8 October 2008: Orfü, Hungary

I woke up at 11:00 after a surprisingly alright night of sleep, considering the circumstances. Csaba's bed is actually the futon pulled out, so when I took his couch I actually just took his chair. But it was a very soft chair, and there was an ottoman that was just the right height. So it was better than expected.

We had stopped off for McDonald's the night before, and while my verdict on European McDonald's is that it doesn't offer the same instant-gratification as American McDonald's, you'll be pleased to know that it does offer the same terrible feeling the morning after. Yippee.

The picture-taker, who was still on the couch, woke up a little after me and was surprisingly nice. She had been grumpy as all hell on the walk home, presumably because she thought I was ruining her chances and because she looked like Death and may have felt like it too, but I was glad she no longer blamed me for her not getting laid. I'm telling you, it just wasn't going to happen.

(And Csaba, of course was as good a dude as ever and hooked me up with a couple slices of pizza. As Christian in Clueless would say, "Solid.")

I had planned on going to Orfü today, and on taking the bus, but when I got to the bus station, the sign along the road said that Orfü was only 15km away. I decided to hitch-hike, of course, and was picked up in four minutes by a dude. Whose name I didn't catch. And whose car I was too terrified to notice.

When I got in I told the man "Orfü," and that was the only thing I said during the entire ride except for legitimage gasps of pure terror. The driver was talking on the phone and swerving in and out of the lane and doing 60km around the turns-- and nearly the entire drive was turns. In fact, he wasn't so much turning as he was veering one way until we were a meter from the guard-rail or the ledge, at which point he would cut the wheel. I literally felt like I was on that amusement park ride where you get shot into the air and then you come down, and your meant to feel like your stomach is in your mouth. Except it was terrifying.

At one point we were behind a truck, with three other cars ahead of us, which was a momentary release because the truck was going slowly. But then the driver made a move to pass them, and when he got into the other lane there were two cars coming head-on not more than 100 meters away. I literally almost yelped.

He eventually made the four-car pass, but finally we got to Orfü. I'm telling you, I would have felt safer if the car was being driven by Charles Manson.

I had been told that Orfü was "a beautiful vacation town," which wasn't really what I was looking for. But it came highly recommended by just about everyone, so I figured it was worth a visit.

Since the season was over, though, there was a hardly a soul in town, and no restaurants or hotels open. Just a beautiful lake in a beautiful town on a beautiful day. I sat by the lake and wrote for a little bit and took it all in, and I felt like I could have been at Walden Pond.

Not because of the quiet solitude of the lake, but because I'm brilliant.

There really wasn't anything to do in the town without a boat or a fishing pole, and there wouldn't have been much more even in-season other than swimming, but like any self-respecting summer-vacation town Orfü does have a mini-golf course. Sorry, a putt-putt course. It was closed, of course, but I know I would have won a free game on the bonus hole if it hadn't been. I could just feel it. The fresh air does wonders for your putting stroke.

I kept walking around the river and saw an old man sitting on a folding chair with two fishing poles in front of him. I really wanted to sit down with him and talk some fishing jargon with him, but I didn't know the Hungarian for "How they bitin', there," "That cold nor'easter's a-blowin' in," or "Caught me one big as a horse." So instead I just sat down. After all, a bad day fishing beats a good day walking around aimlessly.

This guy didn't have a care in the world. I wish I could have heard some of his tales of the sea.

Finally, after some more walking, I found a hotel/restaurant that was open. I went in to ask if there was any work I could do in the restaurant for a bed in the hotel, since I wanted to stay in Orfü for the night, but the woman behind the bar didn't speak English.

She went away for a minute and came back with a phone, and I spoke to the lady on the other line. I repeated what I had told the other woman, that I was looking for any sort of work for one day just in exchange for a place to sleep, and I handed the phone back. The woman went away for about ten minutes, then, and when she came back she motioned for me to follow her into her car.

Not a single word was said as we drove into a residential area, and when we finally parked at a house I followed the woman down the back steps towards the basement. At this point I felt like I was about to meet the Godfather to discuss the terms of our agreement, but instead the woman handed me the phone again. Not sure what to expect, it turned out to be the same friend as before, who said "You have free accomodation tonight because you are young and you look nice."

You see? I'm so good I'm practically telepathic.

The woman made the bed for me and handed me the key, and as we left she said "My house." I was literally staying in this woman's basement apartment. I was part-tennant and part-squatter. What a combo.

After this we drove back to the restaurant and I made the international sign for eating. She motioned for me to sit down at a table outside, and in a few minutes she brought out a bottle of coke, followed by steak and potatos and bread. A proverbial feast.

I waited a while after I ate for the woman to come out and tell me what the plan was, but then I realized that she wouldn't be able to tell me the plan and I didn't want to bother her friend again on the phone. I decided to walk around for an hour or so, but there was still little to do and now it was cold to boot.

I headed back to the restaurant and asked the woman what the plan was. She of course didn't answer, and so she of course called her friend. I asked her and handed the phone back to the woman, who had a tired look on her face as she spoke. I got the phone back and the friend told "She says you have your own key and can go back whenever you want." I told her that was fine, but I didn't know how to get back to the house, and the friend said "You don't know which room is yours? It's the one in the basement." I explained to her that I could find my room, I just couldn't find the house the room was in, and she finally understood. So I handed the phone back to the woman, and when she hung up she said "Five minutes."

In about that much time a man showed up and told me to come with him. The woman waved at him, and since she had prepared such wonderful food I figured I could trust her.

The man didn't say anything, but there were two young children in the back so I figured that he was her husband. So, I suppose, it was a good thing I hadn't gotten a bottle of wine to enjoy with the woman beside the lake. Good thing indeed.

(He started driving before I had actually closed the door, though. I don't know what it is with these Hungarian drivers, but they either try to race to start driving before all the doors are closed or they don't realize that closed doors are a good indication that it's OK to start driving at all.)

There wasn't a single bar in Orfü, or really anything else, so I took a beautiful walk around town for a bit instead. And when I got back to my basement the presidential debate was on. It was a fortuitous night to have nothing to do.