June 12th 2006. ramblin' around /7: obviously God reads my blog (and makes fun of it)
My last night in Budapest, it was raining, it was cold. I had been walking around all day. The next morning it was going to be the early train to Zagreb but, being my last day in Budapest, despite the rain I moved closer to the center.
I took the wrong path, then the wrong tram, then finally the right path again and after an hour I was still walking under the rain, freezing, my feet burning, still directed downtown.
I wanted the people, the bars, some animation, hear voices, see faces.
Then I started to talk with God in english, you know, those kind of things you do when you're alone. "It's my last night in the city. Aren't you gonna make me meet an hungarian woman tonight?"
You know, I didn't want to have sex or anything. I'm just imagining some talking, listening, unexpected meeting with unexpected people of the opposite sex. They say you make new friends when you travel alone, but it's not so true. At least not anymore. You do, if you pick them in the same category you are from (tourists meeting each other in the hotels). Otherwise there are certain barriers, and then everything seems to disappear from you hands as soon as you leave.
Half way downtown, the shape of St. Stephen cathedral appeared in the haze and it was unreal, fantastic in the frayed glowing of the streetlights under the rain. Nobody was around. All the places were closed. After a while, I talked with God again.
"Would you give me a dry bench instead?"
(pause)
"No! Forget what I just said! I'd still prefer the woman if possible!" This must have pissed God. I knew it, so I tried to haggle, making things worse.
"Let's say that if you give me the dry bench I'll know you are not going to give me the woman?"
Next thing I knew, at the bus stop of the 56 there was a dry bench. I sat on it, disconsolate. I rested my feet and resumed walking after a while, hoping that maybe God had decided to give me both the dry bench and the woman anyway. See, I am an optimist.
I also thought that probably real hobos have this sort of conversations all the time. They never get the company. Only sometimes, the dry bench.
Then, down along the riverfront, walking by all the big hotels, I finally had beautiful Hungarian women throwing themselves at me.
"Hey! where are you going?"
"Nowhere, just walking"
"Wouldn't you like some company?"
"What do you mean?" When my feet are burning, my mind is particularly slow.
"Where are you from?"
"Italy."
"Oh, Italy! How nice! Now, what about a nice hotel room and some company?"
You know, I never went with a prostitute in my life. I don't think I ever will, unless I get really desperate. That night, rebuffing prostitute calls all the way to the central bridge, I really thought God was making fun of me. "You read that thing on the blog about Hungarian women, did you?" I asked him.
But, you know, there are many who reads you but never publicly admit that they do, even if they get ideas from what you write. God is just one of them.
Finally I had reached the center, after all. It was all closed down except for the tourist-trap night clubs. I walked all the way back to the hotel and it never stopped raining. The next morning I was directed to Zagreb, on a train that left the bitter and sweet city of Budapest right on time.
-- p.s. thanks to you all who are commenting and sending emails to me these days. I'll answer you all as soon as i get back in Milan. Promise.
12 Responses to “ramblin' around /7: obviously God reads my blog (and makes fun of it)” :