beetrock

My first official cross-bridge trip to Buda commenced on possibly one of the worst weather days in Hungarian history. My beloved visitor Joke and I, naively umbrella-less and optimistic, headed for the tram stop. I have related to Joke the “riding the tram without a ticket theory” that has been passed down by generations of Budapest expats – apparently it costs less to ride the tram for free and get caught than buy tickets. Content with our righteous choice of payment avoidance we rode the number 6 to Moszjva Ter and were spit out in the middle of a large track, road, and people crossing. As at this point it started pouring heavily, we ran around in search of an umbrella and finally found a friendly kiosk. Thanks to my lovely Lonely Planet Phrasebook I could impress Joke and myself by managing to say “two umbrellas, please” to the sales person.

About an hour and a half later – after getting lost and drying off at an English-style pub - Joke and I arrived at the door of the House of Hungarian Wines. I kept calling it the “Wine Museum” and not for nothing – along the walls were comprehensive descriptions of each of Hungary’s many wine regions in four languages. Apparently there is a “2 hour limit” to being on the premises. Obviously Joke and I were determined to break the rules. Joke took diligent notes on the wines we liked and we wondered around, spat things into prominently located spit buckets, and drank things we liked with glee. We were pushing on our second hour in the cellars, when the appearance of a creepy-looking tour guide/attendant, who wanted to show Joke and I the great lake Balaton, take us out for drinks, and possibly do other things with us, urged us to rapidly leave the museum. We strolled out of the Var – Buda’s castle district where the House of Hungarian Wines is located - and got a magnificent view of drying Pest and the fast-flowing Danube.