Dan-Shock

Dan on the Fishermen's Bastion.

On this trip, I have experienced culture shock. But is it possible to experience people-shock?

I have been counting the weeks, days, hours, minutes for Dan to arrive. I have had a lot of time to think about him, and most of my thoughts center around soppy, sentimental moments akin to running together in fields of flowers while music wells up in the background. Okay, maybe not that dorky, but I have had a lot of time to think about Dan and how much he means to me. Mostly I have been fantasizing about how great it would be one day in the future, to travel around the world and take him along with me.

So Dan arrives, and he looks so cute and skinny, and I'm over the moon. I just want to kiss him and hug him and stare at him. We head out for something to eat and he's talking about his work and friends from home and our apartment and all those things that we used to talk about, and it all felt so strange. I had gotten so used to thinking about him and my life and the big picture that I completely forgot about the everyday things.

"You're like a travel hermit," Dan commented. "I think you have forgotten how be with people."

Maybe it is true.

I was bewildered that on our first night, he had to email his work about something. Work? On a Saturday? In Budapest? Then I remembered, this is Dan.

With Dan here, in just one day, my travel dynamic had completely changed. First of all, we were staying in an actual hotel--not a hostel, not a villa or pension--but a bona fide, super nice hotel that Dan had chosen for us. It took me an hour how to figure out how to keep the lights turned on (you have to use your room key). In the middle of the night, I woke up in a haze, Where am I? Who is this person with me? It took me a few seconds to figure it out.

Usually, I wake up early. Dan, feeling groggy from his travels, wanted to sleep in. Usually, I am able to find a cheap place for breakfast. Since we were in this hotel/shopping district, the meal we got was priced for tourists. Dan, obsessed with the currency conversion, wanted to compute everything that we bought. Usually, I just wing it and guesstimate how much I am spending.

We decided to spend the day at Buda, which is the historical part of town. On the bus ride there, Dan pointed out every building and asked me what they were.

"I don't know."

"Well, I thought you were going to research."

"Yeah, I skimmed the book but I don't know what that building is."

Dan didn't like the Lonely Planet book. "There are no pictures in it!" He said in disgust, not giving it a chance at all, and then finally giving in because he wanted to know what we were looking at.

I was getting annoyed. My style is just to walk around and figure out the buildings and sights when I get there. Dan wanted to know everything in advance but hadn't done any research.

"If wanting to be educated is wrong," he said, with a smirk on his face, "then I don't want to be right."

At that moment I realized the number one reason for traveling alone. You can do everything YOUR WAY.

I got over it. He got over it. We walked all around Castle Hill, taking in views of the city, and across the bridge back to Pest. There we walked around forever looking for a cool cafe to have a snack and when we finally found a place that looked decent, it had bad food, really bad music, was more expensive than we thought and we hated it.

All I wanted was Dan to have a good time, but while I was able to shrug off the bad restaurants, the cold weather, the lack of language skills, the money, I could tell he was getting a little frustrated. Afterwards we went out for cake and talked about the value of travel. Dan said that he hates not knowing the language, that he feels like he is not getting a good sense of the place, that if we're just seeing the sights, then we might as well be looking at pictures on the internet. At that moment, all my visions of our future trip together came crashing and burning to the ground. I could not disagree more.

We walked back to the hotel, my hand fitting snuggly in his. He had looked on the map and figured how to get back and I enjoyed not having to take the lead.

As I write this, he is sleeping next to me in bed, his glasses still on, mouth open, arms crossed on his stomach. I look at him, and it is all coming back to me, all the little things--not just the big picture stuff--that I truly and dearly love. I am so happy he is here, and all I want is for him to catch the travel bug like me. I hope he has a better time tomorrow.

View of the city from Buda.

Royal Palace.

Dan reluctantly gives into Lonely Planet.

Cake shop.