UNE ABEILLE SUR LE BONNET.

I was out the door early and quickly made it to the airport. Immediately upon boarding, my seat neighbor started conversating with me. My biggest mistake was telling him that I was American. I shit you not, for two and a half hours, this Slovakian lectured me on Eastern European geopolitics. He had some creditable sources considering he had family and friends throughout the region. Several of his buddies were serving on both sides of the Russia-Ukraine war. According to him, The United States is the problem, and Eastern Europeans dislike us immensely. It was a humbling chat and quite the welcome to the Eastern Bloc.

When we landed, I quickly fled the airplane and found the shuttle downtown. Ensueingly, I was wandering the wonderful streets of Budapest. My first move was to locate my lodging. Finding my hostel was simple enough, and checking in was a breeze. I was not expecting much from this place because it was roughly twelve euros a night. From the jump, this dwelling impressed me. The staff was seriously satisfactory. This historical building was modernized and exceptionally well-kept. The atmosphere and vibe were unmatched. They even offered complimentary breakfast and dinner. This place was a dream come true, especially compared to my previous hostel experience in South Beach.

It was only midday, so I quickly unloaded my gear and hit the streets. Like I do in most cities, I wander until something interesting catches my eye. Per usual, espresso was on my mind. Luckily, I stumbled across this bookstore/coffee shop. After some caffeine and typing, I started searching for a new novel to read. I was shocked to find one of my favorite authors among this diverse selection. Bill Bryson is an adventure writer that hails from my hometown. Many years before me, Bryson grew up in my exact same neighborhood. It was inspiring that his work traveled as extensively as he had. I had already read this particular novel and opted for some philosophy.

That evening I partook in some barhopping. How else was I going to familiarize myself with the local brews? I even managed to thumb through a few pages of my latest novel by Nietzsche. It was time to return to the hostel for a nightcap and an early bedtime. So I thought, new companions bombarded me before I could order my beer. My new buddies hailed from Russia, Madagascar, and Chile. We spent the evening in deep discussion about an assortment of topics. My favorite conversation is always the backstory. Many of the people I encountered during my travels had fascinating histories. Several beers and a bottle of vodka later, we were the only ones left in the dining quarters of the hostel. We shared a good laugh as we stumbled stupidly to our sleeping sanctuaries.

My second day in Budapest was spent bouncing around the cafes in the city center. I could not find an acceptable double-shot espresso, but I had a successful study session. After some exercise and city exploration, I retreated to the hostel for a free dinner. When I arrived, the dining room was empty, and several staff members occupied the big beautiful kitchen. Shortly after, my table filled up with my compatriots from the previous night, and they brought some friends. I am not one to sit around idly and partake in useless chitchat. Perhaps provoked by me, we were diving into some captivating conversations. Soon people were pulling up chairs and standing around our table, ready to add their opinions to the discussion. France, Spain, Chile, the United Kingdom, Russia, Belgium, Germany, Switzerland, India, and the United States attended this makeshift United Nations convention. Fueled by beer and cigarettes, we chatted into the morning. I sacrificed sleep for some brain-broadening, which is not a bad trade-off.

After checking out of the hostel, I roamed the streets with my packed-up Patagonia. Like a majority of my days, I started with some caffeine and a study session. My new friends told me of this island in the middle of the Danube River, so this was the next destination. With thirty pounds on my back, I ventured to the legendary Margaret Island. This peculiar place was full of life and was the place for outdoor recreation. I encountered runners, rollerbladers, cyclists, and kayakers during my journey across the island. It felt like forever since I was submersed in sustained sunshine. It was the definition of a beautiful day. I found myself far from the city center and feeling rather famished. A local Hungarian hangout provided me with an authentic dish. I knew this was the right place because they were confused to see me and did not speak English. Dave had just arrived in the city center, so I jumped on a scooter and met him. We found a local dive to entertain us for the remainder of the night.

Dave and Tom reunited again! What shenanigans would we partake in this time? After a morning cafe, we found ourselves at Great Market Hall. We had a beer and some stellar sausage at the oldest indoor market in Budapest. The market madness is something I enjoy. We found that famous sausage and washed it down with the local beer. Feeling energized, it was time to burn a few calories. Just across the river was a renowned monument known as The Liberty Statue. It was a calming climb, and we were rewarded with an outlandish outlook of the city. It was a successful day of activities, but it was time to start thinking about our nighttime endeavors. After briefly reposing in the hotel, we ventured to the famous District Seven. This part of town is notorious for its late-night scene.

On my first day in town, I stumbled upon this superb sanctuary known as Ruins Bars. I later learned that this is one of the most popular places in the city, and for a good reason. Locals and foreigners flock to this spot, making it a hell of a hangout. Dave was a drunken social butterfly this night, and we made many friends from around the globe. I conversated with Spaniards, Netherlanders, Brits, Swiss, and even found some Americans. Naturally, I was able to find some people from Iowa. Goddamnit! Give us some credit here; Iowans are well-traveled. We must be because we all know there is little to do in the heartland. We spent most of our evening with these lovely ladies from Switzerland. After closing down the bar, the obvious choice was to find some gyros. That late-night grub was great, but the company was incomparable. We bid them farewell and walked the silent streets back to our sleeping site.

Kismet continually carves this cumbersome course. Unfindable forces forever forge our finite fate. Destiny is decided despite our due diligence. Please forgive my elongated alliterations about our determined destinations. I wish to emphasize that my beliefs on this concept are continually reinforced. The following day was just another example. True to the routine, Dave and I were situated at a nearby coffee shop. I was editing the photos from the night before when our two friends from the previous night suddenly arrived. What are the fucking chances? Regardless of this crazy coincidence, it was a joyous reunion. We decided to spend the rest of the day together.

Most of the day was spent drinking and snacking around the city. During this excursion, we discussed some fascinating subjects. My favorite thing about being with foreigners is exchanging languages. We ended the evening at a riverside restaurant, but all good things must come to an end eventually. The girls had a plane to catch, and my bus was leaving that night. It was not farewell, but see you soon, for fate will bring us together again. Dave and I lingered at the restaurant for one more beer and watched the sunset. Even the most beautifully crafted sentences could not capture the captivation of this particular scene. Surely, no photo could do it justice. I could have stayed there all night watching life pass by. After losing track of time, we rushed back to the hotel, and I packed my belonging. Scooting to the station was easy, and I arrived just in time to board the bus. Now it was time to return to the land of my ancestors.