk through places I have known and loved for a long time – places that, for now, are showing a very different face.