What do you do when you land in a country you know so little about, with none of its language and not any destination planned but your hostel?

Heck, my trip to Budapest was very spur-of-the-moment, and because I knew nothing of Hungary, I was wondering whether it was a smart move. I've run on being planned, well read and set on anywhere I go. But this was Eastern Europe, not Western Europe. My phrasebook was useless here. I couldn't even say "Hello" in Hungarian. Why did I do this?

I wanted isolation from that security, if only for a moment. It was a risk, I know. But I planned to stay six days in a place I know nothing about. I need to admit, at first I was having second thoughts. But knowing how stubborn I can get, if I took the flight, that was my name on the contract of the idea.

I took out 10,000 Forints (equivalent to $60 Australian), and jumped on the bus to the main station. The billboards were a mixture of Hungarian and English, and the woman at the airport spoke good English, so I was thinking Hungary may be more inclined to speak English than I thought.

No. Only some know English, just as some know French, or German, or Italian. The streets along the way were old, and the buildings had real history of decay through decades of survival. First impressions of Budapest were building. The bus stops, we all hop off in one clump, and I follow the other tourists with large wheely bags and jingling keyrings dangling from their backpacks. If anyone needs to know where to find fresh meat, follow the jingle.

My bus ticket also served as the train ticket, and the station's grey shading gave an almost underground feel to it, even though it was one escalator from ground level. I kept following the jingle to the blue line, the line I needed. I got a map from the airport beforehand, so I check for my stop. I find it, but not where I am now, so the train ride started off with slight paranoia, before finding out it was just off of the free map.

Every train station I exit when first visiting a country can be summed up in an overwhelming sense of light and razzle dazzle. The streets and buildings I saw near the airport were nothing like what I was seeing. "Gawddamnit, this place is awesome!" I said to myself.

The buildings were tall, had great peaks of almost Turkish design, and were colourful shades of gold and white. It was such an impressive sight to see, and because of this, I had to walk back and forward on the street to find the hostel.

The hostel was not easily identifiable. If you didn't have the address, you would miss it no problem. Luckily, I planned enough to have the address written down, and the large door sporting a '30' was home sweet. The four floored building was filled with different residents, but only the top floor had the hostel. I buzzed myself in, and walking up the gorgeous marble stairs (the many flights of stairs), I reached the hostel.

Originally a house, a couple had turned this newly bought house into a hostel. With eight beds in each room, the three bedroom, two bathroom home had a cozy atmosphere. I plonked on my bed, sighed in relief and exhaustion. It was only noon. I went for a browse around to see my new home for six days.

Shops stretch out on both sides, from wedding dresses to lingerie, gyro restaurants and organic coffee shops. I went into a shopping centre to check out the food. As expected, I couldn't read anything, but I did rely on the pretty pictures. Not the best judgement on food ever since Photoshop came into existence. But the food is cheap. Some things are more expensive of course, but Budapest was known for its inexpensive living, something I'm not used to.

That night, I met an American from Oakland keen to check out the nightlife. It was a Friday night, so I was also keen. A discotheque up the road caught our eye, and having a couple of drinks just outside the corner store (perfectly legal, of course), we headed in. The club had four levels, all with different types of 'Unce Unce Unce' music. They all sounded the same, I thought. At level three, they had a dancer with very little clothing, and surrounded by men and camera phones filming her every hip shake.

We were there not long before we felt like leaving. Some girls were eyeing us, then going to the bar, rubbing the tips of their fingers as to say "Buy me a drink?"

Sure honey, I'll buy you a drink, if you buy me one first. I've heard of these type of girls preying on tourists and their foolish attempts of picking up girls. She orders the $50 drink in Hungarian, gets it and walks off leaving you with the bill. I was fine with my $4 Becks.

Four dollars is considered expensive here. Absolute insanity.