Budapest

I'm writing from the basement basement bar of a hostel in Bratislava.  They decided that it would be cool to go with a theme based off of Quentin Tarrantino's Hostel. Bloody bathtub, fake dead body. Home sweet home.

I arrived yesterday by train and bid adieu to Jordan and Becky after a weekend in Budapest, Hungary. Budapest was incredible and a city I could have spent a week or five in.  In three nights, however, I feel like I got a pretty good slice of the city, which is probably why I feel so tired and worry that I might be searching in vain for a relaxing night in this Tarrantino loving hostel.

Other than three close calls involving money and valuables, I loved my time in Budapest.  When I got to Budapest on Thursday, I was rejected by all the ATMs and all the check cashing places declined both of my credit cards and had already spent my first emergency cash stash on pizza at the Amsterdam airport. I had a second emergency stash of 30 British Pounds that my grandmother Bebe sent me, which I wasn't planning to use until I got to England, but quickly exchanged for 7000 Hungarian forint. Sounds like a nice exchange rate, but kebabs are 700 forint. So I had gone through two emergency cash stashes before even entering the Budapest city limits.

I've got this black journal that sort of doubles as a folder. I feel very important and grown up carrying this thing around, but have twice proven that I'm not mature enough for a black book/folder. Before I even left Vermont, I lost the damn thing on the way to the airport. Dad/Chuck saved me that time for my free pass.  Then today, o the way to make a train reservation, I stopped at an ATM to withdraw some cash (my card's batting around .500 at ATMs now) with my non-refundable train pass in my cool black book and set it down on top of the ATM next to a half-empty cup of beer someone left from last nights street festival and kept right on going down the street.  About 6 blocks later I remembered the book, turned on a dime and sprinted back to the bank, jaywalking/running all over the place (which is definitely a faux-pass in Hungary). It was still there and so was the old beer.

My nervousness from these bouts of stupidity and poor luck were calmed by Budapest, the friendly fellow travelers in my hostel and my central European-savvy friends from Prague, Jordan and Becky.

As soon as I got to my hostel, I sat down at a table with a bunch of Canadian, Australian and British backpackers. I was visibly frayed (their words, not mine) and they assured me that their debit cards were all working and convinced me to come to dinner with them. I was running on fumes from an overnight flight where I didn't sleep, but decided to avoid jetlag completely by hitting the streets of Pest, the section of the city to the east of the Danube River.

After some Hungarian goulash and a chicken sandwich (one step at a time with adventurous eating), we headed to what is known as the Ruin Pubs. Great atmosphere, great city, great crew. Every time I started to doze off and felt like heading back, I was convinced/pressured to plod on. It was an easy sell because I had no clue where I was and was having a great time when I was able to keep my eyes open. One of the bars we went to, Szimpla, is an instant classic. It had a great vibe and a very pub-nite feel. I took Becky and Jordan back the next night.

On Friday, I wandered around with some hostel-mates and broke in my new travel shoes, the New Balance 373s (sponsorship pending).  Becky and Jordan arrived from Prague in the afternoon and with the help of Google, I was able to call their phone from the hostel computer and we met up for a great Hungarian dinner at Vorosmarty Ter, a main square in Pest close to the river.  After dinner, we walked across the bridge to Buda's Castle Hill for some views of Budapest's nighttime skyline.

On Saturday, we went to the Turkish bath, Széchenyi, on the outskirts of the city. Very impressive architecture and a relaxing experience that was necessary to combat the lingering effects of a cramped overnight flight.

After the spa, we stumbled into the Hungarian National Gallop, held at Hero's Square. The Gallop was a huge annual horseracing event where towns across Hungary send a representative to compete for national honors. Great greasy fair food. I can still taste the garlic potato pancakes.

We continued our local experience by heading to Budapest's summer party hotspot, Margaret Island, for the season-ending party. The club we went to was incredible. I would try to compare it to something I've seen before but there's no way I could ever get into a place like it in the US. (Especially not unshaven and wearing my New Balances and shorts. Hopefully pictures will do it justice, but they still served $4 beers. We were very surprised to be the only non-Europeans and didn't hear anyone speak English the entire night.

Pictures to come. I didn't take many and am going to steal Becky's and claim them as my own.

Sam