Category Archives: Budapest Life

Not quite a diary

Kossuth 1 Pékség és Kávézó

Kossuth 1 Pékség és Kávézó

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Is this really a place without match? Without compare? A place like no other? Unique? Individual? Groundbreaking? Earthshaking? You’ve probably guessed at my answer by now, or have given up entirely and scrolled on. But for those still curious enough, and if I can structure my answer according to the preceding grammar…

Just get on with it, would ya ffs!

Alright. My goodness.

Well, this place doesn’t stand out on the global scale of things but in this quiet suburb of Budapest, it is actually somewhat unique. It isn’t like the chain coffee shop further down in the valley, nor does it have that shopping centre vibe of that place further along the trail. It isn’t like the confectionery shops dotted about the place either.

So what is it then? It’s bigger than the smaller places and away from the shopping background of the bigger places. And that’s its selling point, in my opinion. A place to sit and relax and enjoy a coffee, tea, pastry, cake, sandwich, salad and a bit more. There are even products to buy like olive oil and other such oddities one would expect from a speciality shop. A place where there is more than enough space, seating, for more than a few and yet intimate enough not to get that study room air of the American chains. Perhaps you’ll find the odd laptop user here but my guess is this place attracts locals looking for a break, nénis and bácsis looking for a coffee and cake, workers popping in for a warm brew, but not so much the bench warmers bashing out the final draft of a thesis or looking for inspiration for their first book. Stuck in the cosy seats way back in the corner, a book to hand, and lounge tunes from the speakers, it’s anybody’s guess as to when I’ll be leaving. I mean afterall if I do get a bit peckish, there is plenty to hand and let’s not be quick to dismiss this, the jacks is spot on. Just one thing to note: don’t bother with this place come Sunday. It’s closed. As for the rest it’s all about the early morning start: 6 am weekdays, 6.30 am Saturdays.

Come for a coffee, stay for the choice.

Kossuth 1 Pékség és Kávézó

© The Hairy Teacher, 2022.12.19.

A yoghurt later

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Gatch up to Gellért afterwards
armed with a decent bottle of wine
and some munchies,
look everyone in the eye and smile graciously…
Then wake up screaming
in your bedroom
in that darkness before Dawn
and let the fear linger as you try to brave the moments
that stretch interminably before the coming of day
and your salvation
and again imagine yourself invincible till the night creeps in again,
the opportunities to move beyond the dream strangled again
and deny your fear as you down
a bottle of rancid cheap wine while
telling yourself you could have gone, you could have gone
until you can’t remember where
nor why it would have mattered anyway.

© The Hairy Teacher, Augusztus 19, 2020 (21:09, Fasor aka Jason)

Moving Back Again

Moving Back Again

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And once again I sit
Another last time to contemplate,
The kitchen’s almost bare
The living room hollow echoes
As the kids watch something to distraction.
A cool draught saunters in for a second
Hand in hand with the sounds of the city
And then back to the inside
The plughole gurgling at a deeper depth
Threatening the surface
The tap hasn’t dripped for some minutes
Somewhere an awful song sung in Hungarian
If the original is any better I cannot tell
I’m just not in the mood.
Plastic crackles, the reality where a fireplace would feature
But let’s return from twee
My geansaí grey but I’m not a Yeatsian fisherman.
I sit here a moment in a kitchen that will fade
Realising and those moments in blend almost already gone.

