April 20th - Day 2
The builders arrive at 0800 and begin building. The apartment block we are staying in is being renovated/repaired. We sleep through the kerfuffle eventually waking up around 11:00. We chat for a bit my voice is exceedingly deep. Issi heads off to get showered and changed. I decide to complete my daily meditation.
I hear Issi coming out of the shower, she starts to ask me something, but stops when she spots my mid meditative state. I finish up and inquire about her question. It wasn’t a question! She could hear some banging about that sounded like it was coming from the kitchen and was wondering what on earth I could be concocting. It was of course the builders and banging about outside and through the mysterious ways of building acoustics it sounded as though it was coming from the kitchen.
I too did not have a question, mid meditation I’d heard moisturising followed by a deep rumbling sound, and was confused. Not by moisturising, as a modern man I am all too familiar with the process. But was the deep rumbling hum some sort of moisturising device!? No it was the sound of drilling outside that by the mysterious ways of building acoustics tricked me into thinking it was moisturiser related.
I go to shower, then return to rustle up a change of clothes. I spot one of my all time fave tshirts, it’s a Rick and Morty shirt with same specific panda related care instructions, I show Issi as she is partial to pandas. She asks if it’s the 2XL that I’m showing her! I laugh, and point out the care instructions. She laughs.
I too did not have a question, mid meditation I’d heard moisturising followed by a deep rumbling sound, and was confused. Not by moisturising, as a modern man I am all too familiar with the process. But was the deep rumbling hum some sort of moisturising device!? No it was the sound of drilling outside that by the mysterious ways of building acoustics tricked me into thinking it was moisturiser related.
I go to shower, then return to rustle up a change of clothes. I spot one of my all time fave tshirts, it’s a Rick and Morty shirt with same specific panda related care instructions, I show Issi as she is partial to pandas. She asks if it’s the 2XL that I’m showing her! I laugh, and point out the care instructions. She laughs.
As I head into the shower I spot some likely looking shower supplies in the corner. Three of which are full sized, one is miniature. The miniature is from centre parcs, I suspect it’s Issi’s, my suspicions were later confirmed. I try the two shampoos and one shower gel. All smell delicious, the shower gel in particular.
At some point Issi reads out synonyms for surly, the include: bad-tempered, ill-natured, grumpy, glum, crotchety, prickly, cantankerous, irascible, testy, ill-tempered, short-tempered, ungracious, splenetic, choleric, dyspeptic, bilious, crusty, abrupt, brusque, curt, gruff, blunt, churlish, ill-humoured, crabbed, crabby, uncivil, morose, dour, sullen, sulky, moody, moping, sour, unfriendly, unpleasant, scowling, unsmiling;
humourless, disrespectful; informal chippy, grouchy I venture out and we gather our belongings before heading out. I don my three coats, hoody, fleece, jacket. The builders say hello, I reply with hiya. Despite my brief time learning hello, how are you, whore, etc. in Hungarian I defaulted to English rather easily. We walk out and onto Terez krt, not before spotting a Thai massage place at the top of our street. Walking down we vito lots of potential places as we want something that is authentically Hungarian. We read the odd menu and find one that offers Hungarian tapas!
I open the door and the lady behind the counter says something, the place is empty and my pessimism insists that the place must be closed. So I ask if they are closed, she replies with a cheery “hello!” My awkwardness has found its way into Hungary… we sit down and stare intensely at the menu, I skim over the obvious and head to the back. We settle on the hungarian tapas, at least I think we did, my memory fails me, I apologise wholeheartedly.
It arrives and it’s a cacophony of cold meat, raw onion, pork scratchings, chillis, and tomato. It was ok, but not quite the ideal jumping off point for our eating adventure. Issi offers me the rest of her pork scratchings, I inhale them with gusto. We pay up and move on.
