Day 19: Budapest

Highlights:

• Gabo
• Scrambled Egg Gnocchi
• Hungarian State Ballet

The Americans got up pretty early, guilting me into getting up around 8.30. Still, I hung around and had some hot water and lemon (trying to cleanse my body of beer) whilst they went to breakfast with Hungarian Andrew (now the only Andrew). I was still struggling away on my blackberry trying to write yesterday's entry when Andrew returned. Shortly after, a friend of his arrived and I heard them have a big hug around the corner and assumed she was his wife. But I think like Gabo, she was just another good friend. He made me re-demonstrate the light feature on my kindle case in front of her, and we oohed and aahed over it a bit. With all the excitement it's causing, I wonder if they don't have the Kindle here yet?

I headed out a bit later than planned, and went to Alexander for a coffee and to finish The Pianist afterword. It was about the German Officer who helped Wladek (the pianist), and lots of other Jews (though was killed by Soviets after the war). Very moving. An absolute hero.

The rest of my morning/early afternoon was pretty uneventful, aside from an exciting spot of Tesco Expressz. Yes, with a z. I saw a T-co (I don't want to give them more mentions than necessary) van in Prague, though never saw the store. I didn't go in to this one; I'm sticking to the elaborate Lidls I keep finding, and a store called BCA which make these really good seeded, croissant-dough long rolls. Another store that's made it over here, I smelt from a block down. As I walked closer, I was thinking 'hang on a minute, that smells like Lu-' and then I saw that it was a Lush. Same sickening smell. It's just round the corner from my hostel though, so if I get lost in that area I can just sniff my way home.

Anyway, clearly an uninteresting day, and I was worried I'd have nothing to write here. Enter Gabo.

I'd been back an hour when Gabo came in. Andrew had told him he'd be back by 3pm (he only mans reception when he knows people are arriving, or when he can be useful) but didn't turn up until 8pm (Gabo says he always blames the traffic). Anyway, I sat and had tea with Gabo, this Hungarian born, longtime Austrian residing guy in his 60s. He's got a strong accent, pronouncing Vs instead of Ws. ('There's own-ly vun vay to do this'). He gave me a maths puzzle - what is 10 to the power of 100? He said it was a word I use every day. I didn't know, so he made me look over his shoulder as he typed 'what means google' into google. So 10 to the power of 100 is a google. Fact for you. Welsh Andrew had said Gabo had only recently discovered google and was obsessed. He also looked up Lord Nelson after some tea label he read, and a few more 'what means'. 

I was snooping the brochures in reception and figured I should do something that evening at the Opera House. There was a Ballet showing called Karamazov (after the novel by Dostoyevsky) so I booked a 12quids ticket (call back) and agreed to have a quick dinner with Gabo before it started at 7. The place he took us to was about a 10minute walk from the hostel though he was planning on getting a 1minute tram ride just to speed it up. He made me promise not to tell anyone about the restaurant, as he didn't like tourists (and was eyeing up two American guys pretty distastefully) and didn't want them ruining his favourite place.

So here's what I learned about Gabo over the early evening:

Andrew had told me he was a millionaire, and Gabo explained the reason he was in Budapest was because a guy owed him £67,000 that he had lent to his company. It was already overdue, and he was in town to serve the guy with legal papers if he didn't pay up. That day, Gabo had also been down to the CASTLE he owned 102km south of Budapest. He'd had it for 5years and was doing it up. He showed me pictures and it looked pretty impressive, laying just a short distance from the Danube. So, Gabo was in his early sixties (not quite old enough for OAP free travel) and had been born to two communist parents in Hungary. However, during the revolution in '56 (I learned all about this), his parents left for Vienna, with him and his sister following later. He studied Economics at Vienna University (where his sister has just retired from as an English Professor) and did a post-grad at Cambridge, where he met Prince Charles who admitted that he didn't want to be King. Gabo insists that William will take over instead.

I asked him when he retired and he responded '39'. 'A few months ago then' I joked, not taking him seriously (he jokes all the time. You've got to be careful around Gabo). '39 a few days ago', he said, with a twinkle in his eye. Then he told me he hadn't been a nice man at that age, and then one day he was driving his car at 140 km/h when he crashed into a truck going at a similar speed. He was seriously hurt; he lost his little finger on his left hand and some feeling in his arm, and has metal plates in his head and chest. He was in hospital for 6months, and then had to return daily for the following year. 'That's life', he said to me, shrugging. He slowed down at work and eventually quit and just invests his money from time to time. 

I had some sort of weird scrambled egg gnocchi dish (which I let Gabo finish), as I polished off some cold red wine (Gabo has never touched a drop of alcohol). We split the bill, and I think I was the only one to leave a tip. Gabo insisted on seeing me to the Opera House. We jumped on a tram, and Gabo explained that if anyone checked him for a ticket, he'd just pretend he didn't speak Hungarian (even though he's a native) or he'd keep an unused ticket in his pocket and explain that old age meant he'd forgotten to get it stamped). You don't stay rich if you spend money I think his motto must be. He pointed out that the main station in Hungary (Nyugati) was designed by the Eiffel Tower Architect and showed me the first metro station on the continent by Oktogon (Budapest was next after London in getting an underground). Their lines aren't particularly deep underground here though, and at Oktogon station there's maybe only a worrying 30cm of pavement between the street and the tunnel.

We arrived at the Opera House and Gabo bid me farewell, offering me a tour of the city tomorrow if I wanted it. I took my seat in a box, and was joined by three mid-30s Aussies, and two Hungarian teenagers (romantic date). The Australian woman looked like she could have been a Ballet dancer herself, and her partner was a bit of a silver fox. They mentioned having seen an actress they knew called Deirdre a few boxes along, but I couldn't eavesdrop enough to find out how they knew her.

The ballet started, and I was blown away. It was my first ballet, and I hadn't ever really considered it an art form before that moment. But it's just like a painting, with swirls and colour and movement, only this is live in front of you, and it's people twisting their bodies into phenomenal shapes and it looks beautiful and graceful rather than distorted and painful. And there's an Orchestra building up the emotion, and the set and lighting constantly change, just like a play. It was just incredible. And easy to follow (once I'd established that the person I thought was the three brothers' mum, was actually their younger, black-robed, clergy novice brother (I'd got a little suspicious when this vixen who had been seducing one brother, then started kissing this black-robed mum, but assumed it was just a way of drastically portraying the vixen weaving her way into the whole family, mum included. I only clocked on when they stripped the black robe to the waist, and the woman seemed ridiculously flat chested and six-packed, even for a ballet dancer), and the guy I'd thought was their third brother was actually their dad). Only about a 1hr 45 minute ballet, with a £4 glass of champagne in the middle, but really worth it. The opera building was phenomenal inside. All domed ceilings and epic murals. During the interval I went out onto the balcony which overlooks Budapest, and seeing the dark sky and the city all lit up...just, really nice. 

After three encores (two too many), I left and came back to the hostel. I bought a ticket from Andrew for the spa the next day and he welcomed me with open arms (this time I DID get a hug) when I asked to stay another night. I think he offered me an 'every second night free' deal, and recommended I stay until the Revolution Anniversary, as this usually got pretty rowdy/violent, and would be interesting to watch. In 2006, the old government approved police to shoot into the crowd. 

I'm thinking about it. If I hold out a week longer, I'll even get to see the Fit Parade as well. Like Gay Pride, but for Bodybuilders.

End of day 19.