©The Hairy Teacher, March, 2018

Something fishy ’bout this

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Halkakas
Quick eat to café atmosphere
The place offers promise from without, a café style interior on entering, and fish on the menu. Tucked snugly on a corner along Veres Pálné utca one could almost pass by but and just by chance I was steered there on tripping out the stationery shop door on the opposite side of the street. As I had been lurking the district for some grub and yet was sure a street food burger would just spiritually rape me, the promise of fish spelt miraculous.
So picking a seat and forcing myself to be accepted as legit to the many eyes that looked up from their array of soups and other such dishes, I grabbed myself a menu and started to pave my glory.
Good selection of different fish dishes
First off the selection of fish dishes was impressive and while I worked my way through the Hungarian double taking on the “halburger” questioning its spelling, I was intrigued to find fish and chips tucked away in among the rest on offer and not a stand out, stand alone as if to play the signature dish!
I finally settled on the misspelt ‘hal’burger hoping that in fact it wasn’t a type-o and why should it be, it was a fish joint and not a burger of beef gaff. Still to be satiated in times of fussiness can lead to disaster so I grabbed myself a Foti Pils* to sip on while bracing myself for what was to come.
A fish burger I ordered and a fish burger I got, most flavorful, most delicious. The juices that flowed didn’t sog the burger buns but did leave me wishing to mop it up off the plate. Still being as full as I was that might have been unadvisable. The chips accompanying it were pre-salted and while this usually yields a common quib of mine this time I had no complaints. The potatoes were cut well and were proportionately tasty, something I never say!

*Fóti Sörfőzde

Prices match quality and in down town
What often gets my goat is the nonsense pricing that comes with difference and/or quality and whereas 2000huf may not be cheap in some people’s books, for what I ate and where I ate it, downtown, I would say it was on the balance a great deal. That I didn’t even need to eat again to any degree for the rest of the day (I ate here at around noon) is testimony to the depth of this good feed. Other fast food places may claim half the price but most have none of the quality, you can be damned sure.
The Others
As I was there I noticed a regular flow of what I’d describe as the young business folk lunching from small offices around so it never feels like brokersville, but from a business point of view very sustainable.
Friendly helpful patient staff
It’s counter service so tracking a menu was a flamboyant affair, me being flustered by the street and a clock that was running, but sitting and acquiring said menu, skipping past the temptation of ye olde fish N’s chips, jumping to the counter to order, doubling back twice, once for my wallet, another time for a peek at the beer menu, I never felt I, nor the girl serving were under any pressure. Her calm was infectious, perhaps. Could have used that when I was working in a bar. The guy who served up the plate, the chef or the cook, engaged professionally, being a busy man he still nodded acknowledgement, and listened without foothopping to my compliments as I was leaving.
Amen

© TheHairyTeacher2017

Steampunk

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Steampunk

Just recently I read an article about a little town in New Zealand which has become a Mecca for all Steampunk fans but it happened past my memory even after I’d flirted with sending the link to a Kiwi friend of mine (In circles he’s known rather as the Doc, or Doc Ock, but don’t ever call him Candy: Unless of course you’re a 6’8″ rugby player who looks like he eats nails for breakfast. Then you can say whatever you want).

Well, when you don’t believe in coincidences all you’re left with is destiny and here I am in Krak’NTown on József körút in downtown Budapest, itself a saloon dedicated to the whole Steampunk style. From the waiters to the walls it’s captured the general vibe and based upon some of the other guests it would seem like this place has the tourist draw based upon this very Steampunk premise. Little do we know till we explore.

PS: Beyond a modest selection of craft beers they also serve food and what I noticed as significant was that a vast majority of the food had an Isles incline with Cheddar cheese soup, Toad in a Hole for breakfast, Yorkshire pudding, black pudding, as well as the ever adventurous, Haggis! There is also an Irish red beer and stout, the latter I’d hoped for but the pipes were being cleaned. In the end I settled for an IPA and dealt with the Cheddar soup in company. A light lunch, a great experience.

 

©TheHairyTeacher2016

The pub

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It might not be somewhere over the rainbow
But it is somewhere out there…
Hidden from view but not ear,
A band of friends, perhaps conspirators?
They laugh beyond the cheery tune on the radio.
In here…
In here in this other room, the desolate one, where the desperate sit perched at the bar or in the darker corners,
typing on phones, reading newspapers, or staring into the half distance, finding the floor sometimes a good repose…
In here heads turn expectantly but nothing ever happens, only the songs on the radio are any indication of a better world out there –
Wherein resides “Daddy Cool”.
Even as the door opens a mumble is all that’s heard…
The aging barmaid streaming out,
Perhaps this rat has jumped the ship
And yet the open door promises change

And then…
“Itt a Babus” and the chatter begins.
The barfly awakens, the barmaid questions, another familiar enters…
And then the door closes.
Who is the desperate one now?
Alone in the phone-screen glow.