The next stop was the Terror Háza on Andrassy, It contains exhibits related to the fascist and communist regimes in 20th-century Hungary and is also a memorial to the victims of these regimes, including those detained, interrogated, tortured or killed in the building. There’s a biggish, slow moving queue. Being Brits we jump right into it. It’s raining and dripping onto me. We chat, the queue shuffles forward. A group cuts to the front and is allowed straight in, we consider switching identities with two of the teens in the group to attain their places within the museum. After a while a surly guard comes out and ushers the queue back 1 metre. We eventually get inside, the queue continues up some shallow stairs.
The next stop was the Terror Háza on Andrassy, It contains exhibits related to the fascist and communist regimes in 20th-century Hungary and is also a memorial to the victims of these regimes, including those detained, interrogated, tortured or killed in the building. There’s a biggish, slow moving queue. Being Brits we jump right into it. It’s raining and dripping onto me. We chat, the queue shuffles forward. A group cuts to the front and is allowed straight in, we consider switching identities with two of the teens in the group to attain their places within the museum. After a while a surly guard comes out and ushers the queue back 1 metre. We eventually get inside, the queue continues up some shallow stairs.
I take my hoods off, I suspect the pomade in my hair, coupled with the warmth of my hood has conspired to plastered my hair to my head. I subtly muss it up, and the unsubtly muss it back.
We get into the main foyer, queue is still moving slowly. I spot that over 70s get free entry, I hatch a crafty plan. If Issi gets on my shoulders do you think we could pass for a single seventy year old?! That’s how ageing works right, you get taller as you get older, like trees?
We pay and get in, you start at the top and work your way round. There is literature, sheets of paper that explain different parts of the tragic history. I think it’s a place that has to be visited to be fully appreciated. Powerful exhibits, footage, etc. If you have the chance, go, it is not comfortable but you will leave with something you, probably, did not have before.
We pay and get in, you start at the top and work your way round. There is literature, sheets of paper that explain different parts of the tragic history. I think it’s a place that has to be visited to be fully appreciated. Powerful exhibits, footage, etc. If you have the chance, go, it is not comfortable but you will leave with something you, probably, did not have before.
A little heavy so I’ll lighten the situation with the copious quantity of paper I gained on my circuit of the museum.
 |
| It's about 3-4 inches thick... |
The only criticism is that my attention span and standing stamina did not allow me to imbibe all it had to offer. I’m criticising myself, not the museum.
We exit through the gift shop, outstanding documentary btw, check it out on Netflix. We conclude that we should find a cafe. We go to Pilot Cafe. I order a rather delicious looking choc cake and espresso, Issi gets a light hot choc and something else, forgive my memory. Turns out I’d opted for paleo cake. Nice but devoid sugar, I feel somehow cheated.
I use the facilities and we make an exit.
Our host’s sister had said that Andrassy was the Champs-Élysées of Budapest. We walk down it and find a tasty looking cross road. Felsőerdősor and Andrassy, it looks awesome. We wonder how much it a flat on would cost here on Airbnb, 5 bed apartment £1201… we conclude that this is where would be kidnappers would go to scope out potential kidnapees.
We exit through the gift shop, outstanding documentary btw, check it out on Netflix. We conclude that we should find a cafe. We go to Pilot Cafe. I order a rather delicious looking choc cake and espresso, Issi gets a light hot choc and something else, forgive my memory. Turns out I’d opted for paleo cake. Nice but devoid sugar, I feel somehow cheated.
I use the facilities and we make an exit.
Our host’s sister had said that Andrassy was the Champs-Élysées of Budapest. We walk down it and find a tasty looking cross road. Felsőerdősor and Andrassy, it looks awesome. We wonder how much it a flat on would cost here on Airbnb, 5 bed apartment £1201… we conclude that this is where would be kidnappers would go to scope out potential kidnapees.
