And now for a joke.
Where do you go to get the best coffee in all of Budapest?
The airport.
Hahaha.
No really, 33.33% the coffee has been fine the past three weeks between Hungary and Romania, but honestly, the other 33.33% was actually compost water and final 33.33% was just too dang small. I love espresso, but at home I typically make a 12 cup pot of coffee in the morning and procede to drink it for the rest of the day until about 8 p.m. To drink the equivalent of 12 cups of drip coffee in espressos, I would have to order 2345678 espressos. And then my head would explode.
Anyway, if you did not gather this prior to my rant, this morning at 5 a.m., I woke to my last few hours in Budapest. The past three weeks in the first two countries of my tri-country excursion have been a little bit beyond words for me. I know I whined about toilet paper, bathroom doors, toilets, bathrooms in general, but if I ever have the opportunity to come back here, I will. Of course, it really wouldn’t be the same without my Flinn brothers and sisters (flothers and flisters, anyone?? =D) who made this trip for me. I thought they were pretty dang cool before, but now I am sitting here wondering how I am going to get over withdrawals from those kids for the next 4 weeks (and beyond, damn all these world travelers...)
Before I get into my first entertaining story of the Benin leg of this trip (which literally started an hour ago, so the fact that there is already a story makes for a promising month to come), I have a few last tidbits to share from Europe:
- Remember that blog about tripping and getting hurt all the time? Well, a really good way to perpetuate that injurious cycle is to try to use your multi-tool as a corkscrew replacement when opening a bottle of two-buck-chuck at a picnic on Gellert Hill overlooking Budapest. Ironically, I wasn’t even the one drinking said high class beverage, I was just trying to be a team player for the benefit of everyone else. My advice to any travelers reading this would be to definitely buy a multi-tool for your voyages, but make sure you buy one where the knife locks in place so it doesn’t close and slice your finger open when you try to stab it into a cork. Long story short, not having such a tool will lead to gaping finger wounds, a visit to a Hungarian hospital for stitches (which they opted not to give me), a bottle of liquid bandage (to make up for the lack of stitches), and the potential for coming down with a festering flesh eating virus during your future travels (not that I am worried or anything)
- Thinking way back to Romania...I think that was 4 days ago or so...my favorite experience was definitely my homestay in Petrini village, where I pretty much adopted my host mom’s daughter, Kinga. This kid spoke zero English, but that didn’t stop us from becoming best pals. We colored on her balcony, we swung on her porch swing, she brought me all of her cats to pet, she taught me how to folk dance...or tried at least... This cool little child just made me think even more about my rocking cool sisters at home who I miss like freaking crazy. I can’t wait to come home and lick all of them, then have a spinach/cereal/Mom’s spaghetti sauce party on the kitchen floor. Oh, and salsa. We don’t have to mix all those things. We’ll have them in 12 seperate courses...Hungarian style.
- Speaking of food, a couple of days ago while on an architecture tour of Budapest, our group walked past a swanky juice bar which advertised fresh fruit and vegetable juices as well as a salad bar in their window. I tried to ditch the tour with my pals Cary Kelly and Katherine Richard in order to consume a massive spinach shake, but we were caught and shepherded back to the art noveau, baroque, yadayadayada of the surrounding buildings, none of which were offering spinach shakes. No fear though, we came back the next day and enjoyed spinach/beet/carrot/orange shakes AND a spinach salad. It was a very good day.
Alright, now for this morning. I traveled to the airport with most of the Flinn kids, but then we had to separate and head for different terminals. I pondered the merits of bawling hysterically, and then walked into my terminal. Then I pondered the merits of sitting on the floor and bawling hysterically. Actually, I couldn’t do any bawling because all of the sudden I was by myself and shit just got real. Who has never traveled alone before? This kid. After waiting for 3o minutes in the wrong line for check in, I finally got headed in the right direction, toward security and my gate. Naturally, just like everyone else in the world, security is my FAVORITE part of air travel, so excitedly tried to get all of my liquids, electronics, shoes, etc off, out and in a bin to go through the xrays. As I was performing my “Security Rage Rush”--the process of trying to rapidly throw all of the items you took out or off back in or on in 4 seconds or less because there is a line of incredibly excited people behind you, all trying to savor their final seconds of their favorite airport activity--my bag got sent to the naughty list and the bag checker man told me to take out my stuff, then proceeded to confiscate my mosquito repellent.
I contemplated the merits of sitting on the floor and bawling.
But I didn’t. No, in fact, staring the face of malaria itself in the eyes of the bag checker man, I told him yes of course I would throw away my lifeline between health and a vomiting fever in the garbage can behind me, and then proceeded to smuggle it under my jacket as soon as he turned my back. And then I wanted to pee my pants in fear, but seriously, I am already at risk of flesh-eating bacteria with this finger of mine, do I really need malaria or dengue at the same time? No thanks.
And now many pictures which I made an attempt to arrange chronologically.
In Kinga's village, these storks are everywhere! I am not really sure how they make their giant nests work on the top of electricity poles, but this sort of Jenga-home building fowl skill is pretty impressive to view on every single pole in the village.
More odes to Hungarian/Romanian restrooms. First, the picture, just in case you can't figure out WC, here's a diagram of how to use this room. Second, every time I saw a "Defect!!" sign on a bathroom I laughed my butt off and said "Yes, welcome to your country, you really should put these on all of the restrooms."
Even though we just LOVED all of the fried cheese and potatoes we were served throughout the trip, Olivia, Katherine, and I were able to deprive ourselves of those delicacies one night in Cluj-Napoca, Romania, opting instead for Greek salad and fruit parfaits. Freaking yum.
Here is an artsy picture of nature.
Here are the "Fladies" in the nature. From left, Olivia, Jacque, Jasmine, Amy, Lily, Katherine, Julia, and Gaby.
Interesting observation I have just made: it would appear that Katherine and I wore the same clothes on every single hike.
Now for the Flen. Or Flentelmen. Whatever. From left again, Lee, Donovan, Dylan, Patrick, Ben, Paul, Nick, Aman, Shanan, Shantanu, and Eric.
Another cool find in Budapest.
And finally, the finger. This is called a splint made from a "readily available commercial device," a creation made by me, Ben, and Aubri, the lovely chaperones on this trip. This picture doesn't really do the gaping cut justice though, as I waited until I was superglued back together to pull out the camera.
And now it is time for me to get onto a plane....shit getting realer as we speak =D
For the honor and glory.
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