The topic, the way in which I write it often percolates in my mind for days before it reaches you, the reader, in my little corner of the internet. A lot has been percolating for the past few days but very little of it interesting. Much of it depressing.
Sure we’re having a good time. Its been nice to be on vacation but at some point vacation becomes too much. Swell and I have been away from home for four weeks now. Before that we were away for nine. So out of the last 13.5 weeks we’ve been home for less than three days.
The first 9 weeks of being away from home didn’t bother me a whole bunch as we were doing something. We were working. We were being constructive members of society. The first two and a half weeks of our vacation were also ok as we were accomplishing something – visiting friends and family. The past week has been more difficult as we’re just spending money without giving anything back.
But I have to update.
We are, after all, staying in a hostel that is right upstairs from a coffee shop that has WiFi.
WiFi that works only when you’re in the coffee shop (or standing on the sidewalk nearby to the coffee shop but that would be stealing and I would NEVER do that).
So I have to update because we’re close to an internet source for now. We’re actually leaving tomorrow morning for Prague and I’m not sure what the internet situation will be like there so it would be best to update sooner rather than later.
Sometimes when I update I like to come up with a clever title for the update. A title that will express the majority of the post in just a few words. This allows the ADD among us to get the gist of the post without actually having to focus for more than a few seconds.
As I pondered this update I was struck with a great number of titles. All of which would work just dandily.
Budapest will be open during construction
Sure it looks old but how old is it really?
Hungry in Hungary
If this is a vacation why is everyone crying?
Stairway to Heaven
Three Strikes and You’re Out… But I Don’t Want to be Out!
Each title corresponds to a little bit of our time in Budapest. I decided why not use each title and tell each part of our vacation here separately.
Part of many vacations is the indulgence of frou-frou drinks. Zumi and the Good One tried to do this in Romania. I should mention that their frou-frou drinks were non-alcoholic because that’s the type of crazy people they are.
Gilda took us to a restaurant in Cluj that she remembered had very good tea. Now both Zumi and The Good One like tea.
They decided against the tea in favour of some weird non-alcoholic concoctions. Zumi’s was ok.
The Good One’s? After one sip she stated it was sour – like it had bad grapefruit juice in it. Zumi tried it and concurred. A few minutes later the drink began to separate with many, many odd and disgusting layers forming.
Swell complained. The waitress stated, “That’s the way the drink is supposed to be.”
Of course it is.
In Budapest I decided I was in the mood for a milkshake. I ordered one.
The waiter brought it out.
It was warm milk. Not steamed milk, just room temperature milk with a little froth on top. I sipped it. Was disgusted.
The waitress came by as we were discussing this weird drink and said; “My colleague is not doing a good job today. That has no strawberry in it at all!”
She took my warm milk milkshake away from me.
And brought out a warm milk milkshake with a little red tinge to it and said; “Here you go. That should be better.”
It wasn’t. It was still disgusting. But unlike the Good One I drank it.
Swell doesn’t learn from past mistakes. She didn’t take from our experiences, rather she completely ignored them AND my pleas for her to “remember the milkshake!”
She was in the mood for a smoothie type beverage. The café below our hostel has very good coffee (or so I’m told).
While Swell was drinking one of these very good coffees she saw one of the wait staff make a smoothie looking concoction.
Somewhere deep down her soul said “We must have one of those.”
She was expecting a Jamba Juice type smoothie full of ice and yogurt and berries and goodness. Not only did she waltz up to the table the next day but she sat down with aplomb and had the audacity to order not a regular smoothie but a super-duper LARGE smoothie.
What she got was a warm sludge of blackberry juice and seeds.
She hardly drank any.
I resisted the urge to say “I told you so” until I said “I told you so.”
Apparently the three metro lines Budapest currently has are not enough. They are building a fourth. Furthermore, they are doing something or another with pipes. Every street that we walk on is torn up. Every sidewalk is closed at some place or another. There is construction everywhere.
Interestingly our Botel was in the middle of nowhere and quiet. Our hostel is in the middle of everywhere and here in the middle of everywhere construction starts at the crack of 7:30 am.
Jackhammers, front loaders, dump trucks, shouting, beeping, hammering, and so on.
Now 7:30 am is not all that early but when stuff doesn’t open until 10 am its nice to sleep past 7:30.
But alas.
I’m embarrassed to say that my knowledge of Hungary and its history was severely lacking prior to our visit here.
When we were told by Zumi and the Good One that they wanted to cut short their long promised visit to Romania by going to Budapest and Prague we were like totally thinking “Why?”
Long story short – Hungary is old and has had a terrible history (as I’m sure most of you know).
Its modern history has been one of destruction with upwards of 80% of Budapest’s building being damaged in WW II.
Many of the historical sites suffered extensive damage during the war.
One of the main questions that needs to be answered at every tour or visit is “What was the extent of the damage to this building? Am I looking at something that has been repaired or something that was spared destruction?”
The food in Hungary…
Hit and miss.
A lot of misses unfortunately (see the drink fiasco).
What’s more is that the service, although kind, is S-L-O-W.
