Climbing, falling and panicking in Pecs

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I got a train from Bratislava to Budapest, but I'd been there a few month previous, so onwards I went on my merry way to Pecs (it's pronounced "Pech".)


And I felt it imediately, away from the trail. Pecs is such a beautiful place but the backpackers seem to head straight for the capital. Great, more Pecs for me.

But on emerging from the train I soon felt my bearings eluding me. So, to my detrement, I tried using my common sense ("So, I've travelled south on the train, I need to north, so I should just follow the tracks from where I'd come") and, of course, I soon realised that my particular band of logic didn't work. Also, while gorping at the map, my foot caught the edge of a rock and gravity did it's thing. I thouroghly fugged up my knee, but it is amazing that I didn't split my nose open, tumbling face-first, huge ruckack on back, map in one hand, carrier bag in other, towards the floor. I still don't know I managed not to smack my face on the pavement.

Still dazed and disorientated, I found the street of my hostel, but had trouble finding it. Then, from a balcony high above me a voice shouted, "Hey, are you looking for Naps Hostel?" This place was just great, small and informal, with a couple of young guys running it. It had just opened and I'd heartily recommend the place and hope it gets into Lonely Planet.

The next morning brought the next wave of absolute terror, feeling, once again, that my whole trip may soon lay in ruins: cash was low and it was time to use the ATM (I'd been putting it off) but, oh dear, it rejected it. A metophorical rain cloud gathered above my head and all I felt... was... dread. As to the reason, I thought I may have got the pin number wrong a few times when trying to get cash out in Krakow.

I went back to the hostel and they kindly let me use their phone: I rank my bank and was greeted by the sound of a monotone scottish female voice. I told her my predicament and she asked, "Have you told us you're going abroad?"

"What!?" I thought, "I didn't think my bank would need to know when I go on holiday." Well apparantly so, and she "activated" my account and would be okay to use in 24 hours. Again, amazing relief. Indescribable. And what is the moral of that story? Simple: don't be as foolish as me and check your bank.

So, on with the adventure... have you ever walked around aimlessly and thought "okay, to that next horizon... up that next hill..." and soon you find yourself hiking miles up in the Hungarian undergrowth towards a huge tower on top of a hill? That's what i found myself doing, which was great, being away from civilization, kind of.

I made it to the top of the hill, didn't find the view I was looking for but had a pretty good glass of beer. Then the rain came, which wouldn't stop, so I was forced to decend, sliding down in the mud and generally getting soaked (i didn't bring my umbrella with me, a mistake I wouldn't repeat.) As far as navigation goes, "just go downhill" was the sort of non-existant plan, and I swear I didn't really know where I was at any point on the way down, but, as I had experienced, I knew I would find a way back eventually. It was actually a great experience being liberated from being a "map-slave".

And that was the fun and frollics in Pecs.

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Photos

Mosque Church
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