Finding your feet with tourism

After an hour-long chat to my sister the previous night, I'd gone to bed late, and was a tad bleary eyed when I headed off to meet the guy from work at 7.45am. That morning we were supposed to sort out my tax details at the two relevant government offices. He was there because apparently no one there spoke English, which indeed they did not, as it turned out.

He was running late - something I began to wonder, from experience, whether all Hungarians would be - so I stood in the square listening to my iPod, and only half wondering whether this mass of faces would dare speak to me or mug me. A young guy, who I thought might attempt to relieve me of my iPod sauntered up, and appeared to ask me for some cogent information. I muttered back "Angolow", which I have been led to believe by my phrasebook means "English", though the looks I occasionally get back lead me to think otherwise.

After my guy arrived we set off on foot, the first office being quite nearby. I was unbelievably relieved to find him not only able to speak very good English, but also to be extremely kind and friendly. As it turned out he had been working for one of the 'Big Four' accounting firms, like myself, in England, and was here under similar circumstances, except this, instead of England, was his home country. The morning passed happily, and I became more and more optimistic that I would enjoy my new place of work.

After we'd done everything we needed to we headed back to IBM. For the second time I met the HR guy that arranged the job in the first place, and for the second time I thought, "jerk". Of course it is a fact that you can never get on with everyone at work (even when you're self-employed and work entirely alone, in fact, especially then), so I took his offhandness with a pinch of salt, and left on a pleasant note with the affable guy, who asked if I'd like to come along to the indoor-rock-climbing work social he'd organised for Monday. I concurred with a smile, and headed off into the city, adamant that I would do something nice and touristy for the first time since I'd arrived.

From the office I walked a short way down one of the main tourist streets, and off into a little cafe to plan my course of action. Eager to get a better view of the city than I had from the bus coming from the airport, I decided to head on up the hills of Buda on the westbank. Finishing my coffee I smiled gratefully at the patrons, who happily spoke a little English, and walked further down the street. A few boxes of plates caught my eye. They reminded me of the ones I had seen my flat, old and quaint, rather rustic things. The box was at the entrance to a little antique shop, invitingly down a little flight of steps. I stepped in, and, after a hearty browse, left with two attractive vases, moderately priced.

At the next corner I found another gem: a huge brick hall with high windows, coated in tiles. Stepping through the doors, and on through those large plastic curtains that remind one of stepping into Narnia, I passed into a lovely indoor market. The foods were fresh and appetising, and the interior reminiscent of a large nineteenth century iron-railed hall. I didn't buy anything, but was all too aware I would undoubtedly spend a lot of time here in the future.

Walking across the bridge and over the Danube, the wind took on one of those exhilarating airs. The steady incline of the hill was tiring but warming in the cool midday Spring sun. The view below of the cityscape made it all seem worthwhile, and gave me a completely new perspective on my adventure - just what I needed. There was hardly anyone around - the benefit of being somewhere too cold for tourists - which was ideal for me, because I could move freely and totally appreciate my surroundings: the liberation statue, the citadel, and the statue of Saint Gellert, who the hill was named after, and is the patron saint of the city.

The castle on the next, smaller hill posed equally inviting, and I headed over to see it. On the way I tried to get in at a little baroque church, but to no avail. The castle too seemed impenetrable. Useful to keep out invading armies, but I felt it was a little harsh to lock me out too. Checking the map I planned my attack from around the back, and headed off along the road. Weary from my campaign I stopped for lunch. The food was exquisite, the service was not. As I entered the restaurant all eyes turned as if to say, "who the f*ck is this!?". Clearly my sort of people. I stayed, but left no tip. Once I finally got into the castle I realised all its history and magnitude, but was aware this was an adventure for another day. I headed off and homeward.

But one last parting shot, I couldn't help but show you this little picture. A photo I took of two dolls in a booze-shop window, who I feel look exactly like my sister Katy and her husband. Servoos, all!

It was...a good day.