Late August 2022

My last moment in Budapest felt scripted; somehow meant for, or already in, a film I had seen. There was a familiarity entwined in it, or perhaps just a hint of cliche. 

The hotel in Budapest, Pest to be exact, although I think in hindsight I did prefer Buda, was the first place I felt settled in some time. Adel was sick for the first day. My bringing him soup and watching him melt into that bed felt like we had returned to a standard of normal life that I could grasp.

Everything was just right in Budapest, to a tourist and for a tourist. The vibrant white castles that looked like elaborate playmobil sets….the European city quintessential river splitting the two sides….the narrow winding streets of Pest stacked with karaoke bars all toppling over each other….the vertical tram that slowly carried us to the top of Buda for our examination of the city from above…..Unfortunately, it is far more complicated than that to a Hungarian. Adel’s friend that lived in Buda made this quite clear in his explicit disdain for the seemingly magical, but politically corrupt city. I wondered how much my tourism ruins it. A place to visit, but not to live. 

Budapest was a montage scene. A series of clips that I romanticized through my own lens. We didn’t even talk much, but it never felt silent, almost like there really was music playing between us, over us, all around us. 

Our hotel had free virgin drink vouchers if you stayed more than three nights consecutively, so on the last morning in Budapest we sat at the bar. The bartender had long limbs and a dark bob. She had a face that I can still picture vividly, it was an actress’ face. All her expressions were meant to be captured and seen again. She made us sour lemonades and started chatting as her arms extended this way and that shaking and squeezing our virgin cocktails. 

“You two are together, yes?” She said to Adel in her Hungarian accent. Listening to this accent was just as ambiguous to distinguish, describe, and place on a map of accents, as hearing the language of Hungarian itself. 

I was unsure what the right answer was, although taken simply, we were in no doubt together in Budapest. At least that being that we were not there for any other reason besides to be with each other. But I suppose that isn’t really what together means. We awkwardly nodded. 

“The Hungarian accent is so is so….specific.” Adel remarked, attempting to carry the conversation elsewhere.   

“So you are french?” She replied smirking at the irony, how could he possibly comment on her accent when his was so overtly and specifically French. 

“Yuh yuh.” Adel’s typical answer, it was almost his way of revving himself up into a conversation. Especially for ones that would be in English. 

“And you American?”  Now the bartender seemed skeptical, but curious. 

I laughed and replied “yes.”

“And how did you find each other?” 

There was a long and slightly embarrassing pause as Adel and I glared at each other. I could tell we both felt silly, but whatever occupied this pause, this moment of reflection, filled us both with a rush of exhilaration.

“We met in Spain last week.” I laughed lightly, casually, but my face felt hot and I knew I was blushing.  

Her eyes widened, vibrant and lit. She was Keira Knightly in an era of brown eyeliner and short hair. 

“Ahhhhh. I will ask no more questions.” She grinned, giving each of us separately a moment with her eyes. 

“Here are the lemonades.” As sour as they were, there was a lingering sweetness.