We arrive at Hosok Tere, a big old square with a lovely Budapest sign in the middle. It was mid afternoon so the tourists are in full flow being photographed whilst sprawled across it. We decide we must return at the dead of night when all tourists are foolishly in bed/drinking in bars. There is a high concentration of intersecting roads, we cross timidly and come across a building that looks like the houses of parliament. I know that they are near the river so maybe we should shortly be able to see the Danube.
We spot some water! We head towards it, there’s a tiny bridge, I want to cross it. It’s a bridge over a small portion of land that goes nowhere in particular. Issi had spotted this but didn’t want to kill my joy. We reckon that this is the bit where the Danube splits around Margaret Island, hence why it doesn’t look so mighty. We wander around and it slowly dawns on us that we are in a park and this is a lake, not the Danube. We laugh at our rationalising a lake into a river. We spot the thermal baths and the zoo. We thought we’d exited the park but it’s much larger than we initially thought!
Varosliget Park in case you were wondering.
We resolve to find our way to the river, enroute we find a giant sand timer, thing. The internet tells me it is the Time Wheel, click it for a handy explanation. Takes a year for all the sand to fall. Quite cool. We tried to tip it, not cool.
We eventually find our way to the river. Not before walking through quite questionable areas of Budapest. I wouldn’t call them rough but they were not as smooth as the rest. Oh and there was a dog party in another park we passed! So many dogs in that city, I was quite besotted with all of them. Issi and I have joined our navigational nous and we are navigating well.
We make it to the river, I almost get run over enroute. We wander up and down before deciding to find somewhere to eat. I am confused by the location of the menu compared to the location of the restaurant, Issi is not. Again, what would I do without her!? Wander into another restaurant and query why their menu is different from the one I’ve seen no doubt.
To find this place again I had to google “AK47 on the wall restaurant Budapest” the restaurant is The Imperator, like Furiosa. There’s an AK on the wall, a giant sword behind Issi’s seat, a cannon next to the piano, and Hungary’s pre-eminent Ron Jeremy impersonator playing it. It’s unique and the goulash is pretty good. We chat, discuss ruin bars, I fail to charge my phone using my powerbank. I forgot to bring a cable!
The Ron Jeremy piano man winks intermittently, when he hears that he’s being mentioned. We plan the bars, Issi plans the bars. Service is swiftish. The piano man starts playing a keyboard that’s perched above the piano keys. He then does one hand on each, I am in awe. The waitress asks if we are finished, I nod but Issi isn’t. The waitress seizes the plates anyway. The minor surly eruption ensues, but soon passes. We pay up, tip the piano man and go on our way.
We eventually find our way to the river. Not before walking through quite questionable areas of Budapest. I wouldn’t call them rough but they were not as smooth as the rest. Oh and there was a dog party in another park we passed! So many dogs in that city, I was quite besotted with all of them. Issi and I have joined our navigational nous and we are navigating well.
We make it to the river, I almost get run over enroute. We wander up and down before deciding to find somewhere to eat. I am confused by the location of the menu compared to the location of the restaurant, Issi is not. Again, what would I do without her!? Wander into another restaurant and query why their menu is different from the one I’ve seen no doubt.
To find this place again I had to google “AK47 on the wall restaurant Budapest” the restaurant is The Imperator, like Furiosa. There’s an AK on the wall, a giant sword behind Issi’s seat, a cannon next to the piano, and Hungary’s pre-eminent Ron Jeremy impersonator playing it. It’s unique and the goulash is pretty good. We chat, discuss ruin bars, I fail to charge my phone using my powerbank. I forgot to bring a cable!
The Ron Jeremy piano man winks intermittently, when he hears that he’s being mentioned. We plan the bars, Issi plans the bars. Service is swiftish. The piano man starts playing a keyboard that’s perched above the piano keys. He then does one hand on each, I am in awe. The waitress asks if we are finished, I nod but Issi isn’t. The waitress seizes the plates anyway. The minor surly eruption ensues, but soon passes. We pay up, tip the piano man and go on our way.
