Trama

It has been difficult adjusting to the amount of homeless people in the city. I have an apartment pretty much central- Astoria- which is one the main underground stations and tram stops, and there are literally hoards of men (I’ve seen only a couple of women) slumped against the walls and digging through the bins. I'm beginning to accumulate horrible experiences of tramps scraping along near me, begging for food; excrement lining their clothes and loose trousers falling off their wastes. I have been exposed all too often to scrawny malnourished bodies and other parts I won't horror you by describing in detail. The stations are to be avoided at all costs past 9pm. I am not exaggerating by saying it actually feels like you are entering the misty steps of underground dystopia.

So last night I almost had to become part of this group. I need to tell the story because it is an experience I cannot ever imagine going through again. The situation: I live with one other girl and only one key to the courtyard between us. You have to go through the courtyard in order to get to our flat’s door. So Katherine left the bar first and took the key with her, vowing to open up for me when I get back. An hour later, I was outside the flat, using the remainder of my phone credit to try and wake her up. Failing to rouse her, I started to panic, and my credit was consequently devoured. It was now half four in the morning, extremely dark and I could hear a beggar pissing in the street next to mine. I aimlessly tried ringing the bell, knowing it wasn’t working. So I moved onto ringing the other bells, not getting any reply apart from one man who probably assumed I was a street urchin harassing people in the night - as you would- and quickly hung up. I tried to ask a polite looking couple to borrow their phone, tears swelling in my eyes, but they declined abruptly when hearing it would be a foreign number. Sleep was pushing down painfully on my head and temples, so I tried the near-by hostel. Another abrupt “afraid not” in a tone that gave no room for compromise. I was beginning to become frantic and had no idea what to do. In order to ring Katherine I would now need an international phone card, and there would be nowhere to get hold of one at this time. A young student was briskly walking down my road, and I had to tap her on the shoulder to get her attention as she had an i-pod in, which probably scared the hell out of her. She let me borrow her phone, but there was still no answer. She offered to wait until I was in, but feeling bad I said I would be ok. Half an hour later and progress consisted of getting a little nearer to the hard, cold floor outside the door.

With a stroke of luck, the student from earlier came back down the street as she had lost something along the route. Seeing me sitting down, in tears of sleep-deprivation and worry, she took me along with her to her flat. Never have I been so, so grateful for something being lost. Her flat was beautiful and airy, with just her living there. She let me sleep in her amazingly comfy bed, and I woke the next morning dazzled by sun through the huge bay window in front. So I spent the night in a complete strangers bed who I no idea what she was called or who she was, apart from an amazing artist.

This would not be such a bizarre story if not for the fact that it was a brutally ironic situation. Earlier on in the same night we had patiently sat outside our flat for nearly an hour while our door was broken into and new locks attached, because the only key for the front door was lost that day (along with one of the courtyard keys). We were determined to get into our flat that night, even though it was late on Saturday, because we didn’t want to have to stay at a hostel or somewhere unknown. We kept repeating the fact that it would not have mattered if the courtyard key was lost- one of us would be in, or we could ring doorbells! Yet that night, if I had had a courtyard key I would definitely not have been in the sorry state I was in because I could have just banged on the door until Katherine woke up. To quote Mum (the band) - yesterday was dramatic, today is ok!

Yes and before I forget the memory (as pictures have been proof for nothing in Budapest so far), I went to an amazing house party the week before which had professional VJs, DJs, light installations, a dwarf bar-man offering free drinks all night (champagne yes please) and more people I could ever imagine fitting in a flat. It was pretty unreal.

Oh, and Erasmus student buddies’ are the nicest ever, mine, who is called Arnold, is taking me Kayaking, round parliament and on folk nights!