Born to?

I'm feeling ever so down, straight in there, no faffing around. There will be faffing around, don't worry.

This may be because I've had a drink three days on the trot, just the one in the evening with dinner. First two days, totally fine. Yesterday I was seesawing between anger and sadness, possibly the worst kind of seesaw. Thoughts, is there a worse seesaw you've encountered? Note I didn't ask if there was a worse seesaw you could conceive.

I'm going to be vague, urgh generalities and vagueness. The reasons for which may be awfully apparent, or awfully unapparent, I'm unsure. But I'm mostly unsure, about this and most things in life.

So I saw a title of a video "Born to make..." now my discomfort with the title stemmed from the word born. For me birth ties directly with infancy, and giving a baby such a heavy mantle is not cool. But lets dig a little deeper.

Now then, I've written about this before, but it's something I struggle with. The idea of fate. It's said we have free will, discretionary nature, etc. We can be whoever/whatever we want to be, within reason. Terminator 2 "No fate but what we make?

So that hands the reigns to us, we are the captains of our own destiny. But there is another idea, one that feels scientific at least, that counters it. If you know the location and velocity of every atom in existence you can predict the future. The problem is that there are a lot of atoms, somewhere between 10^78 and 10^82, those number flummox me.

Then there's a thing called the Heisenberg uncertainty principle, anyone savvy? If yes you can skip this paragraph. It states that the position and the velocity of an object cannot both be measured exactly, at the same time, even in theory. As to why, I suspect that the observation process itself alters a particles momentum. Maybe, I'm not a physicist, not even remotely close. So we can know where something is, or it's velocity, but not both simultaneously.

Phew. Now just because we can't do it, doesn't mean that everything isn't predetermined. We are part of the system, matter being batted about by the forces of the universe set in motion at the big bang. Whilst we operate day to day in a way that feels as though we are separate, we're not. All connected, all under the influence.

So we're born into a system that operates on a scale that we can not hope to comprehend. We suffer, struggle, cling. Trying to be... happy? That's the whole point right, to be happy. But if we are indeed caught in a system that we have no control over, why do we struggle against the overwhelming current? Fear? I know that's why I cling to what I know, what I want.

This doesn't feel finished, but I have run out of things to say specifically about it.

So I'll recount something that happened to me yesterday. I awoke around 0830, meditated, exercised, and sent off to CnC HQ. It's about a 30 minute drive, the radio blasts contemporary pop. I more or less switched off during the drive, switching back on in Bracebridge Heath. The roadworks are no more, there are more in town holding everything up. A dude let's me into traffic, reaffirming my faith in the goodness of humanity.

I can't park where I usually park, it's been coned off for work that isn't happening currently. I park down the street, and walk to CnC HQ with my filming equipment, we're brainstorming today. I have a few ideas. But this is Swap's baby that he's wanted to do from day one. Somehow CnC took over, probably because I was doing the heavy lifting and eating comes easy.

Rick's in attendance, we watch... something then watch episode three of The Mash Report. It's good, we settle in to brainstorm. Swaps actually written some topical satirical headlines, I'm impressed. We spitball format, structure, length. I always air on the side of brevity. Whilst long form, like all these words I'm writing right now, is great for getting your point across. Short, punchy, shareable. That's what we need to do.

We discuss whether to do release each headline as we think of it or aggregate them together at the end of the week. We resolve to do both, one to build buzz the other as a summary/best of.

It's fun, we chew over names. Now time for community shield, sponsored by Mcdonalds, hilarious. I wander off to buy something from Coop. I reminisce about where I collided with a people carrier whilst driving a gigantic refrigerated van. I look around, I can't quite bring myself to carb up in the middle of the day. I settle for overpriced chicken breast. I know it's be disappointing but it's nutritionally sound.

I want to tell you about my weight loss journey this year. But I'm saving it, probs shouldn't lest it fester and become something else, like blue cheese. Ooh if you leave and idea could it morph/decompose into something more delicious. Like long chain hydrocarbons, mmmm carcinogenic. Ah I'm back. I'd lost myself briefly but the segue, diversionary, meanderer, is alive and well.

Football, followed by a brief non directional shoot. I'm playing the relaxed guy, I know it's such a stretch for me. Swap is the upbeat news anchor. We both throw out a little gold making Producer Rick laugh. We watch it back, it ends with "Colin Firth..."

So I feel better but I haven't resolved anything. I know what I have to do, I think but it's finding the opportunity to do it. Alas I must wait on a communique, not by carrier pigeon. It's being transmitted by this shiny new idea, the internet? Apparently it involved fibres, copper, clouds, and farms.

Six Days, Five Nights, and a Frivolous Amount of Walking - Day 6

Day 6 - April 24

A few hours later Issi’s alarm awakens us. We get up, I think we both more or less wake up as we are. Does that make sense? You know how some folks wake up sort of groggy/grumpy, we don’t. She asks if I was relying on her alarm to awaken us, I confirm I wholeheartedly was. She tells me it was a risky move, I’m unsure why though. She’s a light sleeper, perhaps a commentary on the unreliability of iphones. Again I apologise as my memory is fading.

We gather everything, one last tidy. I take a pic that gets me totes emot, post it to facebook. It’s time to go, we follow the key handover procedure and wave goodbye to our home for the past six days and five nights. Oh at some point I explained that home was number 42, and 42 is the answer to life the universe and everything. I’d even brought along a tshirt to that effect, I was wearing it as we left, along with three coats.

We walk to the bus stop, Issi has taken charge of navigating to the airport. We wait outside the metro station we arrived at when we first got here. I think I reminisce about missing out on a sausage bouquet, soup in bread, and a dobos torte. More people arrive, we feel vindicated that this is right side of the road to be on for a bus that heads in the direction of the airport. Folks have bags.

The wrong bus, then the right bus arrives. We get on and go to pay, the driver waves us past. Result, free bus ride! We take our seats, again the conversation escapes me. We get off at the right stop though, we know because the other folks with bags have done the same. The second bus arrives, this time we have to pay, I think we were last on, Issi was last on. I remember because the other passengers were already seated. To avoid their knees I hoisted my bag up. The bus starts, I lose my balance, the bag flails towards the other already seated passengers. I apply a course correction, thus preventing the bag from colliding with another human being. In doing so I lose my balance more, somehow I don’t fall. Glancing back Issi is in veritable hysterics, she apolgises for laughing, my bus bumbling was just too funny. Despite my obviously embarrassing loss of balance her laughter made it worthwhile.

We find some unoccupied seats and the bus makes it’s way to the airport. Upon arrival there’s a little confusion about which way to go but we’re shortly in the terminal. The order of events confuses me a little here. I think we went to duty free to so one of us could swiftly, coat ourselves in some nondescript scent. Onwards to breakfast.

Wandering around we settle on a place selling pizza, I spy spanish omelettes and we opt for for both. Issi nabs the last slice of breakfast pizza, I think I went for pepperoni. I also buy an overpriced bottle of water. See image below, it’s got it’s mineral content broken down!!!

Minerals, have you got them?

We nab a table, I think we may’ve secured it using some or all of my three coats. The foods good, plus vfm. Issi offers me the rest of her pizza, I’m quite sure I ate it. I spy movement… something darts into a shrub that’s situated quite close to us. I’m unsure if I actually saw movement or if I just imagined it, I’ve had maybe 4 hours sleep. There’s a bird in the shrub! I try to take a photo, it flies away before I can. Issi teases me for my frequent outbursts of disproportionate joy, at the mere sight of any animal.

