Hungary for a Change,

After Chiang Mai, travelling through Thailand lost it's lustre.  Months of weariness suddenly caught up with me and I could feel my meandering was now haphazard.  Laboured. To make matters worse, my patience for the day to day tribulations was wearing decidedly thin.  Thailand was an amazing place, but I simply didn't want to spend another day bartering for a Tuk Tuk or carefully choosing where I slept based using a Cost vs Cockroach risk assessment.



Monk's Robes drying in the Sun

But where would I go?  I could venture west to the newly opened Burmese border, joining the caravan of other backpackers filing up to get into the 'unspoilt paradise' beyond.  Perhaps Vietnam, or even Cambodia on a pilgrimage to Angkor Wat.  No, I needed a more drastic change of scenery.  Specifically somewhere without Tuk Tuk drivers.

I chose Hungary.  Partly because I had never been there.  Partly because I like Rubik's Cubes, and partly because my girlfriend was visiting Budapest and I thought it would be fun to surprise her there.  But mainly because the Tuk Tuk hasn't quite established itself in the Hungarian transport infrastructure yet.

So with a startling lack of forethought I booked the next flight to Budapest, sprinted to make the next Sleeper train to Bangkok and 17 hours later I was waiting in the astonishingly long Check-In line at Bangkok airport, slowly coming to the realisation that I hadn't fully thought this plan through.  I booked a bed in a random Budapestian hostel using the agonisingly slow airport Wi-Fi and quickly managed to pull up some vague directions before my access to the internet timed out. 

Inordinately happy with my last minute accomplishments, I boarded my suspiciously nice Aeroflot plane to Moscow.  Compounded by my ticket being upgraded for no apparent reason to one above standard class and the blonde Russian-looking girl sat next to me being a pleasantly silent and unfidgeting individual, this turned out to be an especially pleasant long haul flight.  Riiiiight up until we were about to land.

The girl next to me glanced out the window and put a jumper on.  The cabin was a little over air conditioned perhaps.  I thought nothing of it.  She then pulled a hat out.  A bit drastic, I thought, and the gloves she was now fumbling around with were quite simply an extravagance.  She looked at me quizzically, knowing, after my fumbling attempts to communicate my desire for the in-flight chicken based meal, that I did not speak Russian.  She looked at my lightweight t-shirt and super lightweight jungle trekking trousers and then pointed outside.  It was February in Moscow and ten degrees below zero and I only had t-shirts.  A look of terror crossed my face.  She nearly wet herself laughing.

I think it's strange that somehow we didn't say a word to each other for 9 hours on a flight, but by the time we went our separate ways from Moscow Airport, we parted like old friends.  Drunk and high fiving.

Anyway, I had a plane to catch and a Hostel to find.

Budapest awaits.