Three different train inspectors came to check our tickets. It was a quiet Sunday so there weren't many passengers. At about 11.50 am, one of the train inspector pointed out our stop. For some reason unknown to us, this train was not going to stop at the Keleti Train Station. All seven of us alighted together with another five.
Mr America (not his real name) was a large Caucasian in his late forties. His fair-haired petite companion is in her mid twenties. His luggage, to commensurate with his size was probably the largest I ever saw.
Mr India (not his real name) was a young good looking chap, mid thirties from India. He was travelling with his young wife and a baby in a stroller.
We stepped off the train onto a small platform and studied our immediate vicinity in consternation and disbelief. The train chugged along to the distant Slovakia.
The silence was deafening. There wasn't a single person (other than us) in sight. The hot sun beat down upon our backs. On our right were the empty railway tracks. Trees and shrubbery lined both sides of the fenced tracks. A small shelter covering a solitary bench stood about thirty feet away on the small platform and beyond that was a metal stairway. No other buildings were in sight.
Gathering our luggage, we walked past the small shelter and the solitary bench towards the open metal stairway which took us to the overhead bridge built over the tracks. Mr America struggled with his colossal luggage. The rest of us huffed and puffed up the stairway, along the bridge and down another stairway. This was the only exit out of the tracks. From a distance, we heard the bark of a solitary dog.
A little path connected the stairway to a small deserted road. Turning left, then right, we walked up another road. An empty house stood on the left of this road. On the right was another house. A barking mutt was tied to a tree outside the house. Next to the dog was a man wearing a pair of shorts, a ciggie in his mouth. He was staring at us.
Mr Nice-Guy, ever the gentleman, helped us all with our luggage while Mr Seventeen had his hands full with the one luggage under his care. Meanwhile, my Significant Other was struggling with another two luggage and a backpack. The moral of this story? Travel light.
Luggage with wheels are no use on a stairway because you have to lift them up or down. Mr America's face was red from lugging his huge baggage. Poor Mr India ran up and down with his various luggage and stroller while his wife carried the baby.
Some 500 meters up the road, we arrived at a T-junction. On our left was a BMW showroom. The building on our right looked like an empty light industrial building.
Not knowing where else to go, we stopped right there at the junction and consulted with the other two couples. They were as lost as us. Remember that we arrived in Budapest on a Sunday. The showroom and factory building were closed. We asked a guard at the showroom as well as the guard on the other light industrial building for direction. They pointed to the right. We could not get any other information out of them. Language was the barrier.
We must have looked a sorry sight, all twelve of us stranded by the side of the road with our luggage and a baby.
"Worst case scenario, we catch a taxi to the hotel," Mr Nice-Guy proposed.
"Whatever you do, don't take a taxi.. The cabdrivers in Budapest are known to extort tourists," warned Mr India, who overheard our conversation.
Mr Seventeen suggested that we started walking to the right instead of hanging around along this quiet road. We had no idea how far we had to walk, and how to get to where we wanted to walk to, so the walking did not happen.
Instead, we looked at each other to consider our options. While thus engaged, we did not notice a tram driver on an empty No: 2 Tram walking towards us. He was on his way home when he spotted the bunch of us stranded outside the BMW showroom.
"Can I help you?" Mr Tram-Driver (not his real name) asked. Mr America was the first to respond. Mr India was with them in an instant. After he found out their destination, Mr Tram-Driver wrote down his instruction on a piece of paper and handed them to both Mr America and Mr India.
"We should not take his instruction," warned Mr Seventeen. "I don't trust him."
Now Mr Tram-Driver was a man in his late forties, with a receding hairline, a pot belly and dubious looks. He wore a beige overall which was stained from wear and tear. Mr Seventeen's qualm was justified..
Both Mr America and Mr India started walking away. Mr Nice-Guy wasn't sure what to do. His family urged him to start walking to the right.
Seeing the indecision, my Significant Other took a calculated risk. He approached Mr Tram-Driver for direction. The man wrote:
- Tram No: 1 to Pushkas Ferenc Stadion.
- Metro No: 2 (Red Line) to Direction => Deli Palyaudvar; 1 stop Keleti Palyaudvar
He pointed out the 3-minutes walk to the nearest tram stand on our left. We thanked him and started walking.
"The children said that we should all walk to the right," said Ms Walk-Faster.
"No. Our group must not split up," decided Mr Nice-Guy as he herded his family towards the tram stand.
Five minutes later, we arrived at the tram stand. Both Mr America and Mr India were there.
"Do you think the tram accept EURO?" asked my husband.
"I don't think so. EURO is not widely accepted here," answered Mr India.
"We did not have time to buy some forints," confessed Mr Nice-Guy.
"I don't have forints too," grinned Mr India. "But not to worry. Either we pay the fine in EURO or we get a free ride."
|
|
So that settled it. We got our free ride to Pushkas Ferenc Stadion.
| At the Budapest Metro subway, there weren't any money changers within a sniff so we lugged our baggage down the stairs towards the ticket vending machine, where Mr Seventeen bought tickets (350 forints each) for everyone with his credit card. From there, we took the subway and emerged some place opposite the Keleti Train Station. It was 2.45 pm. We took close to three hours to get to this station. |
|
KELETI TRAIN STATION
The first thing I saw after pounding out of the subway onto the thoroughfare opposite the Keleti Train Station was a young man waiting at the bus stand. He had a cello with him. It wasn't everyday that you see a young man waiting at a bus stand with his cello.
 |
|
 |
From here, it was a ten minute's walk to The Tower Terrace. We were given rooms at the top floor. The rooms weren't ready so we left our luggage with the girl at Reception and piled out of the building for some grub. Spotting the first money-changer at the thoroughfare opposite the Keleti, we finally got around to buying some Forints. (60,000 forints for EUR200)
Lunch was at the KFC along this thoroughfare. We were issued special PIN to use the washroom. If you don't eat there, you can't wash there.
No comments:
Post a Comment