We get ready to queue, and go join the rest of the folks waiting to board the plane. This time we’re on the same shuttle bus, packed in like sardines. Luckily I’m within reaching distance of an overhead handrail, you know so you don’t fall over when the bus twists and turns. Issi is not, I ask if she wants to switch places, she declines. Once the bus starts moving she almost loses her footing, I say “feel free to bounce off me”, I realise what I’ve said as soon as I’ve said it. I offer her my arm, she takes it. We stand steady awkwardly arm in arm. Before long we’re at the plane.

Seated separately, I’m at the front, she’s at the back. I send her a message echoing the sentiments of my message when we first got to Budapest, stating I’m on the plane towards the front. The plane appears to taxi for ages, I drift off before, during, and after take off. The flight passes in a flash, and we’re at EMA before I know it.

Disembarking we’re reunited just in time for another queue. Issi confesses she paid for water during the flight, I’m bereft as I still have my overpriced bottle of water and I don’t feel thirst like most folks. I usually drink a lot of water in one go, then forget till I get a headache. She also tells me of two inappropriately flirty, loud women. This may've happened on our flight to Budapest, my memory is getting quite muddled. At the front of the queue Issi is called up first, a security lady asks if we’re travelling together. I run through all the possible meanings of the word “together”. We were on a holiday together, but we booked separately, sat separately, etc. So I say no. Issi would later tell me that I could’ve probs said yes.

Walking back through the airport, I think Issi texts her folks. Someone was wound up a mate wasn’t there in time to pick them up. I think. Again my memory is fading. I spot a wagtail and point it out, she teases me again about my disproportionate joy. Once seated on the shuttle bus we spot an old asian man who is wearing, what we conclude to be, whatever he wants. Jet 2 car park is ages away, we remember the landmark so we don’t have to haphazardly search for the car. Load up, car starts, phew.

ANPR doesn’t let me out, curses. I press a button on the terminal and dude asks for my name, reg etc. The barrier lifts, I thank the disembodied voice, and roll out. SatNav tells me where to go, I dutifully follow. Issi and talk about this and that. She tells me she thinks I’ve shifted back to my analytical voice, the one I use when I don’t know something and use reason/logic to deduce it. I reckon it was probably because I hate to say goodbye. I briefly get lost, but we’re soon outside Issi’s place in Notts.

I request to use her bathroom, apologising as I’m sure she’s had quite enough of me for at least six months. She elegantly acquiesces to my request, deftly dismissing my insecure apology. Upon entering her flat she declares she’s disappointed at the lack of post. I use the facilities, and boldly stride into the living kitchen diner. I realise my fly was undone, I turn and zip myself up. She laughs and says I look like, if I could blush I would be. I hand her a small leather pouch, and tell her to open it once I’m gone. It contains a gift and a note, I wrote said note before we left. We hug, and thank each other for a great holiday. In that moment it felt as though I’d been back in England for such a long time. Issi hands me S’more pop tarts, I love pop tarts.

We say our goodbyes and I drive to my folks place, about an hour away. I’m back there now as I write this. I meet my tiny mother, she’s been by herself for a week or two. My dad’s overseas doing his thing, saving the world one person at a time.

And that ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, is the tale of how I went on holiday with a girl I’d never met. But I’m not finished, oh no.

Anyone ever seen the film “Yes Man”? Jim Carey’s character says yes to everything for a year after asking a motivational speaker, played by Terence Stamp, what he should do. I would have anticipated that the holiday would be fun, but I had an absolute blast. I learnt a lot, and I now want to see everything. I met and got to know someone of amazing depth, conviction, openness, unfathomable kindness, and a tolerance for foot pain that may never be surpassed.

Question is, are you picking up what I’m putting down?

Time to say goodbye to our home for the last six days and five nights. 
If you're ever in Budapest, Zichy Jeno Utca, No. 42, you've been outstanding.

Hello Baby, Home, HUF...

The Other Days...😖
Day 1: Backstory, Burgers, Airport, Arrival, Bus, Metro, Unicum
Day 2: Builders,Terror Haza, Andrassy, Hosok Tere, Danube, Ruin Bars, Karavan
Day 3: Signature Stance, Buda Castle, Chimney Cake, Labyrinth, Wine Cruise
Day 4: Central Market, Columbo, Symphony, Araz Etterem, Giero, Martini
Day 5: Thermal Baths, Souvenir, Langos, Packing
Day 6: Bus, Plane, Pizza, EMA, Embarrassment, Yes

Only if you agree with me

I'm here again trying to begin a thing, urgh things. I was about to launch into how definition creates separation/isolation etc. But that's not why I came here. I'm here to work through an odd resistance that I noticed just now. Skip to somewhere in the middle for a truTV video that triggered this.

MBTI, anyone savvy? Those of you who've worked in industry, been on corporate retreats, have an active HR unit probs have. It stands for Myers Briggs Type Indicator, and puts you into one of sixteen personality types.

Straight from Wikipedia, click here to read their explanation.

I'd recently been through the process, half day away with my work colleagues. Drinking tea and eating biscuits, I did neither as I am an unfeeling ascetic. Untrue, I'm actually an emotional fat boy, who has cultivated an identity of being always fasting, thus people assume and reinforce the idea that I will not eat anything. Back to the half day, the most interesting part was talking to those I work with, in some detail about their past, present, and future.

Then came the time for sitting in a circle an talking through our MBTI. We did a self assessment to see whether we were:

• Extrovert or Introvert
• Thinker or Feeler
• Sensing or Intuition
• Judging or Perceiving

We then compared our self assessment with the outcome from our MBTI questionnaire. I more or less nailed mine, felt rather proud for being all sorts of self aware. My score between thinking and feeling was split super close. We read some descriptions of what the 16 categories were all about and were asked to choose one, based on everything we'd learnt so far.

I forget what I picked but it turns out it was the same as my boss, thick as two thieves in a pod, does anyone get that reference?

I then proceeded to not think about it till a week or so ago. A relatively new friend asked me what my MBTI was, as she suspected we may be the same. I had my questionnaire and associated booklet to hand and sent her a message explaining the quandary of my thinking feeling split. I was excited to find out if there was someone out there who was just like me.

Today one of my favourite YouTubers, Phillip Defranco, mentioned a new vid from truTV in their "Adam Ruins Everything" series. I love this series as it debunks things like wine snobs, alpha males, low fat food, lie detectors, etc. Click here for a big old playlist. So he goes through why MBTI is probably a load of boloney.

Care to hazard a guess as to my initial reaction? Go on, play along, indulge me please?

It wasn't instant acceptance, it was resistance. I was unsure why I would resist this well argued point, with references, backed up by Wiki. My initial thought was I want to be the same as my old boss, a veritably organised finance powerhouse, and my friend. But as I write this I suspect this goes deeper, that's what she said.

Yesterday I wrote about how I'm not really sure who I am anymore. Whether I formed a mask and have cowered behind it since or if that's just me and I'm wishfully thinking it wasn't. Luckily I was born human and I don't have to be as I am, discretionary nature. I think I've written all about that previously. So I reckon that's what I was resistant, a revelation that makes me unsure. Which is good, conclusion is comforting but boring, n'cest pas?

- Karl Jung

Oh and my resistance is nay more to this, thanks writing, you've done it again.

My voice, face, etc.

Recently I realised something about my voice, here's a thing for some reason or other about that. So I grew up in a fair few places. Sri Lanka, Rochford, Norfolk, High Wycombe, Grimsby, Louth, Sleaford, Spalding. Not a lot but that's between the ages of 0-18. Most of my formative years, aged 8-16, were spent in Grimsby/Louth, does anyone know how folk from the old fishing port sound? Hull/Yorkshire/Lincolnshire.

So you'd expect me to sound that way, alas I don't. I sound quite neutral, non regional diction, newsreader. Not home counties, it's "plant" not "plarnt" etc. Now I assumed that my voice just morphed as a result of my moving about so frequently. Alas that 8 year block in one location should've set it up to be a certain way. I say this because I noticed that my friend who grew up there still sound that way, they live all over the shop now.

