Traveling alone is more fun when you spoil yourself

So, today was shaping up to be the worst day ever before I turned it around. Read on.

I left Prague feeling a bit disappointed. I ran to the astronomical clock before I left to see it chime, and was severely disappointed. Everyone had been looking at me incredulously and saying - "You haven't seen the astrological clock yet?" So I went, running to get there in time, and it was so piddly. I mean, the disciples rotated around these two windows, and a little death statue rang a bell, but that was it. Huh.

I had a 12:40 train to Budapest, so I went to the station, realizing for the second time this trip that my backpack was too heavy. The "sleep sack" is going tonight. Damn you, Let's Go packing tips! I got on the train and was chucked out of two compartments before finding a seat. Note to self: Reserved seats are only 1 Euro. Get one next time.

So I did get a seat, but I was stuck next to this middle-aged, drunk Hungarian guy who felt the need to talk to everyone in the cabin - endlessly. I went to the restaurant car, buying a useless 2 Euro water for the privilege of sitting there, only to have him follow me and sit across the room creepily, smoking. I did get to try out some rusty German, though, as it was the only language the waiter and I had in common. Yaay, Deutsch!

So back to the compartment, where the otherwise lovely Czech lady across from me (she invited me to dinner with her, if I were going to Bratislava) felt the need to tell me everything that was wrong with America. Damnit. I should have just said I was Canadian. Much easier.

Meanwhile, drunk guy is continuing to harass the poor British teenage couple in the compartment with me. The guy is too nice to stop answering the drunk, so this just keeps going on until Budapest - for the entire 7-hour trip. I plug in my earplus and pretend not to notice.

When I got to Budapest, I started off ok, but then realized the directions my hostel sent to me had no street names on them. Awesome. After awkwardly asking Hungarians for directions, I found the hostel, where I took a shower and then collapsed on my bed with my stuffed cat, which Nic thoughtfully packed. (She IS a little heavy, though...damn you, Nic!!!)

I was about to give up on the night when I knew the trip would suck if I did so. So I got up, asked the hostel guy for recommendations, and ended up in Lizst Square, which is this lovely little square lined with big trees and tons of cafes. (In fact, this whole neighborhood is lovely. It's kinda like Paris, with the grand boulevards and the big trees. I like it better than Prague already.) I dropped into a cafe playing Sinatra, Bing Crosby, and Ella Fitzgerald, and treated myself to a fabulous appetizer of grilled feta cheese and tomatoes with garlic bread and a pretty decent glass of red wine. I will sleep well tonight. AND I feel 1 million times better.

So, the moral of the story? Food and wine will solve any of Anne's problems (and that's exactly what Nic would like you to think). Or maybe I should just step up and stop waiting for this vacation to happen to me. Spoiling, here we come.

= :)

P.S. Nic, I did NOT spell "traveling" wrong. I am American. Deal with it. Don't even think about posting about it.

P.P.S. I love you, sweetie. :P