The hour is late so we head straight to the ruin bars, Issi leads and I follow. We make our way to Szimpla Kert. Issi states that if the bar has a roof it’s not really a ruin bar, this one has some roof. We make our way in and do a circuit. It’s has a pawnshop vibe, that’s to say it’s choc full of curios arranged in no particular order. There’s a husk of an old car covered in stickers. I take a photo. We make our way back to the main bar and I insist on buying us a Martini.
Not so difficult right? Purchasing a straightforward, gin based cocktail, in a bar. Well the complication here is that we’re after “dirty” Martinis. The word will forever be heard in my head as said by the one and only Redman at the beginning of the Christina Aguilera’s song, Dirty. I ask if they have olives, the girl behind the bar shrugs and shakes her head. I ask for a regular Martini, she walks off and returns with two smallish glasses. Underwhelming but this is a ruin bar, stemmed glassware would likely not last too long.
We make our way outside, take a sip, and are taken aback by the sweetness. Then it dawns on us, we’ve got two glasses of vermouth. The confusing thing about the mixer in a Martini is that one brand has the name Martini. Now there’s a stumbling block if ever there was one. As we sit an exceptionally drunken man stumbles forth, he nods, rocks, and stumbles back. A girl approaches selling carrots, a tradition at this bar, apparently.
Issi hatches a plan to berate her into leaving. We ask her a good natured number of questions about the origin of the carrots, the history of the tradition, whether they have any associated special privileges. She is polite but leaves without saying goodbye, we are both awfully heartbroken.
We go to another bar, we enquire after olives and are met with the same confusion. We settle on beer. There is a tented dance floor but we go and sit under a some gigantic umbrellas. There’s a beer there already, it appears abandoned we shift it to the side. A girl comes and asks us something intensely, we deny any knowledge of the beer. She smiles and asks if it’s ok to take a ashtray in English. We are forever awkward.
We talk and a couple of hawaiian shirted gentlemen come sit within earshot. Issi leans in and states we look way younger than him! I have no idea what she’s talking about. Turns out one of the dudes stated he was 28, he looks about 38. He’s have a minor crisis in confidence and his friend is boosting him up. He tells him he’s beautiful, and he wishes he was his son. It’s touching and lovely in it’s own exceptionally macho way. The stag arrives, he looks about 12, and can barely stand. His friends steady him, the alpha arrives. He has the loudest shirt, Issi correctly identifies the make. I am impressed and confused by her knowledge of loud shirts.
Not so difficult right? Purchasing a straightforward, gin based cocktail, in a bar. Well the complication here is that we’re after “dirty” Martinis. The word will forever be heard in my head as said by the one and only Redman at the beginning of the Christina Aguilera’s song, Dirty. I ask if they have olives, the girl behind the bar shrugs and shakes her head. I ask for a regular Martini, she walks off and returns with two smallish glasses. Underwhelming but this is a ruin bar, stemmed glassware would likely not last too long.
We make our way outside, take a sip, and are taken aback by the sweetness. Then it dawns on us, we’ve got two glasses of vermouth. The confusing thing about the mixer in a Martini is that one brand has the name Martini. Now there’s a stumbling block if ever there was one. As we sit an exceptionally drunken man stumbles forth, he nods, rocks, and stumbles back. A girl approaches selling carrots, a tradition at this bar, apparently.
Issi hatches a plan to berate her into leaving. We ask her a good natured number of questions about the origin of the carrots, the history of the tradition, whether they have any associated special privileges. She is polite but leaves without saying goodbye, we are both awfully heartbroken.
We go to another bar, we enquire after olives and are met with the same confusion. We settle on beer. There is a tented dance floor but we go and sit under a some gigantic umbrellas. There’s a beer there already, it appears abandoned we shift it to the side. A girl comes and asks us something intensely, we deny any knowledge of the beer. She smiles and asks if it’s ok to take a ashtray in English. We are forever awkward.