So why did my voice become the way it is. I recently discovered that my original voice still exists, but I have to make a conscious switch over to it. I default to my neutral speech pattern. The neutral voice comes with added bass, odd right?

My "original" voice has a bit of lisp, not a proper lisp. One that has bit of a "shhhh" at the end of words, does that make any sense? Come have a chat I'll see if I can reel demonstrate it for you. I would suspect that I hid my "northerness" unconsciously. I hide a great deal about myself.

Growing up I was the fat lad, so I wore oversized clothing, to hide away my overweight body. English wasn't my first language, so I didn't speak up much, to hide my accent. I think that has carried on to today. Before the move to England I was a boisterous showboat. Now I'm a boisterous introvert.

This has extended further into my career choices, accounting. Behind the scenes, key, but not centre stage.

I suppose what I'm getting at is that what I have built and presented to the world as me, may not really be who I am. Then there's the whole argument about are you "born" as you are, do you become who you are, or can you create yourself. I suspect all three are true.

I want to be out there talking to people, making a difference, hands on. But that frightens me, I don't know why. There was a point where I consciously moved towards my discomfort, finding what frightened me and doing it. Generally finding that whatever it was was not so frightening after all. Then my back broke, read all about it here, that's part one, there are four parts in total.

The effect that had one me... I wanted to go back to how I was before. But when something so heavy happens there's a bunch of stuff that comes with it that needs to be dealt with. No more heavy lifting, piggybacks, etc. I was always the big strong fellow, a physical identity that was obvious. Now who am I? I don't know.

So I suppose that's where I am now. I don't really know who I am. I like to write, but so what. I like to read too, and travel, and talk, eat, analyse, dissect, poke holes etc.

Six Days, Five Nights, and a Frivolous Amount of Walking - Day 5

Day 5 - April 23

Ummm, this was the day we were supposed to hit the thermal baths. It’s a Sunday… the locals and tourists will be out in force, as we saw at the central market. The plan was to awaken and head out of the door to make it to the Széchenyi thermal baths just as the doors were opening. Thus avoiding the incoming throng.

Can you spot the issue with this particular plan? Remember what we had done the previous evening? That’s right we’d imbibed a considerable quantity of various alcohols. Champagne, creme de cassis, red wine, gin, vermouth, more red wine, more gin, more vermouth, rum, irish cream liqueur, coffee liqueur, amaretto. You get the picture.

There’s a brief interlude of confusion and piecing together what happened, followed by a little more sleep and then a resolution to be out the door by 11:00.

So we awaken slowly and go about getting ready for the thermal baths. We need to take stuff to change into etc. There was probably fake coffee involved, I apologise for getting up to pee so often. Issi hadn’t noticed, and yup I’d just drawn attention to me getting up to pee a lot. Now you know all about me getting up to pee a lot. Also this paragraph contains the word pee in a concentration that I don’t think I have ever encountered before. Let’s move on.

The light of day is refreshing and unforgiving, we walk to Oktogon metro station. We navigated there, mostly, using a sense of direction! We buy tickets from a machine and descend, there are ticket guys. But they are decorative, the machines do all the hard work. We just missed one and await another.

It’s now I voice my concern as to whether we are on the right side of the platform. You know one side goes north the other goes south, etc. Turns out we were on the wrong side, but kudos to us for realising before we got on a train going the wrong way. Alas our tickets are already punched, we’ll have to purchase more.

The surly anarchist rises up from within my usually mild mannered compatriot, she declares “we can beat the man and machine combo!”. The machines do the heavy lifting and a simple ticket rotation will suffice to confuse their limited mechanical minds. Issi breezes through with ingrained effortless elegance. I stand there whilst the machine does nothing with my ticket, the guy looks at me I try again. Issi glances back. It’s all about to kick off… the machine punches a hole in my rotated ticket, phew.

We board the metro and ride to Széchenyi furdo, it’s uneventful. When things go to plan it’s hardly ever noteworthy, right? We get out and walk to the thermal baths, there’s a queue, a word I learnt to spell a few days ago. I believe if you’ve read the previous day’s escapades you’ll know how that came to pass.

We pay, Issi used her prepaid travel card, for the first time. The woman behind the glass stares at it unconvinced it’s for real. But all goes to plan and we are allowed entry to thermal baths. We walk around unsure about if there is a male and female changing room… I blame the ticket pricing structure. If all goes to plan I’ve inserted a picture below:

All prices in HUF

We sprung for the daily tickets with locker use, expecting there to be large communal changing rooms. Like in a gym, at least that’s what I was expecting, and by the level of our shared confusion so was Issi. Turns out there are cubicles to change in, the cabins are slightly bigger and you can just leave your gear there. Confusing, right? We’re issued rubber wrist straps, our day passes.

Anyhow, we get changed and I briefly wonder where Issi is, then I see her, looking intense. I confess that I bought these swimming shorts several years ago and they are far too big, hence why I’m holding them aloft with one hand, she laughs. We manage to flag down a locker attendant and precariously balance our bags and my coats on top of each other. The locker lady issues us with a number on a ribbon, I store it in this nifty little pocket in my shorts that’s specifically for storing such things.

Issi has flip flops, I’m barefoot. With towels in hand we stride forth into the cold light of day once more, and by jingo it was cold. Motivation to store our towels and get into the warm water asap. We do so taking strong mental note of where our towels are in relation to everything else, lest we leave the pool and are unable to find them. It’s busy, not brimming, but full enough that every move has to be considered in case you unintentionally nudge a stranger.

It is lovely though, warm water, surrounded by people who are in varying states of relaxation. There are some upward jets and a fountain, we tentatively approach. The fountain is blasting cold water, no thanks. Once people locate a jet they appear to be unwilling to budge, we lose patience and find a step to sit on. We grow a little restless and move on.

Upon stepping out of the warmth of the water the coldness of the air is immediately overwhelming, for me at least. Issi appears to be her usual unflappable self, I’m a little jealous tbh. We locate our towels, thanks to those strong mental notes, and I wrap up. I’ve got a microfibre travel towel, not suited to shield me from the cold.

I think we wandered indoors, mostly to get away from the cold. There was mention of a beer spa… at some point we tried to track it down, concluded it was either an elaborate misdirect or a premium spa treatment. We abandoned our quest for the beer spa.

We step into a pool that’s emptyish, it’s slightly cooler. We people watch, reel of a few accents, try and spot locals, see the odd stag party. I think I busted out my fact about brown folks not floating. Something Issi is not convinced about, man’s just too dense. It’s not like I’m fat free, currently rocking 16% bodyfat, I’ll stop myself here before I diverge into a detailed analysis of the composition of my body, I realise no one wants to know :-(

She floats, I demonstrate I can do the same but only by leveraging against the wall with considerable effort. She gives me a look that says “it’s not that hard…”, I’m sure it’s alright if you’re white… ruddy white privilege, am I right!?

Moving on, there are pools, pools, and more pools. Varying things in them, temperatures, etc. The sauna, one of my favourite past times, calls to us. But they are filled with humans, no seating. Issi manages to fit in a space my… considerable frame could not. I stand, she laughs, it dawns on me I am stood at the door of the sauna with my arms folded across my chest. Question is do you know what I resembled at that point, why my fellow traveller was laughing at me?