A Day Is Rising

A Day Is Rising

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In the morning light after dawn-glow purchase
The taste of chill as winter rises.
The dew residual dampens the ground
And sends sunshine sparkles a-dazzling round.
Footsteps plod and skip, all fall,
With weary minds and a child adventure.
The cursing klaxons, the red lights looming.
Urbania rising through the silence booming.
Lines of passengers all set to be
Like chaste and bridal tainted reverie.
The smiles, however, abstain- upended
As morning’s gloom quells caffeine pretensions.
Stray dogs and pigeons plot their day
In bays and coups, the best plans laid.
The beast in shuffle settles then
As noon day flow comes threatening.

The Hideaway

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I’ve hidden in this place before, more exposed than truly hidden.
Revealed by an awkwardness, an intent, that didn’t fully flourish.
Now here unbound I can be myself, behind the music and the language,
Within the shadows and glow light, the half sense to write or just listen,
Till the pen balances thinking with drinking.
A crumpling of a coffee packet accompanying, as the music spills on into jazz, into life,
And the wonder at not understanding other people talk,
Takes nothing from the very fact that they are my company, and in theirs I revel in a notion of life, where my fantasies flourish.
I may be mistaken, even choosing to be so
And I allow the play its new act, my life a new scene, and the writer once more to reality.
(sound of pen dropping and beer slurping:))

The casual Eye

The casual Eye

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Reflections, musings, all indirect.
The shadows of timidity set.
Eyes bound to embrace if by chance
And then in blush turn once more back.
To shaded Eyes, the hidden glance,
The brushing back – displaying risk.
Another eye to eye embrace
Till two souls set save embarrassment.
A nail pick and a fumble still
The night resides in circumstance.
Ill-comfort or the lack of breath…
One’s terrified by the sombre poet.
Hope, yet eternal, Springs then falls
It is the chill of winter Afterall.
And so the fleeting glance- perchance-
Is nothing but the final failed romance.
And yet in words as these, such coined,
There is a lurch towards new Hope!

Tina Turner’s

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The night before my birthday, my fortieth, and I hit Tina Turner’s…it used to be called Anya’s but that half-Greek fantasy set sail down towards the ninth district, somewhere around Mester utca, a long time ago. The soap I bought, a dried up reminder of a notion I once had.
The whole place is infested with memory and even my darkest hour, not worth mentioning, being part of the fabric of this place provokes a Dichotomy, an idea of improvement based upon a previous moral digression, thoroughly equated therefore by its having occurred within the confines of this place.
It was always an awkward place, often ruled by boredom, fatigue, drunkeness, and paranoia. It, however, served well as a last resort. It never closes, you see,”… and that has made all the difference…”
I sometimes long for this place in the blur that is pre- fatherhood memory, but in truth, a moment like this, actually living the memories, is the closest anybody can get to all things past. Sometimes it’s worth coming back for the trip – the reality of what was left behind, suitably soft, a drawing smudged to suit a tolerable indifference.
The corner in one of the upstairs booths, was my workbench of occasion, though never to the extent of B City and the Soproni place, now Cheerio – then nameless (at least to me), and yet Tina’s, ahem…Anya’s (like the stalwart calling Snickers Marathon), provided some of the material for my future. Here dreams were shattered, rebuilt, born yet before, and after. Time bent here… as these words may take me back, they may in time propel me forward, or at least be read again in a time not yet recorded. For now I just create them in the hope that someone, maybe even me, can read them in a future!

Copyright © Martin O'Regan
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