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Showing posts with label Hungary. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Hungary. Show all posts

Saturday, April 17, 2010

Confessions of a Europhile in Thirteen Volumes: VOLUME IV

The travel trio united once more on New Year's Eve in Paris for a fun-filled night of getting all dressed up, having our asses grabbed on the metro, watching the Eiffel Tower light up at midnight the same way it lights up year-round, finding all bathrooms on lockdown on the Champs-Elysées, and miraculously hauling a cab after a strenuous two-hour effort. Memories . . .







The Gateway to Eastern Europe

January 1st: new year, new travels. We decided in October that we would spend the latter half of our Christmas vacation in a winter wonderland – Austria. We took a flight to Vienna and settled in at our cozy little hilltop hostel surrounded by snow. We were charmed.









Once settled, we wasted no time in hitting the city, which lived up to its reputation of grandeur and elegance.















Come nightfall, however, we glanced at a map of Europe and felt stupid for booking five nights in Vienna when we had never been closer to Hungary! At the train station the next morning we promptly bought tickets to Budapest for January 5th. We would spend two full days in Vienna and two in Hungary. In between, we would take a day trip to Salzburg where we could ponder the eternal question: “How do you solve a problem like Maria?” (If that reference eludes you, please watch Sound of Music now. Like right now.) As it turns out, a trip to Salzburg would cost us over 70 euros, while an hour train ride to Slovakia came in at a mere 14! Bratislava had never sounded more appealing.

The excitement of "a mere 14 euros" quickly gave way to the dread of "a mere 19 degrees F., minus windchill." My fellow travelers from Boston and Toronto happily trotted along as this Miami girl prayed Hail Marys to distract her freezing mind. Looking at the photos now, I think, "that was pretty!" At the time, however, I was half conscious.





Freezing temperatures make me delirious, at which time I begin speaking to statues.





I began to recover my marbles as we headed to Budapest, where the snow was melting. This means we were spared the bitter cold but greeted by icy slosh, which doesn't feel great when seeping through your faux suede Payless boots. Trust me. We spent most of our two days trying to navigate through the rain and taking hazy pictures of city views through foggy bus windows.













The highlight of our Hungarian adventure, though, was our decision to take a dip in the famed thermal baths of Budapest. As none of us considered bringing a swimsuit to Hungary in January, a trip to the local H&M became a priority. Running through the frigid Eastern European winter air half naked would have been worth it had the water been hot rather than lukewarm. Turns out, as we were kindly informed by a local, that the "hot" pool was the other one – over there! Running through the frigid Eastern European winter air half naked and wet is even worse. Troopers that we are, though, we lived to tell the tale.





I am eager to visit Eastern Europe again, particularly Prague, but next time I'll be sure to book for spring or summer. This trip marked the first time I fully experienced snow. Although I had watched it fall a few times before, I'd never seen it "stick." It's as pretty in person as I had envisioned, but – and I know this is obvious – it's freaking COLD. It also gets your socks and feet all wet even if you bothered to buy thick rubber-soled, faux fur-padded boots in a hardcore "outdoors" store in Paris. In the battle of Cold vs. Me, Me holds her own, but Cold wins hands down.

Wednesday, May 27, 2009

A Year-and-a-Half Later ...

GUILTY.

I was too busy barely working in France to document my life there. In an effort to resuscitate this blog, what follows is a sadly feeble attempt at summation and conclusion – CRINGE.

Espranglais’ Guide to Europe in 200 Words or Less

Although I have explored most of the following destinations for less than a week, my keen eye for detail and powers of perceptiveness allow me to intuitively capture their essence. Who needs travel journalism, guides, or narratives when you can learn all you need to know about a place wrought with a complex history and cultural contradictions in one succinct sentence (or fragment, for that matter)?

GREECE – The temples will leave you in a state of awe, but not so much as the gyros.

SPAIN – Olé!

AUSTRIA – Swanky palaces with a dash of, “God, it’s freaking cold here.”

SLOVAKIA – If you thought Vienna was cold, sheesh!

HUNGARY – When visiting the thermal baths, DO NOT forget your shower shoes; I repeat: DO NOT forget your shower shoes.

BELGIUM – Remember, waffles are fattening, and so are fries.

ITALY – Forums, sunflowers, leaning towers, gondolas, and pasta – that about covers it.

SWITZERLAND – They make watches and chocolate here; also, they worry about world peace.

HOLLAND – Turns out the Sex Museum is NOT a serious institution dedicated to the study of sexual philosophies in different cultures over a vast historical time span … TULIPS!

So What About France?

THINGS THAT SUCKED:

- Paris. Metro. Luggage. Gun. Head.
- Doing laundry outside my apartment. With God as my witness, I will never go washing-machine-less again!
- Rain. Darn it, Anjou region and your proximity to London!
- No 24-hour Walgreens. The horror!
- Waiting for the Eiffel Tower to display something spectacular at midnight on New Year’s Eve and, instead, watching it do the same light flicker thing it does every hour of every night of the year.
- Drunk, hormonal men shoved up WAY too close to me in the metro on New Year’s Eve.
- Running around in heels for hours in search of a Paris cab on New Year’s Eve.
- Fitting two girls into one twin-sized bed and getting three hours of sleep before a flight to Vienna on New Year’s Eve.
- New Year’s Eve.

THINGS THAT ROCKED:

- Sneaking a bottle of wine into church on Ash Wednesday and showing up to a party after mass with ashes on our foreheads.
- Clubbing on Good Friday (Catholic guilt – gah!) followed by a.m. McDonald’s run.
- Imprisoning myself in and subsequently releasing myself from the eerie Château d’If.
- Cheese and wine by the Seine.
- Cheese and wine in general.
- Eating other French stuff … and kebabs. KEBABS!
- Parle à ma main: click
- CAF (i.e. French government paying nearly half my rent).
- Invites to visit teachers’ houses in the country where I was encouraged to play with goats and froggies.
- New Year’s Eve.

Unconclusion

Life was generally pretty sweet: three extensive vacations, 12-hour work weeks, and fellow travel enthusiasts to watch Zoolander with. What more can one ask for? I would do it all again if I didn’t have to suck it up, face reality, and start at least attempting to earn some … money. But then I judge money by how many weeks of travel it can buy me, so who am I kidding? Three weeks and I’m off to Ireland. May mayhem and facebook albums ensue.