We’re at the familiar stage where I’m asking you to guess, make an educated, calculated, even whimsical guess. Have you got one, I hope so…

Man standing at a door, he’s stocky, dark, arms crossed across his chest, I look like a bouncer, a sauna bouncer! I confirm that’s why she’s laughing, it is. A space opens up I sit down, it’s not hot enough for me to start sweating. My sub tropical heritage has it’s advantages, after brief Googs it turns out I have tropical heritage, well how about that. Issi bails, I follow. There’s a shower that blasts warm then cold water, it was humorous to observe before we got in the Sauna but once in, it’s anything but funny. Issi wisely abstains from the water based self flagellation.

I think we wander around some more, it would appear we may’ve exhausted what the baths have to offer, we wander. We did step into another bath inside, we talk floating and entrance phrases into an accent. For Northern Irish mine’s “mirror”. We also discuss the impossibly soft and comfortable duvets at home aka 42 Zichy Jeno Utca. I just got a little choked up at the mere mention of the place. I suspect that’s not so much to do with the trip as it is to do with what’s transpired in my life following it.

But that’s not why we’re here so back to the thermal baths!

Those unexpectedly comfortable duvets… somehow we got onto me making one. Issi concludes it would be constructed of marshmallow and stitched together with strawberry laces. You know what, I think I could construct such a quilt, one day. I ask if it’s for eating, she tells me “of course not, it’s a duvet!” I’m reminded of a raccoon washing his candyfloss only for it to dissolve, what I imagine would happen if a marshmallow duvet were to come into contact with a thermal bath.

We wander outside to see if the other end of the pool has anything exciting to offer. After a little sit down Issi spots the pool in the middle. See aerial view with red arrow below.

Red arrow game, on point

Issi enters with no apparent ill effect, I edge in and immediately lose my balance, swallow some water, before gasping and reorienting myself, she laughs. I may look imposing but at some point my bumbling nature will come to fore and you’ll lose any and all apprehension in that moment. We whirl around propelled by… intrigue. It’s not immediately apparent what’s causing the pool to whirl, then it hits us, jets. I bump into a dude, apologise profusely, he didn’t even notice.

Turns out you go faster if you face backwards, we’re dubious, it’s true! However everyone isn’t facing backwards, a crash is imminent, after a while we exit. Hang, chat, I ask if we can go back in. I realise that I don’t have to ask, I’m an adult after all, Issi states she’s become my mother in a way… let’s move on.

Back into the whirling centre. More people are getting involved, regardless of age their having a grand old time. Makes me smile, saw a bunch of older ladies giggling as they entered the spinning water. It’s getting crowded, I realise I can simply stand up to put the brakes on, the water’s about chest high. My exit was ill timed, instead of using the momentum of the swirling water to propel me out, I go the opposite way and exhaust myself.

There’s a freezing pool I enter, immerse myself to my neck, walk around and stride out. We check out if the on site restaurant is worthwhile, nah. Time to go, not before snapping a pic. There was a brief discussion before we got there about the legality of taking a photo in a public pool. I always air on the side of caution, but after witnessing many a young lady happily snapping away whilst keeping their phones out of the water, it would appear my caution was unwarranted.

We amble back indoors to the changing area, I flag down the lady who can open cabins, I show her the number ribbon thing that she gave me before. I’d assumed she’d take it from me, she didn’t. Issi grabs her phone and heads outside, I hold the fort looking suitably… something. I don’t think I’ve ever loitered, I’m sure I have but I felt very conspicuous standing in a locker room not doing anything. Issi returns we go get changed.

I haven’t figured out the mechanism the doors use, so I prop the door closed with my shoes. Once almost done a dude walks in on me, said dude apologises and explains the mechanism, awesome. I now understand it, I suspect I may never encounter it again. I gather up my things, assume Issi’ll take longer than me, and make use of the hair drying hoses. I also apply my moisturiser, it goes on weirdly, it would appear there is something already on the surface of my skin. Minerals from the thermal bath no doubt. I sit around, check my phone, sit around some more, grab a free plastic bag for my wet microfibre towel and shorts.

I suspect Issi may’ve beaten me out of the baths so I sheepishly head outdoors. There she is looking pensive, with dramatic hair, I am well jel. She’s messaged and called me, turns out the changing rooms are a bit of a mobile deadzone. We want pastry, onwards. I’d unintentionally stolen the number on a ribbon, I hand it to Issi. She says “memory box?” I reply “Sure…”

We walk, my back feels weird, I may’ve overextended myself in the baths. We find somewhere that looks likely. After a brief Googs I think I’ve found it, Nyreg. Cafe looking joint with some pastries that appear tasty. I go for some sort of dark chocolate thing with an espresso, they say they’ll bring our stuff out to us. We wander out, there’s ample seating but it’s shaded by the trees, we were looking to sit in a sun. Move a table slightly and problem solved, right? Wrong. A middle aged couple spot our failed sun seeking table manoeuvre and offer us their table in the sun. We thank them and sit.

The pastries and coffee arrives, Issi points out the resident cafe dog. I am off my face on excitement. No idea what we talked about. The pastry is good, the espresso reactivates my personality. We walk onwards, not before approaching the resident cafe dog and vigourously patting him on the head.

At some point Issi had asked me if I assumed all dogs were boys. After a brief reflection I tell her I did, perhaps because most dogs look boyish? She shoots back with “Millie is girly!” That she is, earnestly intense that girl.

Back to the day in hand, we stride back to the lake we’d mistaken for the mighty Danube. I capture a panoramic image. I intend to put it here:

FYI definitely not the Danube

We laugh and walk back, the mood is down. Last day in Budapest so it’ll be back to Blighty and reality soon enough. We walk past Terror Haza, once again on Andrassy, the Champs-Élysées of Budapest. We see a group of men, likely on a stag, riding a beer bike, it’s like a tandem but with more folks facing each other cycling and drinking. An interesting concept but sounds too much like hard work. My back still feels weird.

We get back home and I bust out some back stretches to loosen whatever’s wrong with me. I lay on the hard floor, I announce that to the uninitiated it would appear I am sulking as it’s our last day, she laughs. I text a work colleague about what we’ve been doing. I think I did some packing, so it wouldn’t be a mad dash last minute, our flight is early tomorrow morning.

After some time we gather our vigour and head back out. Issi needs a souvenir for sister Larissa, who is considerably taller than she is, fact. We walk down town and see meatology, the other big photo opportunity sign, the place where we pointlessly paid for a taxi. Well it wasn’t pointless, we were lost with no phones to fall back on. There are gift shops, tacky, touristy gift shops.

Ducking in and out of a few, same old, same old. The souvenirs are too useful/good/well made. The aim of the game is to come up with something that’s tacky as can be. There are Babushka dolls that are various world leaders, we get briefly excited. Before an employee tells us that they kindly request folks don’t open the dolls. But how would one know of the hilarity inside without opening them!? We rage quit the shop and move on.

There’s a high concentration of street food vendors ahead, we wander around and grab a beer. I was hoping it would be serve in the swing top bottles on display, alas as we get closer I spot a tap. Issi had seen it earlier but didn’t have the heart to shatter my swing top beer dreams. The beer may’ve been a mistake, it’s cold and the sun is obscured by the tall buildings. We spot some asian tourists having a picnic in a small patch of sun that has made it’s way between the buildings. We go and bask in it’s glow, the band is warming up. No idea what we talked about, possibly food, probably food.

Circling back in we check out the food on offer, I’m a little hungry, but I’ve gone with her gut so far. Partly because she usually picks better food than me, and partly because I am forever hungry, so I tend to overeat all too often. Burgers, meat, etc. Langos is what she springs for with garlic and cheese, I follow suit. We sit, eat, and chat, concluding that whilst the langos burgers of day 2 from Karavan were good these are likely more authentically Hungarian, if a little heavy on the garlic. I finish and observe some children being children. She offers me the rest of hers, as it’s too much. I decline as I’m strangely full, dun, dun DUN!

