The new BB&B - Budapest, Bratislava, and Beer

This last trip was to be my first official backpacking trip on my own in my life. I was finally going to be one of those people you see in the movies with a huge framepack overstuffed with twice as many clothes as they needed and plenty of things that they needed but forgot. Constantly looking up at train station boards with that confused look, as in, I'm sorry, but what is Hungarian for track number, and where in the hell do I get a map to find my hostel? These are things that are quickly picked up, but I guess, there is a learning curve.

So I bought a train pass to Budapest from my "hometown" of Parsberg, Germany. I was also going to take a side trip to Bratislava, Slovakia for a couple of days while I was there. I had done some research on different places to go in Europe, but the weather was going to be nice (as if you can trust weather sites anywhere in the world), and the price was right. So I packed my pack, hopefully not forgetting too many necessities, and headed for my tiny little train station. What a way to begin. I got on a train earlier than my ticket said, but hey, it got me to my first stop. So I had a few minutes extra at the train station. More time to grab a bite. My next train was an ICE train from Regensburg to Linz, Austria. Side note here. When booking a train ticket from the travel agency, and she asks you if you want to reserve a seat, you say yes. I'll tell you, it's no fun to be at the back of a train, in the walkway area crammed into a hallway with your pack trying to read a book. Luckily, most people got off an hour later in Vienna, so I was able to grab a seat for the rest of the ride to Linz. The rest of the train ride to Budapest was pretty uneventful and there I was. New country, by myself, different currency (which I didn't have any of, and no ATM in sight), and a language that I'm pretty sure most Hungarians can't even read. What sound does Szy- make. Whatever you're thinking, you're probably wrong. So big city, no clue how to get around, sense of direction thrown for a loop, get a cab. He probably overcharged me by a couple of dollars, and he almost killed me a couple of times while trying to show me how beautiful Hungarian women are and proceeding to run a red light, but I got to my hostel.

Now most of these places don't take credit cards, so first mission was to find some Hungarian forints (exchange rate at the time was 286 HUF to 1 Euro). So when the ATM pops up, 'How much do you want', and the lowest amount is 10,000 HUF, you are kind of taken aback. So I got some money and proceeded to my first hostel experience. I didn't really know how this was going to work. First of all, the sign said floor two. So when I got to the second floor, looked around with no sign of it, I had to remember that floor two is actually what I would call the third floor. The first floor is generally called the ground or main floor, and the second floor is floor 1, and so on. Finally got to my hostel after about ten hours of leaving my house. Walked in, got the tour (which took about 2 minutes since it was pretty much just a big apartment), and got to set my pack down. At first, there were no friendly greetings from fellow travellers, more of just looks as to 'Who's the new guy?' I'll explain more about this, what I'll call 'phenomenon' later. It wasn't too late, and I was starving so I went to walk around a bit, get my bearings and grab a bite to eat. I found a Hungarian fast food joint that looked all right. At least by 'fast food' standards. Plus they had vegetables, so right there, it's got American fast food in the sleeper hold. With a full belly, I went back to the hostel to meet some fellow travelers, which I have heard is the standard procedure at hostels. Where are you from? Where have you been? Where are you going? These are the questions I found to be answering, or asking, probably a hundred times in the next week. I guess the redundancy of the questions and answers hadn't quite hit me yet, but I can see that it might to some people after a few months on the road. Me, I see it as kind of a jumping off point and ease into conversation with fellow travelers, and as an instant way to make a part-time friend. Or maybe I just haven't been on the road long enough.

My first hostel was called 'The Groove.' Dutch, British, French, Scottish, Canadian, Irish, Icelandic, New Zealander, and me. The lone American. I guess Americans haven't found out that there's more to Europe than France, Spain, and England. It was kind of nice, however. Everyone spoke English and they were really easy to get along with. I had a group of five young Brits in my room, which proved to be my demise the first evening I was there. Everyone got to talking and getting to know each other in the common room and me and these five guys got along pretty well, so we all decided to go out and get some beers. Mistake one for my liver. Not that I can't outdrink these guys pint for pint, but the longevity for which they do it is pretty amazing. We were out until about 4 a.m. that night at a club which happened to be across the street from our hostel (after a few failed attempts at other bars - "This place is dead anyway - a la Swingers"). These guys had told me that in each city they found a 'father figure' to go out and party with. You know, someone who was just a little older and wiser. I let them know that I wasn't quite ready for kids yet, much less five British teenagers. I told them I would be their uncle though. That way, like a real uncle, I could give the kids back when I was done 'babysitting' for the evening. All in all, we had a good time, but the next morning/afternoon is not the same story. Thanks to Will, Nick, Jaime, Al, and Matt for that one.

