Tag Archives: relaxing

Nighttime has brought

Nighttime has brought the rain
And I move away from One and two
Into the arms of another.
The chill breeze early evening replaced
The sun long gone, huddling into the west
Leaving darkness to greet the rain that’s coming down.
Street lights in their endeavour find sheen resplendent luxury
A luxury that weary minds ignore.
I leave one and two and pass through judgement to my charge
The other lady in my life already sleeping.


© TheHairyTeacher2016

The Silver Curlew

The silver curlew alone and wondering
Perched to thinking
Dreams across an expanse of water
Beyond the dawn
Beyond the dreamer.
In the haste to strike repose
In the shuffling prelight
The songbirds echo faraway in the mind
Hidden in the memory
Sometimes delighting
Sometimes eroding hope.
In the shallow almost emptiness
The glean of struggle reflects
Till rolling ripples rain distortion.
Giving new interpretation
Giving wing to recent silence.


© TheHairyTeacher2016



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.



Jukebox Junkie


For those of you familiar with Bogyó és Babóca you’ll be probably aware of the catchy theme tune which introduces the cheery pair of friends. For those of you unfamiliar, think of the many animation pairings, except perhaps for Pinky and the Brain, and you should be getting that sunshine, adventure, and existential angst feeling.
Well, Tara did her tour and now it’s Keela’s turn though I am not certain as to the extent of the appeal beyond the opening tune itself.
Awakening early morning Keela no longer cries out for her mother’s milk first thing. Instead, she bobs her head and rounds her lips, emitting a hum and doodle that is a mimicry of B & B themselves. That she also grabs for the books probably indicates an appeal in the feature too but a night time despair is more easily subdued by a rendering of the tune than by any graven image.
So what is it, I ask myself, that has made her latch onto Bogyó and Babóca so suddenly and so intensely? And then suddenly it hits me! With The Community, a comedy series I used to watch with my girlfriend, and with Keela present, there was also a noticeable reaction to the theme tune but what remains is the difference that B&B are also available to touch in book form on the floor. What then does this suggest? To any old fool the answer now dangles before the nose, but I’m not any old fool! I’m the worst kind:)
But Just in case you’re wondering:
A hint of animation on-screen
A dash of animation in books
And a catchy tune to boot!

But does this all explain Hello Kitty?
Well, some mysteries intend to remain unsolved…



My Old Self

My Old Self

I saw a ghost of who I was, today.
A younger familiar me.
He passed the church at Lehel tér
Going places not for me.
He passed over Feri’s bridge
And down along Podmaniczky
To where there now lies nought for me
but bloated memory.
I felt the shadow of my past
on the stairwell at the bank,
When days and nights and morning’s hand
were defined by what I drank.
And on each step as I went down
I heard the old pain murmur,
“a tired mind worn by the night
could too soon be torn asunder”.
And so I took another turn
and left the West End go
and prowling down on Vaci street
I decided to go slow.
Now sitting here on this May day
the cars in sunshine glitter,
the people walking to and fro,
and some sitting down to chatter.
I feel the cool breeze of the moment
and let my senses go
Infusing in the utter present
I’ll accept what was before.

What’s in when going out?

What’s in when going out?