Time to resume our souvenir search for sister Larissa. We stride into a biggish shop, there’s loads on offer. Your usual tat, tacky but still functional. Candles, gigantic bells. Issi shows me a steel bangle with the public transport network of the city stamped on it, alas it’s the last day and this souvenir steel bangle is overpriced. Lots of generic things that just have “Hungary” or “Budapest” on them. I suggest a bunch of stuff, none of it is quite right. Then I see it.

It’s a small, badly hand painted magnet. I think there was a small fabric pepper attached to it. I’ve waited too long to write this and the detail of the trip is slowly but surely fading. Issi confirms that this could win the tacky souvenir war forever, I feel like I’ve finally added some value to this holiday. Souvenir purchased we’re back outside.

There’s a girl selling posters, postcards, art. It’s he own stylized take on parts of the city map. I want to buy them all but I know that I have nowhere to put any of them. Issi wants a postcard for her fridge. Issi rifles through a few, settling on one, I think it was red. The Danube… that’s not the Danube. Care to hazard a guess as to what she’d mistaken for the mighty Danube? It was of course the lake that was near the thermal baths. She takes it as a sign and buys the postcard.

We wander back, sort of in the direction of home. Stopping at a cafe for a hot drink. Hot chocolate for the lady and I think I went with a chai tea. I take a picture of the candle on the table. The waiter asks if we’d like to order a few times, Issi politely tells him we’re only here for a drink, and the ambience. We pay up and split.

The timeline gets a little muddled here, I’m not sure, mostly because there is little to no photographic evidence. We weren’t really sightseeing, thermal bathing and souvenir hunting. We swing by Tesco to pick up something caffeinated. We discuss the difference between coke zero and diet coke, caffeine content Issi informs, Googs confirms it. The mood is sombre, holiday blues are imminent. But we’re still here, so not yet.

We walk home, past the small homeless lady that we’d passed on most days. I give her all my change. Issi reminds me we’ll need change to buy bus tickets… We get home and chill, pack, chat, confirm key handover procedures. Tidy a little. Issi says she’s going to try and get to sleep, our flight was at 0635. The plan was to get up around 03:00, leave around 03:30, bus to the airport around 05:00. I put my headphones and drift off to sleep. It’s warm, I’m fully dressed.

The Other Days...😖
Day 1: Backstory, Burgers, Airport, Arrival, Bus, Metro, Unicum
Day 2: Builders,Terror Haza, Andrassy, Hosok Tere, Danube, Ruin Bars, Karavan
Day 3: Signature Stance, Buda Castle, Chimney Cake, Labyrinth, Wine Cruise
Day 4: Central Market, Columbo, Symphony, Araz Etterem, Giero, Martini
Day 5: Thermal Baths, Souvenir, Langos, Packing
Day 6: Bus, Plane, Pizza, EMA, Embarrassment, Yes

Six Days, Five Nights, and a Frivolous Amount of Walking - Day 4

My motivations for… I forgot the mouse! After we saw the Shoes on the Danube, I spied with my human eyes something bounding through the grass. I exclaim “mouse, mouse, mouse!” Issi looks at me quizzically, tilts her head, and says “What?” Now my already quiet voice was even quieter than usual, so as not to frighten away my already fleeing mammalian brother/sister. I repeat “mouse, mouse, mouse!”

“Where?”

I point, now she sees and says a suitable, aww, naw, oh how adorable.

So that’s the tale of the mouse we saw, after seven glasses of wine, and following an emotional late night viewing of an exceptionally powerful memorial.

Anyway back to my motivation, is to get all this down before it festers and disappears. It happens when you hold something for too long and it warps etc. That’s what I believe anyways, I said it to Issi and prompted her to start publishing pics on facebook whilst in Budapest, I’m often confused when my words have any impact on the real world.

Oh than that shelf life thing is something I heard from Biffy Clyro, when they released a massive album. Massive in the sense that it had many songs upon it, one interviewer asked them why they didn’t split it into two albums and take some time off. Their answer, was that music is alive and should be released when it’s ready. It shouldn’t be unnecessarily held back, or at least that’s how I remember it.

Oh and I got a compliment! From Ed, lovely fella, never met him. I think he and I should book a holiday together. There’s precedent, this trip to Budapest was booked prior to Issi and I meeting. And Ed is Issi’s dad. By all accounts a top bloke, and I think I’ve gone on about him enough to make it awkward… Oh and I edited together a pic/gif, and resolved to only release it after writing up the entirety of the day it relates to.

Day four started with us getting up later than we’d planned to. The wine coupled with all the walking has wiped us out. Luckily we chugged some fake coffee, I think this is the day I made it. Issi instructs me to swirl whilst I pour so as to not get any lumps. I make a real pig’s ear of it, a spoon has to be deployed, I consider writing day four off...

We make it past my coffee faux pas, get ready, and hit the street. Issi tells me there was a point where she considered applying novocaine to her feet. Oh I also forgot the hilarious story of me trying to purchase toothpaste. Issi had been nice enough to share hers with me but alas the sensitivity of my teeth it too much for me to bear.

We hit a pharmacy, I ask for toothpaste, the girl behind the counter looks at me and shrugs, another girl asks me what I want, I mime brushing my teeth. She gives me a knowing up nod and wanders off to fetch something, hopefully numbing paste for teeth. I can see her gathering toothbrushes, but I’m too polite/awkward to stop her. She hands them to first girl I’d asked, I briefly consider buying a brush and abandoning this toothpaste expedition. But I don’t, instead I explain it’s close but not close enough. Blurgh, I felt exceptionally warm, perhaps it’s the three coats I was wearing. A third pharmacy girl asks me what I’d like, I say toothpaste, I may’ve even mimed applying paste to an imaginary brush. She gets it, and hands me box, it looks suitable, I am overwhelmed by a sense of achievement.

Oh and the box had a word that looked vaguely like novocaine on it. FYI the active ingredient in Sensodyne, we will sell out, is potassium nitrate, makes nerves less sensitive. So rubbing it on sore feet may’ve worked. But Issi has reserves of willpower the likes of which I’ve nay seen before.

Back to day four… we’re heading for the central market, at midday, on a Saturday. Can you see the small miscalculation in our cunning plan? Neither could we. Whilst we wander we spot several places that look to be likely breakfasting locations. We decide that a Jewish restaurant would likely serve quite delicious sandwiches, the reasoning behind this decision escapes me. I’m convinced we are off track despite Google’s evidence to the contrary. Issi spots an entrance, what would I do without her?

If it’s animals great or small, I’m your guy. But if want to function in a foreign land, then equip yourself with Issi. Sounds like I’m pitching some kind of virtual tour guide app, that must surely be a thing right? If not I’m hoarding that idea, no one steal it please... ok?

As we enter there’s a… lidl, I want to say Lidl. Well I don’t want to say Lidl, but I think there was a Lidl on site, it may even’ve been an underground Lidl. Or it could’ve been an Aldi. It’s crowded, Issi leads the way. As she is dainty, and driven, to locate souvenirs, and something to eat. I wander off and buy an apple. It is enormous, at least the size of two regular apples. Is it me or do you look like a real douche if you’re eating an apple whilst doing anything else?

I take a fair few pics of Issi leading the way, if you view them in isolation it appears as though I’m stalking her… let’s move on. Upstairs! It’s where all the food is located, they’ve got all the classics. Langos, soup in bread, burgers, sausage bouquets, and much more. It’s mega crowded, the disparity in our sizes, and ferocity, gets us separated. Issi storms off ahead whilst I sidestep all over the shop. We reconvene and decide it’s too busy and we need to source sustenance elsewhere.