I know that’s a cultural thing but its annoying. We North Americans want to rush through our meals and get on our way. Getting the bill is a chore and requires an ever changing routine of hand signals, winks, head nods, and grunts.
When the bill comes it costs somewhere in the neighbourhood of 10,000 fts for the four of us.
With nary a calculator in sight we are able to calculate how much each of us owes and then convert it into dollars to see if we can afford the next meal.
Most of us cannot.
The food is often mediocre as we eat in touristy areas where the food doesn’t have to be stellar. They aren’t banking on return visits.
About 20% of the time we get something that we didn’t want or the description in the menu was not translated, how should we say… correctly.
We’ve been eating a lot of oil.
One positive meal story.
Swell and I have been to Budapest before.
But we were only here for about 10 hours. A couple of years ago we took the train from Romania (Brasov) to Italy (Venice). This required an overnight in Budapest.
We got off the Romania train and fell into the arms of a hostel dealer.
He whispers to all who pass, “Need a room?”
I said yes.
He took us to a room.
Across the street from said room was a restaurant.
We ate there and enjoyed it immensely. Expensive but traditional food with music and ambience.
We wanted to treat the girls to this experience so we all put on our Sunday finest (Ha!) and I deduced how to refind this restaurant with great success but no small amount of I-don’t-want-to-look-stupid-in-front-of-Ms. Directions are my game-the-Good-One stress. I looked on the map. The restaurant was far, far away. I knew it was far but this was FAR. I said maybe we shouldn’t, Swell said; “YES WE SHOULD” so we walked to the metro, took the metro and were soon at the restaurant.
And it was good.
Pictures when we get home but it was outstanding food and the music was there and the ambience was nice.
Remember I was ignorant of Hungary/Budapest history and why anyone would want to visit here.
So we let Zumi and The Good One plan our time here.
Little did we know.
We went to Europe’s largest Synagogue (2nd largest in the world in size but equal in capacity to the largest). Also attached to the Synagogue was a memorial garden and a museum regarding Jewish history in Hungary/Budapest.
Synagogue was great. Great tour guide. Dumb California chick asked her what the difference between Judaism and the predominant Hungarian religion was. She answered it deftly.
Then the memorial garden, which as it turns out, is home to 24 mass graves with a total of 3000 and some Jews in it.
During WW II Hungary was able to avoid German occupation (basically by doing as they were told) until 1944. The Jews in Hungary had many rights taken away but for the most part avoided the worst… until 1944. In less than a year a ghetto was created in Budapest into which thousands and thousands of Jews were forced to live. Within this ghetto was the synagogue that we were visiting.
From 1944 to the end of the war 600,000 of about 800,000 Hungarian Jews were killed. The mass graves were created because when the ghetto was walled off the Jewish cemeteries were on the wrong side of the wall. Of the thousands in the graves there were very few grave markers meaning most of the dead were unidentified.
The museum guide was also very good. He was a survivor of WW II being 5 when it ended. Told a lot of good stories about Jewish tradition as he showed us old artifacts, etc.
Eventually he led us to the last room of the museum, which was dedicated to the Holocaust.
Enough said.
The next day as a pick me up we decided to visit Terror House. A museum located in a large building on a very beautiful street in Budapest. It was at one time the headquarters of the Arrowcross (Hungary’s Nazi party during the latter part of the war) and then to the secret police during communism.
Within this building many horrible, horrible things occurred. Torture, killings, imprisonment, etc.
The museum was well done but throughout the exhibits they showed documentary films of interviews with survivors of both the holocaust and communism.
Enough said.
Hostel rooms on the fifth floor.
Elevator no work for three days.
Up.
Down.
Up.
Down.
All museums on many levels.
No elevator.
Up.
Down.
Castle HILL.
Up.
Down.
Subway is, well, sub ground.
Up.
Down.
We’ve walked more stairs this week than I could ever have imagined.
Anymore and we’ll all be dead.
When you go to Budapest you have to see the Parliament building. Its fantastic.
So says everyone.
So says the guidebook.
First day.
Lets go for the 2 o’clock tour!
Arrive at 1:30 pm.
Why that’s quite a long line for the tour. Wait. No that’s a line to buy tickets! Nobody or book warned us of this.
Maybe there is still time.
Sweet we’re at the front of the line. We’ll walk over to the ticket window.
Four for the 2 o’clock tour in English please.
It’s sold out!? Oh well. We’ll buy tickets for the 9 am tour tomorrow.
You can’t sell tickets for the next day!?
We should just come back at 8!?
We’re here to buy tickets. Its 8:15… wait why is there a line for tickets again. Its early.
Look there. A little sign. What does it say?
There is a power outage!? The tours may or may not proceed today?
Forget it. Lets go do something else and try again tomorrow.
Its 8:30 am. No line for tickets. You have some available for 9am! With that really, really dreamy male tour guide? Awesome.
Its how much!?
Its how long!?
That much for that little?
Ok. We’ll take four.
Great tour. Great guide. Didn’t get his number. Shoots.
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