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About Budapest

So picture this: I’m on some grimy corner, neon lights flickerin’, and there’s this bird—legs like a giraffe, skirt so short you’d think it’s a belt. I’m like, “Blimey, you’re a walkin’ health hazard!” She’d probably clock me one, but I’d deserve it. Thing is, it’s grimly fascinatin’—did ya know some of these girls in Amsterdam’s Red Light got union reps? Yeah, proper workers’ rights for shaggin’! Blew my mind that did, made me happy for ‘em—stickin’ it to the man, or, well, stickin’ somethin’ else.

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Then I’m walking down Kossuth Lajos utca, and I spot this cute café. I’m like, “Yasss, coffee time!” I order a cappuccino, and the barista? Total legend. He’s got this mustache that could rival a 70s rock star. I’m sipping my coffee, feeling all fancy, when suddenly, this kid runs in, trips, and spills juice everywhere. I’m talking a full-on juice explosion! I’m laughing, but the poor barista? He’s ready to cry.

Fig 1. Rickia lenoirii thalli (a: Farkasrét, b: Ferenc-hegy, c:...