Cracking. Rain in the skies, rain clouds in the papers. Bye!
EasyJet have installed screens at check in that flash up messages such as “within hours you’ll be exploring” and “not long until you make a splash”. This is equivalent to announcing “once more unto the breach”.
Here we go; six currencies in two weeks. My maths, two calculators and wallet organisational skills shall all be tested mercilessly.
Choosing a seat on easyjet is like playing minesweeper. Except instead of mines, it’s babies one has to avoid. I missed, and am in toddler town.
Cross referenced my hostel location with my time of arrival and lonely planet’s restaurant recommendations. Dinner will be a kebab.
Err… is that the pilot? Should I be worried that he’s in the cabin having a chat?
A lady tuts because her AmEx credit card has been declined. We’re in the sky, lady, it’s a miracle we even have electricity.
Metro ticket machines used: 5. Metro ticket machines which have worked: 1.
Lo and behold, kebab dinner. It was god-awful, but at least it wasn’t MacBurgerFC-Hut.
I’m on a Hungarian hunt. Where are they?! Germans and Americans are here in swarms.
8.5 hour train booked for tomorrow morning, onward into Romanian hills. Better make a packed lunch.
Fizzy water still feels like a bit of a treat to me.
As long as they don’t smell, dogs can travel on public transport in Hungary but must pay the fare.
Uck, my new towel sheds blue bits. I look like a smurf.
Every single person I’ve talked to so far today has looked at me like I’m pissing them royally off. Maybe I’m speaking like a smurf too.
Aaowh, I should have guessed that a tiled floor in the 60-70degree would be painful for bare feet.
Sign in the baths “we regret that on Sunday bathing costume must be worn”.
Perhaps they break all the ticket machines on purpose so tram conductors can collect hefty fines off tourists…
I really need an actual meal.
My entire Milka bar melted into liquid within 15minutes.
One minute I’m surrounded by swarms of people, next I’m entirely alone for 15minutes. It’s like accidentally going ‘backstage’ at Disneyworld.
Blimmin eck. If that’s the size of the starter, my stomach’s in for a severe beating. 
Missed the match, but I could feel Federer’s smarm rays pulsing out from centre court. So close!
Malaysian lady chatting in my dorm room has a voice that sounds like one of the Pythons playing the part of an angry Asian mum.
Not only does she sound like a Python, she’s also quite clearly lying like the best of them. She’s been in the NZ earthquake, seen the tsunami, been on the QEII and travelled to 110 countries, many multiple times. It must be fun to lie quite that much.
Wow, apparently she’s been in three near-miss plane crashes.
