It was time for me to leave the boisterous, mildly disorganized, emotion-filled and colorful world of Budapest and return to the neat and orderly calmness of Norway. I really didn't want to leave, this place had gotten to me. This is a city that has seen the ravages of war, has been terrorized by secret-police, and the people here are so poor. You can walk down certain streets here and still see the bullet-holes from the 1956 Revolution or the gun turrets built on the roof-tops. But despite all this tragedy, the people of this city have a spirit about them. They are warm, extraordinarily generous, and take magnificent care of their amazing city. A city that feels like it shouldn't exist in real life. This is a city that lives in the pages of a novel or on a movie screen.
As an amusing epilogue to my journey, the train that took me back to the airport was the exact opposite of the train I rode into the city. This train was uncrowded and ultra-modern. This train was in better shape than any Amtrack or Norwegian train I've ridden on, and its only riders were well-dressed business men. Go figure.
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