Day 314: Budapest, here we come!

We should have stayed in Zagreb to see the sites. I even have a friend living in the city, but thanks to our magnificent timing (as always) she was out of town for the day. With the hostel prices so high (Seriously, Fancy Hostel, you charge extra for coffee in the morning?) and both of us anxious to get to Budapest, we hopped on one of the first trains out of town and arrived in Budapest late in the afternoon. We were excited to get to the little apartment we rented out for our stay, but that enthusiasm quickly vanished when we found ourselves locked in the courtyard of a building that had signs up for the hostel/guesthouse office but no one indoors to take us to our apartment. This would have been a lot funnier had I not needed to go to the bathroom. We knocked on doors. We tried to break into the locked wi-fi networks. We finally found a nice neighbor to call another neighbor to call the guy we needed to talk to. We were in the wrong location, and had to walk a few blocks, take a tram, walk a few more blocks to get to the right location. Halfway there, we discovered the tram wasn’t running. We weren’t even surprised and hopped on a bus hoping not to get caught without a ticket. We made it, and even better, found a Thai restaurant around the corner from our place and promptly splurged on dinner.

What’s with the plastic cups in the window you might wonder? It was around the corner from our place and I was so impressed with the creativity in these window displays. It’s not the greatest shot (with the reflection and all) but I wanted to share and remember it for later. I told Andrew that I needed cheap decorating tips for our future American home. Don’t be surprised when you come to visit if our apartment is covered in plastic cups…

Day 313: We’re going to Zagreb?

This was not a part of the plan. Sarajevo was closer to Budapest… And Budapest was THE plan. Little did we know, there were no direct trains nor buses between the two, despite it being a quick (six hour) drive… I suggested we hitchhike. Andrew brushed the idea off. Instead, we had to spend an entire day on a train to Zagreb, and then another simply to get to Budapest. I wasn’t happy. Andrew wasn’t happy. When we saw the prices for even just a hostel bed in Zagreb (after not hearing from any couchsurfers) we were practically dreading the detour.

The silver lining (after nearly missing our train out of Sarajevo waiting for the tram to the station) was that we scored our own cabin and I was able to recline the seats into a bed and sleep for the majority of the ride. I slept so much that when I woke up, Andrew questioned if I was feeling ok.

Another silver lining, is that when we were given the wrong tram information in Zagreb, and ended up having to walk several blocks to our hostel, Andrew carried my big backpack for me. He always does. He won’t even let me carry it anymore, and instead gives me his smaller backpack in it’s place. Sometimes though, I’ll trick him and I’ll get to both big backpacks first. This doesn’t happen often though, because he has this whole height/long leg advantage over me.

Whenever other couples see him with both big backpacks, the men roll their eyes and I have this feeling that they give me the once over thinking I must be sooo high maintenance. But then they usually see me schlepping behind with our smaller backpacks, a bag full of snacks (now including coffee and toilet paper) and my Nepalese yak wool scarf under one arm while I try to balance my camera in the other for either a picture or some video… Then they don’t know what to think. The women look at Andrew like he must be the sweetest. I always want to tell them that he’s equally stubborn- even if it’s in a completely charming and sometimes infuriatingly chivalrous way.

Day 302: Stranger on a train

We were told the train ride from Belgrade to Kotor was beautiful and worth going during the day to see. I’ve heard this before. I take this kind of advice with a grain of salt. Vladimir hoped out loud that we would get our own cabin on the train for the journey. We explained that we have come to expect the absolute worst when it comes to a plane/train/bus ride between countries, and then become remarkably happy when it’s better than expected. Not only did the ride turn out to be just as beautiful as described, but we DID get our own cabin and the ride was peaceful and pleasant. I even made a friend in the hallway. Some would say stranger – stranger on a train – I say friend.

He asked me where I was from, talking and blowing smoke into my face simultaneously.

“Holland? England?” He asked.

“No, USA.” I replied, trying to dodge the smoke in the small hallway.

“Sorry, my English, no good.” he smiled, exhaling another cloud of smoke into my face.

“That’s ok!” I smiled, and started back towards our cabin for some fresh air.

Later, he peeked his head into our cabin to ask for a lighter. Andrew put his hands on his pockets and pulled empty hands up to his face, suggesting he didn’t have one. The man asked again, like maybe we misunderstood what he was asking for. Andrew nodded, trying to convey that he did understand what he was looking for, we just didn’t have one. The man looked at us like we were crazy, as if he were wondering how we were going to smoke without a lighter.

As I stood outside of our cabin looking at the view from the other side of the train, he ambled down the hallway towards me, cigarette in hand.

“You are from America, but why you sound English?” He asked, confused by my accent. I smiled, not at all offended by his curiosity. (Usually this is my least favorite question. Because, usually it’s presented quite differently. Like I must not be from Kentucky if I don’t sound like it… Or I might be lying about where I am from because I don’t fit into someone else’s stereotype.)

I shrugged with my smile and admitted I wasn’t quite sure. He told me about Montenegro, our conversation sometimes difficult to follow as we were standing next to an open window on a train going fairly fast. We would pause our conversation every time we went into a tunnel and start back up again coming out. We talked about the monastery we passed on the train. He told me about the different religions getting along in his town. He asked me if I have read some Dostoevsky and I felt bad admitting that I haven’t. I joked with Andrew later, that I should have said, “No, but I have read “50 Shades of Grey”, have you?

Then he pointed out his house on the hillside of the town we were getting ready to pull into. I asked him if I could take his picture before he left, and he obliged before grabbing his bags and then stepping into our cabin one last time to say goodbye and wish us luck on our travels. Exchanges like these make my heart so big on this trip. In Korea, I would get really excited when the convenient store clerk near our apartment would remember me  and ask how I was doing. It made me feel like I was home. Not in the literal sense of Korea being like Kentucky, but just that someone knew my face. Even if it’s a few conversations within the span of one day, or striking up one conversation with a stranger, someone opening up their world to me, just for a moment is one of the biggest reasons to travel, and for me, personally, to continue to travel.