We talk and a couple of hawaiian shirted gentlemen come sit within earshot. Issi leans in and states we look way younger than him! I have no idea what she’s talking about. Turns out one of the dudes stated he was 28, he looks about 38. He’s have a minor crisis in confidence and his friend is boosting him up. He tells him he’s beautiful, and he wishes he was his son. It’s touching and lovely in it’s own exceptionally macho way. The stag arrives, he looks about 12, and can barely stand. His friends steady him, the alpha arrives. He has the loudest shirt, Issi correctly identifies the make. I am impressed and confused by her knowledge of loud shirts.
They rally the troops and head out. One of them returns with a walking stick/umbrella, I remember seeing the bent handle but not the rest. Again apologies for my non detailed memory.
At some point No diggity plays, I state it’s a classic, Issi doesn’t recognise it until she does. I’m sure she wants to dance, she even throws down a challenge. I throw out a dismissive “It’s not time yet”. My only regret is not dancing, I was rooted by tiredness, and fear, mostly fear. Never again, the proof is in the pudding, watch this space.
Sweatpants by Childish Gambino comes on, I explain he got his name from the Wu Tang Clan name generator. If you were wondering I would be Shreikin Commander or Rough Observer, depending on which one of my two most commonly known names are plugged in. Issi’s is absolute gold, Irate Overlord.
Sweatpants by Childish Gambino comes on, I explain he got his name from the Wu Tang Clan name generator. If you were wondering I would be Shreikin Commander or Rough Observer, depending on which one of my two most commonly known names are plugged in. Issi’s is absolute gold, Irate Overlord.
Third bar, I feel like we went to three but I only remember two.
At some point we came across Food truck alley AKA Karavan. This is a little haven of deliciousness that’s nestled right in the middle of all these ruin bars. Whoever thought this up is no mug, tourists and locals get liquored up and they need feeding. We wander around too.
Chimney cake, Langos burgers, and my all time fave the sausage bouquet. There’s also an odd sausage sandwich that makes us both burst out laughing, it may’ve just been me tbh. I try to explain why. I’ll leave it cryptic here, a film by the name of Orgazmo and the acronym DADV. Don’t google it, some bells should remain unrung.
Did you google it? If so do you wish this particular bell had remained unrung?
After bar 2/3 we order Langos burgers, I go for beef and Issi goes for pork as she likes the accompaniments. I explain my hatred/confusion of rocket. It’s bitter, but not a good bitter. We both need the loo and nip into Szimpla Kert, the same bouncer feels me up before letting me in. I find the gents quickly and stand near the exit/entrance assuming the ladies is busier/has a lower speed of throughput.
A dude with a beer asks me if he can come back in if he goes out with his beer, I tell him I haven’t the foggiest. The crowds pass, a group of girls approach me and ask me where the toilets are, I tell them I haven’t the foggiest. They apologise and move on. Then a group of British blokes tell me this is a great bar and high five me, the penny drops. I’m wearing three coats, I am stocky, and I’m stood near the entrance/exit. Can you guess what was revealed to me by those high fives? Yup I was yet again mistaken for a bouncer.
Issi appears, looking as dainty as ever. I explain what has occurred, she laughs. We arrive just as the Langos burger dude is shouting for us, we apologise profusely and sit down. I circle round, there’s moisture on that side of the bench. Someone has left 80% of a pint on the side, what a waste.
I canonball my burger, I was sooo hungry, believe or not we didn’t make a single hungry/Hungary pun the whole time. I am very disappointed in both of us. Issi points out I have grease on my chin, my repost is to jutt it out, we have no napkins. I go and get napkins. She offers me the rest of her burger, 75% by a conservative estimate. I make sure she’s sure, and tuck in. It’s glorious, she has better food judgement than I do.
We finish up and walk home, it’s our first full day and Issi busts my chops for calling it home!
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
This pure magic. ever thought of be coming a writer. Ed
ReplyDeleteThanks Ed!
DeleteAnd it's a dream that I hope to one day live.