The first night

My initial reaction, at the airport was that Hungary appeared very neat, modern, and somewhat "Western" in standards. I had pre-arranged, via the internet, a stay at a so-called gay guesthouse, which after my experiences in Phuket, Thailand, should have given me slight pause. Nonetheless, the guy I had been working with assured me a nice private room in a centrally located area of Budapest. Things started off roughly when, at the airport, I could not find my pre-paid driver. Eventually, he found me and we were off. Within seconds off the airport grounds, the communist past of the place slapped me into a whole new opinion. My mind flashed back to twenty years ago when I visited East Berlin (before the fall of the wall). The city buses, cars, billboards, buildings/tenaments, looked very "fixed" in time - and not a current one. The drive from the airport took quite some time, or so it seemed, since it was pushing midnight at this point. The taxi exited into an area that looked like it had been bombed during some war - with life going on without any repairs? Crumbled buildings, rubble, and abandoned cars littered the landscape, causing a marked increase in my heartburn. We pulled in front of a building which I would guess was probably a remarkably significant one architecturally speaking about two-hundred years ago. On this night, however, she was certaily showing her wrinkles. I swallowed my angst, and got out of the cab. At this point, Nenad, the man who had arranged my stay, exited the creeky green door of the dilapitated building and said hello. He informed me that due to an overstay by other guests, I would now be staying in this place. He escorted me to an elevator the size of a very small coat closet and we squeezed in together, traveling up two flights. The interior courtyard of the building boasted a magnificent inner space, complete with iron rails with plants spilling over with dramatic flair. It was, however, equally sad - neglected, with plaster falling off the brick, but I was trying to focus on the pretty parts. We got to the flat and the door was open. I nearly gasped when he showed me in to the place and my first view was of a nearly 300 pound shirtless man sitting at a dining table eating saugages and fruit. I am certain I did not hide my shock, well, horror at this development. After a brief moment of digestion (pun intended), I further gazed into what was obviously someone's home - complete with furnishings, family photos, thousands of plates hanging on the walls, and more Catholic crosses and pictures than the Vatican. Nenad sat me down and quickly asked to collect my money for the four nights we had pre-arranged. Luckily, I did not have enough Hungarian money to pay, so I suggested I pay for one night only. To this, he was not pleased and repeatedly asked why. I let him know that the switch was not what I had agreed to during our discussions on line. He explained that the large man was also a "guest" but that it would be okay. Hardly, I thought, amused with myself for getting into this situation. Nenad left and I went into my room - which was obviously a room used by someone who had been kicked out quickly to make room for me. Unsure of my next move, I meditated to calm myself and then went out into the common area. The chubby man was still eating and offered me some plums, picked from his brother's farm in Slovenia. As is always the case in these situations, breaking bread works. Once I gave up my judgement and opened up to the experience, we had a marvelous conversation and he provided invaluable information about Budapest. Nearly three hours later, I ventured off to bed, still certain that I would leave in the morning, but happy with myself for not completely acting like a spoiled American. Before he woke in the morning, I showered, gathered my things, and escaped - tossing the keys back through the locked gate. Once free, I wandered aimlessly through unknown stretts in search of new accommodations.