A Tale of Two Utcas (Ootsawsh): Part 2

Váci utca, 47b

 Note: This is part two of a two part series. See prior post for part one.

To continue. The hotel where I was staying on Dózsa György u. sat diagonally across from Heroes Square, just to the west of the northern end of Andrássy u. According to both Google Maps and my hotel gratis map, getting to Vácsi u, 47b was as simple as stepping out of the hotel's entrance and banging a left. Within a half mile or so I'd run right into Vácsi u. Absolutely. 


Google's directions from my hotel pinpointed 47b to the north of Dózsa György, and so, following the directions' blue line, with a left on Dózsa György and a right on Vácsi u. I would be there in no time. This night, there would be no possibility of going left when I should have gone right; both maps clearly agreed, and confirmed each other, and me. And, as insurance, they showed that to reach Vácsi u., I needed to cross some railroad tracks, railroad tracks that were only to the Vácsi u side of the hotel, the same railroad tracks whose trestle I could clearly see standing outside my hotel. In other words, my directions were Jerry-proof.

European hotels, at least those I book, don't furnish room clocks, and so I opened my clamshell Westclox clock upon checking into the room, forgetting that in addition to setting it forward an hour the night before adjusting for European summer time, I had not corrected for the roughly ten minutes fast time which didn't fool me at home in Eger but which did fool me there in Budapest. And so, unaware, when I set out at 5:00 to meet Nora, it was actually 4:50.

As I approached Vácsi u. and looked up to a huge church clock straight ahead which showed not 5:20 as I had assumed, but 5:10, I thought, "Well, so I have to wait a few minutes for Nora. Big deal. She waited plenty for me."

I turned right on Vácsi u. and began counting up. I think I began somewhere in the teens, maybe twenties, meaning, 47b could not be so far away. 


Addresses can be a little non-intuitive in Hungary, though, as the b in 47b suggests. You can have a single block that runs from, say, addresses 20 to 25, or a single block that runs from 20a to 20g. The numbers don't synch with the distance traveled; progress does not move at a metered pace. And as I realized this passing long blocks which were stuck on a single number, I wondered just how far ahead 47b could be. Blocks? Miles? Regardless, I concluded, walking up from 20 in search of 47, wherever its b may be, you've got your nose to the wind. As long as the numbers continued upward,  meeting Nora was inevitable.

Frankly, the further I walked, the less appealing was the neighborhood. Granted, it was Sunday, so with shops closed the sidewalks were going to be empty. But contrary to the lower parts of Vácsi u, near Dózsa György, where there was a hotel, and a gleaming mall, and some kind of modern business park, the higher numbered addresses of Vácsi u were occupied by tiny crumbling stores selling lottery tickets, cigarettes, and cans of beer, or sneakers, or fake nails. The avenue on both sides struck me as dry and dusty. I surmised that I was simply passing through some kind of urban desert, after which would come an oasis and St. Michael's Church.


As I approached number 40 not much had improved. There was an auto parts store, and wedged between two spaces dark and vacant, a narrow camera shop was locked behind a sliding metal gate.


Several blocks further, at 45, signs of a retail pulse became even fainter. The 45 block was a mix of vacancies, a shoe repair, a key maker, a card shop with yellowed cards on display. 


Still, regardless of what I would have expected the surrounding neighborhood for a church and classical music venue to be, I was making progress. The numbers proved it. And even though I couldn't yet see the church -- no doubt because it was set back from the road a bit -- I was confident that soon I would. And there Nora would spot me from a distance, and sigh with relief.


Initially, I was more confused than alarmed when at last I came upon Vácsi u, 47b. What kind of church is this? 

Váci utca, 47b

The address was right, but the building was wrong. Maybe it's on the far side of this building, behind it, I thought, so I turned the corner and walked down the side street and turned again to find the church there, but it wasn't. 


I began getting a bad feeling.


Heading back up the side street I spotted a couple who had just parked their small truck and were about to unload some used furniture. I approached the woman and asked if she spoke English. "Kicsit," she said, so I showed her the concert ticket with "Szent Mihály Templom" and the address on it and asked her where the church was. 


She studied the ticket for a few seconds. 


