More than one way to get to the Balaton

Tired and somewhat slow-witted I caught the train at Deli Palyaudvar. Now for those who don’t know Budapest, this is the southern station and those trains going south, leave from here.

It was a last minute decision, the trip to Mohacs had been missed, and the Balaton (a large lake) was beckoning. Quickly packing, missing many an important item, I had gone to the station to find a very busy train. I found a spare seat and sat down.

Approaching Szekesfehervar, about half way, I became apprehensive if I needed to change train or not. I asked some fellow passengers and they assured me that I did not.

Let us smooth over the next part of the journey and return about the time I realise something is wrong.

On my right was the Balaton when it should be on my left. Siofok was approaching and this is on the south bank, not the North for which I was destined. Thinking quickly I realised the next stop was Zamardi and the ferry to Tihany. At the last moment, and in spite of my slow witted fellow passengers, I jumped ship (train) and hit the pavement.

At the station, I checked the map on the wall and saw there were a few kilometers walk to the ferry stop. I began to walk down a largely featureless road. I stopped a boy on a bike who confirmed that the ferry was indeed at the end of the long road I was on. A few moments later an old car stopped a few meters away and a couple of old boys hailed me. ‘Where are you going?”.

In my finest Hungarian I explained I was going to the ferry. They invited me in and off we went. They were both around 50 and the traditional well padded form of middle-aged Hungarian man. They were in good spirits and on their way to the beach to swim. We chatted and they attempted to teach me a vulgar tongue twister in Hungarian about a boy and a girl. I was not successful in learning this.

At the ferry I was dropped, bought my ticket and waited about 15 minutes for the next ferry (the previous one was leaving when I arrived). The sun was shining and the Balaton looked fantastic.

Boarding the ferry, I decided I should attempt to get a lift off the ferry. It seemed best to wait until the offloading but I began to ask the drivers from the moment they got out of their cars. The third driver I asked was a young guy dressed in a rock style who offered me a lift to Balatonfured. The town next to where I was going.

We chatted on the boat. He was returning from a Golya Bal. Which is the drunken ‘get to know each other’ party which traditionally starts college life. He was a nice guy, open and enthusiastic and studying the keyboard. At the party had been such famous people as Arthur Brown, whose most famous song is ‘Fire’, and incidentally I saw live at the ICA in London about 12 years ago. Apparently he is around 70 and still going strong.

We drove around the Tihany peninsula which was stunning in the mid-afternoon. The beaches were crowded with happy families. Then we drove towards Fured and the driver offered to go the extra few kilometers to my destination.

Thanks to the generous help of my drivers I actually arrived earlier than if I had made the connection at Szekesfehervar and had had a very pleasant tour in addition.

Thanks to you all.

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By Smiley – September 6, 2009

Waterfall in the Courtyard

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Tagged with courtyard, storm, waterfall.

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By Smiley – July 18, 2009

A Place I Would Like To Live - A Story (and a short one)

“That’s beautiful, the seas, the forests and the cute little towns. We’ve got to go down and take a look around. How about over there where the large lake meets the smaller one?” said Marigold. The captain pressed a couple of controls and looked in the general area she had described. That would be enough to get them down. Modern space ships were simple to use if not a little dull at times.

The craft settled down in a grassy area landing so gently that no harm was done to the environment. Five minutes or so later they were out and on the four-wheeled explorer. They found the road they had noticed from above and cruised along in the direction of a picturesque town they had selected to visit.

After ten minutes they had arrived in the outskirts. Their mood had altered slightly; they had not seen any sign of life on the road and the town itself showed signs of desertion. Wisely they had scanned for illness and other threats, nevertheless it was unnerving.

“Lets take a look at the marina, it looked so nice from the air. I always wanted to have an apartment overlooking a marina!” Marigold chimed up, ignoring a nagging feeling.

After looking at the marina, which was picturesque indeed, but lifeless again, they began to hunt around as much for a fresh snack as anything else. Around the town they traveled, but no one was to be seen until finally…

“GALACTIC REAL ESTATE – YOUR HOME AWAY FROM HOME” – a large neon sign fronted a small building. Inside they could see the outline of a head – of some sort. They knocked and entered.

