Banska Bystrica and Budapest

The bus ride to Budapest was the worst day of the entire venture. Ellen and I were tired, dehydrated, and carsick. In bad situations likes these, one encounters people that handle things quite differently from your preferred method of survival. Now, I enjoy complaining. Ask any friend or boyfriend and it’s likely they’ll tell you that I voice my negative opinions with gusto. I enjoy playing the pessimistic devil’s advocate in situations that are bad but not terrible. Despite how it sounds, I’ve found that it gives me a platform to voice my concerns while still eliciting laughs via dramatic displays that, in turn, will lighten the mood. It’s altruistic evil genius, if you will, and I’m a not above telling you anytime I’m hot, cold, and then hot again. But if something is really wrong, I go very very quiet. I suppose this falls in the same category with telling people how I really feel. It’s a rare day that I’ll expose my true feelings. Too vulnerable. Too dramatic. So in the presence of a potential disaster, silence convinces me that I am just fine. “You don’t need to point out what’s wrong, Lu. You got this. You’re not vulnerable, there’s nothing to see here. I’m good. I’m fine. It’s all fine.”

So I made but a few small peeps on this ten-hour ride. In fact, one peep was simply to inform Ellen that I wasn’t feeling well and the second peep was asking for Ellen’s thoughts on going to the airport when we got to Budapest and booking a flight straight home. I could try to describe the agony of those ten hours but I don’t wish to revisit the memories. I do remember telling Ellen simply that “I just can’t do this.”

Let’s make a bad a situation worse, shall we? Ellen, my seatmate, travel partner, and only link back to America should I go unconscious and need to be air-lifted from a highway in Hungary and flown to the Embassy for processing, well she is also whiner. We were both raised by a delightful pessimist (that’s Mom) who instilled in us the ability to foresee all possible bad outcomes in a situation. It’s a gift really. Ellen has always been a vocal person. She will openly tell you how she feels, what she likes, what’s bothering her and what she would do differently. Ellen will also look at you for affirmation anytime she makes a particularly dramatic statement. This is because she is aware that it may have been too much, but still, it’s how she feels.

Ellen added monumentally to the agony of that day. It wasn’t strategic. It’s just her coping mechanism. But for every minute I spent chanting, “It’s fine. You’re fine. Nothing is wrong. We’ll be out of this twisty mountain range soon.” Ellen was next to me sighing and groaning and cursing the day she signed us up for the bus tour. “I’m never doing another crappin’ coach tour ever!” and she looked at me to agree. But if I agreed, I’d be admitting that something is wrong, so I simply looked at her and then stared forward again, keeping my eyes on a big cloud, the only stable thing around. Then Ellen would be bothered that I hadn’t said anything and she would lash out at me.

A few people threw-up on the bus this day and there were minimal guest DJ’s and bus games. It was a tough ride, made worse by having no water and sitting upright on hard, terrycloth seats. “Seriously Laura, this is not good. I’m gonna throw up. I’m gonna throw up and that’s that. Do you have a bag?” 

I did not have a bag and reaching down to feel around for something she could vomit in would have resulted in my own expulsion. I said, “Nuh” all breathy and faint while staring forward. I hadn’t moved an inch in an hour. The truth is I worried for Ellen. I felt awful but I had me under control. My silent statue act was going to get me through. I wanted to comfort Ellen, find a solution, walk up front to get a bag for her but I couldn’t. Ellen huffed and puffed and made lots of noise just to remind me that she was in bad shape. She said lots of negative, hateful things that day. The kinds of things you can’t take back and pretend aren’t true. “I was just upset.” she said later when she was fed, watered, and rested but wounds take time to heal.

A high point in the day was stopping in a little town in the middle of Slovakia, called Banska Bystrica. I know nothing about this place, only that it felt like the Garden of Eden when we were let out here for an hour long lunch break. The entire vibe changed as soon as we were let off of the bus. People rushed off for water and food and thirty minutes into our break, it was like the last five hours had never happened. Ellen felt better as soon as we sat down in a little tavern off the main square. We sat with Bradley and four girls we were building slow friendships with. Five days into this venture, my stomach turned on me and I could no longer eat hot meat chunks and potatoes. It’s hard to find salads or chicken and/or light fare in this part of the world. I don’t know about you, but I’d never try to feed a piping hot pot roast to someone with motion sickness.

