Riding the train...

I have enjoyed riding the train here– it’s easy, direct and comfortable (most of the time).  I got on the train last week to travel to Kőseg, and for the first time was kind of afraid for my life.  I boarded as usual, in Tata, with other people.  That was no different than before, but there was a posse of people who happened to look a lot alike who also got on with me.  I’d say there were between 15 and 20 in this group, mostly men.  At the three stops it takes to get to Tatabanya, there were at least 15 or 20 more of these people who got on at each subsequent stop.  I knew they were together, because they all had on black boots to their knees with white laces, camouflage pants, black shirts and leather jackets. On their jackets and shirts were phrases of Hungarian pride – patches of the country, the flag, etc.  The thing that really made them stick out was that they all had little to no hair, which forced the deduction that they were in fact, Hungarian skin-heads.  So – I decided to call one of my friends and say “I think I’m on the train with Hungarian skin-heads” which was not one of my brightest moves since then their attention turned to the English speaking girl on the train.  I felt a bit relieved in that András Kovács (the cute gym teacher who says “good morning Sarah” at any time of day) was on the train too.  So I thought if anything were to happen to me, maybe he’d come to my rescue?  Or he’d just run fast in the other direction (he did the 2008 New York City Marathon in 2:38…).  One of them had a piece of Hungarian merchandise that I ABSOLUTELY need to find.  It was a scarf with Rákóczi Ferenc on it – and the guy put the head of Ferenc on top of his head, so it appeared to be a scary Hungarian man on top of a scary Hungarian man.  Lucky for me, once in Tatabanya, I had to change directions, so I got off the train.  Lord help me had I traveled all the way to Budapest with them… I guess there was some sort of big meeting in Budapest this weekend.  I was also told that since I’m white (meaning not a Gypsy) I wouldn’t have been harmed.  Who knows… it was the first time I feared for my life here in Hungary.  Yeesh.  Note the image of Ferenc...