from Budapest to Vienna.
Day 5.
Summer has arrived London, and has gone. In such chaotic times, one resort is to keep your head down writing. The above provides good background music for such an activity, which is an essential in the library pit, which becomes more dull by day.
Hungarian house madness back in April, or was it May? I can no longer recall. Time is contingent anyway; there is no real need to pay too much attention to it.
Budapest was a lovely city, gives you endless photographic material as long as you know how to find it. Perhaps too picturesque, it's almost hard to avoid taking pictures from the same angles as thousands and thousands of people have.
I was suggested cafes and galleries on my trip into town, but did none of such. Our average awake time was 2pm, pushed back only because of me :), otherwise 4pm was more accurate. But to be fair we would not return to the penthouse until what is roughly equivalent to the time for the first prayer of Muslims.
But it was very much enjoyable, especially in the presence of a comfortable company, with funny dynamics at times. Constants are important in life, though if I'm asked other than very few people or things or places, constant is a word again absolutely contingent to time and space. In this case, it was a continuation of good company in London, and I came to Budapest partially just for that. To an extent, the entire trip was not just adventure into the unknown, but reconnect the dots of the previous years of my life in different parts of Europe, of all those connections I've built. Europe always seemed the most logical place to do that, because for some reason Europeans are everywhere.
Digression. Hungarian cuisine I absolutely approve of. Nagy's aunt was very lovely. Life stories are often what you look for from the countless conversations on a trip, and there is always an abundance of them as long as you are willing to talk and listen.
But there comes a time when one must part the big group. So when the crew went to Sweden, I went Vienna-bound! Not easy to leave after a few days of comfort, especially walking into the unknown. Yet I seem to keep doing it. Conflicting mind.
Studied map and there I went. According to hitchwiki:
There is another OMV petrol station which is even closer to the city center. It is situated at the beginning of the street Budaörsi út. You can reach it easily by walking across the big white suspension bridge, from Pest towards the Citadel, or by taking tram 61 from the square Moszkva tér. Coming from the Pest side you could also take bus 112. There is a lot of traffic to the M1 and M7.
Must have taken a tram there, but realized I wasn't quite there after studying the street map, so walked another 30 minutes. Good day though, so didn't mind. More so when you look back from London, can't complain.
Outside petrol station, within 5 minutes a car picked me up. Young gardener with a tree in his entire backseat. He used to hitchhike too apparently, and had covered a lot of ground. Brief conversation as we were going on different ways, but he brought me to a place better for hitching.
So the Agip power station before M1 started. Not an easy place, but tried my best anyway. This was a moment when I was entering western Europe, whatever those conceptions entail. Hungary to Austria, East to West. Rules were tighter, hitching a little harder, that was the expectation managed.
30 mintues, a pick up truck came up and took me there. Hungarians but spoke German, and not too much English. Had a good laugh anyway, and an amusing dog that ran back and forth. Seemed to like me.
Right after the Austrian border, and a little nap, guy dropped me off at a petrol station. He was gesturing that already anyway in the car, but you can only make out half of what he was saying. Wien Wien, I said, which was returned with a lot of German. Petrol statino wasn't a bad option, as the sun was still quite high up. 5pm maybe?
Sunset by the time I got to Vienna outskirts. The U-Bahn system looked exactly like the one in Berlin, very encouraging. There seemed to be an industrial park where I was, and some amusement park as well? Driver was quite excited trying to explain something, but my memory escapes me.
Summer has arrived London, and has gone. In such chaotic times, one resort is to keep your head down writing. The above provides good background music for such an activity, which is an essential in the library pit, which becomes more dull by day.
Hungarian house madness back in April, or was it May? I can no longer recall. Time is contingent anyway; there is no real need to pay too much attention to it.
Budapest was a lovely city, gives you endless photographic material as long as you know how to find it. Perhaps too picturesque, it's almost hard to avoid taking pictures from the same angles as thousands and thousands of people have.
