Buda-buda-best, buda-buda-best. Da pest I eva had, da pest I
eva had…
Budalicious. Ridicupest. Budonkulous. BU let the dogs out?
Budacris. Take your pick, this trip was unreal.
The weekend adventure really started at O’Malleys the night
we were due to leave for The Land of Buda. I wasn’t going to go out—WHY WOULD I
GO OUT? We were leaving at 3 am for our 6hr train ride! We’d be out all
weekend…with very little convincing I headed out, change jar in hand (ghetto) donning
my Malibu sweater (in case barf). I was initially miserable WHY WERE WE GOING
OUT!? But then solo-dancing and cute France/Argentinian (wink) and Salzburg
Family and making money because change jar and it was a great night…*sentence
fragments indicate lazy
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| Change Jar $$ |
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| "Beer Goggles" and free drinks at Shamrock |
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| At O'Malley's |
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| Salzburg Family <3...plus some men |
Time to leave for the train station. Cassie Nicole and I are
ready, but where’s Laura? I quickly morph into a Golden Retriever to loyally
fetch my blonde companion from her room, but she is nowhere to be seen. We have
to leave soon…
Frantic footsteps echo up the three flights of stairs to the
penthouse, and there in all her sloppy/graceful? glory is Laura, still not
packed but determined. In 2 minutes she’s down to her underwear with a
toothbrush dangling out of her mouth, 3 more minutes and she’s tying her wedge
shoe things (how would I know what they’re called? SHUT UP!) 2 more minutes and
we’re walking to the station at once thrilled with our night and bitterly
regretting all our decisions.
6 hours later our train arrives in Budapest
Stepping into the filthy streets of Budapest, Hungary--
streets laden with Burger Kings and dog poop, smelling simultaneously of gyros
and sewage--Cassie Nicole Laura and I were more than a little wary of this new
city that was so dirty compared to Salzburg. All weekend, in fact, I had
oscillating opinions on this city, from absolute revulsion at their stupid
currency, loathing of their language and abhorrence of their fashion, to a
euphoric adoration of their nightlife, a deep and abiding love of their 24-hour
subway (veggie delight!) and simple awe at their architecture. This city was so
fun but so disgusting (I guess we have that in common…)
BUT WAIT
Our hostel was so. So. Incredible. Cassie had told me it was
going to be awesome but nothing could have prepared me for the chilliest, most
laidback, international place of absolute magnificence that is RETOX PARTY
HOSTEL. Tons of Australians, some Canadians, and various other partygoers were
there for the craziest days of their lives. Oh, and I’m pretty sure us four
girls made up over half the female population at this hostel, jussayin’.
An Anecdote for Clarification: The F***-up of the week =
hostel worker who, well, F’s up. Our first 10 minutes in the Retox bar and this
F-up is forced to chug a bucket of dreg…I think it was the third time he
stifled his vomit/continued to drink that I realized this weekend could be even
more transformative than Oktoberfest—born again in booze. Baptized with beer. A
chubby phoenix rises from sober ashes…
Yet another anecdote: TURBULENCE SHOTS. This song, which I
have to google as soon as my wifi starts to work, begins a drinking frenzy in
which everyone buys turbulence shots, waits for the line TURBULENCE, slams
their shot on the table and knocks it back. Music…music…Da-Da TURBULENCE…CRACK!
F.U.N.
This post is impossible. How can I convey the fun…?
OK cut to the mutha-cluckin’ chase: (GAH ‘cut to the chase’
is a TERRIBLE phrase. More on this later)
First Night: Party boat. Down the Danube river after drinks
at Akuarium.
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| Drinks at Akuarium |
On the boat everyone got a bottle of champagne. I mean what? Every
time the boat passed under a bridge (so, all the time) you were supposed to
kiss someone. Leaving it at that. Lots of fancy footwork to avoid leering mouths.
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| Cassie and I w/ our bubbly |
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| KC...Casey..Kasey...don't ask--Yes, I'm wearing his shirt. No, I'm an idiot and didn't steal it |
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| THE FEARSOME FOURSOME |
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| View of parliament...no big deal |
Then we all went to the #1 club of 2011
(forgetting the name/did I ever really know it?) and that is where I DANCED. I
cannot tell you how much fun I had dancing with everyone, by myself, with a few
people, trying the splits—definitely a highlight. I can’t even tell you…just
FUN.
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| Need I say more? |
Slept like a baby in our 12-person room endearingly christened
The Love Dungeon.
