Being Budapest-ered

Ya, ya sorry... I hate bad puns too. Any rate, lot of ground to cover, here we go:

Egad! I knew deep down that travelling, as I've said, requires an entirely different frame of mind from stable, steady, everyday life, but I hadn't realised how much I'd forgotten. I've rather reimmersed myself with a bit of a fire baptism by jumping straight into Eastern Europe without much of a warm-up to that other philosophy that I'm having to live by as a Euro-trekker, but I'm getting by. I have recalled some other handy travel tips for you, though:

1) Most European hostels seem to have liquid-soap dispensers near the bathroom sinks. So, for all you cheapskates, keep an empty coke bottle handy, and hack the top off with that Swisss-Army knife you bought in Interlaken, Lucerne, or Bern, and squeeze a few shots of this freely provided hand cleaner. Renders carrying bars of soap to the bathroom unnecessary. Further point: DO NOT attempt to carry said bottle from one hostel to the next-- I imagine you'd have a heck of a mess in ye olde backpack. Coke bottles and hand soap can be found in multiple places.

2) Learn some of the local dialogue BEFORE you get to your destination. Your handiest phrases will be "Do you speak English?" (Though, this can be said IN English, the local you're addressing will appreciate being spoken to with some effort at their own language) Also, especially regarding previous question, know the word for 'No.' Similarly handy expressions are "Rail Station" "Metro" (Universal for 'subway' or 'tube.') "Airport" "How do I find 'x' Street?" Don't ask for an automatic bank machine, in the event you're questioning a local of ill repute.

3) A hostel may or may not have a kitchen that allows you to store, cook, and eat food you've purchased yourself, and they may or may not offer a breakfast. Look for one that has an open kitchen, and if they've got a free breakfast to boot, book them. If they offer breakfast for a small price, don't bank on it being just real flash. Yes, it's relatively cheap, and easily had, but not necessarily impressive. Celine's croissant came out of a bag and a microwave, with Hershey's chocolate inside (a dire insult to anyone French), and the milk on my cornflakes was room temperature 'shelf' milk, that due to its chemical content, doesn't require refrigeration.

4) If you DO order the breakfast at a hostel in Eastern Europe, and they have 2 options, one which includes sausage, eggs, ham, a roll, and mustard or ketchup, or an option which is only eggs, ham, a roll, and jam, DO NOT presume to ask for the first with jam instead of the listed condiments. Substitutions, subervions, or any other derailments from the written law is still, wall and bloc or no wall and bloc, unthinkable. You get strange looks if you try to press the matter, and if you're not careful, ejected and expelled from said establishment.

So, any rate, I am in Budapest. The local language is Hungarian, which I believe to be a combination of the tongues of a few German tribes, especially the Huns, and the Magyars. I have yet to see a word that I could recognise any sort of letter pattern within. In western Europe, where most languages owe a great deal to Latin, or German in the North, I can at least see familiar combinations of an alphabet similar to my own. No such luck here. We spent most of today in the Hungarian National Museum, where I was quite surprised that I was able to decipher all of the Imperial Roman-era tombstones on display. Turns out I've got some handy basic Latin back there on reserve. Tomorrow we hope to hit the Turkish baths.

Oh, yes... "WE..." I'm here with my French friend Celine, whom I met in Granada, Spain last year while travelling with Lisa, from Australia, whom I met while travelling with Topdeck Tours. And, speaking of Celine, those of you who've spoken with my mother in the last 48 hours, Celine apologises for causing any frightening disturbances for those of you who heard that I was apparently not at the airport. As it turns out, Budapest has 2 airports: same name, different terminals, miles apart. Be ready for that sort of thing when you go continent hopping.

The food here has been quite good...though we've only had one actual Hungarian meal. Today's tea-time saw us at a Subway restaurant (I hated the notion, but we just needed a quick, healthy bite.) and then we've had some Gelati (WOOOHOOO!!! Yes, by gosh, Budapest knows how to cater to tourists, particularly Anglo-descended ice cream lovers.)

We shared a room in the hostel last night with 4 Swedish blokes, who were quite nice. The 2 who did most of the talking were just slightly taller than me, with dark blonde hair down to their shoulders, one baby-faced, one bearded... And I so wish I were that good-looking. Their appearance bespoke what had to be royal bloodlines. They were quite nice, and talkative, and killers at Texas Hold 'Em (fortunately I have a standing rule against gambling). You almost wonder how the Vikings of a thousand years ago could sire, though over a few centuries, the Scandivanians of the modern world. All that I have met, and have heard from other travellers, have been the most congenial, helpful, genuinely friendly folks I've met. They certainly don't give the impression that anywhere in their genes is one for rapine and pillaging...

Any rate, they recommended an Italian place round the corner, in the quite obviously touristy district along the Danube, but we (wrongly) cut down a side street and found a nice little local place (with English menus-- once again, they know their market here), and sat down to a lovely, quiet, dry dinner. (Dry: by the way, it's been raining off and on since we got here.) The restaurant looked more like a pub than an eating establishment, with warm woodwork round the walls and candle-lit tables, but the chalkboard listing specials attested to the presence of food...all of which sounded quite nice. Uncertain of the currency exchange, I opted for the least expensive yet still appetizing offer: lentil vegetable stew with roast pork knuckle. Now, I dang ol' LIKE pork knuckles-- I had an entire one to myself in Munich last year...mmmmmmmmm pooooork knuuuuucklllllles.... However, when the ragout came out, there were only 2 slices of the pig laid across the top of the broth, but they were generous portions. I still couldn't give you a determined answer as to what lentils are, but the soup had a texture and taste similar to beans that was quite good. Celine ordered chicken and chips (french fries, not potato crisps). I tried a bit, and it was good, but chicken is pretty well chicken unless you do some severe doctoring (I recommend British yellow mustard and honey as a baste), and as the traditional Hungarian sauce seemed to be little more than red peppers and a few other herbs in olive oil, or something akin, I wasn't overly impressed. Something about raising and seeing slaughtered roughly 1 million chickens of your own really diminishes your desire and enjoyment as far as eating it. But as that's an entirely different thread most of you are familiar with, I won't press the point.

In the 'concerns' department: Celine JUST heard (38 seconds ago) that a relative of her mothers who was diagnosed with cancer a month ago died yesterday.

We went walking this afternoon along the Danube, and it appears that the castle fortifications of Obuda (The original city. Pest was its own locale before the technology to bridge the local waterway allowed for mass transit between the two, or created the need for a single governing body.) are carved from the very cliffs along the river. I took a picture or two around dusk, there was no visible sun to set, and would love to share them with you, but have left my camera's USB cable back at the hostel.

Any rate, best of luck to y'all responsible folks: I'll continue with my gypsy ways yet, and let you know how it works out...

Do me a favor, and listen to Cake's "Love You Madly," if you're able... it's the one song, as yet, that I forgot to load on ye olde Ipodde.

Cheers! and Stay real.
jeffro