It had been some years since the captain had seen a member of the Lotaran Empire, but he hadn’t forgotten how damn ugly they were, bad tempered and generally best avoided, possibly born of being the wealthiest and mightiest of all the galactic empires. The Lotaran looked up. “Greetings. How may I be of assistance to you? Is it a property to enjoy or a sound investment you are looking for. There’s a lovely place which came up just this morning which I recommend you see this afternoon before it is snapped up.”

What a load of bollocks he talks the Captain thought. There is no one else here living, buying or selling. Not what I call hot property, and what was a Lotaran doing here anyway? This wasn’t anywhere near their part of space.

“We’re looking around for something to eat. Anything of interest you can point us towards?” Marigold asked, she wasn’t the bravest of people, but a hungry stomach was a powerful stimulant.

“Not for your kind.” It was clear that his initial move having been ignored that he now had little time for talking with them.

“Why is it so deserted, the town? What is going on?” asked the captain.

“Come back in two weeks when it is the Lotaran school holidays. Then you will see,” the Lotaran threw back at them.

“Ah! It’s a second home planet,” squealed Marigold. “Oh isn’t it pretty! I always wanted a place in Spain overlooking a marina. You know maybe once or twice in the summer I could stay there and maybe my friends would visit me. I knew this place reminded me of something,” Marigold paused. “It was such a shame that I didn’t jump in when I had the chance, some of those places are about the same price as London nowadays”, Marigold would have continued but the Captain grabbed her by the wrist and promptly left giving only the faintest of nods.

“What’s the matter?” asked Marigold feeling quite nervous.

“You don’t know the Lotaran’s like I do. I just hope he wasn’t paying too close attention,” answered the Captain, a distinct note of concern in his voice.

As the craft settled down at the London spaceport two years later the same feeling of unease hit them. When they disembarked they knew they had made a terrible mistake. It was Lotaran half term, the streets were packed with Lotaran families screaming and laughing. There wasn’t a single human in sight.

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Tagged with sci fi, space travel, story.

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By Smiley – July 18, 2009

Anna & Alexis

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Tagged with dance, party.

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By Smiley – July 16, 2009

Last of the Hitchhikers, Part 2

A recap. I had entered Germany, I was standing on the corner of a very insignificant road leading up to a main road which would later join the motorway. The corner had reasonable visibility but little space to stop in. Not the worst place to be, but I was losing time and it was getting on for 11 and I had hoped to have got further. The sun was shining and I was sure that someone would eventually stop.

Possibly the shortest, but certainly the fastest lift was about to arrive. A spanking new Porsche Boxster S. I checked this on the internet and apparently it is quite a classic of a car. The driver was probably approaching 40 but looked sharp for his age. He hardly spoke, which considering the hammering the engine was giving was not a problem. In traditional hitch hiking style, I had my rucksack on my lap, seat belt on, and looked over and around to check out the countryside as it flew by. I don’t think we beat my hitch hiking speed record of 240km/h set in the 90’s in a BMW M5 Bavarian, but it was a short and sweet lift.

The driver did a good job and dropped me at a legal crossing of two major roads. I was still far from optimistic and still had not completely learned my lesson of getting dropped off in the wilderness, but it looked OK.

I crossed the road and looked for a good spot. As you can see below, I wasn’t too successful.

I waited so long I decided to have a sleep. It was raining very lightly so I stepped over the barrier and using my jacket and my bag as a mat, I lay down and had a few minutes sleep. Feeling refreshed I rose and walked back to my spot. As fate would have it, a small lorry stopped and I was back on my way to Hamburg, one of my major destinations. I was happy and relieved.

This seems a good point to discuss crazy and normal people. Well, the guy who had just given me a lift I would put in the good crazy category. He was a saint to pick me up, but very few people would take the risk on a quite high speed corner. As before, he had hitch hiked in his youth, but only in the countryside. This man was an interesting character, visibly his most obvious characteristic were rippling pumped up arms on an old mans frame. Apparently in recent years he had suffered from high blood pressure and in an unconnected business deal had become the owner of two fitness clubs. Putting the two together he had resurrected a youthful hobby and clearly had been putting in the hours. You could say that this is why he was willing to give me a lift, but I think the psychology of the person is the foremost.

