Back in the fomer USSR

soooo! finally, another post. I am writing today from a tiny internet cafe off one of the main arterial roads of Budapest, staring at an hideous orange wall and simultaneously in wonder down at my keyboard. My most recent emails have been short and angry because they'd mangled by the French keyboards. Damn French, it's not enough to add all their ridiculous accents but they also insist on scattering the keys around in some kind of defiant, nonsensical, anti-West way. This may not bother some, but for an ex-typist it drives you insane. Anyway, Hungary is much more superior in this regard. If you are interested. aaaand that's about enought talk of keyboards for now!

A lot has happened since I last wrote. I took the 19 hour bus from Lund to Paris. Nothing of importance happened. We caught the ferry from Denmark to Germany(unexpectedly for me, I still haven't learnt my European geography). Following a little trip to the duty free store onboard the ferry, the eight Swedish youths on the back seat of the buss shed their cold exterior and got ripsnorting drunk. Typical. Made me proud to be a temporary residential Swedish citizen.

I spent New Year's Eve and the days immediately prior and after with Fiona and her family at their Summer House in rural France. They live in a small town (something-sur-Amboise) near Nevers, about 2 hours south of France. Basically, it was one of the best New Year's I have had. Fiona's family are Scottish and I think there is something about the Scots that clicks with the Australians - our mutual love of taking the piss, tounge-in-cheek humour. Or our love of a good drink, perhaps. Whatever it was, her family took me in as if I was their own - plying me with outstanding food and wine INCLUDING HAGGIS! WHICH I LOVE, THANKS; setting me up, taking me iceskating where I was upstaged by 2 year olds; taking me clubbing at the local nightclub where it's custom to buy a bottle of vodka with your entry fee, and a bike riding excursion through the countryside that ended in tears when Fiona's pedal snapped off and fell into a ditch.

New Year's Eve was a feast. One of their French neighbours, Bernard the ex chef, did all the cooking. Everyone from the street was invited. I was far and away the worst French speaker, so I did a lot of "smiling and nodding" - the international gestures of non-comprehension. We celebrated both the French and the Scottish New Year's Eve and spent the rest of the night dancing away to traditional dances called a Caidleh (don't quote me on that spelling). Being the token Australian, I was of course the object of much merrymaking. And for my journey back to Paris on Tuesday, Fiona's mum Moira made me a packed lunch. They are fantastic people and I really hope to see them all again.

After a whirlwind tour of Paris on Tuesday afternoon (cruise on the Seine; Eiffel Tower, Trocadero, Sacre Coeur and Montmatre, the Moulin Rouge, many hours spent on the Metro) I left for Budapest on Wednesday. I flew with Wizzjet from this countryside airport called Beauvais and was asleep by the time the plane left the runway, probably unknowingly drooling on the Hungarian girl next to me. From the Budapest airport i was shuttled via minibus to the Red Bus Hostel II, my abode for the next few days.

Red Bus Hostel II - yes, it's the sequel - is a small backpackers run by a man with a passionate dislike of Budapest. Within moments of me arriving he was telling me that the people here don't care for your feelings, it's too busy, got too many cars, and there's dog shit everywhere. The last comment I can back up - i don't know how the Budapestarians (? - no, budapedestrians! hahaha etc.) walk around so carefree when I am dodging feces every five steps. But as to the rest, I haven't really come to a decision yet. Budapest is kind of like St Petersberg, without the snow and the Cyrillic. At the moment it's a toasty 4 degrees, slightly overcast with patches of clear skies - precisely how I like my European winters.

First impressions of Budapest. There is a disturbing number of solariums here. The bad fashion epidemic of Eastern Europe has lost its shock value- everyone seems to dress like tourists, and it doesn't bother me as much as it used to. A big beer costs about 80cents AUD. Everything is half run down and half built up, like they're building with their new money a new city over the ruins of the Soviet one (which is in all likelihood exactly what's happening). They have fancy trams that put shame to the ones in Melbourne. It's pretty good for walking around in, and that's what I've been doing all day. My Converse chucks are almost falling apart but I think they'll last me out. Today I've been to the House of Terror (not to be confused with the Albury Show's House of Horrors), the Hero's Square, the Opera House and a gigantic ice rink. After paying for the internet i'll head off to the Buda side of Budapest and go climb through a cave or something. Also on the menu - geothermal baths in the ancient Turkish baths, a trip to the communist Statue graveyard; and of course looking at heaps of church things and bridges.

ok my hunger is urging me onwards - I will try to write again soon, probably in Vienna - until then peace out lovelies.