Day 1+?: Brussels and then Budapest

What day is it?

For those of you who have taken the international overnight flight to Europe, you will be familiar with this question.  You leave the States in the evening and then "sleep" on the plane (my Fitbit denies there was any sleep ): ) and then get off the plane having lost 6 hours (in our case).  

But it's vacation: every day's a Saturday, right?

The journey began in Brussels, where we'd never been, and which both EH and I enjoyed.  The highlight of Brussels, so some guide wag said, was the medieval part of the city.  So, that's where we went.  The Grand Place was excellent -- that's it in the photo.  

 You can see it is quite a nice square.  We were hungry (again, what day is it?) so we sat at the cafe on the square, on this beautiful, sunny day and had...yes, Belgian waffle.  And, no, it didn't taste differently than any other waffle -- the batter wasn't sweeter, the powdered sugar sugarier...but it was fun.

There was that one "stupid American" moment: the menu was in three languages.  So, I spoke some terrible variation of French and Spanglish to the waiter, something like "Merci, por favor."  EH laughed and laughed.

After buying some chocolates (there were only like 6 chocolate shops on the square, including the most famous to Americans, Godiva), EH saw a "comic strip" store and went in.  As I stood outside, leaning on the window sill, no less than two women (I'm NOT making this up) asked me for directions!  IN FRENCH!  The first was put off when I said I didn't speak French, but the second I was able to point toward what I thought was a taxi stand near the train station.  I guess I have that kind of look -- in French.

On the train to the airport, I embarrassed EH again (it's a gift).  The woman across from us was reading a paper titled "Metro" but it was in a language I didn't understand.  So, I asked.  "It's Flemish."  EH said "what did you think Flemish was?"  To which I responded, "Well, it used to be known as the Spanish Netherlands."  The woman smiled and said "Not since the 1500s."  Yes, I'm that old. 

Earlier, when EH wanted to know where Ghent was, as a train was heading there, I reported that all I knew of Belgian geography I got from Uncle Toby, who received his "war wound" (cough cough, literary allusion) "there" in Tristram Shandy during the War of Spanish Succession (ca. 1702).  Not many trains back then.

Then off to Budapest. 

Unbeknownst to us (till we got here), Hungary (to repeat my bro-law Butch's joke, where everyone is...wait for it...hungry) has its own currency.  Although part of the EU, they don't use the Euro!  According to the grocer, the current rate of exchange is 295 HUF to 1 euro!  Whoa!  so, here's what came out of the bank machine. 

 The ride from the airport was meh -- I did the bright thing of hiring a driver, who was waiting for us with the sign with my name on it (I've always wanted to tell someone I was Jones and take their driver :) ). Miklos did not speak much English, but he took his tip in euros. :)

The hotel is about what you expect from 3***s in Budapest, small, clean and ok.  Not your grandpa's Holiday Inn.  And the entryway!  Yikes!

But we are a five minute walk from the Danube and these views.

Budapest has some great looking buildings, but it does seem a bit...well, "Eastern Europe."  The Budapest Eye is right across the street -- tomorrow's blog MIGHT include shots from there.  I think you can see Putin from there. 

And, finally, Hungarian food.  We had the tapas plate, which included horse sausage (who knew?!  -- we were told that it is leaner than most sausage), and a cheese pate that was heavy on the paprika (this is true of ALL Hungarian food, it seems).  EH went for the veal ragout with dumplings (pictured).  It was quite good.

There was a donut shop across the street.  Which tells you where my mind is.

So, that's day 1, or 2, or 1+.  Catch you next time.