From Finland to Hungary

I wonder how many months or years it would have taken to do this trip on foot. Even with the significant upgrade of horse and cart, it would have taken ages. I can’t even imagine how huge it would have been without the benefit of a boat transporting me across.

Unfortunately, I had no camera - I forgot it at home, but my mother (Hurray for mothers!) brought it with her afterwards.

An introduction to the travellers: me (generic Finnish girl), my dad (who loves to drive), and my mother.

The time: 25 hour boat trip, 1500 km roadtrip (@ 11 hours? Correct me if I’m wrong, dad!)

The purpose: to move all my stuff from Point A (Finland) to Point B (Hungary). The aforementioned stuff consisted of five Mc Donald’s boxes (french fry size) of clothes, 2 boxes of books, several boxes of electronics (pc & co, bread machine, etc) packed into a nicely-sized Vectra. Why? To move in with my poor boyfriend, who surely was shocked at the amount of stuff, but accepted me with open arms anyway. :)

The trip:

First, a short drive from my home to one of the harbors in Helsinki, where the (awfully) named Tallink Superfast “whisked” us away towards Rostock. This part took 25 hours.

We had a deluxe cabin. This was not fully by our own choice, since because of the delay in buying tickets, all the normal cabins were gone and we had to choose between crappy and deluxe. Deluxe turned out to cost about the same as a normal “A”-class cabin when you added in the included breakfast and other perks (a chalice full of chocolates, a fridge full of FREE drinks, champagne, and TWO windows facing forward).
We spent the time visiting the deck, losing money at the poker machines, eating, being snobby about the food, and being shocked at how undermanned the ship was. (Only one bartender, who provided the alcoholic drinks for the whole ship, including anything you ordered in the two restaurants), just one active waitress for the à la carte restaurant (where we had to wait 1 hour just to even get our fricking appetizers!!), and about three for the large (mediocre) buffet restaurant.
All in all, a pleasant 25-hour cruise. But don’t go to the à la carte restaurant if you’re hungry…

Then, the driving through Germany began. Unfortunately, most of it was through the dark dark night and I was unable to enjoy the beautiful scenery that Germany has to offer in any other shape than lots of lights and even more darkness.
We had to choose between slipping quickly through Germany and then passing through the Czech Republic, the Slovenska Republic, and then into Hungary… OR … relying on the highways of Germany to spit us out at the bottom into Austria and then cruising into Hungary. Because it was around midnight when we arrived, the traffic was very light and we were able to speed at an average speed of 140 km/h down from Rostock, past Berlin, Leipzig, into Bayern, where we spent a few hours being scared by news reports of Geistfahrers until we finally got to the border near Regensburg into Austria.
Geistfahrer literally means “Ghost Driver” or “Ghost Rider” and is a title for those creepy freaks who for some messed up reason or another start to drive fullspeed in the wrong direction on a road. Already scary on a small one-way street, but far more dangerous on a German highway where there is no top speed limit in most areas, and other cars are coming in the other direction. What I mean to say is, imagine this scenario:

One Geistfahrer coming from Point A to Point B at 170 km/h and a normal driver from Point B to A at 140 km/h, with a collision in the middle for 310 km/h.
Conclusion? Some very compact cars!

Just before we reach Austria, we finally have our first proper 1-hour break. This was due to some sort of accident on the bridge across the Danube. My dad has a nap while I enjoy the dawn air and watch lots of cars with blinking lights squeezing their way past our trapped vehicles.
Then, finally, one hour later, freedom again! We drive past the charred remains of a very compacted-looking car, facing the wrong direction (Geistfahrer?), and we cross into Austria, and buy a fancy little sticker to prove we have paid for the tollroads.

The trip through Austria is uneventful except for two stops. The first is a pause at a café for breakfast, where I have extra-tasty fried eggs (sunny side up), bacon, bread, and some very good tea for a very good price.
The second is because of persistent radio warnings. This time, it’s not about Geistfahrers. This time it’s even worse. It’s about the 25 km, 4 hour long queue between Austria and Hungary at the main border control point.

It is at this point that my dad realizes that the Formula 1 competition is going on in Hungary. We decide not to join the F1 fans stuck at the border and decide that now it’s time to buy a map of Austria and get an alternate route. We put-put our way down to a place called Klingenbach and cross the border in about 4 seconds - NOT 4 hours! My dad and I felt smug about escaping the hideously long queue and unwittingly start our trip towards Pécs.

Now, here comes the only bad thing about the entire trip. My dad had NOT bought a map of Germany, Austria, or Hungary before the journey. Germany was well-mapped in the navigator and provided no problems. Austria was a bit less so, but still very easy to navigate (just head East, always East, like the Stranger in Diablo II), and we were easily able to find a gas station to buy one when we did need it.
It’s very lucky that we had over 430 km of fuel left in the tank when we crossed into Hungary… because things got confusing once we got there and got out past the tourist city of Sopron (consisting mostly of dental care and plastic surgery for Germans and Austrians).

You see, my dad had printed out these cool maps online with two alternate routes. Unfortunately, both routes went through Budapest, which was now a very bad option due to the F1 going on there. So, we started to use the navigator and began to weave our way down. We quickly discovered that not only was it extremely outdated, it only contained a few hundred Hungarian roads. Not so good!
We trundled down a funny-looking, crappy little road towards the Balaton (or fancy touristy Lake District of Hungary). Every few kilometers, a tiny little village with a speed limit of 40 km popped up and slowed us down. It was on this road that we began to realize why Hungarians are not so fond of German tourists - they think they own the damn place. Every time that a speeding car drove in the middle of the road (I mean IN THE MIDDLE of the ROAD - not their own lane!) it was inevitably a German. Ok, I mean, fair enough, the Austrians, Hungarians, and my dad were all speeding too, but at moderate speeds, and we stayed in our own lanes!
At the Balaton, we discovered the efficiency of Hungarian policemen as two policemen managed to singlehandedly stop the traffic of the entire town. Not so cool. Why didn’t the traffic lights do their work?

After the Balaton, where my dad and I enjoy our first traditional Hungarian meals (I had garlic soup inside a big bread bun that had been hollowed out and turned into a bowl), we started heading down south.

We decided to try to use the new highway, the brand new and still not completely finished M6! (I think). This was a baaaad mistake. We didn’t realize it was still unfinished, we didn’t know where it went (it didn’t show up on the navigator), and we didn’t have a map of the surrounding area either.
We zig-zagged back and for for an hour before settling on another crappy little road. We drove on this road for about three hours, and glared at the recycled scenery.

I say recycled scenery because every 4 minutes, the same village kept popping up with the same church (just in different angles), and the same houses and puny speed limits. It was awful. It was like being stuck in an episode of the Twilight Zone.

At last, we reach Baracs, where we veer off towards Pecs, proceed to get lost AGAIN, and finally reach our destination - the house of Eyal! My dad and mother drove back using Option B several days later… but that’s another story!