Tag Archives: Out n About

Something fishy ’bout this

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.

© TheHairyTeacher2017

A Day Is Rising

A Day Is Rising


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.





I missed the opening of an exhibition here recently and frankly if I had turned up and there hadn’t been free wine I may just have thrashed the gaff. Now the drawings were good as far as chalk on wall goes but I wouldn’t call it an exhibition: a drawing exhibited, but not warranting the whole nine yards. Unless there was free wine!

Well, anyway, inside this old school building, well preserved as it is, there is a passageway down beyond the entrance. Turning right and following the coloured lines one will find the gallery, the exhibition area, but more importantly the cafe/bar.

On offer there is a selection of sandwiches (tasting as if unwrapped), cakes – tempting to the sweet-toothed, and the remaining array of drinks you’d expect of any cafe.

Tucked inside the building one does get a feeling, what with hard chairs and checked tiled floors, that this could be canteeny, but being in the heart of an old school that doesn’t sound too shocking. There has been an attempt to brighten things up with the trademark colouring set not only on the corridor floor but on the programs strewn about, almost inconspicuously.

It is clean and there are even a few more comfortable sofas but what makes this place may be the view to the street or the courtyard or the chance to eavesdrop on artists’ conversations, but if like me you can’t speak Hungarian very well the former option is not enough. However, it doesn’t lack in energy replenishment: a lunchtime menu exists with soup, sandwich, salad choices, but for a person who craves atmosphere it is a bit of a let down.

Perhaps it’s the quiet before the storm; a festival event is scheduled for two hours from now. Perhaps it’s Friday. Perhaps it’s the hum of the fridges, the rain starting outside. All factors accounted for I ‘d say this place is a handy option in ‘out of the bustle’ this side of town, when bars and chain cafes aren’t your thing.

It could grow on me as a retreat from the crowd, but for now I must go in search of that very thing.


(NB: This was written in April of last year but all criticism is valid until it’s now!!!)



In response

In response

To further answer your question: I’m standing at the river bank in the sunshine. It’s hard not to love this city, and my mobile job, at a time like this. I have, however, stood on this spot many’s the time in another mood, with nothing but hatred in my heart!



It Could Be Anywhere


It could be Ireland but for the snow that comes in drifts, light flakes deceptive.
The green grass muddied once more encased,
and Spring entombed, perhaps,
so what comes next.


The rising cheer has so soon abated, as mother nature holds her breath.
Allowing still the chilling fingers caress the shrinking countryside once again.


Those tired of darkness they beg for Springtime,
the blossom’s mercy, the rose’s promise.
Blood on the carpet green, yellow, pink – exciting,
now all abounding with whitish sheen.


Little diamonds, slivers, pearing down in string-like curtains;
sending silence across the thoughts –
the land once more is sleeping.


Beneath, the street, ensnared only by our own vain wishes,
with city light and city surface,
sets cars heaving past hellbent on murder:
Their spring fizz slushed again in sludging cleanliness.
What’s left of autumn now is surely gone.


The blackened leaves tattoo the quiet streets
worn inky thin they’d stain like tarmac melt-
That once upon a knee in jeans attired.
Why? With such heat? Why, with youth, of course!


Contending here again with the damp, the chill, the beast
As another false alarm is trodden down.
Traffic moves again in lumbered, measured, plod.
What of the coming Spring?
Perhaps it never comes!




Dye see yer one?

You mean…( outlining a chest size)

Yep. She’s wearing those like they were just new…

Or like a man with his wish for a day!

Whatever, her top seems beleagured…

As does her lap…

As is my soul…

Soul my hole!

No, not hole, but you’re getting hot.

I know, and bothered…

Under the collar!

Good God!


Well he did make those…

And those are just sinful.

God, the ole devil:)


And women too

Of course

Horses for courses

One in the hand

Making mountains out of mole hills…

Mountains out of mountains…




35 Café

Bike themed and youthful the problem with this place is that it doesn’t take itself seriously enough as a business. My entering was greeted by surprise and my order was misheard.
Maybe I’m In a mood and maybe it is functional in a way that would usually serve but today that’s not enough.
After sitting stewing I decided to repeat my request and sure enough the girl had been allowing me the pick of the ziros kenyérs. I shot before asking questions: a trait I hate in others and which I’ve indulged myself just now to hypocritical proportions.
Now hunger tantrums aside let me take another look around. It is a basic spot complete with broken toilet (ladies) at the moment but with booth style seats it surely can be of use. Still in a district with so many alternatives being caught downstairs in the gloom at lunchtime is low on the list. Come nighttime, come difference perhaps but for now best take my word for it, unless like me your curiosity is greater than some random stranger’s opinion.
“Texas and whiskey… funerals”







Whether this place turns out to be a joke remains to be seen but for the time being on a grey February morn*, just shy of my next class, it offers respite from all the timetabling and rushing. Whew!
It’s modern enough in feel but cosy enough to be homely. It’s not all sharp edges and minamilism.
Located just across from Erzsebet square with the pending Akvarium reopening promising an exciting and vibrant summer ahead, it could all come down to location location location.
A badly printed flyer brought me here: that and my inability to read. It said 50% off…but on second glance I realise it’s only for alcohol, and while that may be good tidings usually, there is another sting in the tail. All alcohol excluding beer and wine!!! As if there was any other types of alcohol!!! Whiskey, vodka, pálinka…they’re not alcohol. They’re death wishes in a bottle, unless you drink in moderation, but a place like this doesn’t promote a thing like that.
Now if they had 50% off their merely average coffee I’d be much happier. Grey mornings lean on grey moods perhaps. Bahhhh!


