Trading the Huff

In 2008 when this recession was still just a few bankers mislaying a few zeros from their crib sheets. It wasn’t the Greeks who were the the bad news bears of Europe but the Hungarians. They had a currency that was rapidly leaking dignity, and was in risk of becoming one of those useless currencies, like the Zimbawean dollar or the Riechmark pound.

I know this because I used to work in and around money markets, and in particular I had a friend who broked the Hungarian Florrint. Or the Huff, as its known in finance. He  matched buyers of the HUF with the sellers of the HUF and made the difference on the spread in between the two prices. For him the recession was a real cuff-huff-le.

By the end of 2008 he was having a hard time of it. Many of the  clients he broked for were broke, the Huff was became near impossible to sell,  and currency  was devaluing so fast it was in real risk of disappearing altogether. It was a very stresfull period , he actually contracted  a stomach ulcer.

I saw him perhaps two months ago, he has left finance and money markets altogether, working in the for more leisurely and far less rewarding field of Auto insurance. I told him that he needs to get back in the game. We’re still in a slump but volumes are up and there is profit to be made. He was having none of it.

“Stu, you don’t understand it was horrible. I’d be on the phone trying to sell and there would be tanks. Tanks,. Actual tanks, outside their parliament!”. Once bitten twice shy.

This almpost crisis, an almost fire was  put out by a deluge of money from the IMF. In Budapest  its just shy of two years since then and you couldn't tell that the economy almost went into meltdown. The city is teaming with business.

I went to the Central market, just by the banks of the Danube. Its housed in a three storey Hanger esque space, made of Brick , glass and steel. In england we would say it looks Victorian. The three floors stock fresh food. There are innumerable sausage sellers, it’s a real Butchers paradise, bakeries, and grocers.

There are also old women selling jars of picked vegetables. All folded up leaves, onions, gherkins, pressed faced and squeezed against the glass. Anything pickeled and squeezed against  glass looks unattractive. It was a vegans Damion Herst exhibition. At my high school they had jars of pickled animals, entombed and slowly breaking apart in jars of  formaldehyde,  these  preservative vegetable vats  took me back to those salad days and I had to look away.

On the third floor, besides and behind the inevitable tourist tat, are a row of stores selling Hungarians finest foods at Hungary's finest prices.  I’d wanted some Hungarian fare for sometime. I’d tried the fish of Istanbul, the white Cheese heavy foods of Bulgaria and the meat parcel pastry packets of Serbia and of course the unforgeable, Red Rum in Slovenia. In Hungary I knew what I wanted. Goulash.

I brought a bowl for 800 Hungaroians. It looked like the colour of mud with bits in. It tasted like spiced earth with boot leather. It was tough and a little spicy, from the ones I’d met I suppose its bit like Hungarian women.

The Goulash was tasty,  filling; hearty perhaps would be the best description. I ordered a few beers too.  And began to really get on the go- Lash. I wandered past some shops selling chess sets, and some more selling Key rings, took me back to Agrophobia at The Grand Bazzar. I could feel pin pricks of sweat on the back of my neck, but this wasn’t so bad, there were n't as many god damn, bats. I ordered a Lagnos from a shop, ran by a real formidable women, her glare could  burn steel, her massive forarms could have snapped me in half. She must have been the prodiginy of the last Warsaw pacts Olympic shot put team.

I ordered a Lagnos of her, its deep fried bread. She slammed it onto a piece of card, punched on some sour crème and then gave it a shot gun blast of grated cheese. I got out of there sharp-ish and took a nibble. Of course like all fast food it was  delicious. One bite began dumping serotonin to brain, in reaction to its overwhelming fat and oil content. You could probably use them as fuel if you ever run out of fire lighters, they are so packed with energy. The cuisine, in Hungry reminded me of its people. Heavy, tough, hearty, warming, but  a little bit  of an aquirted taste.