Mutterings and utterings of a budding novelist

One Bank, One Shop, One Pub

Standing in an eerie crypt, surrounded by vast, ornate catacombs I peer at what appears to be a larger than life-size bronze angel draping a huge Hungarian flag over the beautifully carved tomb of what I assume to be a bishop or priest. I guess he must have been a man of some importance; there’s his death mask in a glass case, and a photo of the previous pope in the adjoining room.
There’s a bit of information next to the tomb but it’s all in Hungarian.
I call over my mate Krisztian. ‘Hey can you translate this for me pal?’
He wanders over and peers at the text before replying in his usual thick accent. ‘Ah it just history and shit.’

Before I met Wendy I had no desire of ever going to Hungary, but then again my knowledge of the country was also extremely vague. I can now say that it’s one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever been to, and the Hungarian people are rightfully proud of their homeland. Not to mention being proud of their heritage, their food, and their drink.

The people we met were friendly and welcoming, especially in Krisztian’s home town of Csatka – a village of around 250-300 people miles from anywhere. Thankfully they sorted out their priorities and made sure they had a drinking establishment, where we spent several nights.

I won’t mumble and bumble on about all the stunning places we went, as I know it can make for tedious reading, suffice to say Hungary, (and its capital Budapest) is a memorable place and I look forward to visiting again next year.

Next time I’ll make sure I go equipped knowing more Hungarian words than just ‘thank-you’, ‘beer’, ‘and ‘no palinka’.

 

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