The website was correct. Tiger Tim’s Hostel was hard to spot off of the road, but eventually we located the correct Indian clothing shop entrance, performed the correct doorbell ringing trick, and bypassed the sketchy looking elevator, instead lugging our bags up the three flights of stairs to reach our respective bunk beds. The brilliant thing about Tiger Tim’s is that there is an actual Tim, and he answers to it when we call him ‘Tiger Tim’…I don’t think he minds. However, he did say that he would only explain to us the story behind the nickname if we got him drunk enough—alas, we opted out of the nightly organized pub-crawls. Thus leaving the nickname mystery behind with the man.
Our first day in the Hungarian capital of Budapest was complete with the obvious choices: marketplace, hike to the famous monument, a palace and a lunch of Indian food, followed by a dinner of Thai…obviously. The marketplace was more dangerous than the steep cliffs we climbed up in flip-flops…too many colorful, beautiful things! I had to keep telling myself that I have a lot of luggage as it is, I mustn’t add more weight to my pile o’ crap! As it turns out, marketplaces are a terrible place to look, but not purchase. I’m not going to lie—I did buy something, but I assure you it was small…and not necessarily for me, which means that it doesn’t count in the long run.
Yesterday, our second day of Hungarian delight was filled with a little more history, and a few more awkward encounters. To start off the day, we went to the museum that is horrifyingly called the ‘House of Terror’. The subject of said museum is to honor the memory of those individuals who suffered in the aftermath of World War II through the Communist era. Each room had a different subject, and came with a long detailed history to explain to us visitors exactly what happened, when and why; the museum did a fantastic job of educating visitors with a thorough history. I learned a lot about Hungarian politics and events of post-war, through the late 1960s, and a little beyond that. I have added to my (long, long) mental list of books to buy a history of Budapest and/or Hungary to fill in any gaps that the museum may have left behind in the timeline.
Having spent the morning in a somber atmosphere (despite the guard that made it his official duty to jump out at me from every corner on the second floor—successfully scaring me at least four times…though I did make him jump once, albeit unintentionally, and he looked at me and said, “That’s one point for you.”) we decided the rest of the day had to be spent in the beautiful sunlight and having happy, laughing times. Wandering up the impressive street that leads to ‘Heroes’ Square’ and proving to me why Budapest touts the nickname ‘the Paris of the East’ we decided which apartments our hypothetical ‘sugar daddy’s’ would be purchasing for us, based on the balconies that were the most beautiful. When we finally reached ‘Heroes’ Square’ we decided that we wanted a photo on the horses like we watched the other people doing. As it turned out the horses were much, much taller than they looked from a distance. While we mapped out our foot placement for climbing, Maddie and I were suddenly swarmed by a fairly large group of ten-year-old Hungarian boys. They began their attempts at wooing the Americans by shouting out catch phrases that could be accompanied by hand gestures: ‘hang loose’, ‘rock and roll’, ‘West Coast’. Their determination to be friends didn’t seem to alert their chaperones in the least, who watched with amusement from a distance—making no attempts to usher their charges away from us.
Eventually we ditched the boys and wandered onward, past the Square into a park, and back around again heading toward the Jewish Quarter. The long walk was both exhausting, as well as delightful. We inspected the buildings and stopped by any shops that caught our eye—sometimes debating over what items were a necessary addition to our collections, and what weren’t. In the interest of an honest blog I will say that though I didn’t turn down everything that caught my eye, I did turn down quite a bit—some items that I’m still thinking about more than twenty-four hours later.
Today was our day to check out of the hostel and figure out our next move. We had dreams of a bus to Krakow, but the city of Krakow and the city of Prague aren’t exactly on smooth transporting terms…thus shutting down our efforts. We have purchased bus tickets back to the Czech Republic where we will be visiting the town of Karlovy Vary (about three hours to the west of Prague). The main draw for this town, you ask? Why it’s where they filmed the James Bond film, ‘Casino Royale’, of course! Remember the scenes that were supposedly taking place in Montenegro? Well, they were actually in Karlovy Vary. I will have photos in one days’ time to prove it.
On the way to the bus station we had to take our second journey on the Budapest Metro...we had successfully avoided it for the whole visit, except for transport to and from the bus stop. Here's a fun fact--Budapest has the second oldest metro system in the world, behind only London. I found this a fun fact indeed, until the train pulled up and I realized that the city hadn't felt any need to replace their original trains since they opened. I couldn't master a photo that successfully captured the ancient-ness of the train, but trust me. What's even more concerning than the rickety train itself is the way the doors slam shut, reminiscent of a guillotine. I booked it with my suitcase to avoid even a slight threat of those doors closing on me. Thanks Budapest, but I don't need anything amputated...maybe next time.
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