We ate and we felt better and when we emerged from the dark tavern, we realized what a beautiful place we were in.

Here's a line up of good friends. The two girls in the middle, in the green and red shirts, that's Lauren and Olivia and they became my best friends on the trip. I'm pointing them out because they are really great girls worth acknowledging. They were quiet and polite, quick to laugh, and had sunny dispositions. I spent most of my time with those two and boy do I miss them.

These are our swarthy dude friends that we would go out with at night. From left to right we have James, Steve, Rob is hiding behind him, Mario, Felix, and Mufaro. I'll briefly tell you about them. James took a liking to me (after the Auschwitz fiasco) and followed me around and grinned at me for the rest of the trip. He's a good guy and I liked him fine but the grinning made my toes curl. The bald fella, Steve, he brushes his peach fuzz hair. He insists it makes his head look better. Behind him, Rob, was a highly coiffed and perfumed and fixed-up man. While that raises a number of red flags, he was  kind and easy to make laugh. He and I ganged up as the go-to problem solvers on the trip. He would giggle at my solutions to things and then wholeheartedly dive in to see how it would turn out. Mario is someone I would adopt as my own son, obnoxious and endearing, Mario does his own thing and enjoys every second of it. He was highly amused by Ellen's bossiness. Felix was a shy sweetheart who hung out in the background but was always smiling. Lastly, there's Mufaro, and if I was going to marry a British African man, it would be him. He's got a beautiful mind.

After another five hours we arrived in Budapest. It was dinnertime and we all had recovered from the windy mountains and were feeling more energetic and hopeful. “We made it!” someone in the back shouted. Before heading to our hostel, we made a pit stop at Fisherman’s Bastian, an old pretty structure/castle thing with turrets and towers and a whole bunch of stairs. The view really made an impression. Actually the whole place did. There are so many old cities in the world and you see the pictures and acknowledge that they are old and beautiful but they are also strategically preserved and maybe some areas are painted and coiffed just to look nice for the tourists who come there to see the ancient city. Budapest puts up few facades. It’s really beautiful but not because people paint their front door bright colors and section off areas to preserve the aesthetics. They use their city and their buildings and they just happen to be ornately built from ages ago. Budapest is an old place that houses modern life and that’s a really interesting mix. I’d venture back to Budapest without second thought.

While in town, we had a dinner cruise on the Danube and floated past their famous parliament building as well as other noteworthy spots. We ate chimney cakes, goulsh, chicken paprikash and bought a little tin of their beloved paprika. They put paprika in everything there. We visited some famous nightlife spots (that I particularly did not enjoy), we went out dancing, found great little cafes, and Ellen spent an afternoon at the Roman baths. I thought this was a really neat place. It's a sizable city though and we stuck to one small corner of it. 

Other points of note; The weather took a turn and the mild, sunny weather we had enjoyed so far turned into a sweltering, summer heat. There was a perfectly timed heat wave moving through the area and Ellen and I were well aware that I'd have to sit out some of the upcoming activities. On the hottest day in Budapest, I hung back in the hostel while Ellen and our roommates went to the baths. During this time, I Facetimed with Dad, scribbled some trip notes, took a shower, and ate some delicious red cherries. Three times the maid barged into the room and seemed to be stunned that I still hadn't left. This was not a hostel where maids come through and make your bed and leave a towel animal on your pillow with a chocolate on it's head so I wasn't entirely sure what the maid wanted with our room. She did not have a cleaning cart or an armful of fresh towels to help pull off her ploy. I convinced myself she was waiting for me to leave so she could rummage through our things. "I'll beat you at this game." I thought to myself and I sat proudly on my dwarf-sized bunk bed. She still managed to frighten me each time she would swing open my door. Also, three large men barged in once to check the smoke detector. I believed them because they had a big smoke can on a stick and a plastic hood to put over the detector. Also they were very apologetic about barging in there and they scampered off as soon as possible. I settled back into my bunk. "It's a good thing you put on pants today, Lu"

Twenty minutes later, the fire alarm system in the entire building detonated and all the mid-day slugs like myself filed out into the hallway looking just as aggravated and confused as I was. 

But don't read into all this. Budapest is a pretty neat place.