Four years ago, our first Christmas together, SVV and I packed up all our belongings in Holland, shipped them to our new home in Denmark (to never see them again, actually; stupid Dutch Post), and headed to Central and Eastern Europe for three weeks in lieu of going back to the States for the holidays. Our first stop: Budapest.
We had no plans really, just a plane ticket and hotel room.
We found those awesome Hungarian outdoor baths to soak in.
We tried to perfect the art of hold-outs. (Four years later? We’re kind of the masters.)
We braved the cold and snow.
SVV took 735 photos of bullet holes.
We wandered aimlessly, as we’re wont to do, and came across this gorgeous church with a Hungarian children’s choir filling the interior with beautiful music. So we sat and stayed.
(Apologies for the blur; I was traveling without my fancy camera at that point.)
In the words of Hugh Grant, Christmas really was all around.
Well, until we were unable to locate an ATM anywhere, so we had to take the train back to the center to find a cash machine—sans ticket.
You can figure out what happened next, I’m sure. This would be the one time our whole trip that the ticket bitches were checking, and while they didn’t see me, as I reached the top of the escalator, I turned around to see them interrogating SVV in Hungarian. I briefly contemplated leaving him and fleeing the scene, but did the noble thing and returned. They kept telling us we’d have to pay them a fine right then and there; we kept trying to make them understand that that was the problem in the first place: We were clean out of Hungarian currency.
Eventually, they held our passports and SVV hostage, and I was able to make it to the bank and bail us out.
Our fine? $10. Heh. Only in Central Eastern Europe.
Hey, at least we left Hungary with a story to tell.
*All photos taken with a crap Nikon Coolpix (a camera I would never, ever recommend).
**For more Photo Friday fun, head over to Delicious Baby.