"You must go to Metro, három vonat,"

"Three train,"


"Yes, yes. Three train. To Deák Tér." She poked the ticket with her finger. "Deák Tér. Metro." She handed me the ticket and pointed back in the direction I had just walked, back toward Dózsa György.


Remember from Part 1 of this story the image of Dustin Hoffman sprinting in The Graduate? Hit "replay."

By the time I got to the Metro stop at the junction of Vácsi and Dózsa György the church clock which once showed me to be early now showed me to be approaching late. And again -- because what could possibly go wrong? -- I hadn't brought Nora's number with me.


Panicked as I was, I knew I couldn't panic entirely. I couldn't just jump on the train to Deák Tér without some corroboration. So, though instinct wanted to fly down the tunnel to the Metro reason stood me before the reception desk of the hotel at the corner and calmly asked where the hell the church was.

The receptionist was very nice, though a bit stumped by my question, but she then pieced it all together and opened up one of the hotel gratis maps, searched for St. Michael's, circled it, and then showed me that I had to get on the train and take it to Ferenciek tere, one stop beyond Deák Tér. Reason was feeling rather proud of itself. The rest of me was feeling like an idiot.
When I emerged from the subway at Ferenciek there was no big yellow arrow hanging from a cloud pointing me toward St. Michael's so I asked the first person I could find, a guy standing at the top step of the metro entrance. 

When I asked if he spoke English he said, "Kicsit," and so I asked him where St. Michael's was, but he mumbled something. So I showed him the ticket with the address, and after mulling it over for a minute -- which seemed more like an hour to me -- he started giving me directions to Váci utca which would have landed me back with the couple unloading furniture.


Out of nowhere a rather distinguished elderly man in tie, overcoat, and fedora approached and asked in sweet, blessed, near perfect English if he could be of assistance. I asked him where St. Michael's was, and he pointed me two streets down on the left, on Váci utca. Just take a left on Váci utca, he said, and the church will be on the right after a block or two.
I thanked him and turned Ben again.


Sure enough, there it was. Váci utca, 47b. The other Váci utca, 47b. Or, perhaps there were more. Perhaps there was a chain of Váci utca, 47bs.


The church clock tower read 5:45, and though I looked inside the sanctuary to see if perhaps Nora was waiting there, I didn't really expect that she would be. And she wasn't. 

Maybe she went to the Central Cafe to wait for me there, I thought, brightening some, because, after all, that was our plan anyway, to eat there before the concert. So I hurried to the Central Cafe but Nora was not among its many smiling and relaxed diners. 


Had I the luxury of time I would have lingered at the Central Cafe, stewing and berating myself, etc., but I decided that before I could indulge myself I had to swing by the church once more, just in case.


And there, sure enough, was Nora. She wasn't happy. She didn't exactly light up at seeing me.


I tried to explain but my self-defense was so mangled that it didn't even make sense to me. She changed the subject and said that she was very sorry, that she couldn't attend the concert because she had to photograph a friend's dance recital instead. It is entirely possible that those plans were rather freshly minted, say sometime after 5:30, though there was no way I was now going to probe that possibility standing behind a giant 8-ball. 


In any event, Nora would not be joining me for the concert, and that was that. We did agree to have something to eat at the Central Cafe, though she said he had to clear out by 7:30. At not yet 6:00, we still had an hour and a half to kill before we had to go our separate ways.


The meal began rather awkwardly, what with the fact that I had twice blown a rendezvous with her as the table's imposing centerpiece. After a while, though, the adrenalin which had so seized her shoulders earlier began to drain, and, though she may disagree, by meal's end I thought we had turned things around pretty well. We laughed some, giggled some, and drank wine some. In sum, then, despite the harried start, we concluded by having a pretty nice time together.


Of course, not so nice that I will ever hear from her again or get a response to an email I might send. Not that nice a time. But nice, given the circumstances. 


There is an adage that goes, "Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me." It doesn't go as high as thrice, and neither would Nora. And who could blame her?


I did go to the concert at Váci utca, 47b, and it was good. Although, between pieces and movements a large white neon PUTZ kept flashing inside my head that I couldn't shut off.


In case you are wondering, I made no mistake, misread no map or address. In Budapest, there really are two Váci utca, 47bs. The right one, and the wrong one.