Alex Bergland

The front of the building was not too different from any of the other tan brick buildings squished together along the small Hungarian street, except that it had large windows so you could see the colorfully painted walls on the inside. The hostel was in the fifth district in the city of Pest, a twenty-minute walk away from the closest bridge to take you to Buda. It was two blocks away from one of the main shopping streets where every other store front was a designer clothing brand, half of which I had never heard of. Posters of Rolexes and elaborate dresses were framed on the empty spaces between the windows of the stores.  At the end of every long block were stands selling Kurtoskalacs, and unless the wind was blowing hard, there was no where you could go without smelling them.

 

I was sitting inside the hostel on one of the couches that lined the entire perimeter of the main room playing a game of speed with a German who was on a gap year from uni. I still had half a croissant and egg sandwich form the café/bar downstairs. I had woken up late and hungover, so I was putting off exploring the city until I felt better. This German had the same idea. We were on our third game when she walked in. She was carrying a bag as big as she was that she had been living out of for a while. Her small shorts used to be white and she wore an olive-green tank top. Her shoulders were covered by auburn-blonde hair that proved she had been living out of her backpack for at least a few weeks. More striking than the clothes she wore were the tattoos adorning her arms and legs, most of which were animals. There was not much planning of the placement of each tattoo. Some were bunched together, and others had plenty of bare skin between them.

 

I was only half paying attention to the game in front of me, I was more curious about this woman that blew in with the wind. She talked to Ally at the desk and with keys in her hand, walked out of the main room to find the bunkroom she was assigned.

 

“Eyes on the game, man, I am about to win.” The German winked at me after the woman walked out of the room.

 

“You’ve got this one, Leo. Good game.” He was on his last hand and I still had most of my stack left, so I tossed my hand on the table. “What other card games do you know?”

 

One of the Canadians that got in the night before came into the room when Leo was gathering the cards. “You’ve got the cards out, eh? Do you know how to play Shithead?”

 

Leo looked a little confused, “Are you calling me shithead or is that a game?”

 

“No, sorry,” the Canadian laughed, “it’s the name of the game.” He sat down beside Leo. “Can I deal?” Leo handed him the deck. “Did you see that woman that came in a bit ago?” The Canadian asked as he shuffled. “She was fine!”

 

“Louis lost the last game because he couldn’t stop seeing her.” Leo laughed and hit my arm.

 

“Oh, shut up Leo.” I said. “So, what’s shithead, Connor?”

“It’s my favourite card game to play in hostels.” Connor explained the rules and dealt us a couple practice hands. It was the type of game that took three or four games to catch on and remember how to play and what each card did.

 

We were halfway through the second game when the girls came back into the room. She didn’t have her backpack on, but other than that she looked the same. She sat down hard next to me and slumped on the well-worn black pleather couch. “What are you lot doing?” She was Australian.

 

“Losing at Shithead.” Leo wasn’t happy with his cards.

 

“I’m teaching them how to play a fun card game. Do you want me to deal you in next hand?” Connor asked.

 

“Nah, I’m a little worn out, I’ll just watch for now.” It didn’t seem like she was too interested in watching the game, though. We were close to the end, and after Connor got out and it was just me and Leo left in, she puffed out a breath, “I’ve been thinking a lot about falafels, and now I’m hungry.” She said to no one in particular. “I think I’m going to go find some.”

 

“If you wait ‘til we’re done, I’ll go with you. I could go for some food.” I said. “shouldn’t be too much longer.” And I played one of my last cards.

 

“Alright.”

 

When the game was over, I stacked the loose cards into a deck and went to my bunk room to get my wallet and some sunglasses. The sun was shining brilliantly outside and there was not a cloud in the sky. “Ready?” I asked as I got back into the room. The woman hadn’t moved.

 

“Yeah, let’s go. I’m starving.” She stood up. “Either of you want to join?” She asked Connor and Leo.

 

“No thanks, you guys have fun.” Connor said. He was shuffling the cards again.
 

“Nah, I’m not too hungry. I may get up for a beer later, though.” Leo said without opening his eyes. He was leaning back in his chair looking like he still hadn’t fully recovered from the night before.”

 

We walked out the hostel and turned left on the narrow sidewalk. The weather was warm enough that I was hot in my shorts and a silk button up T-shirt I found in a thrift store the day before. My hair was long and untamed so I had a folded up piece of fabric tied around my head like a bandana. We hurried through the alleys and streets until we came to one of the busier streets that connected a couple of the districts and was full of tourists taking photos and Hungarians hurrying to work.

 

“Where’s this falafel place?” I asked

 

“Oh, I dunno. I just assume there’s one around here somewhere and we’ll wander around until we find it.”

 

“Okay, cool.” I said. We stopped at the corner of the busy intersection and decided to turn right. Not five minutes later we saw a small restaurant that served falafels. She did not seem surprised in the slightest that we found it.

 

Inside, the walls were a light green and plants grew in large pots in the corners and near the door. The walls to the left and right was covered by a single long bench seat. On each side, two square tables sat between the bench seat and a metal garden chair. Straight ahead was a counter with a small young woman standing behind a tablet. Above her was a lit up, opaque yellow signs displaying the menu.

 

“I need as many falafels as you can put on a plate, and a salad on the side.” She almost stormed inside and went straight for the lady at the counter without even looking at the menu. She paid and then turned to look at me.

