An example of that was how today, when one of the employees was going to go on her break and wanted to buy some smokes and a thing of juice, she cut through the line of people and was rung up by the other cashier. Okay, she’s an employee, but I know from my wonderful days in retail that that’s just something you don’t do, like yell at the customer and say “You’ll forget and be back soon enough!” Yes, I’ve seen that.

That’s part of the reason I go shopping at Tesco. While I’d prefer to support a Hungarian chain, Tesco just has a better range of products (being a hypermarket) and the customer service there is indifferent, not rude. I know that’s hardly an endorsement, because it’s not meant to be, but given how so frequently the employees of a store make it seem like they’re doing you a favor (no asshole, my coming in and spending money there is what keeps you employed) it just gets frustrating.

What’s quite rare is the occasional friendly person, which is quite jarring, to the point that you’re almost thinking if you’re on a hidden camera or something. It’s rare, and I always try to be friendlier in the hopes that the person stays that way instead of morphing into a ball of hate, which quite a few are.

Things are improving, and I’ve found a few places where the customer service people are actually quite friendly, but those places are still not found frequently enough.

• There is a woman toward the southern end of lover’s lane, who shouts at the wind.
• The incredible noise-making baritone guy.
• An old guy who goes running about an hour before sunset runs wearing thick black mitts on his hands.
• The guy who doesn’t know how to politely perv in public.
• Topless sunbathing in clear view of passerby on a main Budapest road.
• Karl Marx.
• Urban regeneration.
• A guy selling the Hungarian version of the Big Issue, aka the homeless magazine, harassing people trying to sunbathe.
• The most impressive mullet outside of the NHL. Ever.
• Some dude playing his guitar, trying to get girls interested, while sitting on a bench, in the pouring rain.
• Guys perving at the people at the Palatinus swimming complex through the fence by the running track. I slowed down, but I didn’t stare.
• Foreign tourists with their trophy wives who are about twenty years younger and have had enough plastic surgery to keep a polystyrene factory running for another year.
• Girls handing out fliers for something. I really don’t know what they were for. I was distracted by their shorts, which is being a bit generous in terms of how long they were. Okay, that’s not weird. It’s just cool.

If I get together more things, I’ll let you know.

Don’t you hate when those unwanted Soviet relics get in the way?

Okay, I promise pretty soon I’ll actually start posting random thoughts and other things as opposed to just pictures.  Blame work and the thesis.

Located in Dob utca near Mummus, but completely unrelated to it, is Budapest’s very own second-hand sex shop. Many words come to mind, such as gross, nausea and disgusting. Got any of your own?

I walked by this place on Kazinczy utca about a week ago.  The sign on one side said bor, or Hungarian for wine. I figured this must be a wine establishment. But then my sister saw that on the other side, it said sör, otherwise known as beer.

So you see, you and your significant other can both frequent what must be a fancy establishment, as not only do they sell beer or wine, but both. Now isn’t that just classy right there?

250 forints ($1.50) will get you a beer glass fight, apparently, but chip in another 100 forints or 60¢, and you’ll get a proper battle. And they say everything is expensive these days in Budapest!

Okay, so I know it’s actually a power building, which would explain the lack of windows on the building, which incidentally is located in Dob utca, but still, isn’t it more fun to tell your kids that it’s where the vampires sleep during the day? That’ll get them to stop asking you all those questions, provided they know what vampires are.

Yes, this much red won’t take a long time to start bothering your eyes. You can read my review of Tűzraktér over here, and see where it’s located over here.

Take a guess what’s being advertised here.  It’s a rather, umm, novel way of spreading the word.  Or you could just say pushing some kid up in the air by his nuts. Seriously, these people were working for Hungary’s No. 2 tabloid Bors. What the fuck?