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| You say shopping evolution, I say shopping revolution! |
One of the most uncomfortable experiences of my life came this past summer, shortly after moving over to Europe.
I had been out on the bike all day checking out the sites in Budapest, and as it was in the low 90s, had been pounding the liter of water I packed for my trip. I’m peddling, I’m checking out the sites. I’m peddling, I’m checking out Hungarian women. And I’m trying to figure out how many city biking rules I’ve broken when it occurs to me … I’ve got to take a leak. Bad.
So I peddle to find the nearest fast food restaurant, where I figure I’d be guaranteed to find a bathroom. I’m at about a five on the pee-o-meter at this point, and find a tree to lock the bike up to (I bet you thought I was going to say I peed on the tree, didn’t you?). After taking a minute to do that, strip the helmet and shades off and head into the McDonald’s, the meter hits six. By the time I make it down the stairs to where the bathrooms are, I’m at seven.
At that point I see that there is a lady sitting outside the bathrooms and she says something to me, of which of course I cannot understand. I finally figure out that she’s motioning to me that I have to pay 100 HUF (Hungarian forints, about 50 cents in USD) to use the facilities. It’s at this point that the meter strikes eight. The little cash I had brought with me I had dropped on ice cream an hour or so earlier, so my only option was now to find the ATM. I begin to walk upstairs and my bladder starts screaming nine. No, literally, it was screaming.
Anyway, so I start up the stairs and another English-speaking guy who overheard my conversation told me that I could also produce a receipt that indicates I had spent money there to use the bathroom. So I go and buy a soda (nothing like holding a cold drink when you have to urinate), Usain Bolt it down the steps as I’m hitting 10, hand the receipt AND the soda to the lady and finally am able to do the deed.
European lesson learned, rookie mistake number X of many. The incident was one of the little quirks you need to get used to when living here in Budapest.
Another public bathroom-related matter comes when sitting or standing motionless for more than, oh, maybe 10 seconds? Then the lights turn off on you. Europe, bless its heart, is very green and energy-friendly, so motion lights are everywhere. I can appreciate that, just not when I have to nod my head, do the two-step with my feet or practice my parade wave while sitting on the toilet.
Okay, moving on from the men’s room. In Hungarian, to say “hello” is “szia”, which is pronounced, “see ya”. And to say “good bye” is “hallo”. This had me all kinds of backwards and caused numerous awkward greetings on the street, in shops and in restaurants for months.
When you’re walking into a shop, restaurant, your apartment, wherever, you have to push the door. This is obviously different that in America, where we pull doors to open them. Of course, then, I extended my record run of “Stupid American” comments whenever I forgot and yanked on a door a few times before remembering and at last being able to enter the establishment. One day, I was attempting to go to an electronics store, which had windows and a door that were shaded because it faced the sun for the majority of the day. This made it so I was unable to see inside, and I just figured the store was closed when the door wouldn’t open after three or four futile attempts to pull it open. Odd, it seemed, that the store would be closed at 1 PM on a weekday. The next day I walked past the shop again and realized that it had in fact been open, and I had just duped myself again.
“Iced” tea? Well, it’s served without ice over here. They’re not big on serving ice with their drinks in most places, so, well, get used to it. Also, their cuisine here is fantastic. And unless you’re in a real touristy area, it’s also very inexpensive. Nasty, greasy and unhealthy American fast food places like McDonald’s or Burger King? Almost twice as expensive. Seems backwards to me, but I’m not complaining.
Everything here is skinny. The sidewalks, side streets, residents, attire, vehicles, you name it. Yes, I bought a pair of skinny jeans to see what it’s all about. I’ve worn them just once though because my neck was killing me by the end of the night from continually looking at my butt to see if I’d ripped them whenever I walked up stairs.
Last on this list are the baskets you can grab at the store in lieu of a cart if you just need to pick up a few things. Well, here, they have wheels on them and a handle that flips up about waist-high. For the first few months, I refused to put them on the ground and pull them behind me. Then I saw a guy the size of Arnold Schwarzenegger pulling one around, so figured it was then okay for me to do so as well.
There you have it, your official “Quirky Guide to Budapest”. Now, jump on a plane and come visit me. We’ll squeeze into some skinny jeans, go load a rolling basket up with tea, drink ‘til we’ve got to pee and go find a bathroom and take a leak in the dark.