The article no-one wanted to publish :o)
Good Boys go to the Caribbean, bad boys go to Budapest
I’ve noticed the flat gift wrapped in shiny red and white paper with tall letters “Ho Ho Ho” lying under the tree a few days before Christmas. A small tag dangling from the bow on the top was folded in half thus preventing me from satisfying my curiosity of finding out to whom it was destined. Then came Christmas Day and I realized that most of the colorful boxes belonged to someone else, while I indeed was left with the smallest one. The small cardboard envelope was addressed to my name without a doubt and if I know my wife just a little bit, it was going to be a flight ticket for two to a wonderful Caribbean destination, where we’ll spend three nights and four days on a beach indulging in the warm rays of the sun and some well-deserved pampering. Half of the “HO” is torn off when the corner of the envelope picturing a beautiful beach peaks out. “Ooooh honey you shouldn’t have! What a surprise! ”
And a surprise it was with the itinerary of “New York – Budapest” , “Budapest – New York”.
This must be a mistake. Santa’s cruel joke, a punishment for the boy behaving badly! Did I forget a birthday, an anniversary? Did I not buy the 55th pair of black stiletto shoes? The ridiculously expensive purse she craved for? I learned to put down the toilet seat this year, washed my dishes regularly and lay in bed at least 10 minutes after having sex just cuddling every single time. What did I do to deserve this? A trip to cold, gray and miserable Budapest in the middle of the winter as I imagined …
“Lovey, you look disappointed” …
“Why Budapest?”
“You always wanted to be a tourist in Budapest without visiting relatives and cousins or friends!”
Eight and a half hours later we are in the coldest heart of Europe. It’s freezing and I am miserable – almost as expected. My painful yearning for somewhere else was eased a little bit by our good luck fortune of free business class upgrade on Delta. Real food and silverware!
This is the first time we will live in a hotel and not with the relatives. The staff at the new design hotel, Lanchid 19 speaks almost perfect English and it’s a refreshing change from family visits. The room has a minimalist design with a beautiful view of the banks of the Danube, comfy bed and sheets.
The program for the next three days has been arranged entirely by my wife and so I worry again for my present being diminished between cafes and shopping malls. We start our visit at the House of Terror on the grand Andrassy Street known for its cafes and shopping. The exhibition tells the story of the Nazi and Communist occupation and the struggle of the Hungarians. We spend two hours learning history from the voices and pictures of people who lived it. What strikes me most is the wall of victims and the wall of victimizers being shown on photographs, full names and dates of birth - many of them still alive. Who knows what emotions go through the minds of those whose grandparents are recognized on either side?
White snowflakes fall on the city and as they accumulate on the ground my dislike starts to disseminate towards the city.“The shortest way to the men’s heart is through his stomach” and the Gerloczy Café just does it for me for lunch. I order the Hungarian staple food, goulash, which arrives in a blue pot with a handle and home-made olive bread. My wife gets her ravioli with parmesan shavings, sundried tomatoes and truffle oil and licks her fingers in satisfaction. Hungarian desserts are the gym procrastinators enemy, but I I cannot decline seeing the display of chocolate cakes waiting to add another love handle. The “Somloi Galuska” – a sponge cake with rum and pudding is on the top of my list, just as the chocolate pudding cake called “Dobos torta”, as well as anything else with two important ingredients: chocolate and alcohol.
We enjoy the walk across the Chain Bridge and check one of the lion’s mouth playing dentists looking for the missing tongue, a flaw of statue design which according to urban legend drove its creator to suicide. The following two days we visit the Holocaust Documentation Center with its beautiful synagogue, walk around the Castle Hill and the gasp at the view from the ornate Fisherman’s Bastion, we attend a concert at the Palace of Arts, admire the colorful light installation of Peter Kozma projected to the buildings along the Danube, wonder through the fruit and vegetable and embroidered table clothes isles at the Main Market, tour the city’s most impressive building – the Parliament and drink hot mulled wine on every street corner to warm up.
The dinner at the romantic “Spoon” boat restaurant is great, but it’s not the food that’s striking, the unbelievable view! Sitting by the window on the river we admire the lit up Castle district sitting atop the hills of Buda. It seems that the restaurants of Budapest are competing for the most impressive bathroom design. This particular one gives me the opportunity to stare at the snow covered panorama while peeing with one hand and waving to the passengers of the tourist boat passing by with the other.
The last night before we leave the city I receive a real surprise: “Cinetrip” party tickets for the Rudas bath. We walk into the bath with many reservation and have no idea what to expect despite the fact that the description clearly states that we are about to get undressed, wet and dance in the thermal waters of this thousand year old building while listening to a pumping electronic music and playing water polo with complete strangers. The spa is a maze of four dance floors – one of which is the great swimming pool and the other is the steaming hot Hammam (a Turkish Jacuzzi style pool). We catch a troup of bellydancers shaking their boody and flat stomachs in the middle of the steam to the beat of drums pleasing countless pairs of eyes glowing in the dark.
As we leave Rudas at 2 am, the city is quiet. We walk hand in hand on the banks of the Danube, under the white trees and hear our steps crushing layers of fresh snow leaving footprints. Not a single person is around, nor a car. I am not a big romantic, but the feeling is contagious and I seal a kiss onto my wife’s surprised lips … perhaps it’s the city, maybe the snow, the lights, the snowman we meet sitting on the promenade, or the two beers I am not sure, but I am grateful to Santa this year!
