Revolting

This weekend there was a national holiday in Hungary: The 1956 Revolution got 54 years old. There would have been a tour, and people on the streets, and music, and the prime minister. But I missed all of that. I had my own revolution going on: my stomach was revolting. All weekend long. So here I sat, unable to really do anything, and with only three more months to run around Budapest. Three months, of which two will be presumably too cold to run around. Good thing the wardrobes are cheap or free in most places. Thanks to my revolting belly, I went on a doctor hunt this morning and, after calling about six different places, coincidentally ended up with the right kind of specialist. The man works for the Semmelweis University Hospital AND Danone AND still had time for me today. And he laughed. But that was okay. The cab-driver was caught taking a red traffic light on the way home, he explained to me that the fine was 100 000 forint. Which is a lot of money. He laughed. I guess that was also okay.