*A review late coming. Nevertheless on recently passing by the place remains the same, and empty. The newly opened Akvárium and surrounds have stolen any chance at thunder here methinks!!!





Born to this Day

In the rumble of an engine ticking over

Held up to the kerb in utter resignation

Against the backdrop of a Friday morning start

There is motion then and all else moves apart

Outside the moving streets they lag behind

As ever onwards ever after I am borne


The Raven’s Rainbow

The Raven’s Rainbow

Beneath the feathers of every raven there hides a rainbow, the old man had said, but Billy had just put it down to one of those things that old men said: some thing that pretended to wisdom but was more probably nonsense.
The old man had died that night and Billy had given his last words no more thought. Huddled together with his best friend Sammy at the bottom of a mist carpetted field, each trying to keep warm by rubbing up against a tree trunk and letting the cigarette ends close to their encasing hands, both wearing jackets that were designed to stand up only to summer showers, Billy found the words coming back to him.
The bare trees veined the sky above him and not for the first time did he come to the notion that they looked very much like bronchioles, or at least the diagram of the trackings of a lung as he had seen in his biology book at school.
“The lungs of the earth” he muttered; Sammy grunting, used to his friend’s inner monologue escaping.
“What do you think the purposes of crows are?” Billy suddenly asked.
“Crows?” came the reply.
” Crows, ravens, whatever. I mean what purpose do they serve?”
” None according to my father” Sammy replied “Pests he calls them…Pests!Pests!”.
Billy smiled. What else could he do? Sammy was eccentric that way, but when asked if he’d ever thought of a career in theatre he had answered a firm “No!”.
That was his father speaking, Billy’s mom had said. It was well known that Sammy’s father, a military man, had no love of the performing arts, but his rejection of his eldest son’s sexuality had been the subject of much debate. Needless to say Billy’s mum was not a fan. “Poor Ivan,” she used to say. Wasn’t it hard enough growing up without a mother but then to be shunned by his own father…
Sammy for his part didn’t speak too much about Ivan beyond the boundaries of memory, a fondness of childhood, a time long since gone. When pressed he had matter of factly stated that all queers are diseased, but this had definitely been his father speaking.
Billy’s father, on the other hand, was cut from an entirely different cloth. As happy, if not happier, to be among the wilds, he had often taken Billy with him on his expeditions, in search of nothing as his mother put it.
To not understand the nature of others is no reason to call it unnatural, Billy’s father would often retort when pressed by his mother to justify his long days in the woods. Later Billy would realise that there had been a little jealousy on his mother’s part, Billy’s father having the lion’s share, as it were, of Billy’s company.
“Do you ever wonder why people seem to want such different things, especially people who seem to have so much in common?” Sammy suddenly asked. “Look at Ivan for example.”
“To not understand the nature…” Billy began.
“Oh would you shut up!” Sammy lambasted. Billy face took on a pained expression.
“I’m only messin’ ya silly clot! Don’t be so sensitive!”
“I’m not. I’m only…” Billy began.
“I’m not. I’m only…”Sammy parroted.
God, how Billy hated that, that ridicule.
Oh, how Sammy loved to see such squirming.
“All I’m saying is, why do people with the same upbringing change so much?” Sammy continued.
“Other circumstances,” Billy began.
“Ah, don’t give me that shit about all the little things that could affect us.” Sammy snapped.
“Why not?’ Billy asked.
“A butterfly’s wings bollocks!” Sammy replied getting quite irrate.
Billy never knew how to control these situations, getting angry as he usually did didn’t solve anything, but staying silent only allowed Sammy to feel smug, as if he had won.
Wisdom could have told both boys the pointlessness of their undertakings but, as they say, youth is wasted on the young.
“Well, since you have all the answers” Billy snapped.
“I don’t” said Sammy “but I’m not about to surrender to some hippie dippie shit, neither!”
“As opposed to doom and gloom!?” Billy volleyed.
“Yeah yeah whatever!”
“Whatever!? And there ends the conversation.” Billy was beginning to get very annoyed.
Changing tack Billy decided to let spill the old man’s last words.
“Ravens and rainbows. What rubbish! I mean fair enough if that’s what he said but seriously, what crap.” Sammy stood in cool repose but Billy had no defence. Afterall, hadn’t he also been considering the whole thing nonsense.
The silence laid waste to the cold, both friends grumbling their own righteous state. And then the last of the cigarettes was spent and so they had no more reasons to sit perishing in that place.
Passing down through the golf course on the way home Billy ventured a question, an opening up of dialogue.
“Do you think Ivan is really that different from you?” he asked.
“He’s a fuckin’ faggot for Christssakes; or haven’t you noticed” he snapped. “Maybe because you’re one too” he added.
“I’m not” Billy protested, but he could already feel the blush rising from his neck line.
Sammy just sneered, derision etched across his face.
The rage now welled in Billy and without word he scampered ahead, cleared the fence and marched off taking the left fork, and the shorter route home.
The thought suddenly came to him that it was Sammy who had the money for cigarettes, and he, Billy, had been planning to spend the night in his friend’s place. A regret rose but was buried by the fury currently at large.



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