Market-speak

The vast market hall near the Danube is a favourite of mine. Not for the fruit and vegetables, but for the beer up in the gallery.

The old man standing next to us was fascinated by my attractive south Asian colleague, so he said something in Hungarian. She smiled, but didn’t drink alcohol, so, seeing a potential drinking mate, I ordered “Két sört kérek“ and two beers arrived. I offered him one.

We chatted for an hour with lots more beers, him in Hungaro-German, me in loud, slow English, with multiple hand gestures. Fuck knows what we talked about!