Tonight while waiting for the theater to open, I sat on a bench opposite a couple who were cuddling pretty intimately and seemed to be fighting. She called him a liar. He got upset. They discussed premarital sex, though I'm not sure if they're for or against. Despite the cuddling, they seemed concerned that kissing and hugging will cause them to lose control. She said heck. It's a very odd DTR. If he hadn't been smoking, I'd swear they were Mormon.
Today I bested the public transit system of Budapest, although it won a battle or two. I think because I didn't grow up around it and really never use it except in vacation abroad, public transit stresses me out. I usually have to check the lines half a dozen times, and that's before I get on the bus or subway. Usually I just walk.
But today I wanted to go to a park that was 12 kilometers away from the city center. It took some wrong turns and a couple of very specific Google searches, but I got to Memento Park, a statue park where relics of the Communist regime have found a home. The Budapest city council created this park as a way to remember the past, so they don't repeat it. The standout sculpture here are 6-foot-tall boots. They're all that's left of a statue of Stalin that Hungarian patriots pulled down in rebellion against communism.
On the way back I woke up just in time to get off the bus and onto the tram. This morning I was sort of up before six. My earplugs, which block out snoring and late-comers and chatty roommates, were fairly ineffective against the road construction right underneath the open window right by my bed. So I got up and washed some clothes, then took a chance and hung them in the stairs in the room I share with 10 other people. They were still there when I got back 14 hours later. People don't suck.
Then I went to the Terror House, a museum in the HQ of first the Nazis and then the Communists (my phone just wanted to change that to thez Communists-what?), and then went in search if food, specifically langos, a Hungarian street food that's basically fried dough topped with sour cream and/or cheese. You see my motivation.
Now, when I got to Hungary three days ago, I expected this to be easy. In all the other major cities I'd been in, street vendors were everywhere. I could have bought sausage on every street corner in Vienna for a mile. The fry people were all over Amsterdam. And I saw a bunch of vendor for langos, albeit closed for the season ones, in Keszthely, so I knew they were out there.
But two days of looking in Budapest have netted me nothing. I went to the city park today, sure I'd find a food vendor. No. Increasingly desperate for sustenance, I pulled out what I had left in my purse -- a carrot. Everyone knows when you're craving fried stuff with cheese, a carrot is about as satisfying as dirt.
I actually missed the stoners today. If there were a bunch of weed smokers in need of munchies, street vendors would be tripping over themselves for the sale.
I eventually gave up, got on a subway to downtown to pick up my ticket for Hungarian folk dancing (better than the Irish dancing -- they holler while they dance), found a Hungarian restaurant and ate my dinner while watching a parade of students carrying flags and lit torches down the street. Tomorrow, you see, is Oct. 23, the anniversary of the start of a rebellion against the Communist regime. There are flowers and flags all over the place.
Also, no one flashed me today, so, no langos aside, an all around good day.