Blog Archives

how long it’s apparently been since I posted photos…. so here come some favs from a fair that sprang up at the end of damjanich one fine afternoon…

well, mostly ; )

after months of ridiculous conversations and the occasional bash on the head with a frying pan, the gallery begins to resemble a picture convention again. I hadn’t quite realized how long it’d been since an update, and don’t even get me started on the to-be-processed folder. but the girl’s trying. you’ll know it’s up when, in the next short while, a picture appears

In an american moment, I purchased a notebook to aid in the collecting of the bits and pieces that made previous migrations so sun-drenched. thank moleskin reporter for the following…

“Oh look! The Tatras!”
+ the fingertips of a stranger =
“Oh f*ck! The Tatras!”
cynic to hope in one creative erasure

gypsies have a tendency to show up at your door trying to sell things. occasionally, this leads to a random man walking in your kitchen when you forget to lock the door. often, it leads to nothing. either way, residents perpetually complain, but someone’s still letting them in buildings

bomb sniffing dogs at the Opera House on Carnival night

lovely old gentleman waiting at the same bus stop. plush black coat, proper hat, gloves, the works. when the rancid bus arrives, he still insists I board first

posh old men on busses, in general
posh women, in fur coats no less, on rancid busses. in general.

me to a friend, do wish I could remember in reference to what…. “I feel like I’m being pulled down a gravel road by a spastic terrier.”

at the local pub, where chalkboards line the walls for patrons to play. someone drew a rather spiffy world map, enquiring of the clientele where they’d been. x’s marked here and there… then someone drew over it a giant map of korea

near kossoth layos ter, spotted. gentleman in a bowler hat, walking coat, long white hair billowing in the breeze, carrying, no, twirling, an umbrella

and finally, courtesy of a text message not two minutes hence….

“Being British is about driving a German car to an Irish pub for a Belgian beer, then on the way home grabbin’ an Indian curry or Turkish kebab, to sit on a Sweedish sofa and watch US shows on a Japanese tv, all the while being suspicious of anything foreign. And only in Britain can you get a pizza to your house faster than an ambulance.”

sometimes one runs a menu through a translation web site. occasionally, this produces truly amusing results….

“His ball was smoking with tomato cream dried on a fibre, a lettuce ”

in the plethora of free time I rather suddenly find myself with, I’m somewhat surprised to learn that socializing and reading just isn’t enough. fortunately, I found a book in alexandria that might just solve my problem. it’s called ”the pocket dangerous book for boys.“ Within its pages contain such gems as making a bow and arrow, or a go-cart. To while my time in a more productive manner, I’ve taken to flipping the book to a random page and following whatever instructions present themselves. Thus far I’ve refreshed my knowledge of useful knots, and am still attempting to master ‘the basic vanish’ (think coin tricks. interesting to learn I’m terrible at distraction ; ) Unfortunately, today’s task is to make a quill pen. Out of a feather. Only this requires procuring a feather in the middle of a capital city. Short of spending the afternoon chasing pigeons, I’m flummoxed. 

It’s pretending to snow again. I say pretending because while there are distinct white globes flying like hell outside my window, that’s the only evidence. Not a single flake remains on overhangs, decorative moldings, or any other potentially viable architectural details. Including, of course, the street. Of slight recompense is the fact that some odd current keeps causing the flakes I’m watching to shoot rather violently upwards.

In other news…

”A man found Ft 6 million while digging around in his back yard. The banknotes had been thrown out of the bathroom window by his neighbor, who had stolen the money from a friend.“

“A participant in the Budapest-Bamako rally is currently being held in Bamako prison for flying one of those powered hang glider thingies too close to the US embassy and waving a camera about.”

I seem to be a bit confused. I’ve started spring cleaning. call it hope.

in a moment of guilt, I’m scraping together what bits and pieces of thoughts I’ve tossed about then immediately forgotten as I wander about this city…

I’ve just come back from a typical budapest celebration. they closed the road along the danube for sewer work, so bicyclists took advantage of the situation to call for an impromptu picnic on the suddenly empty road. which basically meant lots of people with one pant leg rolled up hung out with lots of people they already know and ate some muffins. 

Guy wandering about the divider of Ullui u. every Friday selling porn.

My landlord’s representative’s representative might have been courteous enough not to check the money right in front of me, but when she left without her laptop case and I went to see if I could catch her on the stairs, catch turned into the operative word as I found her half a flight down, book on the ground, fingering the cash ; )

Guy hanging around the exit of the blue line metro stop, looking for all the world like he’s waiting for someone, holding up a dress as though an identifying marker. Abruptly he turns on his heel and walks up to the 4/6 tram line.

“They are interested in things in this discovery channel sort of way.” (unattributed Hungarian)

“I don’t listen to that kind of music at all, but god I love that band.” (unattributed american traveller)

Either a frenchman fluent in hungarian or a hungarian with a french accent in english came up to me on Andrassy and asked where to find the nearest strip club

Late one night, preparation for a parade of protest has 8’ metal barriers along the Andrassy sidewalk and an army of trucks clearing out the towing notice illiterate. Old, greying man stood in front of #60, smoking a cigarette, arms folded, overseeing the situation, looking entirely too natural, given the geography…

Young lady on the metro today scooched over so I could sit down. That’s a first. Not sure if I’m going winter crazy, but it seems that Hungarians might be getting more pleasant. Either that, or I look so miserable that it’d be no fun to kick me. ; )

on microwave popcorn, there’s no giant lettering announcing that the bag’s hot.