Do you remember when I asked you if you could see the small miscalculation in our plan, a mere 300 words ago? Attending a tourist attraction at a peak time, when both locals and tourists would be out in force. We exit the premises after briefly viewing pastries. I think I turned to google to request food.

We find Anna Cafe, there are blankets. We decide to sit outside, or there were no seats inside. Feels like we decided to and almost immediately regretted it. I spot cocktails on the menu and tentatively enquire as to whether it’s too early. I receive a curt “no, it’s not too early.” This is the first time I’ve experienced Issi as anything other than breathtakingly lovely. She’s also terribly self aware, she explains this is a combination of hunger, tiredness, and an overabundance of inconsiderate tourists are to blame. I can relate, I hate tourists. I am a tourist, but I don’t hate myself. Turns out I’m also a paradox/hypocrite, mmm neither or both.

We order some cocktails, now I regret ordering a cold drink on a not so warm day. We also order a sharing platter. It features, cured meat, cheese, bread, giant radishes, some unidentified leaves, and a single jam tart. We carefully and considerately divvy up the food so we both get exactly half. All the while saving the tart for last. The food was perfectly passable, not mindblowing but better than the first meat experience we had at Cafe Vogue.

I order an espresso to jumpstart my personality. As I discovered yesterday caffeine cranks me up to eleven. I state radishes are more for texture than flavour. Issi disagrees proposing they have a peppery taste. I eat half a giant radish and get nada. As we work our way through the food we decide it was fine. We are super amped for this tiny jam tart, hefting it neatly in twain. The pastry is crisp and the filling is tart, Issi’s face briefly contorts in confusion followed by realisation. She thinks the contents of the tart were supposed to be used as a contrasting flavour for all the rich cheese and meat… we are convinced every alfresco diner at Anna’s had seen us saving the tart for last and were now sitting in abject confusion at the foreigners and their foibles.

We split the bill and bail. The order of events is slightly mixed up in my mind palace, we either went back to the market or we approached liberty bridge. Lets go with the Liberty Bridge, it’s windy, some homeless folks are napping on some benches. I did notice that the homeless populace of Budapest tend to have a broom amongst their belongings.

As we approach the bridge we note a small door that appears to lead to a museum and go through it. It’s crowded. There’s a brief discussion about whether to bail, then we notice there’s an upstairs! Onwards up the stairs, history, building materials etc. We are unable to leave as a girl is blocking the staircase engrossed in photography, we wait politely, she doesn’t move. Someone comes up the stairs she realises her faux pas, we storm out into the daylight, it’s windy, I think I only had two coats on.

Back to the market we go, Issi is on a mission for paprika. Pretty sure it was smoked paprika, as regular paprika adds little to no flavour. Come at me paprika aficionados. We circle round and find many shops peddling paprika, with a teeny tiny paprika shovel! Now comes the time to checking every store to ensure we’re not being ripped off. I’m pretty sure I posited that the paprika peddlers of the Central Market Hall may have formed a sinister cabal… to fix prices and share profits… conspiracy.

Issi disproves this theory with a succession of varying prices. I point out a giant white vegetable that I do not recognise, Googs tells me it’s daikon, a giant white radish from Japan. We find the place with the best price, I hold the purchases so as not to feel surplus to requirements. The lady shopkeep says “Every woman needs a strong man” We laugh/smile awkwardly. She reassures me that her husband is the same way when they go shopping… we make for the exit.

It was now that we made a beeline for the opera house, enroute to the Columbo statue. Again the order of events is awfully shuffled in this loosely stacked heap of paper I call my mind. Once more we find ourselves on Andrassy, the Champs-Élysées of Budapest, it looks fancier today, we get to the opera house. Now that I think about it I think we approached the opera house from a different direction… we must’ve hit Columbo first. Not to worry I shall circle back to the opera house, but first, COLUMBO!

We walk on, it’s just about 3.5km to the statue of the legend. A brief 45 minutes from where we are now. We walk past the train station, and chew over where to get a pastry. Nowhere seems quite right. We cross the street as BITE Bakery looks to be busy and awesome. We queue, a word that Issi taught me how to spell. Well, I knew the letters involved, does anyone else have a word that they have been unable to conquer well into their “adult” life? I was trying to spell the word “queuing”, she spelt the word “queue” before eliminating the “e” and adding in the “i-n-g”. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how I finally committed the word “queue” to memory. Aren’t you glad you now know that tale too?

Back to the bakery, there is a hold up with an order, hence the queue. I spot an adorable baby boy snuggling into his mother, I have to point him out, we briefly stare. Then back to the serious decision of what to get! See their dizzyingly delicious list of products here. I know I’m going for an espresso but what form of roll, it has to be a roll. I think I went for peanut butter, because I love peanuts and butter. Issi gets a… I want to say she went for a cinnamon roll with a latte. But it appears as though the detailed memory was not focussed beyond peanut butter, damn my myopic peanut loving mind. One of the staff starts kneading some dough, now this is a proper bakery.

I grab my order and move upstairs to secure seating, it’s limited, a girl is sitting by herself on a four seater table. I consider asking if it’s ok to sit with her, but then I spot there is an empty table with several half finished beverages and related paraphernalia. Talk to a stranger or sit at a table whose, potentially former, incumbent diners may or may not have vacated the premises. I boldly lay claim to the table, and gingerly sweep the discarded half finished drinks and paraphernalia to one side. Issi comes and sits down, again I am once more struck by how dainty she is. I take a pic, halting our imminent consumption, briefly. The rolls were most excellent, soft, sweet, and generously filled. Filling was delicious, nutty, rich, I’m having a bit of a moment here… and I’ve recovered. We discuss caffeine content, the latte has the same as the espresso, but the espresso has a higher caffeine concentration.

Energised we hurtle towards Columbo, 700m away. There he is standing there, looking confused. Issi get’s in position and I capture a very natural picture of her looking at the legend with genuine adoration. Now comes the turn of the awkward, oddball, wearing two coats. I opt for an accurate as possible physical mimic, of the statue’s pose. In the first pic Issi says I look too angry. Then from out of nowhere a hoard of tourists start walking past. I am now very self conscious, but my stoic facade does not falter, I maintain my statue copying posture. She confirms I’ve managed it.

Now we never did figure out why there’s a statue of Columbo in Budapest. But since then I’ve jumped on google. Here’s a slightly cut down version of the popular thinking on the matter:

It was installed in 2014 at an estimated cost of $63,000, the bronze legendary P.I. was part of a rejuvenation project in the area. Exactly why he was chosen is still a bit of a mystery. According to those involved, Peter Falk, the actor, may have been related to 19th-century Hungarian political figure, Miksa Falk, after whom the street is named. But they also admit that this connection has yet to be proven. Falk is known to have had Hungarian roots on one side of his family. Some have also questioned the timing of the statue’s installation given that Peter Falk passed away in 2011, meaning that it is unlikely to commemorate his passing either. Many believe that it was unveiled in time to garner votes in an upcoming election, although this seems to be a strange way to go about it.

Just one more thing… At the foot of the metal lieutenant’s feet is a bronze basset hound modeled after a local dog named Franzi, who even showed up for the unveiling. This is of course supposed to be Columbo’s droopy-faced pet, “Dog.” Unfortunately, the dog does not seem to provide any further clues as to the decision-making process behind the statue’s bizarre existence. Maybe if Columbo was still alive, he could have solved the case.

Full version here.
 

The only photo of us together in Budapest

 After that I think we headed for Margaret Island, a leisurely 2.5km away. As we approach we have to dodge tourists on the bridge, ruddy tourists. We get there and construction is underway. It appears to be a big old park, akin to Central Park. It’s nice, we sit for a while, I notice I’ve got a text from Jamie, a dude I work with. There’s a boisterous small bird bouncing around, I point it out. We walk on, there’s a playground, I spin Issi on an spinning thing, she asks if I want to be spun, I politely decline. Question is can you fathom the reason/s as to why I declined?