Attempt to capture Budapest's beauty in the tram. Came out with something quite unexpected.
I was suggested cafes and galleries on my trip into town, but did none of such. Our average awake time was 2pm, pushed back only because of me :), otherwise 4pm was more accurate. But to be fair we would not return to the penthouse until what is roughly equivalent to the time for the first prayer of Muslims.
But it was very much enjoyable, especially in the presence of a comfortable company, with funny dynamics at times. Constants are important in life, though if I'm asked other than very few people or things or places, constant is a word again absolutely contingent to time and space. In this case, it was a continuation of good company in London, and I came to Budapest partially just for that. To an extent, the entire trip was not just adventure into the unknown, but reconnect the dots of the previous years of my life in different parts of Europe, of all those connections I've built. Europe always seemed the most logical place to do that, because for some reason Europeans are everywhere.
Oustide the penthouse.
Digression. Hungarian cuisine I absolutely approve of. Nagy's aunt was very lovely. Life stories are often what you look for from the countless conversations on a trip, and there is always an abundance of them as long as you are willing to talk and listen.
But there comes a time when one must part the big group. So when the crew went to Sweden, I went Vienna-bound! Not easy to leave after a few days of comfort, especially walking into the unknown. Yet I seem to keep doing it. Conflicting mind.
Studied map and there I went. According to hitchwiki:
There is another OMV petrol station which is even closer to the city center. It is situated at the beginning of the street Budaörsi út. You can reach it easily by walking across the big white suspension bridge, from Pest towards the Citadel, or by taking tram 61 from the square Moszkva tér. Coming from the Pest side you could also take bus 112. There is a lot of traffic to the M1 and M7.
Must have taken a tram there, but realized I wasn't quite there after studying the street map, so walked another 30 minutes. Good day though, so didn't mind. More so when you look back from London, can't complain.
Outside petrol station, within 5 minutes a car picked me up. Young gardener with a tree in his entire backseat. He used to hitchhike too apparently, and had covered a lot of ground. Brief conversation as we were going on different ways, but he brought me to a place better for hitching.
So the Agip power station before M1 started. Not an easy place, but tried my best anyway. This was a moment when I was entering western Europe, whatever those conceptions entail. Hungary to Austria, East to West. Rules were tighter, hitching a little harder, that was the expectation managed.
30 mintues, a pick up truck came up and took me there. Hungarians but spoke German, and not too much English. Had a good laugh anyway, and an amusing dog that ran back and forth. Seemed to like me.
Right after the Austrian border, and a little nap, guy dropped me off at a petrol station. He was gesturing that already anyway in the car, but you can only make out half of what he was saying. Wien Wien, I said, which was returned with a lot of German. Petrol statino wasn't a bad option, as the sun was still quite high up. 5pm maybe?
There was a few buses there at that point, saying something like Romania to Spain, but in Romanian. Might have talked about this before, but it's always funny to see Romanians leaving en masse, almost like an exodus. What would they do in Spain? It's not like they pay better there, or job prospects are any better. And seriously how many hours would that be on a bus, Romania to Spain? Intriguing questions.
I was at a junction waiting for a truck. Highway was hopeless, because this was Austria and not Poland. No one would stop. So I believed and theory turned out to be true. So trucks were what I aimed for, especially those coming out of petrol station.
A few Romanian ladies were at this point walking into the bushes behind me. I looked back wondering what they were doing. They were glancing at my side, and at a point one of them started squatting. I almost did not want to speculate what she was up to, but there were few options of inferrance to choose from. Her friends offered no time for my reflection and shouted a few lines in Romanian. I was like got it and focused on my hitching.
Toilet at petrol station probably charged money? She loved the nature? Perplexed, somewhat.
Wind turbines and dead insects, on the way to Vienna.
Unusual sunset.
A truck came, Austrian truck driver whose son lives in Barcelona. I talked about him here, so I shall not repeat myself.
Got to center town, walked around a bit, sat for a pint and wrote, and headed to Sophia the couchsurfer's.
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