July 2015

I landed in Budapest after a nauseatingly turbulent (yet very affordable) Wizz Air flight from Targu Mures in Romania. Like an idiot, I had only fit three days here into my trip schedule, so I was absolutely ready to light the candle on both ends and make the best of it. After a little walk/search through the city, we finally found our hostel, cozily situated alongside the river. We checked in, then things got exciting.

Many people were already sitting down around a large common table, so we took the opportunity to introduce ourselves. The whole group (which we soon found out to be several groups) seemed to gravitate towards this one character. He wore a backwards hat, hadn't shaved in a few days, had a huge upper body but cartoonishly small legs. He replied to us with a heavy South African accent and introduced himself by a single letter: H.

Once we were all aquainted and a few rounds deep, it was agreed to head out for one of Budapest's ruin pubs. (For those of you unfamiliar, these were abandon warehouses that were turned into bars as an art project. Initially, they were decorated by random people bringing in old furniture). Since we had just arrived, we had no idea where to go, so one guy who claimed he knew a place stepped forward. We all got up and headed for the door.

The city streets were broad and open. The buildings stood in grand, baroque forms and people were scattered about every here and there on the sidewalks. It wasn't overly crowded, but it wasn't deserted either. We walked neighborhood to neighborhood. The drinks were starting to wear off, but I was enjoying the exploring so it didn't really matter. But then an hour passed and we still hadn't reached this place we were being led two. Blake walked up and asked how much longer it would be and the guy responded, saying that it would be probably 10-15 minutes more (the same answer he had given half an hour earlier). By this point H had enough. "Alright, I'm taking over!" he exclaimed as his little legs scurried to the front of the group. "We're going to that place," he said, choosing a bar right next to us. We entered, and from this point on, H would become Blake's idol.

I won't go on and on about the ruin pub, there are plenty of other blogs for that. I will, though, say that it was absolutely worth it and the design of the building made it so cool. It was like a maze of different oddly shaped rooms, each with a different size and character. But anyway, I later heard that Blake got kicked out after being mistaken for someone who had gotten into a fight. I had to go help, I thought. I then left and roamed around the city. I checked the area near the bar... no Blake. I went around the nearby blocks and even checked inside a few nearby bars to see if he went in there, but still no sign anywhere. After an hour or so, I finally gave up and left for the hostel. It was just after 3:00 and Blake was not there either. What could have happened?

Well, as it turns out, Blake decided, after getting kicked out, to head over to Margarite Island (which was over 2 miles/3 kilometers away) and proceeded to jump around and play in the fountains until a homeless guy yelled at him around 5:00 in the morning. From that, I can conclude her was alright.

Then came the next day... described in my post below this one.