An introduction

This is a semi-public place to dump text too flimsy to even become a blog post. I wouldn't recommend reading it unless you have a lot of time to waste. You'd be better off at my livejournal. I also have another blog, and write most of the French journal summaries at the Eurozine Review.

Why do I clutter up the internet with this stuff at all? Mainly because I'm trying to get into the habit of displaying as much as possible of what I'm doing in public. Also, Blogger is a decent interface for a notebook

Thursday, March 26, 2009

A night in Budapest

I've not written much about my time in Budapest. Partly because it was a fairly grim time - nothing wrong with the city, just not a pleasant place to be alone, not knowing anybody, and without the slightest ability to speak Hungarian. But, looking through old diaries, I come across a pretty nice account of an evening out there. So I'll repost it here, two and a half years later:

A good place to begin is last night. I get in about 9, Ali pops his head in the
door and syas he wants to go out to a disco. Fine - I've backed out twice before, and meeting people is good, so I agree. He spends the next hours getting ready, and we don't leave the flat until well gone midnight. By this point I'm pretty tired (I practically fell asleep over my book while I was waiting for him, and I would quite happily have gone to sleep at that point), and I'm somewhat pissed off at his idea of lateness.

As it turns out, he was in the right and I was in the wrong. It's not much before 1am when we arrive at B7, the club, and the place is still empty. The dance floor has an octet of girls on it, dancing really rather well. At least, they were outclassing just about any goth I've seen, with the exception of molotov bitch.

Like everywhere else in Hungary, this place has a yearning for 50s americana. But there's also a bit of an international feel with a small Korean (?) contingent, and a lot of English being spoken.
The oddest thing is the girl collecting phone numbers. She goes up to every guy on the dance floor, one at a time, looks cute at them, and asks for their phone number. Then she gives the phone back to her partner, a guy who seems entirely approving of her flirting with every man around.

So, this looks totally like a scam of some kind. But I can't work out why, I can't work out what. Is it some guerilla marketing for the phone, hoping that people will admire something while a beautiful girl is asking them to put their number into it? Is it collecting phone numbers for advertising of some kind? I could imagine that if you, say, collected a few thousand numbers of people in clubs, then you could promote events by SMS.

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