Oh The Places We’ll Go

There are times in life when life’s unexpected curves end up turning out far better than what had originally been planned.  For me, changing my plans and heading to Budapest turned out to be the best travel decision I have ever made, far better than missing my train in Krakow for the Preston boys (and I thought that story would be hard to top).

Sure, I had no idea what to expect from Budapest.  Armed with the guidebook I had “accidentally” stolen from a hostel during the early leg of my travels, and even pre-armed with a map of Budapest I lifted from Vienna, I knew that Budapest would be good even if the city was shit.  I knew people there, had a couple of days to spend checking out the town, and that was all I really thought of it.  On the train from Vienna to Budapest, Tess, Johnny and I sat back and watched ‘Sweeney Todd’ and I remembered why I don’t watch movies on moving objects.  Headaches ensue, and with no fresh air in a train compartment it was all bad news.  Well, not really bad news.  Just annoying and I didn’t want to be a bother and stop the movie all because of some stupid headache.  I’m stronger than that.  3 hours on the train and loads of chatting, re-starting the movie (thank you, power failures on the train), and eventually giving up on Sweeney, we got into Budapest in the early afternoon.  Again, weather I was not expecting in Budapest.  It had rained in Vienna when I left and in Budapest the sun was out and HOT.  Sweatshirt probably wasn’t the wisest idea for attire but you live you learn, I guess.  We got into the secondary train station (once again) and tried to figure out how to get from Keleti to Nyugati station on the underground/tram.  Once we actually FOUND the Metro (thank you, construction), we got off to catch the tram and couldn’t figure out where to get the tickets when we had no change.  Whatever, fuck it.  Let’s just hop on.  We never did figure out how to get a tram ticket but as it turns out, you don’t need one.  They never check.  Ever.

Once we got into Nyugati station we found the hostel really easily and, though I knew I had 100 stairs to climb once we got there, the actual reality of the stair climbing sucked far more than I had expected.  I blame the sweatshirt wearing sweaty hotness that Budapest weather had inflicted upon me, plus my general aversion to stairs, but of course we all made it to the top absolutely exhausted and ready to ring the bell.  The door swung open to this really cool looking flat, not like a hostel at all.  The only thing that gave it away was the extra cushions piled up against the far wall and, of course, stacks of bunk-beds lying around every room.  With only 4 rooms, 8 or 10 beds in each and some of the staff staying in some of them, the hostel was really intimate and friendly.  Far less people in it than the hostel in Vienna, which probably had well over a hundred beds.  Suzi, who checked Johnny and Tess and I in as soon as we got in, just led us to our room chatting and swearing away, completely not giving a shit.  I loved this place already.  Set my bag down, Suzi is chatting away and cracking jokes and Kane is already in our room.  Kane, not expecting to see me, gave me the “Hey!  I wasn’t expecting to see you!” smile and the reunion was already in motion.  What made it even better, though, was the moment Suzi left the room, Kane just tells us, “This is the greatest hostel ever.  Last night was madness, and tonight is going to be even better.”

Number one priority upon arrival: food.  Brian, Kane, Johnny, Tess and I were all starving and everyone had planned on going out to some Indian food place Kane had seen the other day wandering back to the hostel from whatever.  Turns out Budapest is really cheap.  I mean, really cheap.  1000 forints is about 3-4 euros, and since Indian was estimated to be around 2000, this could be my cheapest meal of my travels yet.  Being the unadventurous eater that I am, I had never had Indian food before but I figured you live you learn.  I don’t want to be like that crazy New Orelans couple from Krakow only eating McDonalds.  Sign me up for Indian.

The one person in the group going to the Indian food place I hadn’t met yet was Kurt, who as it turns out I would get to know really well during my stay in Budapest.  At first glance, Kurt is well… scary.  I know people with loads of tattoos (shit, all of Thomas’s friends have sleeves AT LEAST), and I know people who are really really built (most of Thomas’s friends have only one religion, and that religion is the gym), but the combination of the two embodied themselves in Kurt.  Tattoos everywhere (including the word ‘Ego’ written on his foot) and muscles popping out, all I could think was fuck, I really wouldn’t want to meet this guy in a dark alley.  Besides the fact that well, Kurt’s a built guy, his posture tends to be very stoic, so even walking around looking at him he oozes this scary confidence like he could beat the crap out of you.  That is until you get to know him, of course.  You learn to know better.  In retrospect, comparing what I know now to what I first thought, it’s funny to think of Kurt as some scary guy who could kick the shit out of me.  Not that he’s not capable, he’s just not like that.  But I’ll get to all of that later… for now, Indian.

