The “other side” of Vaci Ut is completely different from its more famous sibling. There are no big brands or colorful shops. But it exudes a beauty of its own. Paved by cobblestones, the street contains only antique stores and restaurants. The place is thronged by tourists, even though one of the restaurants has the name “Fatal”.
At the end of Vaci ut, stands the imposing National Market. I walked away from the Szabadsag Hid, towards Kalvin Ter. A huge modern building, which I did not remember from the previous visit, towered up at the square. Next to it and almost dwarfed by it, was the majestic National Museum. The last I remembered, it was teeming with people at 12 AM in the morning on the Night of the Museums. Today, it was deserted.
I walked home, as rich people sipped tiny cups of coffee inside the cozy and shining interiors of the Astoria cafe.
The day started with baby noises. At breakfast Snag remarked: “Remember that Chinese kid (the one who brought about my first death threat)? They are staying right next to my room. And he has a little sister also. She keeps screaming all night!” Immediately, I heard a scream coming from the lift. “Is that the same kid?” I asked her. “Oh no! I hope not!” she exclaimed. It turned out to be another six month old girl. She strutted out of the lift and started screaming. She wanted to be picked up. She started screaming again when they tried to make her sit. She soon settled to a steady stream of giggles and baby talk. “It has to be a girl,” I said, “Only girls can talk non-stop.” The next one was right there on that massive escalator at Deak Ferenc Ter. Again, it was the non-stop gibberish that caught my attention. And sure, there she was…a two year old girl, clutching a doll. And then, as we sat down in the train at Batthyany Ter, I heard the goo-goo of two babies…Snag rolled her eyes!
It was a strenuous day, probably for all of us. Being late for office, we missed the shuttle from the station to the office. It was 10:00 by the time we reached. The afternoon would be full of meetings. Two hours went by quite fast. At lunch, I made snag wait at the lift – to tie my shoe laces. It barely took a minute, but she was irritated. My response at the time taken by women to get ready, met with the expected response - the third death threat I had received in four days. This time it was a threat to push me out of the airplane back home.
“I didn’t like the hotel in Vienna. Hence I decided to return back the same day,” She told Gabor, “I am not very adventurous.” “Oh! Pragati was very adventurous!” he exclaimed, “She went into a casino last time. Even we are scared to do that.”
By evening, she had only one thing to say: “I want to buy grapes.” She kept pointing to every kind of shops – bag shops, pastry shops or flower shops, telling me constantly: “Let us check whether they sell grapes.” She searched everywhere for the “Elusive Pimpernel”, but it was not to be found. A few meters from our hotel, she declared, “We are not going into to the hotel, until you find me a shop where they sell grapes!” I promptly declined. Thankfully, the receptionist pointed her to a supermarket which sold fruits. But then, hers was the fate of the mythological Tantalus. The supermarket had run out of grapes.
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