Drawing upon Bodnar' ethnography (1998) and a recent video project depicting this space, we agreed it might be interesting to renew the attempt and produce and updated ethnographic account of the place.

I. First attempt. Sunday, January 20.01, around noon
We descend from the metro with no definite purpose or scenario, just a bunch of hopes, or rather, expectations. For instance, we expected to meet hurried people moving back and forth, patient people waiting either for the tram or for someone, bored merchants, but especially, we hoped to meet Romanian speakers with interesting lifestories that could constitute the substance of our ethnographic endeavour.The square was not very crowded, since it was a gloomy Sunday afternoon. 2 bakery booths, an improvised book shop, a dirty photo cabin. Scattered people standing next to the tram lines. We inspect every passer by with some sort of hope, search for some hint, maybe job announcements. G. tells us that he shortly interacted with a guy who was also studying the posters; the latter asked for a cigarette and voiced something related to „munka”. On the stairs two beggars. On the other side of the street, a guy sitting on a low chair is watching us with a severe gaze. „He already hates us”, K. decided jokingly. Just when we turned our backs, sounds which resembled to Strauss's Blue Danube roared up in the cold air. Aaah, so he was a musician. Inspecting the place with the Viennese waltz on the background seemed more enjoyable. In the adjacent circle, an old man sitting also on a chair was also producing some sounds from an accordion. Two policemen with yellow fluorescent vests will soon approach him. We instantly decide to discuss with the policemen. If only they could speak a bit of English! K. and I run after them. One of them lets us know with a shy smile that he knows a little. We jump on questioning them, but the latter indicates with a hand gesture: „I no understand. Slow”. Soon we found out that yes, there are people daily hanging out in the MS, from Monday to Sunday, all day long, some of them looking for jobs, other just pretending. Our interlocutors were keen on telling us about gypsies „no money, no job, many children”. They overnight at Keleti and come to MS in the morning and usually stay under the bridge. Romanians? Yeees, he approves. This filled us with excitement planning on coming back to the field with a Hungarian speaker in order to conduct a full introductory interview with a policeman (as a potential key-informant)

II. Tue, 11 am: frozen wasteland
The second attempt to enter the field left us disappointed and fairly confused whether it is worth carrying the topic on or not. 11 am and it's freaking cold. The wind is harshly blowing in the almost deserted Moscow Square. The posters wall is removed now and an improvised book kiosk has taken its place. At a closer look at the white posters with big handwriting we have a suspicion that these might be book titles after all. The same handwriting. No contact details. One of the posters reads: Gyorg Moldova. No, this is surely a man from Moldova looking for job. We'll start from here, we'll find this man and talk to him. In the meantime we seek to speak to the kiosk attendant. Does he speak English (?), our first concern. I inquire almost mechanically. Nem. Alright. I try to mimic as plainly as possible my question. Are these jobs or books? Books, books. Disappointing. We notice another lady around the booth and pose the same question and get the same answer. No, it cannot be like that. We wander around, it is damn freezing, this wind only makes the situation worse. Hurried pedestrians, a few stationers near the tram lines. We roll our eyes all around in the hopeful look out for some human being resembling like a worker. Truth is we didn't agree over a possible portrait of our subjects. Nor do we have some criteria of identification of possible subjects. I realize once again how inappropriate it is to judge and label people only after appearance. One might infer that poorly dressed, miserably looking fellows might fall under our supposed area of interest. I find myself focusing on some moving male figure trying to make a phone call while holding a piece of paper, discreetly following him till I abruptly realize that he is an ordinary man waiting for the tram. At the same time, it might be insulting to take any of the miserably looking (supposedly) homeless person as a worker waiting for job. We try to look busy paying attention around while trying not to attract attention to ourselves. We move around the place in a slow continuous circle. We spot a group of fellows socializing joyously over a few bottles of beers. Most probably, homeless people. We hang on around and in less than a minute one of them approached us and mumbled something in Hungarian. By his body language it is apparent that he asks for money. We voice a few words that might be understandable for him: student, no money. He insists and puts on a miserable look. He soon gives us up but only for a few minutes because he will turn to us again while we were still strolling around the place. We keep on looking for possible subjects. No policemen detected this time. So freezing. Not even musicians, stray dogs. G. talks to a lady who tells him that workers come here only very early in the morning. The man from the kiosk tells me that they don't stay only under the bridge but move around a lot, pointing also to the metro entrance. Perhaps when it is very cold like today they look for warm shelter. Maybe they are at Keleti. Anyway, we're going home.