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| Google image "Budapest Baths"nothing does them justice. NOTHING! |
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| The most awful of shirts |
Next Day: THE BATHS. Beautiful weather, awesome pools
natural and manmade, sauna with ice baths…Nicole and I may have borrowed some
French guy’s swim caps so we could race in the laps pool. It was a tie, and
according to Laura our performances were incredibly pitiful. But I thought I
was Michael Phelps…? Food.
Shopping. I may or may not have bought
the.dumbest.shirt.ever. I HATE IT. So stupid, if anyone was wearing this shirt
I would make fun of them mercilessly, and yet I purchased it for 5,995 farts,
or sighs, or whatever the stupid currency is there. This shirt will live in
infamy forever, and I’m sure it will make appearances in future blog posts so
BE PREPARRRREEDD!
Then we went on the
Pub Crawl with our hostel. So many awesome pubs with so much personality and
incredible layouts, and am I really talking about the interior design of a bar
right now? But seriously, turf covered walls and funny artwork, models of
racing rabbits and giant owls…just awesome. Lots of nice guys and cool girls,
free drinks from various gentlemen and great conversation with handsome
Aussies. One of them, Luke—aka the most beautiful, intelligent charmer I have
ever seen-- riddled me this (GAH STUPID PHRASES):
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| Luke and I |
There are two doors in front of you, one leading to Heaven,
the other to Hell. In front of each door is a guard—the guard in front of the
hell-door will always lie, the guard in front of the heaven-door will always
tell the truth. You get to ask one of the guards one question concerning the
doors. What question must you ask?
I’ll post the answer in a comment later, in case you want to
think it over like I did.
Cool people, laughing, music, fun, lots of drinks primarily
gin&tonics which this guy (whom Cassie and Laura HATED) bought me, let’s
not talk about it, and new friends and singing Sympathique with this French
girl until I was forced to crawl toward a new bar…
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| Crawling to a new pub |
4 pubs later and I see the perennially sloppy/graceful Laura
head out. Morphing again into a chubby Golden Retriever, I follow closely
behind her, stealthy and agile, until she says, “I know you’re there.”
…Uncanny. Then French boys.directions.WAIT!Kissing.Trying to cop a feel? NO!
Run to laura. Hide and subsequently sleep behind a dumpster until parking
garage man asks us to leave. *If I type in sentence fragments it doesn’t count.
Holding Laura’s hand and her disregarded shoes, I follow the hiccupping blonde
back to Retox (note that though I am the soberer of us two, I still rely on her
basic sense of direction which I lack entirely). Retox. Laura passes out.
Cassie appears—her night, too, had been one for the books. Not even going to
relay her successes because a) they far outweigh my own and b) this post is
already going to be obnoxious in length/that’s what she said.
Leaving was bittersweet. As the workers applauded us four girls
on our way out, and I shot a victorious fist into the air, we realized we would
be home in Salzburg, but this meant missing another crazy retox night. *a
single tear slides silently down my face while flashes of Turbulence shots are reflected in my eyes
I am stopping these short weekend trips for a while because
they’re expensive and I need to budget…BUT IT’S SO FUN! YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND!!
ONE OF THE BEST WEEKENDS OF MY LIFE!! I can justify debt, I can justify a beer
belly! What if I died in a week—wouldn’t I want to die at RETOX PARTY HOSTEL
surrounded by wee Nicole, Cassie (Queen of ESP) and the unfailingly
sloppy/graceful Laura?
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| Some of the bracelets from this weekend...did I really just post this |
Oh! I gave a homeless woman some Poofs, Queefs?, Darfs?
(STUPID CURRENCY)—this was incredibly wise and incorporated great foresight as the
resulting good karma
granted us great weather, crazy fun and absolute safety. Wee Nicole used the most karma this trip, but we were all dippin' into the fund. ...what?
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| BEAUTIFUL weather <3 |
Of late, colloquial English phrases have had an unnerving
affect on me. Things like ‘bold as brass’, ‘all the rage’ and ‘riding
his tailcoats’ just sets my teeth on edge—AH! Even when describing my loathing
for phrases I use a terrible phrase. It was on the train back that I realized
why I LOVEHATE Laura SO much, she had chanced upon the KING of God-awful
phrases: Flying by the seat of your pants.
This post has come to an end because I am so distraught by
this terrible, terrible phrase.
Sorry it was such a long one/so centered around alcohol and dancing/literally void of cultural commentary/sorry not sorry <3
I think I know what it's like to have divorced parents now--Budapest was like our dad's house, and Salzburg is like our mom's house--obviously you're going to your dad's for the weekends to get spoiled and eat pizza, but your home is really at mom's, near school, by all your friends.
