A commonplace

It’s a Sunday morning in Budapest. You have a flight home that afternoon, but have to be out the apartment by 10am. Why not pass the hours in a cosy cafe?

Tucked away in a quiet street in Jewish quarter, District VII. Past the street art of 2 Hungarian Nobel Prize winners, you see a long line of hungry tourists before the smell of pastries remind you of your half-eaten breakfast. Not that cafe. Hold your breath and turn right. Alas, there it is. At 10am in the morning, you just might walk past it.

The inside is exactly as you’d pictured it, yet it still manages to fascinate you. Book shelves lined with books written in English. Quirky bookmarks. Budapest postcards. It’s quiet, but not empty. A man is sat by the window taking pictures, he too can’t believe his eyes. Ah, must be another tourist. There’s a lady placing her order at the coffee bar. You could wait, but as every traveller knows- the seating is more important than the coffee. You wander round to the back, making sure to say your courteous hello while walking past the barista – I’m just going to find a seat before I order, I promise I’m not trying to sit here for free. There’s a disappointing couch in the back but it’ll do. You place your things, trying to take up as much space as possible to ward off other customers whilst being somewhat discreet. Everyone does it, why do you still feel the need to bother with these antics? That’s a problem for another day you think to yourself. Then as soon as you’ve claimed this spot, all of its small annoyances are immediately apparent. It doesn’t have a good view. That couple is being a little too loud and inconsiderate. They were here first and it’s a cafe not a library, still you can’t help but be irritated. Just as you get up to leave, you spot someone slipping into their coat. This is undoubtedly a much better seat, it was an obvious decision to move- is what you tell yourself now that a mother and her son sink into the disappointing couch.

To be continued…