My second day in Budapest was going to be a classic one. I felt I had experienced the major sites, so it was time to take in the major experiences of Hungary.
Started the day in my cute little room, enjoying the most delicious strawberry yogurt I have ever tasted. I got it at the little supermarket across the street. Luckily, I bought a 500 ml size, so there was plenty for the next day.
It was still cold, so bundled up, and went out strolling. You are all going to wince, but since it is cold, and I only have sandals, I adopted that fashionable German habit of sandals with socks - Yikes! And I call myself a gay man.
Perhaps it was this high fashion, or just my look of "I'm relaxed and I belong here"; but continued to get asked for directions in Hungarian. From New York to Budapest, I have been asked for directions in the native language in all six cities. I do consider it a compliment of sorts.
Anyway, no doubt I was a tourist when I walked into what turned out to be a very upscale restaurant. It appeared to be way outside my budget, but the menu said otherwise. This is one of the great things about Budapest, alot like Paris, at 1/2 or 1/3 of the price. As I said, you could definitely tell I was a tourist, when I ordered a large beer, Hungarian Goulash soup, and Chicken Paprika (with basil mashed potatoes), mmmmmm! The soup was absolutely delicious, filled with potatoes, beef and vegetables, and lots of paprika taste. After I had it, along with the complimentary bread, I realized that would have been enough for lunch. The chicken was also good, and I was stuffed, but fuelled for more walking.
Made my way across the Elizabeth bridge to the Buda side, and checked out a Hungarian bath. It seemed to be too dumpy to be the famous Gellert Art Deco baths, and sure enough, the lady motioned me further down the river toward my destination.
The outside of the Gellert baths were under complete restoration, so I could not take a picture. A sign assured me that the inside was functioning normally. In I went, realizing I was not really prepared for this visit. Why didn't I bring my towel and bathing suit. Oh well, there were towels for rent, and luckily I was wearing my sexy little undies that could pass for a bathing suit. I would just be going back across the bridge commando (I know, more information than you need in this blog).
As usual, things were very confusing, I paid, went through a turnstile, and could not find my way in from the huge hall. A lady said second door on the right, then turn left. Well the first doorway had 2 doors, so what's a person to do. Well, perhaps walk into the second one, and into the women's change area - yikes. Between that, and the women's undies in my bed in Amsterdam, I am 2 for 2 on the embarassment score.
Anyway, finally found this long underground passage into the men's change area - actually mixed dressing cabins. A lady gave me my towel, and showed me to dressing cabin 67, which she kept the key for. Interesting, just trusted the system, and left my clothes and wallet there. Turned out to be no problem.
Went through a beautiful indoor pool, which I have a great picture of, then into the men's area. There were massage rooms, steam rooms, saunas of various heats, and 2 fairly large pools. The tiles were engraved to say one was 36C and the other 38C. So I soaked and steamed and baked and soaked again. For some reason, there were a lot of French tourists there, but also what looked like a few locals. All in all, very relaxing, and definitely Budapest's most beautiful bath.
My gay male readers will probably understand this statement. It was kind of like a gay steambath, except everyone was wearing bathing suits, and there was no good music or sex happening. Kind of odd, why to you straight guys like to hang out like this together, some kind of male bonding ritual, I guess. But as I said, very enjoyable, and I left totally relaxed, flop-flop.
Back across the bridge to the Pest side, for a glass of Hungarian chardonney (very nice) and home-made pear pie at the Amstel River Cafe, a very Bohemian little spot in the centre of the city (what does Bohemian mean, anyway?). I had discovered it the day before (listed in my gay guide), and the pie just had to be tried.
Hit another little bar further down the Danube, and contemplated dinner at one of the many great restaurants in the area. It was such a shame about the weather, as they all had tons of great outdoor tables. Is a matter of fact, it started to rain lightly, so took this as a sign to head home. Grabbed some cheese, bread, and a bottle of wine, and had dinner at my Budapest home.
Yes, a classic day in Hungary. Tomorrow it is off to Corfu in Greece. I have done some research, and there are some interesting options on places to stay. There are also a couple of nude beaches, which I am looking forward to. And yes, it seems it will cost me quite a bit to get from there to Isambul to meet Clarence.
Hear that Clarence, I'll be broke when I see you.... you'll have to feed me (kidding!).
1 comment:
"Bohemian"
Bohemians are the people of Bohemia, in the Czech Republic, inhabitants of the former Kingdom of Bohemia, located in the modern day Czech Republic. The term "Bohemian" as related to Bohemianism - i.e. describing the untraditional lifestyles of marginalized and impoverished artists, writers, musicians, and actors in major European cities - has little or nothing to do with the above, though often leading to confusion.The term bohemian, of French origin, was first used in the English language in the nineteenth century. Bohemians were associated with unorthodox or antiestablishment political or social viewpoints, which were often expressed through non-marital sexual relations, frugality, and/or voluntary poverty.
The term emerged in France in the 1800s when artists and creators began to concentrate in the lower-rent, lower class gypsy neighbourhoods. The term "Bohemian" reflects a belief, widely held in France at the time, that the Gypsies had come from Bohemia.[
"Going commando"
Slate's Daniel Engber dates the modern usage to 1974 college campuses, where it was perhaps an outgrowth of the Vietnam War.[5]
The origins of the phrase are uncertain, with some speculating that it may refer to being "out in the open" or "ready for action." According to Engber many soldiers do go without underwear to "increase ventilation and reduce moisture." The earliest known use of the term in print is January 22, 1985 when Jim Spencer wrote in the Chicago Tribune:
"Furthermore, colored briefs are 'sleazy' and going without underwear ('going commando', as they say on campus) is simply gross".
The expression could also be derived from the term "go regimental" to describe a True Scotsman wearing no underwear beneath his kilt.
Post a Comment