------------------------------------------------------------------------- I met some British girls the other day at a Turkish bath here in Budapest, and they all went to get pedicures. I think I should have joined them, because my toes -- and feet in general -- are slooooowly beginning to turn into The Bob's. (Luckily for you, you can't see that in this shot at the musical fountain on Margaret Island).
When I say "musical," I mean it. They play classical music, its ebbs and flows perfectly synchronized with the thrusts of water shooting up from the fountain, until late at night (how late, I don't know, but I was there a few days ago at around 10, and it was going strong for all five of us there).
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When they say you can't swim somewhere because it's too dirty, so you decide to kayak instead, all I've got to say is that you'd better be damn good, because tipping over = swimming in the Danube.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------The Buda side of Budapest is kind of like a Houstonian having a 713 area code over a 281, or having a 212 area code if you're from Manhattan. You're proud, damn proud, and you don't want there to be any confusion about where your roots lay.
"Where are you from?"
"Buda."
"Budapest?"
"No, I am from Buda."
"Okay, okay, jeez."
In this shot, I am sitting on a ledge in Buda. Got that? Buda.
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