Let me preface by saying straight off the bat, I hate spicy food and it hates me.  We do not mix, and even through my love of Mexican food which is filled with all different kinds of crazy spices, I have learned to avoid them all in favor of my mild and boring food.  Indian food is full of crazy spices far beyond the crazy that Mexican food has.  Luckily Tess and Johnny have both had a lot of Indian food, and Brian had never had Indian food either, so they pointed something out that would be pretty mild.  Chicken and rice- very nice.  Then I made the mistake of getting rice instead of naan bread, and by the time I was even halfway through eating I was already stuffed.  This restaurant, by the way, was the quietest restaurant in the history of restaurants.  Kane started joking that even by saying 2 words we were being WAY too loud in the place… why isn’t anyone talking?  Weird.  We finished up pretty quickly and headed back to the hostel, after during the course of the meal I had said a grand total of about 5 words.  We headed up to the hostel and I quickly learned about beer o’clock in all of its glory.  Anytime is beer o’clock, and once we had climbed up all the damn stairs, it was time.  Time for beer.  The local shop around the corner from the hostel sells some local beer for around 215 forint.  That’s about… 75 cents.  Seventy five freaking cents for some huge can of beer.  God, I love this country.  We all got a few cans from the shop and headed back to the hostel for some pre-game festivities.

You quickly learn at Carpe Noctem that priorities in this hostel are a little… different from other hostels.  First off there is no real separation between staff and resident.  Suzi, who owns the whole place with Ian (who was in Croatia for the first few days I was there) smokes and drinks with the rest of everyone.  The staff’s priorities are the same as the people who come to visit: have a good time and drink a lot of beer.  It’s nice, then, because you get to know EVERYONE in the hostel because it’s so small, and going out at night you go to these obscure crazy looking pubs that normal pub crawls and nights out would never lead you to.  After returning for beer o’clock I got to meet a few of the staff I hadn’t met yet.  Brad, the tall and crazy Australian from Brisbane with the boombing deep voice, and Kes, the cuddle master from Australia, are fixtures at Carpe Noctem along with Suzi.  I’m still thoroughly convinced that if there was a loud contest between Brad and I, Brad would win.  I’ve been told otherwise, but I’m sticking to my guns.

Once 8:30pm rolled around and we all had to head out (quiet rules, not that anyone minded since we all wanted to go out anyways), Brad led the way to the first pub before Suzi met up with us later.  Did I mention the free chicken wraps?  And this is night one.  Free chicken, beer o’clock, and nightly pub hopping.  I am never going to leave this place.  Throughout the course of night number one, we managed to wander from a few random pubs into this crazy cellar looking, graffiti’d joint with freestyle Hungarian rap going on downstairs?  And the craziest dentist chair in a pub I have ever seen.  Sure, it was the only dentist chair I had ever seen in a pub, but should I see another one anytime soon, I doubt it will beat this dentist chair.  I’m talking Sweeney Todd quality dentist chair.  Wait, Sweeney Todd was a barber.  Shit, that doesn’t work then.  Oh well, you get the point.  Crazy chair.  At some insane hour Suzi started rounding up people to head over to a pub called B. City, a pub I would come to know and love over the ensuing days in Budapest.  Tess volunteered to go along with Brad and Suzi, so I decided to tag along.  I had nothing better to do, and felt like drinking more anyways.  Things are so cheap in Budapest, I can actually afford to go OUT for once.

Blowjob is the name of the game at B. City on Tuesday nights.  Blowjob is a game that involves the stacking of coasters in pint glasses with one mission: blow off all of the coasters LEAVING one on the top of the pint glass.  Sounds easy enough, but combine that with international consumption rules (no “d” words, drink drank drunk, no cursing, no names, no pointing, etc.) you’re bound for a shit show.  I am terrible at this game from the get go, and Brett Wolfe aka Wolfie or ‘AWOOOOOOOOO’ (as in, a wolf’s howl), is a pro at this game.  This is going to be bad.  As it turns out, I don’t suck at this game.  Sure at first I am terrible, but after a while with a little more liquid courage (thank you, beer), I’m pretty good.  Wolfie on the other hand?  He’s not so bad at the actual participation in the game, it’s more of the consumption rules that kill him.  Conversations towards an hour or two into the game ended like this:

“I am going to drink the consumption vessel.  Shit, fuck, shit, FUCK!”

As we are all counting the violations (shit, fuck, shit, fuck, drink, drank, drunk) we eventually arrive at:

“Fuck this fucking game.  I hate this fucking country.  I hate this fucking city.  Fuck.  Wait, I don’t give up anymore, deal me back in.”

Sure enough, though, the boy took it like a champ.  15 violations deep, the boy sculled his entire beer and was ready for the next round moments later.  C.H.A.M.P.

Some insane hour rolls around, Tess and I are drunk, and we wander back to the hostel to crash and recover from Blowjob and the magic that is B. City.  Welcome to Budapest.