I've never had a bigger response than on my last post and oddly enough it had nothing to do with our near escape from Moldovan jail time. Family and friends, no, I have not become a smoker. I'm highly amused that over the last year I have made various references to drinking, drugs, wild animals and brushes with foreign police, yet I post a brief anecdote regarding cigarettes and so many of you came out of the woodwork to voice your concerns. Who knew the likes of my acquaintances were so wholesome. Let me assure you that waking up hungover with my mouth tasting like ten day-old smoked mackerel has deterred me from taking up a permanent habit, but it's nice to know you've been reading.
Moving on from the unhealthy life Moldova brings, I'm a bit worried that anything I write this week will severely pale in comparison to our detainment by the police and Moldovan shenanigans in general (my mom wrote me a note letting me know she'd at least had enough excitement for a while). In attempts to reset your expectations I'm going to write possibly the most boring post of this trip. Not because this week was not amazingly fun, but I think I need to lower your standards (maybe mine too) so that going forward you will find next week's blog at least slightly more interesting than this dud. Self sabotage, always a good plan.
Kelly and I are at a strange junction in our journey. After leaving our friend, Weird Kate, in Moldova we flew into Budapest, Hungary, and immediately met up with our friend Maggie who had just flown in from the good 'ol US of A. From this point on we will have friends from back home meeting us almost all the way through the remainder of our trip. Yeah, I'm really that good at peer pressuring. Though I must admit, convincing your friends to meet you for a Euro-adventure is not that hard of a sale. What will Kelly and I do now that our dynamic duo has started accepting more applicants? I'm personally afraid they'll all start making actually participate in tourist activities and go out drinking all the time. After all, their livers are rested and relaxed from having responsibilities, such as jobs, all these months. Plus, their vacation stints are going to be much shorter to our trip in comparison, they are liable to want to pack in as much fun in their limited amount of time abroad.
Most of my fears were confirmed when we saw Maggie. Of course we have to go out! I haven't seen her face in almost a year. Nothing says catching-up like boozing and dancing in a loud Hungarian night club. After getting "reacquainted" in Budapest for a few days (which we were actually good tourists and took the guided walking tour, but I'll save the uplifting genocide stories for later), Maggie suggests heading to Siofok, Hungary. I'd never heard of it, but apparently back in the communist era when everyone got their one week of vacation each year they all went to the holiday town of Siofok (note: I'm taking Maggie's complete word for this, I have not actually confirmed that Siofok is the communist era Hamptons, but she's usually fairly trust worthy, so I think my integrity is solid as usual here). Siofok sits on Europe's largest fresh water lake, Lake Balaton. Admittedly Maggie didn't initially know a lot about this vacation hot spot either, but said, "I imagine it being just like the movie Dirty Dancing". Sold.
Lake Balaton did live up to Maggie's predictions in the end, sans Patrick Swayze. The place is fully equipped with all expected lake holiday activities; water sports, parks galore, lake side markets with the typical carnival games and attractions including huge trampolines (which we tried for free on our way home from dinner after several glasses of wine, but we were quickly found out by the angry Hungarian man who yelled at us for trespassing). In other non-noteworthy news, we even got adventurous and tried the local delicacies. Mainly the crow stew is what caught our eye. Turns out "crow" was just poorly translated from Hungarian on the English menu and what we got was a heaping pile of tripe. I've still never had crow, but I bet it was better than that steaming bowl of slimy cow intestines. I choked mine down out of embarrassment and Maggie found some very artistic ways to rearrange the guts into looking like she had consumed more than the actual two bites she managed. On this trip I'd like to think I've taken the I'm-up-for-trying-anything attitude and have typically come out on top. Mark this as a day that I came out on bottom.
Maggie cutting loose on her vacation (yes, those trampolines in the background are the same ones that we abused later that night)
Train time
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