I’ve noticed the flat gift wrapped in shiny red and white paper with tall letters “Ho Ho Ho” lying under the tree a few days before Christmas. A small tag dangling from the bow on the top was folded in half thus preventing me from satisfying my curiosity of finding out to whom it was destined. Then came Christmas Day and I realized that most of the colorful boxes belonged to someone else, while I indeed was left with the smallest one. The small cardboard envelope was addressed to my name without a doubt and if I know my wife just a little bit, it was going to be a flight ticket for two to a wonderful Caribbean destination, where we’ll spend three nights and four days on a beach indulging in the warm rays of the sun and some well-deserved pampering. Half of the “HO” is torn off when the corner of the envelope picturing a beautiful beach peaks out. “Ooooh honey you shouldn’t have! What a surprise! ”
And a surprise it was with the itinerary of “New York – Budapest” , “Budapest – New York”.
This must be a mistake. Santa’s cruel joke, a punishment for the boy behaving badly! Did I forget a birthday, an anniversary? Did I not buy the 55th pair of black stiletto shoes? The ridiculously expensive purse she craved for? I learned to put down the toilet seat this year, washed my dishes regularly and lay in bed at least 10 minutes after having sex just cuddling every single time. What did I do to deserve this? A trip to cold, gray and miserable Budapest in the middle of the winter as I imagined …
“Lovey, you look disappointed” …
“Why Budapest?”
“You always wanted to be a tourist in Budapest without visiting relatives and cousins or friends!”
Eight and a half hours later we are in the coldest heart of Europe. It’s freezing and I am miserable – almost as expected. My painful yearning for somewhere else was eased a little bit by our good luck fortune of free business class upgrade on Delta. Real food and silverware!
This is the first time we will live in a hotel and not with the relatives. The staff at the new design hotel, Lanchid 19 speaks almost perfect English and it’s a refreshing change from family visits. The room has a minimalist design with a beautiful view of the banks of the Danube, comfy bed and sheets.
The program for the next three days has been arranged entirely by my wife and so I worry again for my present being diminished between cafes and shopping malls. We start our visit at the House of Terror on the grand Andrassy Street known for its cafes and shopping. The exhibition tells the story of the Nazi and Communist occupation and the struggle of the Hungarians. We spend two hours learning history from the voices and pictures of people who lived it. What strikes me most is the wall of victims and the wall of victimizers being shown on photographs, full names and dates of birth - many of them still alive. Who knows what emotions go through the minds of those whose grandparents are recognized on either side?
White snowflakes fall on the city and as they accumulate on the ground my dislike starts to disseminate towards the city.“The shortest way to the men’s heart is through his stomach” and the Gerloczy Café just does it for me for lunch. I order the Hungarian staple food, goulash, which arrives in a blue pot with a handle and home-made olive bread. My wife gets her ravioli with parmesan shavings, sundried tomatoes and truffle oil and licks her fingers in satisfaction. Hungarian desserts are the gym procrastinators enemy, but I I cannot decline seeing the display of chocolate cakes waiting to add another love handle. The “Somloi Galuska” – a sponge cake with rum and pudding is on the top of my list, just as the chocolate pudding cake called “Dobos torta”, as well as anything else with two important ingredients: chocolate and alcohol.
We enjoy the walk across the Chain Bridge and check one of the lion’s mouth playing dentists looking for the missing tongue, a flaw of statue design which according to urban legend drove its creator to suicide. The following two days we visit the Holocaust Documentation Center with its beautiful synagogue, walk around the Castle Hill and the gasp at the view from the ornate Fisherman’s Bastion, we attend a concert at the Palace of Arts, admire the colorful light installation of Peter Kozma projected to the buildings along the Danube, wonder through the fruit and vegetable and embroidered table clothes isles at the Main Market, tour the city’s most impressive building – the Parliament and drink hot mulled wine on every street corner to warm up.
The dinner at the romantic “Spoon” boat restaurant is great, but it’s not the food that’s striking, the unbelievable view! Sitting by the window on the river we admire the lit up Castle district sitting atop the hills of Buda. It seems that the restaurants of Budapest are competing for the most impressive bathroom design. This particular one gives me the opportunity to stare at the snow covered panorama while peeing with one hand and waving to the passengers of the tourist boat passing by with the other.
The last night before we leave the city I receive a real surprise: “Cinetrip” party tickets for the Rudas bath. We walk into the bath with many reservation and have no idea what to expect despite the fact that the description clearly states that we are about to get undressed, wet and dance in the thermal waters of this thousand year old building while listening to a pumping electronic music and playing water polo with complete strangers. The spa is a maze of four dance floors – one of which is the great swimming pool and the other is the steaming hot Hammam (a Turkish Jacuzzi style pool). We catch a troup of bellydancers shaking their boody and flat stomachs in the middle of the steam to the beat of drums pleasing countless pairs of eyes glowing in the dark.
As we leave Rudas at 2 am, the city is quiet. We walk hand in hand on the banks of the Danube, under the white trees and hear our steps crushing layers of fresh snow leaving footprints. Not a single person is around, nor a car. I am not a big romantic, but the feeling is contagious and I seal a kiss onto my wife’s surprised lips … perhaps it’s the city, maybe the snow, the lights, the snowman we meet sitting on the promenade, or the two beers I am not sure, but I am grateful to Santa this year!
posted by Elvi @ 2:45 PM
2 comments
