First Impressions of Hungary: Getting Sauced with Sausage

So. I have finally arrived. Well, actually I’ve been in Hungary for two weeks now, but between sightseeing in Budapest and moving into the refugee camp, neither equipped with reliable Internet, I haven’t had much time. More about the camp later, but here’s a bit about Debrecen, the city I live just on the outskirts of. Last weekend I checked out the Pálinka Festival held at the main campus of the city university.
Pálinka is the national drink of Hungary that is usually fruit-flavored. Think of it as vodka is to the Russians, pisco to the Peruvians, JD to Mötley Crüe. Now, I tried some of this stuff at this awesome bar in Budapest with a group of New Yorkers, Latinas, and one local Hungarian. Let me tell you, after taking the shot, only the Hungarian didn’t have a face resembling that one.

Conclusion: This shit is worse than tequila (even the Mexican attested to this very fact). It burns allllll the way down.

So anyway, after wandering around for a while at the festival, I tried some barack (peach) and decided it wasn’t too horrible. This vendor in particular also had carrot, paprika, beetroot, and garlic varieties, supposedly for cooking purposes. The garlic really smelled like the real thing and I won’t lie, I was kind of tempted to try it (especially since it’s getting towards Halloween and I’m near Transylvania and all).

Then, since apparently pálinka and pároskolbász (sausage) go together hand in hand, I decided to grab this tasty looking number:

Mmmm, greas-aay.

This is why I don't pretend to be a foodie and take pictures of the food I consume.

And washed it down with some delicious mulled wine.

Afterwards, I walked around to take some pictures and started talking to Clara, the daughter of the Savanya Pálinkaház owner. Her mom, who didn’t speak a word of English, had been really sweet and as helpful as possible when I had taken my first walk around, and they undoubtedly had the most attractive pálinkas:

She explained to me how the liquor is made, and, as I understood it, it’s made from fermenting and distilling fruits. She encouraged me to try the meggy (sour cherry) flavor—not bad—and this fruit I had never heard of, som (cornel)—quite good, actually!

Sour cherry poison.

Then I caught the tail end of a performance by Budapest Bár. If you are at all interested in Hungarian music or what this completely bizarre language sounds like or the kooky kind of shit they’re into, take a look:

The song after this one made everyone in the place go ape shit, jumping around and throwing their hands in the air. It was a lot of fun, but I had to leave a bit early to catch a bus. Which of course I missed, so I had to sprint to the tram, run across town through the mall, where they thought I was a thief because I was sprinting with a giant backpack, to the last bus leaving the city center for my bumble fuck accommodation in the camp, which, of course, pulled up just as I was stumbling across the street. Close call!