March 7, 2009 § 2 Comments
Brave New Traveler has published my article. I actually get paid for this one, so people don’t have to click on any ads. Wow, this is the month for being published. People might be pleased to know I have made a grand total of $2.95 cents on Google thanks to your support for my other articles on ITP.
Hey, that buys one and a half palinkas in Budapest.
March 6, 2009 § 2 Comments
After having been here in Europe for quite a few months now, one of the things that I have noticed and regularly wonder about is why people who live here seem so unhappy. Not pinpointing any specific countries for fear of offending, I have been frequently thinking about this phenomena in the last few cities I visited.
Take for example the man in the souvenir shop I just returned from. Due to it being off-peak season and a rainy day, the place was generally rather quiet, and I bet my ass I was his only customer for the day. Being used to Australian warmth and hospitality, whenever I enter a shop I smile and say hello, naturally. I tried to make some small talk with him but all I got was a curt one word answer. Fine, you miserable bastard.
This was not a one-off occasion. I’ve encountered so many people with despair etched on their faces that I have lost count. They give me the impression as if the simple act of waking up was a chore. Smiles are somewhat of a rarity, for if you dare smile at someone, they eye you with distaste and suspicion. Come on!
So many I’ve met often ask me, why people who hail from the land down under are so cheerful and care-free all the time. They scratch their heads and ponder what is it about this beautiful country that makes people seem not to have a worry in the world? Is it the ‘no worries’ attitude or is it a chemical thing resulting from our eternally shining sun? Let’s not forget the three ‘B’s – beer, beach, barbeques, that is enough to make anyone happy.
Excluding my beloved couchsurfing community, I realized that I have truly had enough of this melancholy environment. And with all the misery surrounding me on top of the wretched weather, I really have so little left to give. I want warm sand, smiling faces and sunshine. Sydney, I long for you.
March 5, 2009 § 3 Comments
Endless rain is pouring down onto the streets of Budapest and where else to go on a day like this but to the thermal baths again. Having read reviews of a more ‘Hungarian’ experience, I set off for the Gellert Baths to see for myself what the difference was between that and the Rudas Baths I went to on Tuesday.
Upon arriving there, I made up my mind that Rudas was much better. Besides being a lot more expensive, Gellert is more hotel-like, sterile, and Rudacs is more a traditional Turkish bath, with more character and warmth. Staff are equally rude. But I already knew that from internet reviews, so I didn’t really care.
Even though there were less old people, the ones who were there too decided that starkers was the way to go. No loin cloth at reception this time. I particularly took notice of one old Grandma, she looked about 80 years old, who let it all hang out as she shuffled constantly between the two pools. There was also another lady who strangely used a black garbage bag to wrap around her waist. I am puzzled and slightly disturbed by these nude Hungarian women.
Also, my camera has stopped working. When I press the ‘on’ button the screen decides to go all fuzzy. Perhaps it was all the steam from the baths. This is not good. I’m hoping it will ‘dry out’. Or I shall be very sad.
March 4, 2009 § 3 Comments
March 3, 2009 § 3 Comments
Melons, balloons, cans, funbags, hooters, boobs. And my personal favourite, chesticles.
I could keep going with the supposedly 138 words the human brain has thought up to describe female breasts, but I suppose all who are reading this should have their minds filled with images of them already. Right? Why the fixation? Because today, I saw lots of them. Lots and lots and lots. Big kinds, small kinds, saggy kinds, flat kinds, all kinds.
It is Tuesday, and the internet informs me that it is ladies day at the thermal baths. Having arrived in Budapest late last night and slept in till 10am this morning, I really could think of nothing better to do than to wile away more time in hot spring water. Laziness rules. My latest couchsurfer C had recommended a large one which could only be reached by bus. Oops. Hate the bus, so in my usual sloth-like fashion I decided to go the the closest one within walking distance.
Although the external appearance of the building was rather plain, the inside was breath-taking. After paying my entrance fee I was led to the changing cabins. The attendant asked me, as if it was the most normal thing in the world, whether I wanted a loin cloth. Wtf? I’m not a loin cloth wearing person. No loin cloth for me, thanks. I’d rather wear my black-and-white bikini, which I haven’t worn since Dubai. I wrapped my towel around myself and walked through the labyrinths of showers and cubicles to arrive in the square-shaped thermal bath room.
There was only one main bath in the shape of a decagon, with four smaller baths in each corner. As I sunk myself into the decagon bath, I couldn’t help but be glad that I decided to go to this smallish one as the scene that greeted me really could not have been handled on a larger scale.
Naked women. Everywhere. Maybe two dozen or more. Sure, some were young and cute, and even one or two hot ones. But not many. Not many hot naked women at all. Sadly, no. Many old and fat naked women with their bajingos down to their knees kissing their celluloid asses. Their breasts bobbed, and they bounced. And ladies, unruly hair around the crotch region is not a good look. It was my first time in a public bath, so I perved, and I judged. Man, I judged every one of them. My eyes were sore. Really. I felt like running up to these women and offering them a one-piece swimsuit and a shaver. They should have taken the loin cloth at the reception!
Whew. Judging people gets tiring, especially when done from a 42 degree mineral spring bath for over two hours. I was starving on the way back, so I HAD to treat myself to a big delicious Hungarian meal, with dessert. Now I shall close my eyes, and try not think of big women’s squachies.