It's a big weekend for a few of my friends. Claire has her last day of her internship today, and Ray is getting married tomorrow. As far as I can tell, they're equally excited about their respective milestones, which implies that Ray is extraordinarily excited for his wedding. I, however, am in Budapest, which is just fab-u-lous!
OK, it's not even that fabulous...that's just what I hear that statue saying, and I wanted an occasion to use it.
I spent the morning in the HOUSE OF TERROR, which isn't nearly as kitschy as it sounds. It's about fascism and Communism in Hungary and all of the horrible things the Nazis and Soviets did to the Hungarians. "Cool documents" abounded. Some of the most remarkable aspects of the museum (hence my remarks) included the elevator ride from the first floor to the basement—it took about two minutes, during which a video played where a man graphically described a hanging; there were subtitles in English, but if you know Hungarian, you had to either listen or cover your ears—and the "Hall of Victimizers"—a gallery of people (pictures and names) who were active in the oppression of Hungarians, many of whom are still alive (and possibly living in Hungary) today.
I had lunch at Kádár Étkezde, a great little place in the Jewish quarter. I was given the options of boiled beef with tomato sauce and mashed potatoes, boiled beef with cherry sauce and mashed potatoes, and boiled beef with apple sauce and mashed potatoes. (Ok, ok, there were other options, too, but those three formed a solid chunk of the menu.) I went with the apple sauce, which was very tasty. To drink, I had a raspberry soda (lovely), but they also had a bottle of seltzer water at the table. I put a glass in front of the spout, squeezed the handle, and managed to spray the water hard enough that it ricocheted off the glass and splattered half of the wall next to me. I'm a spaz.
After that, the synagogue! My maternal grandfather's parents were both Hungarian Jews, so I figured this would be a good way to get in touch with the ancestors. Really, I just became annoyed at the synagogue renovations in Westchester. Why do they look like this when they could look like this:
They sure do know how to do their synagogues right, those Hungarian Jews.
After some more walking around, I rested my poor soles at the Széchenyi Baths. It was indeed nice to hang out in warm water for a while, but I got a little bored, especially because I felt I had to keep an eye on my towel at all times, so I couldn't fully relax. I'm not very good at the whole "fully relaxing" thing anyway.
I got some good dinner at Paprika and headed on back to my hostel, which is where I am at this very moment.
A quick observation on Hungary, perhaps tainted by my run-in with the law last night (see update below). Hungary seems to expect everyone to be both obedient and competent. In America (and most other places I've been), you're expected to be one or the other. If you absolutely must do something (pay a toll, buckle up in an airplane, fill out your W-4), you will be given extremely explicit instructions, and someone will be there to make sure you do what you're told. If you don't need to do something (climb a tree, open a beer bottle, drive a stick shift) then you may be left to figure out how to do it yourself. Here, you're expected to figure out how to do things on your own, and if you don't you will be punished. The stamping of the subway ticket is just one example. If you have to enter a museum, there will be a ticket taker, but he will not be standing at the door awaiting your ticket. He will be sitting off to the side, chatting with a friend, but if you just walk in without giving him your ticket, he'll get annoyed with you. You must use a locker at the baths, but there are no instructions telling you that you have to put a card into the back of the lock or you won't be able to take out the key. It's all a little bit disorienting, and after being babied by American government and companies, I'm not sure I like it.
OK, I'm going to attempt to go out with people from my hostel. But I might chicken out. Because I hate going out with people I don't know. But I feel it's one of those things I "should do," because being comfortable with people I just met is an important skill to have in life. It's just not my idea of a vacation. Later, loyal readers.
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