No, I am not a late-enrolling Train student: Adventures in Szombathely

The bus ride back to Budapest was full of the chatter of future plans. I happily dozed through last minute planning, as I had already arranged a visit to an old university buddy now teaching in rural Austria. So decamping from the bus, Lauren, Lyla and I smsed the guys, to arrange a last minute dinner party.

Gergo and Andy showed up, and the five of us ate Lauren and Lyla’s amazing dinner until late in the evening. So when it came time to wake up, I decided to take the later train I had found, instead of an earlier one. This turned out to be a mistake.

I arrived at Keleti and was immediately panic set in. There were ticket inspectors all over, and I had forgotten where to buy international tickets. Dazed, sleepy and panicky I bought a ticket to Jennersdorf where I would have to catch a bus to the village. I found the train to Szombathely, hopped aboard, found a seat and settled in.

I got a little suspicious when we passed Tata, and asked the girl sitting across from me if the train was going to Szombathely. She said it was, so I settled down. A few hours passed, and I looked at my diary with the connections written in it. I realized that I was on the wrong train; I had not taken the correct train from Keleti, and would miss my connection to Jennersdorf. In a panic I called Emily and Jamie. Between the two of them they broke the bad news, I would miss the last bus to the village by 10 minutes. So I decided to spend the night in Szombathely, explore a bit, and then head on to Austria. I dialed my friend’s number and got a strange garbled message. So I decided to remove two of the numbers and try again. This time the call went through, but was answered not by my friend, but rather by a harassed sounding Austrian woman. Mostly harassed because I tried twice more, and each time she sounded crankier.

So I walked into the Tourinform at the spacious and modern train station, where I was informed that it was unlikely that I would be able to find a hostel, because school was in session, but I should try number 23 in the catalogue. Hoping against hope I called. They had a free bed, but I would have to get there within half an hour. So armed with a map, I fought my way through the twists and turns of medieval street planning, and found it.

It wasn’t until I walked in that I realized that the Hostel was actually the MAV dorms. The courtyard had miniature train tracks and MAV paraphernalia. The porter was confused at first as I was obviously not a train-driving student. Later one of the secretaries came in, rapid fire Hungarian and several stamped papers later, and he was ebullient. Speaking slowly, clearly and slightly louder than normal, as if to someone hard of hearing, he walked me to the stairs and handed me the key to my room.

Later I explored the city, and crashed.