The next morning, we had barely rose and sat down to breakfast when we found ourselves locked in conversation with two amiable travelers. Thick Australian accents made them instantly good company, but they were a lot of fun and we liked eachother right off the bat. Though they were taking a tour in the afternoon, we promised to cross paths again. That day, we took part in what is fast becoming a favorite occupation. The bookshop tour. Budapest has an avenue almost exclusively devoted to bookstores, ranging from fancy high end ones to wonderful little antique places. Some have huge English sections, some have only a shelf or two. They are quaint and quiet and serious places for serious readers. They also provide wonderful shelter from the billowing snow outside. The books cost virtually nothing so Casey buys another Neil Gaiman book and I get a dog-eared copy of Mill on the Floss. Happy with our new purchases, we look for lunch and find the obvious choice in a Hungarian city: Mexican food. The cuisine, though, as usual, incongruous is irresistably attractive for two reasons. One: Mexican food is a big point of nostalgia, seeing as it is so ubiquitous back home and so hard to come by over here. Two: the restaurant, which is small, cozy and full of light and cool rodeo posters and cactuses and Wanted posters of Mexican bandits, is called Dos Gringos. Thats us, Dos Gringos. So in we go, and feast on incredible burritos and quesadillas, genially served and costing very little.

Satiated, we continue to wander through town. We find the vast covered central market, bustling stalls full of classic fresh meat and veg and fruit, dozens of tourist shops loaded with fine lace (Juliette Stubbs seriously needs to start shopping in Budapest), wine shops where the wine is sold in beautiful ornate bottles shaped like deer and bulls and fish, and pastry shops with massive fresh pastries for only 100 Forint (which is about 40 cents). I get a beautiful dark pastry of some sort of berry wrapped in sticky crust. Afterwards we find a cozy little cafe where we take refuge from the cold and read for a few hours, drinking steaming cups of thick, perfumed, deep red tea, a splendid blend of cinnamon, pear, and berries. Some of the finest tea we have ever consumed. There is also a complimentary massage chair. Needless to say we leave refreshed and relaxed. We return to the hostel and are reunited with our Ozzy's (Omar and Rachel, tragically Not Bruce and Sheila). They invite us out for dinner and soon we find ourselve merrily wandering into a very fancy Hungarian cuisine restaurant. We are ushered down wide stone steps into an elegantly decorated cavern, and we hand our coats to eagerly waiting waiters. Our table is the epitome of frivolity. We are brought complimentary glasses of sparkling Rose, and soon the wine is flowing like wine and the table is groaning under the weight of traditional Hungarian delicacies. The conversation flows eagerly and laughter frequently sends liquid spraying from noses across the table in utterly ridiculous merriment. We start with a huge plate of local cheeses and cold meats and vegetables, most of which are delicious but some of which we prefer not to remember, or to imagine their origin. Then come main courses, for me of Goulash, a delighfully warm and heavy stew, and for the others of variously chicken, beef, and salmon. Besides the vast enjoyment of a good meal (and the wonderful prices, considering the quality and surroundings), we are all in awe of our good fortune in such good company. Within moments our position as strangers is replaced by one of comrades and by the time we drag ourselves away from the table at 11:30 as the restaurant closes, we would all equally have called eachother friends. After the meal we are back out on the streets and find ourselves eventually at a bar, then a club, a huge courtyard converted into a great party, with various rooms in caverns below, full of music ranging from typically aweful dance music to some wonderfully incongruous rock tunes. We arrive back at the hostel after a long satisfying night and fall gratefully into bed, although the various excitements of the night make it hard to fall asleep too quickly.