I had planned to get up early and walk the city and see the castle and the rest of the touristy destinations in the city so that I could get that out of the way to leave me to my own devices and get a 'real' feel for the city the rest of the time I was there. Waking up at noon the next day did not allow for such ambitious endeavors. Instead I met up with a New Zealander, Nick (Neck, Nip, whatever it is), in the common room that I had met the night before in the common room. We ended up heading to the Castle district to check it out and to see the Palace and the rest of the hill up there. There was great scenery of the rest of the city up there and we also found the Labryinth that lies beneath the castle. Although I was enjoying the city and seeing the sights, my body had still not recovered from an hour of drinking I had not seen since first moving up to Seattle. So I went back to the hostel and decided I was not going out and decided to stay in that night and watch a movie. Boring I know, but I did have plans the next day. Of course, I ended chatting with the other group of Brits in the room (Loz, Charlotte, and Katie) and then finishing the movie with a few of the guys from the first night. Overall, I couldn't complain that I didn't go out again that evening. However, bedtime, 4 a.m. This is not boding well for sunrise pictures over the city. Unless I wanted to get them when I was extremely tired, or drunk. Both of which, I hear, are great for a steady shot of the city. Oh, I did get some traditional Hungarian beef goulash earlier, which by the way, is amazing. If you're ever there, get it, you won't regret it.

Day three started a little earlier and I was planning on going to the thermal spas. Nick and I decided to go together, and since there weren't that many girls in the hostel at this point, it was just the two of us. The spa, which I couldn't pronounce (it started with Szy-) was and wasn't what I was expecting. It was, in the fact that there were plenty of old, overly-tanned, men in Speedos. Plus plenty of old, overly-tanned women in bikinis, that probably shouldn't have been. Not really that they shouldn't have been. I just find that Europeans don't have that whole self-image thing that most Americans do (which is good and bad, depending on how you look at it). It wasn't what I was expecting in that, it was really just a collection of indoor and outdoor pools. It did have saunas, massage, pedicure salons, etc. But Budapest is not famous for its pedicure salons. Everyone says, 'oh well, you have to go to the thermal spas.' It was really just a collection of swimming pools. Which isn't a bad thing, I got a hell of a lot of relaxing in. I guess I was just expecting more. More exotic. More islandy. More of a place with less Speedos. Okay, I was expecting that, so no foul on their part. Maybe this is wrong, but it made my feelings feel more justified when I got the same response from a lot of the other people at the hostel. Of course, I said, 'Yeah, but you have to go to the thermal spas.'

Night three in Budapest was something completely different. One of the groups of young Brits left our hostel as well as the Scottish girls. Which brings me back to the family aspect of the hostel. After we had all seen each other for two days, albeit a short amount of time, there was a sense of community that I think we all shared. No more awkwardness, knowing each other's names, sharing stories, saying hi and sharing stories as we passed from the shower to our respective rooms. Now, a lot of our family was gone and there were newcomers. Did we just accept them into our family, or did they have to earn it? So same round of questions ensues with each new couple or group of people that came in. I figured it didn't really matter, it was my last night there, and we still had some of the old family left. So I took it upon myself to organize a night field trip with everyone from the hostel, new and old, to come out to one of the rooftop bars in the city. All in all, there was about 15 of us who went out to the wee hours. The rooftop bar was fun as hell, a good place to hang out and grab some drinks before heading to the club directly underneath with pumping techno, house, breakbeat, or whatever it is that Europeans call it. I will tell you this. There's nothing more entertaining than watching a tall dude from Iceland busting out to house music. I think we all had fun that night. Some of us went back early to the hostel, you know around 3. Most of us stayed at the club till about 4:30 in the morning. Luckily, the trams start running at 4, which made for the easy commute home. Night three was done.

The next morning/afternoon, I went to catch the train to Bratislava. Getting to the Budapest train station - easy. Leaving the Budapest train station - pain in the ass. At least when you're not expecting it to be more like the DMV. For international tickets, go take a number and wait in line. And wait. I figure, show up a half hour early and get a bite. I wasn't expecting to wait in line for 45 minutes, missing the train I wanted to take, and then find out I have to wait an extra hour and a half to catch the next train. At least I brought some Vonnegut to read.