We can ask, what kind of people give lifts? Pretty much anyone will, but I would say that few are willing to stop. The stopping is the difficult part.

Returning to my lift, the driver had lived a long and good life. He told me about Danish morality and the independence of Danish women. Apparently couples didn’t stay together any longer and a child will often have a number of father/mother figures during their life.

The lift which had begun around Padburg was to take me into Hamburg and leave me on the road to Berlin, an important step and around 170kms. We reached Hamburg without any trouble, but then… we hit traffic. My driver decided not to stay in the motorway queue and so left for the side roads, and hit, traffic! The next 1.5 hours was spent crawling through something like a ring road around Hamburg. The problem was the tunnel had been partly closed down and as we needed to use it, there was no short cut. At this point Prague ceased to be a possibility.

When we finally left the tunnel I was treated to a stunning trip through the biggest docks I have ever seen. Rows and rows of cranes, endless stacks of containers. Apparently this dock is the source of much of the goods in Hungary and so at this point I was crossing or joining a well trodden path. It would be interesting to know what route they drive to Budapest. I am sure it was different to mine.

Finally the driver said we had reached the end of the road. We stopped in a service station, which I realised was the only sensible way to get lifts, and said our farewells. Apparently the road would split in a few kilometres and from here I should be able to find a lift, hopefully straight to Berlin.

I walked past a number of cars, some young hippies in a very nice van, families hanging out and a load of lorries. Lorries are for me a waste of time. People always seem to expect hitch hikers to travel by lorry, but if you think about the facts for a moment, then this is cleary a poor strategy. Modern lorries have speed limiters which fix them at 80kms/h. A modern car will usually cruise at 120 and a good one at 140 or even 160. Lorry drivers are also limited in how far they can travel without breaks. A few years ago in Bulgaria, my friend and I had to walk 6 kilometres to cross the Serbian Hungarian border as the driver to had to suddenly stop. We could have waited for ever at a dusty lay by with only our lorry and a fruit seller for company or hit the tarmac. The day was passing and so we walked it.

Ignoring the lorries I headed for the exit of the service station. Much to my amazement the beautiful modern camper van pulled up and the hippies offered me a lift. I was in for a surprise!

Posted in Writing.

Tagged with hike, hitch, hitchhiking, road.

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By Smiley – July 10, 2009

Last of the hitchhikers, Part 1

Twenty years ago, it seemed a great idea. The roads were packed with hitchhikers and cars stopped everywhere and always.

Today! The roads are empty. From Odense to Prague I saw only two other hitch hikers and they did not count (I will explain later).

So let’s begin at the beginning. Around 6:30 am I got up and had a quick breakfast. I made some Bundas Kenyer, bread fried in eggs, and ate some cheese and bread. With high hopes I stepped out onto the street and waited for my first hitch.

The road had a nice slope to it going down in front of me and there was a convenient lay by. Much to my amazement the third vehicle stopped. Written on the side was ‘TAXI’, so I was pretty negative when I opened the door.

The man, the driver, was a big hunched man with a big bald head. He seemed friendly and asked me to come into the vehicle. It was a small van for transporting people and could fit around ten people. I asked if he wanted paying and he said, ‘No, of course not’. We began to talk and he explained that he had lived in Odense for 23 years and he had never seen a hitchhiker before, this is why he had picked me up as wanted to find out who I was. He was a lifetime professional driver, which perhaps explained his posture, and was currently transporting patients between hospitals for operations. He had hitchhiked as a young man. Today was officially a holiday, but the government was trying to clear a backlog of operations which had built up during a strike. Therefore this part of the system was having a half holiday. The driver was a relaxed man and as I remember we talked almost the whole journey.

During the journey we crossed the huge bridge between Odense and Jutland.The bridge arches across a huge stretch of sea. I did not get to cross the bridge from Copenhagen to Malmo, but as it is even longer than this bridge then it must a truly great site.

The hitch turned to the north as we could not stop on the motorway. We carried on until we reached a service station. Here we said our farewells and parted.

I began to look for some discarded card or boxes, but it being Denmark, there was none lying around. The place was very quiet so I went back to the junction. We had discussed signs with the driver so I wrote up a SYD for the road. The SYD (SOUTH) really didn’t help. I got some publicity brochures thrown at me by a bunch of stupid lads in a bus and an offer to Copenhagen by an asian looking dude. But no good.