 

“Uhh, I’ll have a normal serving of falafels and hummus. Oh, and some tea.” I paid and turned to sit on the padded bench against the wall. Instead of sitting across from me, the woman went around the chair to the bench seating and slammed against me, almost causing me to fall off. I grabbed the table and sat up straight again, and her head was already resting on my shoulder.

 

“It has been way too long since I’ve had falafel.” She breathed out.

 

“Hey, so, what’s your name?” I asked and cautiously leaned my head back against hers.

 

“Anna. And yours?”

 

“Louis.”

 

“Where are you from in the U.S.?”

 

“Michigan. Where are you from in Australia?” We had both been globe-trotting for quite some time, so we did not have to ask what country the other was from. Our accents were giveaways.

 

 “Melbourne.” She smiled. Her eyes were closed. “I am so tired. I could sleep here. I’ve been traveling like mad all week. I need a nap.”

 

I closed my eyes and put all my weight against her, so we were both pressing our dead weight against each other in this brightly lit middle eastern eatery somewhere in Budapest. We were lost in the comfort of another human and quiet breaths when the young woman brought our food out and set the dishes in front of us. She had given Anna a mountain of falafel, and it all smelled wonderful. We opened our eyes at the same time, thanked the young woman, and picked up a scalding hot falafel. I took a bit out of mine and Anna popped the entire thing in her mouth, barely reacting to the burning she must have felt. It had been too long since she’d had falafel.

 

We finished eating too quickly and our plates were almost licked clean. Anna looked very disappointed after she ate the last falafel, like she could have gone for another giant’s helping. We went back to how we were sitting before and she told me about all the countries she had been to over the last couple months, and where she was going next. I was baffled at her itinerary that included at least a dozen more countries in three continents. It seemed random and unnecessarily complicated. Like going from Budapest to Morocco to Spain to Greece to Prague to Egypt.

 

Then she asked me about the places I’ve been. I told her about the countries I had just come from and my European itinerary for the next couple months and felt like I should ask if I could go with her. I asked about her tattoos and with her eyes closed she went through the long list of ink she had all but memorized.

 

Suddenly she put a hand on my leg and pushed herself up so she was sitting normally and she we looked at each other in the eyes. We both looked like we’d had rough nights, too much food, and had just woken up. “Let’s get out of here.” Her eyes beamed.

 

Budapest became a playground. Though we were both exhausted, we used what little energy we had and rushed down the streets. We turned down every unfamiliar street and alley, we walked into thrift stores and record stores. On a park bench facing the skatepark we drank liters of beer and made sandwiches out of some bread, cheese, and tomato we had picked up in one of the markets. When the sun set, we meandered to Anker’t for a nightcap. She had two vodka Sodas in her hands, and I had two gin and tonics in mine, and we danced facing each other until I kissed her. She stopped dancing. She pulled away and finished the drinks in her hands and looked at me like I should do the same. Before my last cup was drained she grabbed my hand and pushed us through all the sweaty bodies in the direction of the exit.

 

“You’re in a rush.” I laughed and shouted above the music.

 

“Hurry up!” She looked back and pulled me the rest of the way through the crowd. The street we were on was dimly lit with orange streetlights and we walked quickly past all the doors and stoops. Groups of people going out for the night passed by us. “Fuckin’ wankers” Anna breathed after we passed a particularly loud group.

 

We rushed back into the hostel hand in hand and up to the room she shared with seven other people: four of which were gone. We tried to be quiet but didn’t care too much that the others could hear and probably see most of what was going on beneath the sheets. They were probably drunk, anyway.

 

 

 

“I’m leaving today. Sorry. I could only be here for the day, but you were a lot of fun.” It was morning, and the sun rays were just starting to poke through the paper-thin curtains. I woke up as she was putting her shoes on, sitting on the edge of the bed. “I’ve got to catch a plane to Morocco in a couple hours.” She looked at me for a few more moments in the soft blue light from the early sun shining through the windows to her right. She rubbed my cheek and gave me a sad smile. In my head I was trying to figure out how I would pack up my bag in a minute and buy a plane ticket to Morocco while rushing to the closest bus terminal, which was a mile away. It was not looking very possible and I was too hungover to do much moving at all, so I tried desperately to burn her face into my memory.

 

“I’ll see you again. I don’t know when or where in the world it will be, but I our paths will cross again. It was so nice to meet you, Anna.” I said.

 

She smiled back and for a second it looked like she considered skipping the flight. “It was lovely meeting you, Louis. See you later. Take care.”

 

“See you later.” I said. And she stood up, lifted her pack, and slung it over her shoulder. She blew a kiss and walked out the door. She was gone as quickly as she had appeared.

 

I suppose, even if it only lasted a second, she just needed to feel something real. I suppose we both needed to feel something real. We didn’t ever think about it, much less talk about it, but it was gasoline that fueled a global quest for anything that felt genuine and solid. We have searched on top of mountains, beneath the ocean waves, in bustling urban cities in tourist traps, night clubs, and local tea shops, and all the falafel restaurants we came across, yearning for some sort of truth. At this point we’ve experienced a few lives already without luck. Perhaps we have tired our spirits out in our youth and convinced half of ourselves that maybe nothing real actually exists in any part of the world. Or maybe we’ll find what we are looking for around the next corner. Until then, a day with a stranger and familiar soul from half the world away is the closest either of us will probably get.