story of the flat

I mentioned moving in to my new flat in the last post, but it was a little jumbled so I thought I should clarify on the situation. The flat is actually really nice. It’s located on the corner of Rakoczi (one of the main thoroughfares) and Nyar utca. Which is ‘summer street’ in Magyarul. Not that its acting like summer or anything. But the flat is really cool. Three blocks away from my office. It’s a straight shot up Rakoczi. Seriously. I turn left and walk straight and I get to the most modern building in Budapest and go inside. That simple. So it has that going for it.

Kati, the woman or chick or lady or girl (what is the PC term for a woman in her mid 20’s?) who owns it is studying law and I don’t see her around much. I guess now is the time of the big exams so she is studying like a mad woman, and so is my other flatmate Edgar. So actually I don’t really see either of them around much at all. Kati has lived here all her life. She was born somewhere in Budapest 25 years ago, and then grew up every single day of her life in one place. It’s pretty unheard of in the States, but its normal here. Once you are in a flat you stay there. I guess it was easier to buy and own in the Communist era. But this flat used to be her parents, and they handed it off to her to keep up and rent rooms out to foreigners. It’s a good deal really.

My room is situated right off the kitchen, and both the kitchen and my room are in another wing of the flat, so its pretty secluded (besides the fact that both my flatmates are studying for exams). When she first showed me the flat, a couple weeks ago, Kati came into the kitchen and said ‘This is the main hang out area’. And I looked around and said, ‘But this is the kitchen’. I was going to ask where the heck was the living room, but I held my tongue. I would find out soon enough. And she showed me my room and while it was small and there really was no natural light and the curtains are god awful and Im pretty sure were placed there just to be an eyesore, the room is nicely situated and Im really loving the whole set up. I’ve made a schematic for you to really understand what I’m talking about. Szilvi came over and told me it was like having your own little flat, which essentially it is.



As you can see, there is my room and the kitchen, and the bathroom and entry hall way. Everything in pink is what I have access to (don’t ask me why I chose pink). And then what I have labeled ‘bed room’ is Edgar’s room, and then the living room. Now. The living room. Why don’t I have access to the living room? For a while I was wondering about it and I decided that she must have the living room as her room, because it just didn’t make sense. A couple reasons for this: on the lease, it listed the area of the whole flat and it was 125 sq. meters which is big. Bigger then most flats in Budapest. Then, there was the fact that she never showed me that room nor Edgar’s room when I came over, or when I moved in. So something had to be behind those doors I just didn’t know what. And lastly, even Edgar hadn’t been in that room, even though he had been living here for about a month before me. So it was quite a mystery what exactly was in that room.

Then came the day when I wanted to get our wireless router up and running (it was a fruitless effort, but we will prevail!) and the only internet connection is, get this, behind those doors. So I sauntered in and yep, it was the living room all right. It’s a big room, has all the classic Hungarian furniture in it, and is old. But then, what is that? I spy another door leading off from the living room! And Im looking at that but Im also looking at a futon that’s in the living room and Im thinking wait does she sleep on that or will she even tell me the truth? So I ask her if she sleeps on the futon in the living room and she says yes, but I see something terribly wrong here because really what is behind those other doors and I know I wont ever get in there unless invited. I never do, but I do get a glimpse inside because I came into the living room one night to use the internet for a split second, and the mystery door was open.

Hence my ominous label, because it really is unknown back there.

There is a club downstairs, called Alcatraz. Yes, named after the infamous island where the mutants battled it out in a last stand and…oh wait, I guess that was a movie. Anyway, I can hear the music when I get home at night and in the morning, which is even weirder because seriously who is up at 7 am drinking and listening to house music? There are four locks on the door and when no one is in the house Kati has instructed us to lock all of them, which I find ridiculous but it really is safe and secure, but when I stumble home and start jabbing the door handle in a fight for my right to enter my own home I usually lose.

Kati is 2 years and 364 days older than me. That was funny when we figured that out. Im not sure Edgar’s age, but he just got back from Amsterdam and seemed to have a good time.

And that’s the story of my flat.