Finally after about 40 minutes I was picked up by a lady! Yes, it does happen, but infrequently. She was driving a van and we put my bag in the back. She was quite sprightly while firmly middle-aged, her eyes showed a long life behind her and many years still ahead.

She was quite confident and soon I discovered she was working in alcoholic rehabilitation. I thought she was quite kind and a good example of what I was later told was the independence of the Danish women, she told me she had picked me up because I ‘I looked nice’,

This brings me to the issue of dress. I had shaved and showered that morning with the intention of looking good and it certainly paid off for the rest of the day. I was wearing my linen jacket with many buttons, gap trousers and glasses. Put together I looked interesting and pretty safe. Judge for yourself below (this is from a few days earlier, and I strongly advise you not to carry a can of lager with you on the road). If anyone is considering hitchhiking then I can not impress on this on them too much. If your going to get in someone’s car you’ve got to be clean and fresh. I used to pack a spare t-shirt for hitching and a long sleeved English office shirt for customs and officials. They all really appreciate your efforts.

So finally, after going back down the road I had already traveled, I was dropped after a most enjoyable chat in a fairly negative location. Effectively I was trying to complete the angle around the corner and this wasn’t going to be easy. Still it was early, around 9 and the sun was shining and I wasn’t too bothered. I was optimistic for Prague, but was willing to settle for Berlin. I had figured if that I could get to Hamburg and the road to Berlin by midday then I would arrive in Berlin early enough to carry on or make an evening of it, it being a Friday. Well… you see how it turns out soon enough.

Standing by the side of the road for around half an hour gave me time to examine the local flora. There was an odd bush covered in caterpillars which were happily munching away. It was quite a dark and morbid site. There was no life bar the caterpillars.

The next hitch did arrive finally, but it took some time. The driver was a youngish guy, around 35 who had a kind and easy going manner. He told me he worked in construction and lived in good house with a view of the sea and had two kids. He was on his way to Germany to buy a huge amount of booze for a family party. Strangely he did not drink, as he had a medical condition, but enjoyed smoking pot. Fortunately he wasn’t smoking in the car so there was no risk of him forgetting where he was going.

During the Danish trips we discussed the economy and society. As I remember the main points seemed to be that the economy was in a decent shape as the financial sector was focused domestically and had little external risk while the government was in no debt and equally was not at risk. ‘Foreigners’, a common issue, were summarized as, we like the Vietnamese as they have integrated well, but….

The lift to Germany was a good example of what slowed me down a lot during the lift and changed my approach for the rest of the day. My helpers had good intentions but limited knowledge about hitching and what was good for me. With no intention to criticise, I ended up being put down in the car park of Flegger in Padburg. What is Flegger, you may wonder. Well, it is a huge supermarket selling cheap alcohol to the Danes and it was packed with families filling whole cars with bottles and mainly cans of lager. At this point I saw the other hitch hikers.

The hitchhikers were a young couple in the mid twenties. They were standing in front of another supermarket and between them were covering the exit from the shops and the petrol station. I had passed them on the way to Flegger and rushed back down the road to acquire some information. Sadly, for me, they had already been picked up so I had no chance to acquire local information. A poor alternative was the petrol station where they had no idea about where to go.

Standing on the corner of a minor road and an industrial estate was not my idea of fun. The map of Denmark I had found the day before was still useful and I could see that there was a chance of getting back on the motorway if I walked down the road for a few kilometers. After about ten minutes I took the risk and began my walk. To be honest it was quite hard to be positive. I tried to enjoy the location, the fresh air, the sun, but I was so focused on my goal of getting deeper into Germany that it wasn’t easy to be optimistic. The sun was shining, which given that my sun hat was later found on my kitchen floor, wasn’t so wonderful. Anyway, I walked on and after around 20 minutes got to the corner of a junction.

Follow my walking route below from A to B. On the right of A is the Flegger and other supermarkets.

View Larger Map

Posted in Writing.

Tagged with berlin, copenhagen, hike, hitch, hitchhiking, kopenhagen, odense, prague, road.

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By Smiley – July 3, 2009