Confrontation with Bloodthirsty Peasants Turns into Trip to Petting Zoo

Hungarian peasants have absolutely no idea about protesting. First of all, they were supposed to flood the city with gigantic farm implements, wrecking havoc with traffic. At the very least, block some bridges and the square in front of parlament. Bullshit. There were 10 (TEN) tractors, carefully cordoned off, on the sidewalk, not even remotely slowing down – much less clogging up - traffic, and exactly 19 (that’s nineteen – I counted them) peasants in winter coats. This is the same square where there were tens of thousands waiting to get shot in 1956. The same square where… blah blah blah. You get the idea. These people did not even chain themselves to their farm machinery. There was not a single SCYTHE present. There were no implements of mayhem present at all. I was really very disappointed. It turns out the peasant leadership was cold and they rented rooms in a neighboring office building – where they are now waiting for the minister of agriculture. The minister of agriculture is waiting for the peasants at the ministry. Both made statements to this effect on TV. I hope neither side blinks and we all starve to death.

So, petting zoo. Instead of berating the peasants for being such pussies, I walked to Margit island in the center of the city. This is Central Park a’la Hungary. It is really beautiful and green and it is in the middle of the river. I sat on the ruins of a 13th century convent and ate salty pretzels. I also withstood the temptation to buy hot spiced wine in a paper cup (also sold by the same vendor) despite a nearly overwhelming craving to act out one of my poems like some kind of a romantic ass. But I digress. There were a lot of two year olds staring suspiciously at the smelly ponies. I liked the birds, though. Now, you might think, what the hell can you do with birds in a petting zoo? These were not fuzzy wuzzy birds! The first bird that caught my eye was a GIGANTIC VULTURE with a beak the size of my head. He eyed me hungrily. I glanced at the sign on his cage. “Retisas” (golden eagle). What the fuck? Are my eyes deceiving me? I looked at the English translation. In English, this creature purported to be a “white tailed sea eagle”. I scratched my head. This was (1) no eagle (2) it had no white tail (3) the area supposedly inhabited by this critter did not include the sea. Anywhere. I examined the map on the cage thoroughly.
A two year old future field biologist squinted at the bird.
His father glared at me and faced his son. “Vulture.” He said, challenging me to say something.

I left the island and walked to my favorite café. This place is great. It is on Saint Steven boulevard (in Hungary, Saint Steven is like Washington in the US). The café has a fantastic view of the boulevard and it is always empty, so I can just sit facing the window and watch the people walk in front of the theater of comedy (this is not some kind of a stupid metaphor about life – there really is a theater of comedy) Frequently these people are really hot women which is nice. So I sit down and I order. Unfortunately, 20 years in America rubs off a bit, so I order in an American fashion.
“Can I please have a cup of coffee and a glass of mineral water?”
The waitress, a blonde cupcake in a pink haltertop, looks at me like I am from outer space. “Yes? You can have coffee and water?” She runs off muttering to herself.
Lesson learned: You don’t ask if you ‘can have’ something here. Of course you can have coffee and water in a goddamn café! That is what it’s there for. You demand it. I know. This is how you order: “I want coffee. I want water. Bring both. No bubbles. Raw meat on the side.” I actually placed this order once last summer and it went off without a hitch.