So much has happened, yet nothing has really happened. The first thing that didn’t happen was the agency I’d been negotiating with for an apartment zeroed out. I think that will be the subject of another post, as it points out the trickiness of believing what your computer tells you.
So that threw me into panic mode and I frantically restarted – while still under the influence of jet leg – of finding an apartment. But jetlag causes my brain into rabbit-hole solutions, and I began to look to Germany as an option. That led to finding a great deal on an apartment in Hamburg (one of the pricier rental markets in Germany), but the more I corresponded with the person offering the apartment, the more I sensed a pseudo-apartment was being offered. I sensed that if the person on the other end of the email wasn’t a Nigerian prince needing just a few thousand euros to gain his kingdom, then he soon would be.
The hotel where I stayed is rated “luxury” on some websites, which I didn’t know. I got a deal on the room through some booking agency, but then my time was up. Instead of moving into an apartment as I thought I was going to do after four days, I needed to stay longer at the hotel – or so the jetlagged brain thought. I could have sought out short-term apartments, but I was so in panic mode about what to do that I couldn’t find a way out of the hotel; and, of course, the daily rate jumped significantly, fueling my desperation. And I was bugged that despite the “no smoking” signs on every floor and at the entrance to the hotel, people still felt the need to smoke in their rooms at this spa-type hotel, The Danubius.
At least the window opened so I could leap to my fate like so many in this country used to. What kept me from doing that was yogurt. I think European yogurt is so much better than American or even Santa Clara Creamery’s (in San Miguel). It’s richer, creamier, and has more flavor – just as I think the milk is also better here. So I ate in the hotel room a lot, not going out as a way to save money, but also not being able to cook. So it was a lot of kenyer (bread), sonka (ham), and sajt (cheese) – and yogurt.
Once my head came around and my emotions settled, I stopped planning on returning to the U.S. (more on the economics of that in another post), I stopped thinking of Germany as a solution, and tried to resolve the apartment situation here. The two I’ve seen so far might have been satisfactory, but they were definitely not worth the money – and I sense that Budapest is not the inexpensive place so many have claimed it to be, at least as far as apartments are concerned, which was the major impetus for investigating this city. Of course, I’m being quoted the gringo prices and I’m not looking where Hungarians would look.
Today I moved into a short-term vacation-oriented apartment, and that calmed me for some reason. It bought me a week.