We walk on, through a gate that we only managed to get through by utilising all of my Grimsby wideboy nous. We are now on the running track that circles the island. As we follow it towards the bridge we see a sea of people in costume. They are day drinking and in high spirits. We theorise that some form of drunken, costumed fun run is about to take place. If such a thing does break out we shall stick to our strengths, Issi’ll handle the running and I shall drink, like a hero. We navigate through the sea of people, and cross the bridge back. We did have to scramble up another slope, this one was smaller, softer earth, zero coats in my hand.

Now we walk back to the opera, but we’re approaching from a different direction. Parliament is close so we decide to circle past it. I recognise a big symbol, five rings, she says “The olympic rings?...” Yup I’d forgotten what the olympic rings were the olympic rings. As we approach there are all sorts of statues, a lion fighting a snake, some badass looking politicians. We take pics, the buildings are awesome. There’s a police presence. We approach the bathrooms but lose our bottle and flee to the opera.

We approach from another direction, it’s confusing. We enter and the place is brimming with tourists, urgh tourists. We sidle through the crowd to a desk, the wrong desk. We wait patiently in line to talk to a woman through a tiny window. She holds the tickets, we enquire and find out that only the pricey seats are left. We look at each other, it’s one of those polite stand offs. Neither wants to adversely influence the other and we stare, trying to decipher what is going on in each other’s heads. At least that’s what I think was happening. Turns out neither of us wants to pay for pricey tickets to something we may or may not enjoy.

We exit the opera house and head home, it’s home now, both of us are calling it home.

Issi soaks her feet and we research other things we could do instead of the opera. We settle on a symphony that’s playing as part of the spring festival. We gear up and head out, we wander into a quieter part of town and find the building. It does not look like somewhere a symphony would operate. We furtively ask a man at the front desk, he shows us a map and tells us we are not where we need to be, 10 minutes walk and we’ll be there. We nod, well Issi nods as she’s taken charge on this particular social interaction. I stand and look suitably pious.

Once outside we start walking to where the dude had instructed us to, we are then filled with doubt and resort to google. I boldly assert that I have found the path and we stride forth. The journey takes a little longer than we’d been told it would. But the building is suitable old looking and has the feel of somewhere a symphony could be found. The doors are stiff, a lady is talking to a dude at a reception window. They pause and look at us, the guy says something. I tell him we want to buy tickets to the symphony, he looks confused. He then says “This is the University of Finance…” I apologise, Issi laughs, we leave.

She asks if we should just go for a nice meal, I concur. We walk home and chill for a bit whilst looking for places to eat. My mental wheels spin whilst I ineffectually look for somewhere suitably up market. Somehow I find Araz Etterem, a combination of French and Hungarian cuisine. There are still things on our list of Hungarian things to eat so this place is ideal. We lounge around in bed for a bit before Issi declares she’s going to get ready. I drift off briefly. I hear her walk back in and I was wholly unprepared. Now you all know that I think she’s ever so pretty but in that dress… I stare, realise I’m staring, scramble for something to say, find nothing to say, and make a joke about doing some push ups. Smooth, right? I swiftly flee to the safety of the bathroom to brush my teeth. I gather myself and resolve to say something expressing how lovely Issi looks. But I don’t want it to come across as being creepy, so it ends up sounding sterile.

I throw on a black shirt, tan trousers, and shoes. I’m a little worried as the trousers are rather form fitting and the unnerving musculature of my legs is visible. They are stretchy though, Issi doubts my ability to bust one of my trademark lunges in them. I bust out my deepest lunge to date… let's move on.

Into the night. Walking, because that’s what we do now. As we head down the street towards ARAZ we spot Meatology, one day I shall return to feast upon your undoubtedly delicious wares… It takes about 20 minutes, Issi enquires what I want to do if we get there and it’s a 30-45 minute wait for a table. I reply with, then we wait, right? I’m a simple man and the thought of trying to find a backup restaurant had not occurred to me. We have not booked, so the tension is real. As we arrive the place is positively empty, phew. But also, have we made a mistake?! Somewhere with outstanding cuisine should be packed, right? I file that worry to the back of my mind as the… host? Dude who hangs near the entrance and seats you?! There’s an official name for this I’m sure. Like concierge, gah.

Anyhow this guy takes Issi’s coat and I’m next. Now I’m wearing two coats, because I’m peculiar. Lets not beat around the bush, I’m not wealthy so this isn’t eccentricity, it’s plain peculiarity. I manage to hand him both, he almost drops one and awkwardly hangs them on a single hook. We get to our table and sit down, the waiter asks if we’d like and aperitif, I dart Issi a quizzical glance. She orders a kir royale, I follow suit. She asks me if I frequent fancy restaurants, I shake my head. I like good food but this is not my wheelhouse… the table arrangement is complex. I capture an image, our drinks arrive.

The bread and butter at this place is next level.

We talk about the dynamic between the live singer and the man on the keyboard. There’s also a disgruntled looking girl seated not too far from them. We conclude they know each other and the girl has been dragged along as one of them is giving her a lift/is her parent/ partner/ something. Issi requests I take a nice pic of her. Now my views on posed photography are unyielding, photographs capture moments in time, a posed moment is not genuine and therefore it’s not a thing I do.

Please place your bets as to what I did next, have you placed them? If not GTFO...

Of course I acquiesce, I’m monstrous but I’m nay monster. Issi smiles, I swiftly snap a pic, I succeed in cutting out the top of her head. The next pic is spot on and I tell her so. She stops posing and starts to retort. I take three more pics, she laughs. The last three maybe some of my favourite photos to date.

Now I stare at the menu. There are several menus smashed together in a big menu, akin to a collection of short stories. I leaf through them, I’m assuming with either a furrowed brow or a look of utter bamboozlement. I say this because Issi asks me if I’m ok, I’m not. I’ve looked through the menu a bunch of times I’ve not retained any of it. She says she’s starting with a salad, I want goose liver. Then we agree the soup with truffle oil is a must. I’m torn between the lavender duck and… something. I think it was a steak, I go for what Issi’s having. Partly because I’m a little scared of overbearing lavender and partly because she generally picks better food than I do. The desserts don’t grab us.

We order and I’m handed a wine list, because I’m the man. Now whilst I’m male I’m not 100% sure I am a man, yet, probably. I hand it off to Issi, as I’m clueless with wine. Scotch I can bluff my way through. Perhaps even vodka, gin, cocktails etc. But the mysterious ways of the grape remain beyond my comprehension. She describes two wines, I nod. I’m then pushed to pick one, I nod. Somehow we pick a wine. Issi warns me I’ll likely be called upon to determine whether the bottle is suitable/corked. I nod once more and stifle laughter. The waitress does indeed pour me a tiny bit of wine, I sip and nod. Issi points out she’s left me the cork, in case I wanted to smell it. I did not.

Issi’s not a fan of the central island in the restaurant, glasses, wine, etc. are stored there. She’d prefer them to be hidden way, no one wants to know how the sausage is made. The thing is I want to know how the sausage is made, but then again I am no one. We clink glasses, does this have an official name? Cheersing, toasting, dinking, you get the idea. Issi enquires as to whether I believe in it or not, I have no idea what she’s talking about. She explains, I exclaim “that explains all the bad sex…”

The subtle red arrow indicates where we were seated.

At some point in the meal she asks if my copper snake ring is a promise ring. I have no idea what a promise ring is, so I say no. I think I even took it off and handed it over for closer inspection. It’s something that’s given to you when you’re initiated into a certain kriya. But I don’t tell her that, I explain how kundalini is represented by a snake and some attributes that you gain as you progress. She’s canny and asks if this relates to chakras, it does. But for me it carries a second meaning. I tell her the story of the snake that forgot the ground it walked upon. I think it’s a Haitian story.