If you mention Móricz Zsigmond körtér it often evokes a feeling of nostalgia, and this for a place I have but a recent memory of. I’ve thought and taught here and drunk but a bit and yet I feel it’s somewhere I’ve been before, a place of greater memories, even if it isn’t.
There is a certain atmosphere in the area what with the tram rushing through as well as the 6 and 61 finishing up here. The schools, bookshops, fastfood places, all a step off make it a vibrant hub and now with development of the Metro 4 complete this area has come into its own. It owns the night scene Buda side, even if Lövõház is challenging to the north, and with the restaurants, bars, and general nuisances fanning out in all directions from the square, it’s certainly a pin to put in your google, or mental, map. Bartók Béla út, which dissects the square, is the main source of attraction and distraction with Szatyor, Nevada Pub*, Moha*, to name but a few offering up in terms of not only food and drink but other forms of spiritual nourishment. Nevada with its Cowboyish Wild West look, swinging doors to boot, has live music from the middle of the stairs on your way up: a live set-up in such a confined space?…interesting! (Sometimes a DJ may take over.) Booking a table is almost a prerequisite especially if you’re a group, or come looking for the perfect seat. The winter sees activities contained indoors while the sun shine draws forth a smattering of chairs making it a perfect beer and leer environment, even if your lungs and ears have to compete with the slight inconvenience of pollution from the ever busy Bártok Béla út…
Szatyor across the street has a sprawling ground floor with tables all ariot, while upstairs the seating is shared with a space for performances, exhibitions, and all the rest. As with Nevada it can get tricky to find seating around the weekend so be warned.
Whereas Nevada is a pub with grub on offer, Szatyor is a cafe with its own culinary aspirations. An offer of garlic soup followed by a Lángos was one of the lunchtime treats when I was visiting , and I tried it (poor students that afternoon), so while many may judge that as its downfall, it was most certainly for me its selling point. Like Nevada service in Szatyor never breeches the barrier between polite and friendly with smiles being somewhat a rare commodity.Maybe it’s the pressure, maybe it’s me, but especially in Szatyor’s case it seemed to be a little off-putting.
Another place worth mentioning is Moha which can be found farther down the street towards Gellért tér, and which is also inclined to entertainment beyond the food and drink on offer. As a place for breakfast it works, with ham and eggs amongst the choices, and there is an atmosphere which suggests something greater bubbling just beneath the surface. The grand piano in the corner may have something to do with it; my interest peaked. Of all the places I’ve mentioned it is the one place which I have not had the chance to sample evening time, so as to what to expect I can only fictionalise. A sign indicating a movie theatre hidden somewhere out of the morning’s grasp leads me to conclude that this place is aspiring to something bigger. As to whether it will achieve this, well, that remains to be seen, or will perhaps remain forever relative, because afterall, what is success? How can it be…blah blah blah.
That there are plenty more places to choose from goes without saying but to a man who has now got two children and too little time, such voyages of exploration are somewhat staggered, at least in comparison with what has gone before. These days memory must serve in place of accuracy, perhaps, and so I leave you to ponder and, if you wish, to contradict my words, for afterall, and in the end, there is no right nor wrong, just subjective truths:)



*UPDATE: Since writing this review I have been down that way again and found two changes, not to the locations but to the names.

Nevada is now Osztrák Söröző: https://www.facebook.com/osztrak


and Moha is The Rabbit and the Duck bar, with a great logo to boot.







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”






Calgary…a review

Calgary…this is not my first time.
Herein seduced by the piano
Now all atumble with bits and bobs
But isn’t this whole place?
And so-
I wonder-
If maybe at a twirl, speakeasily,
Everything may be different.
From out of the radio the music spells freedom:
Hungarian, gypsy? –
Inflected with a francophilia.
It sways into a kind of opulence
Before surrendering to the density of the heart
Only to be released by the furious incline
Of a violin, a fiddle,
Turned demented – Chagallian –
Dancing o’er the notions of a childish nightmare.
And then a kind of swing kicks in –
In defiance of work, or the mundane,
And yet in celebration of life, of love.
And then the beer protests
“No words are more important”
As the hands and mind become distracted.
Again the calls repeat more loudly,
More vociferously
“No words were ever so important”
But the pen moves on
The gas keeps rising
And so the battle has begun
Between the poet and (the) drink
Sober and drunk
And somewhere amidst this selfish incline-
A battle suffused on the shores of otherness –
A hint, a notion, of other things.
A charge, a brigade
In the light they falter fall, but forever rise again.
For unlike men this is family,
For unlike duty this is love,
But for unlike freedom,
This is responsibility.
The thing that tears at each rebel’s heart.

“They would topple a government and so too a family in favour of a freedom that can never be won – a dream, however, that is the fuel of life.”


Ah shur, tis Grand (The Grand Hostel)

Out of town but not out of town this private hostel sits on 2 major transport lines, the 61 tram, and the 29 bus. A ten minute walk, if you’re taking it easy, either side of these and you’ve got the 129 bus or the 5 bus. Apart from the 29 which takes you North to Óbuda and towards the Roman settlements, all others take you East or South towards the river, the castle, and the city centre.
A night bus passes by every hour and is accessible from a myriad of points throughout the city.
Beds are provided in dorms or private at prices which imply hostel, not gap year-Daddy’s wallet.
If on a brief visit then the city is your calling but if allowed a night or two to recuperate the hostel also provides its own entertainment with locals dropping in, and Peti the Proprietor is always willing to bang out a tune. Be warned: Peti’s got a good and varied taste in music which he may employ to keep you from your Zzzs. Your choice!;)



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