Six Thousand Words

Hero's Square


Fine Art Museum


Opera House


Fighting the Hydra


Danube Bend


The Great Synagogue

Kontroll

The Budapest Metro has a rather odd ticketing system. Tickets can be bought from a machine or from a ticket-seller, but then they are checked by people called 'Kontrollers', who stand near the entrances to the trains and ask to show your ticket. Of course if you've got two or three people checking tickets and hundreds or thousands of people using the Metro at rush hour, most of the people simply breeze through whether they have a ticket or not.

It goes without saying that being a Kontroll is a pointless and alienating profession. I've heard stories about Kontrollers simply being ignored or told to fuck off, and while of course there's a fine for being on the subway or the tram without a ticket, technically the Kontrollers can't enforce it - they have to call the police, who don't like being bothered.

A few years ago there was a movie, also called 'Kontroll', about a group of Kontrollers who live in the subway without ever going to the surface. They deal with the scorn of the public and the indifference of the suits downtown. To pass the time they dirnk during their shifts and go 'railing' - that is, having races along the tracks to see who can out-run the next train. It's mostly a fantasy but it captures the spirit of the profession fairly well.

O Buda

So I've solved one mystery: why Budapest is so quiet at night: because they've recently made it illegal to drink on the street, forcing everyone to stay inside the bars and not stumble around outside. Sounds normal enough, but it's provoked mutterings of 'creeping fascism' from the local drinking population.

Hungarian food - like most Eastern/Central European food, it seems - has the aim of putting as many calories as possible into a meal, usually involving some kind of breaded meat chop, sour cream, and a thick slice of bread. Also liberal use of paprika, which by regional standards makes Hungarian spicy and exotic.

A classic Hungarian snack is a piece of bread slathered with lard and covered in onions. Also, fried bread covered with sour cream and cheese. Arteries, shmarteries!

They're also fond of pastries, especially a pie-like thing called retesh, which is a flaky little bundle filled with a variety of things, usually apples or cherries or poppy seeds.

Magyar My Home

So here I am, out of Asia and in Europe - Budapest, Hungary to be precise. The land of my ancestors.

I have a one-person flat in Obuda. Obuda (or 'Old Buda') is a pleasant enough neighborhood, though there's not a whole lot to see. my street has a post office, a supermarket, and some Chinese restaurants- what more does a person need?

Speaking of food, Budapest seems to have a passion for 'Turkish' fast food, especially gyros and falafel. Pizza is also popular but most of it is pretty lousy. As mentioned, there are also greasy Chinese takeout places everywhere and plenty of chain burger joints too.

Budapest is a beautiful city. It's kind of a shock to see fine buildings everywhere after the comparative poverty of Vietnam, but I suspect that if it weren't for Communism half of those buildings would have been torn down to build shopping malls and Gaps.

The public transit system is pretty good. There are basically three metro lines which cover Pest (with one sneaking over into Buda) and there is a bewildering network of bus and tram lines, which I am still trying to figure out. The trouble is that the metro shuts down at 11:30, forcing me to use a cab to get home.

Budapest is also a shockingly quiet city. Downtown on a weeknight seems practically like a ghost town. At first I thought this was just in contrast with bustling Saigon, but locals and expats confirmed that Budapest really was was that silent.

Farr and Away

So Farr's long-awaited visit to Indochina finally took place. He arrived late Friday night and took up residence in Stefan's dress shop along Hai Ba Trung.

He took to the difficulties of Southeast Asia - the traffic, the crowds, the constant demands for charity - with surprising equanimity, as if it were all local color. He was also agog over the low prices and took to photographing all of his meals.

The one thing neither of us could really take was the heat. After an hour or two of exploring we'd be forced to find an air-conditioned cafe and restore ourselves with a cold drink or two.

We did the usual tour things - War Museum, Reunification Palace, Cu Chi Tunnels. We also went in search of a tailored shirt that would meet his exacting standards (no luck( as well as cheap DVDs and various Vietnam trinkets (success). John was particularly taken with a shop selling old propaganda posters, urging the Vietnamese to raise more pigs and fight imperialism and so on.

Then, Angkor Wat, which are not any less magnificent for having seen them already. The usual swarms of postcard-hawkers were there, though they seem to have absorbed a great deal of information about the Obama family, which they used to gain our sympathy (and money).

It was all over before we knew it, and we each went our separate ways again. Until November.