I Think I'm Turning European

Fickleness knows no bounds. I seem to have more than a handful of favourite cities. Well, add another finger to the fist - Budapest is the new Krakow.

I went from Poland to Hungary by bus, a more relaxed way of travelling than train: you know you’re in the right seat, no part of the bus will break off in a new direction, and did I mention the free hot chocolate served on the hour?

I was lucky enough to have my very own tour guide for the first three days. I’d met Zsofi briefly in Barcelona, and she’d offered to show me round her home town. We conquered the highest point in the city, toured the Buda castle, explored the underground cave system, feasted on a Hungarian meal all on the first day. The following afternoon we met up to explore Margaret Island, which we did by four-wheeled bike - very fun, if shockingly hard (the peddling as well as this driving on the right side nonsense).

On day three Zsofi took me and Timi, whom I also met in Barcelona, on a road trip through the neighbouring towns. We visited Szentendre, one of those cobble-stone street villages lifted from the pages of a book, then Esztergom, which sits against Slovakia with only the Danu as a border, and on the return trip we stopped at Castle Hill, Visegrad, in Duna Lploy Nemzeti Park, where we were given free entry to explore the castle: to gain free admission one must stand around looking anxiously at the price list. This attracts the attention of kind elderly gentlemen who lets us through the gates. An excellent day’s work.

Yesterday was my own, so I decided it was time to visit one of Budapest’s famed baths and see what all the fuss was about. Two hours of soaking in 36 degree waters has me ready to join the fuss brigade. A truly excellent way to spend an afternoon, and even if we didn’t talk, I had the company of a seventy-year-old Hungarian who had lost his elasticity some time ago.

One of the many good things about Budapest is that even though it’s a foreign language city, most people speak English or can point to some one who does. In part this is because to graduate from university, students must pass a second language exam. Can you imagine if we tried this at home? We’d have perpetual students or none at all.

Today I planned to tackle the Esceri Markets, an English second-hand book shop if I could locate it and my biggest challenge: navigating the inner workings of an Hungarian post office. I achieved the latter two but the former proved too far away so instead I roamed Falk Miksa where one finds antique shops in droves, and middle-aged shop attendants who treat customers (or me) with a good deal of suspicion.

I think I’m turning European - this afternoon as I was sitting eating my Hungarian pizza and listening to a saxophonist play show tunes in the square, a tourist came up to me and asked if he could take my picture to which I asked, why, thinking perhaps I looked like his second cousin or something and he wanted photographic proof. Instead it was because he wanted a photo of a Hungarian enjoying life. And I am enjoying this nomadic existence if, on that rare occasion, it seems to lack purpose. But then I discover a new food and I'm back on track.

Tomorrow I go to Bratislava, so goodbye until Slovakia.