The starters arrive, mine is liver three ways. Lightly fried, pâté, and something confusing in a tall glass with jelly. Issi’s salad looks almost as elegant and dainty as she does. There are three pieces of fried bread, I love fried bread, I love fried everything. I try to spread the pâté on to the bread, this fried bread lacks backbone. Now generally before you fry your bread you should toast it, looks like this hasn’t been toasted. I trade some pâté for salad, delicious.

Now for soup, it’s hot, I think it was mushroom. There is no truffle punch, we’re both disappointed. There’s way more soup than either of us was expecting, and now we’re teetering on the edge of being slightly too full to enjoy our main course. We slow our role.

The duck arrives with shredded carrots, cornbread, and loads of gravy. As is my way I try each element individually and proclaim the carrots are “well/over seasoned” or. Issi shoots back with when eaten together it works. I try, not sold. The gravy is the answer, I’m pretty sure it wasn’t billed as gravy, but it’s gravy. There’s way too much gravy, especially after all that soup. I power through it, oddly I tend to eat with a sense of duty. Like I’m on a mission to consume. I realise I’m playing catch up on the wine so I catch up. We talk about how I don’t feel thirst like most people and my irregular fluid intake schedule.

Once done we sit and sip. The staff really want to foist dessert on us, we decline and hang. I can feel my energy levels dropping so I counter with coffee. It arrives with many a accoutrement. The waiter hears our surprise and is kind enough to explain the many sugars on offer. Brown, white, crystals, and french! At least that’s what I heard, turns out the french variation is small spheres of chocolate with a crisp shell, think knock off M&M’s. We snack on them. Issi takes a pic of me with my tiny espresso cup, I try and recapture my look from day 2, I fail. I also become increasingly animated as the caffeine enters my system, I declare “you’re not gonna sleep tonight!” By which I meant I’ll likely carry on showing her stuff on YouTube, but I know what you were thinking.

It is now that I decide to smell the cork, it’s most definitely… a thing I smelt. We smuggle it out for Issi’s memory box. I’m unsure what a memory box is, as my memory is an endless box of… things. But apparently you keep stuff in it to look at at a later date and reminisce over. How lovely, I was going to say twee but does that have negative connotations? I mean it in the best possible way, but if you have to specify then you’ve already failed. Right? You know like someone prefacing something with “I’m not racist but…”

And we’re back to Budapest. One of us asked for the bill, we pay and make our way out. The… maitre de? Is that gender specific? Sounds french, I was no good at french, German on the other hand, I passed comfortably. Anywhat the dude who seats you helps Issi with her coat and then tries to do the same for me. The problem is I’m rocking two coats, like an bonafide weirdo. I have to put one on then the other, it’s awkward, he or I made a joke and we leave.

Onwards to Fuge Udvar, it’s a ruin bar. It’s day four and we are yet to source our first Martini’s! There are two bars, we try the less crowded one and they tell us they have gin at the other bar. We go and order, the dude hands us two short glasses, not the elegant stemmed glassware we were expecting but ho hum. We toast and take a sip, it’s straight gin. We resolve to mix our own martini’s and ask for vermouth, we are directed to the other bar. We head off determined to complete our martini quest, there’s no white vermouth only red. We order a shot, much to the barmaid’s confusion, who orders a shot of vermouth?! We mix, toast, and sip, whilst maintaining eye contact. There are too many rules to this toasting game.

I think we sat outside, or it felt like it was outside. We talk nature and nurture, genetics, the discretionary evolution of man. That last one I threw in because I’m sure I would’ve brought it up. Issi talks, I listen. Time to move on, the vibe’s not great. Onwards to 360 bar. On our way out Issi points out a dog, I pet it and smile like a goon.

We wander about a little and some tourists ask us for directions. We explain we are fellow clueless tourists and are relying on google to get us anywhere. They ask if we know where Szimpla Kert is. I get a little too excited as we were there only a few days ago and tell them as much. I seize their phone and Issi orients us with the street names of the corner we are on. We succeed in giving them directions. They shake our hands, wish us well, and head off into the night.

We are filled with all sorts of pride, we were lost and now we have successfully given directions to tourists. We’re practically locals. I realise that our directions may or may not’ve gotten them to their desired locations.

We walk down Andrassy once more, you know what it is, don’t make me say it. I spot a hilarious delicatessen sign - Hungaricum Delicatesse. I capture the image as I know baby bro will find it hilarious. He would later tell me it sounds like a spell from Harry Potter “Hungaricum delicatesse!” used for summoning specialist cheeses, meats, chutneys, etc.

We are close to 360 bar, but there’s not obvious entrance. It’s a rooftop bar… some ladies latch onto us. Not literally. They too seek 360 bar. We loop round and there’s not obvious entrance. But alas we need to find a bathroom, there’s a light on at the end of a steep staircase, Giero Pub appears to be open. We duck in, an old lady asks if we like traditional hungarian music. We say yes. Issi heads off to find the facilities, I buy two glasses of wine. I sit and sip as this lady’s family laugh and joke. It’s nice but I feel like a spectre at a feast. Issi returns, she asks if I’ve read her message. I say nay and check my phone “What have we let ourselves in for!” We chat and drink our wine, before politely making our exit. There was no traditional Hungarian music, I feel a little misled.

Issi spots Beckett’s pub and we head in. It’s now that we manage to get vermouth mixed with gin, not in the stemmed glassware. But it’s a Martini alright. I try and explain how Beckett’s called to us… Issi busts out the dove from above hands and I capture the moment. She vito’s my first pic and get’s it spot on, on the fifth attempt. I think I wouldn’t stop trying to make her laugh, my fault. We talk future trips, I was worried that post Budapest we’d never see each other again. Alas my insecurity. She asks me where’s on my list, my list requires lots of saving. Australia, America, South Korea etc. She starts researching, I sit and watch.

We finish our drinks and walk back home, I rib her about calling it home, she explains that it is home now. As we walk past our local, it’s about 200 yards away from 42 Zichy Jeno utca, Issi asks if we can get one last drink. I say sure and we go in. Orgazmus for the lady and I stick with the ever masculine pina colada. Issi wanders off and I stand at the bar like a lemon. She returns and we sit in the plushest chairs in the room. She talks it’s intense, I listen. It’s now I realise how inebriated I am. I can’t articulate my thoughts I offer a hug, we hug. We talk some more.

The barman asks if we want one last drink before they lock up, I decline and we head home. Once back it’s a storm of questions, wing manning, rehearsal, accusations, and an unexpected mermaid impression. I drink 2 litres of water, I fear it may not be enough to counteract the copious alcohol in my system. Issi hugs me and I fear she had fallen asleep mid hug, not the case, phew.





Remember when I told you about that gif I made way back when? This is it! So I smashed our two photos together, the only problem is that in mine I am slightly closer to the camera, making me appear a veritable giant compared to the pixie-esque Issi. And that ladies and gentlemen is the inspiration for my gif.

The Other Days...😖
Day 1: Backstory, Burgers, Airport, Arrival, Bus, Metro, Unicum
Day 2: Builders,Terror Haza, Andrassy, Hosok Tere, Danube, Ruin Bars, Karavan
Day 3: Signature Stance, Buda Castle, Chimney Cake, Labyrinth, Wine Cruise
Day 4: Central Market, Columbo, Symphony, Araz Etterem, Giero, Martini
Day 5: Thermal Baths, Souvenir, Langos, Packing
Day 6: Bus, Plane, Pizza, EMA, Embarrassment, Yes