The story of strangers

Based on reality. 2024.

My train was on Wednesday morning and as Murphy predicted much earlier than my train, my Tuesday’s calendar looked busier than the rest of the year. I had meetings till 8.30 at night.

Planning and organising is my superpower, like most mothers with a career outside of their home as well. I had already packed my backpack on Monday. All that was left were my books, notepad, Tarot cards, and food for my train journey.

Cards, why cards? I questioned myself, knowing fully well, not to expect an answer from my mind.

Over the years, I have lowered the expectations I have from my own mind. This includes, the need to remember everything, chores, birthdays, lists and sometimes even reasons. As a result I had no choice but to trust my inner voice without needing to understand why it asks me to do certain things.

So just before sleeping, I quickly put in the two books I am currently reading ; The Guernsey literary and potato peel pie society by Mary Ann Shaffer and Annie Barrows, and the second one Erotic stories for Punjabi widows by Balli Kaur Jaiswal into my yellow backpack.

I added my diary and notepad on which I wrote this initially and my tarot cards along with my wallet, passport and tissues.

I was set for my trip.

I had decided to take the train. It was cheaper and suited to the purpose of slowing down time and indulging myself more. The journey got more interesting when my fellow passenger bought me coffee for no particular reason, and my Instagram story about the book got a response directly from the author.

First day in Budapest was underwhelming, to say the least. The hotel owner kept recommending popular tourist spots, even after asking him for local insider tips. An hour of just walking around my hotel finally, lead me to a restaurant that had Chicken Paprikash on their menu. A glass of Hungarian wine, and the chicken had not satisfied my soul. I decided to indulge in the a local layered cake for dessert. Two slices, if you absolutely must know.

My previously parrot green now brown strapped wristwatch still showed the time as 7.30 p.m. I decided that sipping the complimentary hotel wine and watching TV was my plan for the rest of the night.

I woke up early the next day and started the day with a purpose. I wanted to walk from Pest to Buda and back, I wanted to soak in the beauty from the Fisherman's Bastion, to cross all the bridges that the city offered, travel in their gorgeous yellow trams, and I had also booked myself on a walking tour of the Jewish quarters post lunch.

The purpose of my solo travels is to be spontaneous while being slow. Which is exactly what lead me to have lunch at the very disappointing (sorry die-hard-fans) Jamie Oliver‘s Italian restaurant.

I love walking tours, especially the free ones because the guide adds so much of the local trivia, insider tips and regional flavour. The harder they work, the better they are tipped. On that tour group of about 16 people, history wasn’t the only thing I got to know. I also exchanged about ten sentences with a fellow solo traveller, mainly exchanging ideas on things to do and places to eat at. She had been in Budapest for longer, and had some great insider tips.

When the tour ended, in the spirit of spontaneity, we decided to have dinner together. The stranger and me. The next 45 minutes were spent having a deep-honest-heart-to-heart conversation while munching on spicy Asian food. We spoke about priorities and goals. Passions and pursuits. Heart-breaks and dreams. Family and future. Past and purposes.

I guess this is what serendipity is. Turned out, this stranger was also a therapist specialising in women's issues, just in a different continent.

The stranger left before I finished my meal, but not before we followed each other on Instagram and exchanged numbers.

I decided to follow the stranger’s recommendation and went to the ruin bars after changing into something appropriate for a bar.

The next day was a mix of relaxation and sadness. I spent a long time sitting by the 'Shoes on the Danube' contemplating, crying, mourning the realisation of what we human’s are capable of, and then walking around town looking to buy a Rubik’s cube for my children from the place where it was invented. My legs were tired as I sat at a gorgeous cafe in a middle of a street I can’t name when my phone pinged.

It was her, the stranger from yesterday.

She wrote “Hi!! I hope you had a great day. I am just getting back from a Hungarian cooking class. I would love if you could do a tarot reading for me tonight. Let me know if you are up for it.”

I finally had the answer to Cards!! Why Cards???