Sampling Nightlife from Budapest to Ljubljana

Budapest - Pecs - Barcs - Zagreb - Ljubljana

Dobro Den!


FAILED MISSION IN BUDAPEST

So, Budapest. Second time I’ve visited this gloriously beautiful city, and the second time I have attempted to locate the real nightlife but failed miserably! It seems there are two types of nightlife places, the decoy tourist clubs with shocking music and no atmosphere, or the "hidden in backstreets with no signage" local joints, another world
that us tourists can never be part of.

Oh well, at least I got to take some great night shots of Budapest from top of the citadella, one of the best panoramic nightshots I’ve ever seen.

Anyway, deciding that Budapest was not showing me its Hungarian cultural side*, I decided to catch the next train to a town south of Hungary called Pecs.

* Due to the fact that it has become a tragic tourist trap that Prague, Krakow, Tallinn and the Croatian coast has become, and also being an international city where I found more Chinese restaurants than actual authentic Hungarian cuisine, the Hungarian cuisine naturally being "touristified" for tourist's benefit. Ha, funny how I detest tourists even though I am one myself. And of course it’s a hierarchy system of who you can look down with a "I am better and wiser than thou" attitude.

Here it is;

JAMES' TOURIST "BETTER THAN THOU" HIERACHY SYSTEM

First, at the bottom of the hierarchy, its the tour groups, usually led by a pink umbrella or something stupid with a very short guideperson attached. Worst thing about them is when you want to look at a museum piece or enter a room, and they block the whole place up! Middle aged American tourgroups are the worst, with "aw my gawd" exchanges and the stupid things they say. Stop me before I become too vitriolic!

Then the eurorail/interrail pass users who only hop from one big city to the next, sometimes staying for a night before hopping on the next train to the next town (the Japanese are notorious for this insanity! In Sarajevo I met two Japanese who arrived that afternoon, who quickly saw the town, then next morning caught a train to Belgrade, to catch another train to Sofia later that day! I think for them it's about collecting passport stamps to show off back at home).

Then tourists like me, relying on public transport and hoping from town to town at random. We usually hate being called tourists, preferring the more mysterious "traveller" term. Of course, the longer we travel, the more sagious and higher up the hierarchy we are (as well as more arrogant). Seniority in a group of travellers is also dictated not on age, height or race, but by how long you've travelled. "So, How long have you been travelling for James?" "Oh, only about over two years" I say matter of factly. "Wow that's a long time!" they exclaim as I sniff pretentiously. The guy in the corner says "Really, I’ve been going for five!" The attention switches to him and I’ve suddenly become insignificant.

Then, those crazy people (usually the Germans) who just walk or hitch hike or bike ride from village to village from one end of the continent to the end of another (Europe to Asia or Africa for example). These people also usually smell.

Finally, the arrogant expats who tell you that "a week in a city is just passing through, you have to live in the city for a couple of years to really know it."(which is untrue, I’ve lived in Melbourne all my life and don't know that much about it!).

Anyway, I digress...


PECS
On arrival, I took out my increasingly unreliable Lonely Planet guide and sought out a hotel that seems to offer dorm beds which would save me money. Of course, I discover from the cute receptionist (me and hostel receptionists, its a terrible addiction I know) that they stopped having them 3 years ago! Stupid LP. Anyway, while trying to discuss possible discount rates for a single room and a date (just kidding! Really!), two English blokes walked in, with the same intention (finding a dorm bed AND chatting up the receptionist). Anyway, a quick exchange of standard traveller "where you from, how long you're staying etc" banter, pooled forces, and voila, we ended up sharing a 3 bed room for a price of a standard dorm bed. Phew!

Pecs is quite a pleasant town, but unfortunately there really is not much to see apart from the stunning 4 towered Romanesque cathedral and historical Synagogue. The atmosphere felt alot distinctly more Hungarian as there were hardly a tourist to be seen, less English spoken, and actual Hungarian meals (Though the bloody Brits insisted
on a Mexican meal the first night there.)

Oh, and did finally go to a local discotheque outside the city centre, but it wasn’t really any different to other discotheques I’ve been to around Europe. Oh well. Naturally did my standard get drunk and dance on the podium or pole dance thing I really should stop doing for sake of dignity.

After a few days I decided it was time to leave Hungary and re-enter Croatia. So, farewelled my Brit friends and, going against receptionist advice, decided to take the more macho unreliable and difficult route via bus instead of the more direct train (because I couldn’t be bothered waking up 15 minutes earlier!)


WHY BEING BOTHERED GETTING UP 15 MINUTES EARLIER TO CATCH A TRAIN
INSTEAD OF A BUS IS WORTH THE EFFORT

So, I caught a bus from Pecs to Barcs, a town in the border, believing naively that naturally there has to be many buses that go across the border into Croatia, where from there I could catch more frequent buses to the capital Zagreb. Boy was I wrong about that.

I was dropped off somewhere resembling the center of this village border town and was told some instructions in unintelligible Hungarian where to catch what later turned out to be an ghost bus. So, deciding that the bus was definitely not coming after an hour waiting, I ask an old lady for assistance. This started a chain reaction in the village, where I was passed from person to person like a bad penny while they discussed and debated how to get to Croatia. Soon, I had a crowd of locals around me, solving this perplexing problem. Finally, the gist I got was that I had to go to the bus station 2km down the road, cause frankly, they didn't have a clue! Oh well, at least I got them out of their morning routine.

So, walked to the bus station, while many people rode past in bikes staring at me as they passed (they love their bikes there, no one seems to walk in the town, they should change the name Barcs to Bikes! Bad joke). I got to the bus station to find out that my ghost bus actually does exist, but the 9am one I was planning to catch does not run anymore, the next and only bus across the border leaves at 4pm. But the good news is that it goes all the way to Zagreb. Great. Now, the only thing was what on earth was I going to do in this tiny town till 4pm? (it was currently 10am).


ZAGREB - CITY OF PARTY ANIMALS
Ah, the sound of the Slavic tongue, one of my favourite languages. For some reason I find it not too difficult to learn once you get the hang of it. And the people from the former Yugoslavia are lovely, it’s a shame they are all nationalistic and hate one another (Croats hate Slovenians and Serbians).

Zagreb is a capital city that hasn’t lost its cultural charm, mainly because most people have no interest in visiting the place (the locals think the same). But it is a lovely chilled out city, with many events, such as the Red Bull BMX Marketplace Race, and the World Corporate Games, which took place while I was there.

One great thing about Zagreb was the size of their pizzas! Order a medium and you can feed an entire army! Never seen or ordered a large (jumbo) but I’m sure one could solve the problem with world hunger today!

The nightlife is excellent, though you have to seek locals to tell you the good places. Croatians I have discovered seem to be quite mellow and chilled out, but get them completely intoxicated and they become party animals! Many times you'd see me being dragged by them (literally) to the dance floor, and to other clubs nearby. Heck, I was
even piggybacked to one club from the bar by some guy as a show of admiration (can't remember what for, I think it was for being Vietnamese or something, I was drunk also )

In one of the bars I went to, I met one of the most interesting characters on my travels. He was an old funny Croatian guy who had just came out of the insane asylum that afternoon (seriously, no joke), with the mannerisms of Robin Williams, Jim Carrey and Gerard Depardieu. Couldn't stop laughing at his antics all night!


WHERE AM I NOW?
I'm currently in a prison converted into a hostel (apparently) in Ljubljana, Slovenia, with lack of sleep due to yesterday partying in Zagreb. I've heard good things about Ljubljana. Having said that, it's starting to rain...