M-whY

Michael, an Australian sharing the same dorm and I, may have been the last person to hear the entire list.

"So what're you going today?" I asked.

"I heard you can go ice skating on one of the lakes in City Park, so I might do that."

Ice skating itself isn't something to stop the presses for, but like many other things, it's the idea of ice skating in Budapest. And it certainly sounded more interesting than sightseeing.

"Are you going soon?"

"Yeah, just give me a couple minutes."

Today was a bit warmer than the last few, and I was unsure whether the lake would actually be frozen. Those doubts quickly dissolved when I saw the rink. We paid the nominal entrance fee and found the rental center.

"One hour or two?"

"I think one should be enough." All laced up, we teetered down a flight of stairs. I unsheathed my blades and prepared to cripple myself.

I've never done this before. The closest thing I can compare it to is rollerblading, and I'm not even that good at that. The surface was a lot more slippery than I had imagined. I wondered what would hurt more, falling on asphalt or falling on ice. Probably asphalt, I decided. Here, if I landed on my ass, I could at least stay seated and ice the bruise. Following the flow of traffic, I tried not to hurt anyone. Especially the little kids taking baby steps towards the skating school.

Rental equipment rarely fits comfortably, and today was no exception. The skates dug into certain parts of my feat, and were a reason I didn't attempt any triple toe loops. (Okay, there were other reasons too.) The more laps I did, however, the more confident I began to feel. I won't be trying out for the NHL anytime soon, but I can truthfully say that I didn't wipe out.

We worked up quite a sweat, and afterwards, Michael wanted to visit Szechenyi Baths to wash up. I had already been there, so we agreed to meet back at the hostel later. In retrospect, a second visit might not have been a bad idea, because the rest of the day paled in comparison. Andrassy Avenue is supposed to feature several World Heritage listed buildings, but with the exception of the Heroes Square, I found them rather lackluster. So I'll fast forward several hours, to when we it was time for dinner.

"Do you have any preference for where we should eat?"

"Not really. There are some places nearby offering Hungarian food," was my input. "They're probably meant for tourists, but..."

"We are tourists," Michael grinned.

As two guys walking the streets at night, we were targets for another scam often found in European cities: Beautiful women trying to spark up conversation and lure us into a bar. We were too smart for that of course, but still ended up at a restaurant that was a little shady. The setting was nice, and we weren't the only ones in there, but the place screamed tourist trap.

"Uh, I think I'll have the tourist menu," I told the waiter. (That's actually what one of their set meals were called.)

"Yeah, me too."

And the food that came out was average at best. As we were finishing up, a couple musicians roaming the room came over and started to play next to our table. Shit, I thought. How much is it going to cost to get them to go away? The answer was too much. Dinner didn't end up breaking the bank, but for the amount we paid, I expected something better.

"Tourist trap," sighed Michael, and I could agree more. Oh well. At least I got a mouthful of goulash out of it.

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