Breaking bread with the expats

Having spent the morning in Tesco, I was ready for a break, and a change of scene, and headed off to watch the rugby with Tim and his girlfriend in Legends, the sportsbar near the Elizabeth Bridge. I don't often go to see it in the UK, but was hoping to meet some more expats, and stretch out my circle of friends a little more. Expat communities are potentially problematic though, brought together with one common sense, but still potentially as disparate as any group.

The Tesco hypermarket near where I live is the kind of place where people push dwarf conifers around in their trolleys, and actual bob-bobbing fish float around in a tank by the fishmongers. Everyone seemed intent on running into one another, and blaming the other person for it. It wasn't long before I felt like full-on shouting in someone's face. I was still not in a good mood, but trying to make the best of a bad lot, and had gone to stock up on juice, frozen veg, and various teas. On a whim I decided to buy a kettle. I knew it was a luxury (a £7 Tesco Value kettle), but I felt it was well worth it. At home I quickly unwrapped it and made my first cuppa.

The bar was across town, and looked easiest to get to by bus. I'd put off using the buses thus far, because I wasn't sure I'd know where they went or when to get off (trams and the metro are far clearer in that respect). I didn't realise I'd missed my stop till I had, then it did exactly what I'd feared, racing on for another ten minutes, before finally stopping, in spite of my frequent 'pings' on the bell at other stops. I wasn't sure where it had dropped me, so crossed the road and waited to make the return journey.

Making the short walk to the pub I noticed a dog that looked decidedly like a mop, and had to take a quick photo. It's apparently called a Komondor, and is one of the most famous breeds of Hungarian dog. This one had a little rosette around its neck, but I doubted it had been at Crufts (which was on this weekend). I bustled into the pub, feeling rather like a wrinkled mop myself, and made my apologies.

During the match various people arrived, who Tim knew in varying degrees. At our end of the table were his girlfriend, and another English girl he'd met watching another match a couple of weeks back: they were both lovely. The rest of the people seemed to keep more to themselves at the other end, and I wasn't quite sure what to make of them. I was wearing a vesttop, which appeared to cause some consternation. I hate it when people base their opinion of you on such a trivial thing. The game ended in a draw, which roughly represented my sense of the two groups, and my bittersweet feeling towards it all.

Our end headed off to Szimpla bar, where the others promised to join us later. It's a terrific place, which feels rather latin, and made a nice change from the spaceless bars and clubs of London. We found a table and continued on with the general banter we'd been having on the way over. The rest of the guys joined us, and we broke up into little groups, fluidly moving between one and another, conversation and drinks flowing. At about midnight we decided to call it a night, and left the others to it. All in all I was not convinced we'd become bosom buddies, but was very enamoured with our little group.

The expat community in Budapest is there for anyone that wants to find it, and largely it's quite an open group, which you can slowly discover, swinging from little groups like this to others, like Tarzan. Your openness to other people, and willingness to compromise will prove the extent to which you'll make friends, and you'll quickly find yourself making those sort of choices. Be brave enough to say hello, but also to hold your own and know when it's best to say no.