Cafes and Narrow Escapes

Today I woke to a drizzling, dreary day. Budapest was being drenched by a light, but constant downfall from the gray sky above. On such a day, it seems like there is really only one option: relax at the cafe with more excellent coffee and then jump aboard the tram system for more exploration! I bundled up and headed down to Prága Kávéház, a elegant coffee house offering some excellent espresso. One Hundred Years of Solitude and a Mochachino.

To maximize my ticket worth, I found the greatest loop of the city I could take with minimal transfers: jump on the 47/49 across the Danube to Buda, exchange to the 61 until Maszka square, a major hub of many of the tram lines and the metro, and then return on the 4/6, passing by Margit Island and returning home. So far my tram experiences were quite fun, so it sounded like it was going to be a good trip. After finishing my Mochachino, I headed down to the nearby 47/49 stop. A short wait at the platform and I was abord, ready to validate my ticket...oh no. These ticket machines are different. So far I had used the newer trams that had digital ticket machines, but this older tram had a manual machine. I resorted to what had been working so far, wait to watch someone who knows what they're doing and imitate. A guy next to me put in his ticket and pulled the little lever, so I followed. Ok, nerves calm down. My ticket comes out with a little indent. Should be fine. I take a seat as we cross the river. Getting close to my stop for exchange and I feel a tap on my shoulder. I turn around to a man wearing the arm band of the tram attendants. "ticket" he inquires. I dig in my pocket for my indented ticket to show that I was valid. He takes it looks at it funny, looks at me curiously, and then takes it and then shows me a ticket with a full hole punched through it. He puts my ticket in the validating machine and then pulls harder on the lever. Still with my ticket in his hand we arrive at a stop and he starts to head to the driver of the tram. Nervousness. Is he going to fine me? The door closing chime rings...we're only one stop from my exchange...I jump off the tram as the door closes and cross the street as the tram rolls off. I escaped! I wasn't trying to cheat the system, but my lack of Hungarian would have prevented me from telling my story and probably left me with a fine. And he did keep my ticket, so I paid for the trip. Well...I learn.

Ok, now I know better. The walk to the next stop allowed me to find a really good bakery, so I decided to stop in, partially to enjoy a delicious treat, partially to hide from the ticket man who I imagined might be now patrolling the streets for the rogue American who he probably supposes was cheating him.

The return trip was much better, with no more manual ticket machines. Tonight I'm off to see Robert in Germay. Hopefully this train ride will be smooth.