"It squeaks when you bang it."

Originally uploaded by L i a

I can never have that one perfect train day. There's always something wrong with my ticket/pass, and the ticket-controller always speaks just enough English so that the values of our mutual comprehension comprise a null set (that is to say, none). But, anyway, I daresay I'm cute enough to melt the hearts of even the most curmudgeonly of ticket-controllers. (Except for that one time when we had to stay overnight in Budapest-Keleti pu. because we missed the last train out to Gödöllő and the controller was a tired-looking woman who wouldn't accept the ticket I'd bought the night before, but technically I'd bought it only a few hours before. End-of-story: I had to pay 2600 Ft... some $17, Canadian.) Whatever.

Last Friday was another Budapest all-nighter. We went to a Diwali Festival celebration for a bit, but left early because we wanted to go meet up with some of the other Gödöllő members at a pub. (Sucks because apparently, shortly after we left, the dancing started and the @ers started a round of Tunak Tunak Tun or something.) Anyway, it was the German trainee's last night in Hungary, and he wanted to stay out all night because his train was leaving too early in the morning to justify going back to Gödöllő. After the pub (where it was explained to me that instead of Jägermeister, Hungarians like dropping shots of vodka into their Red Bull), we went to a club where we were approached by random people who wanted to practice their English. There were these 2 guys in particular who were kind of pesky. After they asked me about some Canadian F1 driver (clearly, the only Canada-related thing they could talk about), I took it as a sign that this would only go downhill fast. S came back from the bathroom, so we hastily said our goodbyes and went over to him. And then, while we were bemoaning the price of drinks (me more so than A -- funny because the price list was about on par with Vancouver prices, but whatev, this was Budapest) some time later, one of the guys came up to me again and was like: I forgot to give this to you, this is yours, and gave me this little flower. It was more embarrassing than sweet to be honest; especially since the poor guy had to do it in front of my friends.

Saturday was a day of intense mood swings. I think my funk was a combination of homesickness, a weird sort of envy that S was going home, and a bit of woe that the number of Gödöllő trainees was dwindling. (I'm not exactly looking forward to being the only trainee left.) In any case, it was a wise decision to not inflict my dismal self on others, so I spent my time answering e-mails and catching up on The Daily Show and The Colbert Report. (How weird is it that the Comedy Central website is accessible from Hungary and not Canada?)

Today, I had sushi. And paid through the nose for it. (Some $31, Canadian! Reprehensible! But, to be expected... I think I paid about the same for sushi in Athens a few years back, and Greece isn't even land-locked or anything.) It was nice though -- the half-Hungarian-half-Japanese sushi chef and I got to trade life stories, and, you know, I got my sushi fix and everything. Spent the day in the more touristy side of Budapest, and I'm ashamed to say that being around so many English-speakers made my poor, language-bruised heart positively come to life. It was just so nice to be able to communicate with other people without cracking my skull and gushing blood over language barriers. It also made me miss my parents some, because there were so many nice hotels and restaurants, and I found myself mentally sizing them up and figuring out which ones my parents would like best. Strange, I know.

I should probably sign up for that Magyar class, yeah?