The folks are really rolling out the red carpet in Budapest. Our first night here, we went to dinner at this place call Gundel’s, for which we got very dressed up and were serenaded by a jazz violinist who played easy listening classics.
I walked in and said, “I feel like we’re dining on the Titanic.”
At the table next to us were three 20-something internet billionaires. I’ve decided they were internet billionaires because they were American, having dinner at Gundel’s like it was Denny’s and wearing jeans to eat $55 lamb.
I felt like a 15 year old teenager, sitting next to them and sipping Coca Cola Light out of an ice-less glass while my mom reminisced about her C-sections.
We went to the big market, which was great and really interesting, a lot like a Hungarian version of Reading Terminal Market in Philadelphia. Street food is huge here. Huge. And the absolute best thing to get is the potato pancake. It’s the size of a dinner plate and spectacular. I went shopping by myself and discovered two H&Ms, a Zara and something called New Yorker. New Yorker is a cross between H&M on meth, J-WOWW's whore line and mail order bride Wet Seal, with poorly translated ironic t-shirts. I was so happy to discover New Yorker, I almost started crying. I mean, they were selling polyester cable-knit bustiers for $12. WITH MATCHING SCARVES.