Bratislava is not the most beautiful city I have ever visited. Nor the largest. Nor does Slovakia have the best cuisine in the world. There's a reason there aren't any world renowned Slovakian chefs or restaurants. At least that I have ever heard of (and I used to watch a lot of the Food Network). However, this city is steeped in history. I'll get to that for day two of this adventure. I checked into this hostel, which was more like a hotel with common rooms, later than expected, but it did have a 24-hour bar, so I guess I couldn't complain. Especially since the noise of the 50 people drinking their asses off didn't carry up to my room. I was sharing a room with an Irish guy, two Irish girls, and two young French guys who were cousins. Not the best senses of humor (by American standards), the French, but nice guys. I ended up walking the city for a bit the first night and got some Chinese food. See above if you're wondering why Chinese food in Slovakia. It wasn't bad (not good, but not the worst I've ever had - Thank you for that honor Panda Express). When I got back to the hostel around 10, the Irish folk from my room wanted to know if I wanted to have a few beers down in one of the common areas. I wasn't feeling too well after the late night before, but never look weak when it comes to drinking in front of the Irish, or they'll keep on thinking they're the best in the world for years to come. I, as a beer-drinking American, living in one of the other holy lands of beer, Germany, couldn't allow that weakness to show. We ended up playing some drinking games and had a good time, luckily until only 4 in the morning. My body was starting to hurt. Two more days of this and I think it might just shut down. But perseverance is an attainable quality.

Day two in Bratislava. Decided to finally get up, go walk the city on my own for a bit, run a few errands, take some photos. I had planned a free walking tour at 5 p.m., so I had some time to wander. After joining the wrong walking tour for about ten minutes, I figured out that it wasn't the one I was supposed to be on. Everyone in this group seemed to know each other somehow, although no one said a word to me, like, 'Hey, sir, what in the hell do you think you're doing here?', or 'Please leave.' So, I just kind of dropped back, pretended to take a picture of something, and walked back to the original meeting spot. Was I embarrassed? Not really, seeing as how half of that little tour group all had the exact same shirt on. Was that how they recognized each other? I don't know, but it was like they all belonged to some Adidas cult. I could barely understand the tour guide anyway, even in her accented English. I did understand the word 'Bratislava', however, since she said it maybe thirty times in the span of a block. Maybe she was unsure if we all knew what city we were in, or maybe that tour group was for 'special' people. I don't know. My tour guide was an Aussie named Tom who was a history major and a vagabond about the world. Had to respect the guy for picking Bratislava for a place to do a free tour for three months of his life. We toured the old town for a bit, but most of his information was about how Slovakia came to be over the last 100 years and the historical sites in Bratislava that led up to their independence. It was interesting, and Tom had a way about his speeches to make them that way. My hat's off to the guy for making a place like Bratislava (which I said before is no Prague or Budapest in its beauty) somewhere I would actually recommend to people to visit. That night, I really wanted to take the night off from the bottle. Unfortunately, I ran into Manny, the Irish guy from the night before, who insisted that I went out with everybody that night. So, again, not to be the weak country link, I obliged. We went out for a bit, and then back to the hostel bar. Apparently, Tuesday nights in Slovakia, just aren't the party nights that every brochure speaks about. Goodnight and goodbye Bratislava. More than I expected.

Back to Budapest for one more night. I told myself I wasn't going out this night. And I didn't. Luckily, there was a huge thunder and lightning storm with plenty of rain, that made that guilty feeling of not exploring those last little corners of the city, all right. Instead, I checked into my hostel and took a nap for about an hour. Then I wandered through the neighborhood for a bit to grab a quick bite when I saw those storm clouds coming. I went back to the hostel and there was an Egyptian guy cooking up a meal which ended up being for the entire hostel. Some sort of lentil soup (delicious), some sort of rice dish, and from scratch baklava (also delicious). The rest of the night I just talked with other travelers and then read my new book I purchased in Bratislava until about one in the morning. It felt good to actually just relax for a day.

My last day of the trip was the 8 1/2 hour train ride back to Parsberg. Luckily, I already had my ticket and didn't have to go through another DMV experience. This train ride was pretty uneventful. Spent the hours reading and listening to music. More time for my body to heal itself from the onslaught of young European's enthusiasm for partying balls until the wee hours. I got back home about 7:30 in the evening, wiped out, ready to do laundry and go to bed. Time to plan the next onslaught.