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Roadside revivers
We came across something rather curious on a highway just north of Siofok, and it took us quite by surprise: two young women, one on either side of the road, deeply tanned and scantily clad, wearing high heeled shoes and smoking. We thought one may have been waiting to cross the road to meet the other, but then it dawned on us that they were waiting alright, to see if they could provide roadside relief to passing motorists. Our hunch was confirmed just a little further on where there were more of these distraction. We thought it unusual that young women would be out soliciting on a rural highway, but then recalled that one of our children had told us of a similar experience in Germany’s Black Forest. It brings a whole new meaning to the term rendering roadside assistance, perhaps we should inform the Automobile Association.
On the shores of Lake Balaton, Siofok has been dubbed the Ibiza of Hungary and it is easy to see why. Lonely Planet says that nowhere else in the country parties this hard and stays up as late and we can vouch for that, our hotel is one block off the main party area and at 6.30 am the revelers were still streaming home, ready to sleep before getting back on the never-ending treadmill of afternoons at the beach and clubbing at night. This is hardly your stereotypical, dour, Eastern European place and its name alone should have been a clue. Almost every other town along the lake has name similarity: Balatonakali, Balatonfured, Balatonfuzfo, Balatonhenye, Balatonielle, Balatonoszod, Balatonujlac, Balatonmadi, Balatonbereny, Balatonboglar. Get the picture; there are a further twenty-six towns all with Balaton in their name.
As for the lake itself, it is unusually safe for swimming. Although seventy kilometers long and about two kilometers across at it’s widest, it is only 3 metres deep at most and even when 300 metres or so from shore the water is still only chest deep. It costs about $NZ10 to get onto the promenade at Soifok, but once inside there are artificial sandy beaches where you can loll about on loungers or play beach volleyball at Club Coke, hire water bikes or walk out onto one of the floating pontoons to sunbathe or dangle your feet in the lake.
Nagy Strand, the big beach area along Petofi Setaby, is home to dozens of bars and restaurants, most of which advertise cheap deals on cocktails or a flat rate for all the alcohol you can consume in an evening. Quite the party town, there are free shuttles to transport you to and presumable home from the various night clubs; amusement arcades and ice-creams to die for, out favourite a citron lemon with a texture that resembled snow-freeze. We didn’t try out the Texas Hold ‘Em Live poker hall and skipped past Club Hell and Renegade, opting instead for Brownies where the menu advertised such delicacies as Goats cheese, fresh one frying in almond bark; A salmon was frying in fresh grassy bar steak, grilled vegetables and buttery potato; A trout young one were steamed frying on his leather with citrus vinegar; A tendril frying sheet was frying in a furnace with potato and fruit stew with red wine; and A spicy drumstick was frying under iron, fresh one stirred salad. We opted for the safety of pizza and pasta.
While lost in translation, we had a funny conversation with the customs officer when re-entering Hungary from Croatia. He asked where we were headed and when we replied, Siofok (See-o-fock), he clearly couldn’t comprehend where that might be. After about five attempts at pronunciation we then spelled it out. “Ah, She-o-fock,” he replied and waved us on.