My overnight train from Zurich to Budapest was some two hours late, but trains on this route usually are delayed.

I wasn’t complaining because the ride inside a couchette was comfortable. They gave each passenger a huge chunk of chocolate and a bottle of water. In the morning, they served you a small pack of juice and an oat cookie with a chocolate filling. All good.

If the train ran on schedule, it would reach my destination between 9 and 10 in the morning. My check-in was normally 3 pm, but I had requested an early check-in, and my host had agreed I could do 11:30 am. Consequently, with the train rolling into Budapest Keleti station after 11, the timing was perfect for me. I wouldn’t have to wait to get into my Airbnb apartment. Little did I know the Universe had other plans and was chuckling to itself on what I would endure on this account in the next 24 hours.

After the others in our couchette had gotten down in Vienna early in the morning, a French clarinet player named Mona and I were the only two left — both headed to Budapest. It turned out Mona was going to a friend’s wedding. The groom was Canadian and the girl, Chinese. But they had met in Budapest, so they wanted to have a sort of ceremony here, after having a wedding each in Canada and China.

Budapest Keleti railway station.

We found the wedding venue and my stay were close by. So, Mona and I walked to our destinations together. It was a half-hour walk — give or take a few minutes — and we both chatted as we walked. This wasn’t Mona’s first time in the Hungarian capital but her first time in many years.

We said goodbye at a crossing and I approached my stay in District 7, in the very heart of Budapest.

It was a self-check-in, and my host had sent me detailed instructions on how to enter my apartment. The main door on the street was easy enough — actually, I didn’t have to open it myself because someone was coming out, and I went inside to find myself in a huge rectangular courtyard surrounded by an old four-storey building.

The stairs were wide and a very comfortable slant — and I walked up to the third floor and had my first encounter with my apartment’s smart lock. I followed the instructions to the T and pressed the magic numbers, but the door did not budge. I tried again, with the same result. I informed my host, who asked me to send a video of my process, which I did. I struggled for thirty minutes before I could manage to get in.

At check-in. It took me 30 minutes to open the door.

I forgot my struggles as soon as I got in because the apartment itself was big, beautiful, and functional, and I could see myself living here for three weeks.

After unpacking, I went out to get a haircut and some groceries. I found a Turkish barber shop where the friendly Burhan trimmed my hair and chatted while he was at it. He asked me how long I would be staying and before I left, added: “Stop by if you are bored. We can talk and maybe go for a drink.”

Whether or not he meant it, that was nice to hear shortly after my arrival. The city was already giving me friendly vibes.

I got some tacos for lunch on my way back, ate, and slept.

I had recently started using an app called Meetup, which — as the name suggests — is used to organise meetups. I had signed up for a meet later in the evening. The location wasn’t too far from me, so I decided to walk.

On the way, while passing by the Hungarian National Museum, I heard music and went inside to investigate. I was pleasantly surprised to find a social dance event happening. It seemed to have been organised by a dance school. They were playing difference genres and people of all ages were dancing — most of them not choreographed. But I could see some pre-practised choreography happening once in a while.

I had always been interested in social dancing and had enrolled for salsa lessons a couple of years ago, but with my frequent travels, I couldn’t make it work. But I love the spontaneous energy and fun of social dancing. I stood and watched for almost thirty minutes, but the meetup time was approaching and I had to walk ahead.

Social dance at the Hungarian National Museum.

The venue wasn’t difficult to find. As the evening progressed, lots of people turned up — perhaps thirty or so. With so many people attending, small groups naturally formed. I spoke to several people — both expats and locals. Close to 11 at night, someone suggested if we should go dancing — and a bunch of us agreed.

It wasn’t far and we headed towards the party district on foot. I discovered we were walking towards my stay and when we reached the first nightclub, I realized I lived only around a five-minute walk away. The rest of the night was a blur with hopping nightclubs and soaking in the Saturday night of this new city I had just landed in.

At some point, I found myself very hungry and had a Greek gyros from one of the many places that were still open to serve hungry party people. Gyros is essentially a version of a roll from back home, and I can safely say the rolls taste much better. But when hungry, you eat what you get.

Tired out, when I reached my door, my watch read minutes before 3 am. That is when I encountered the same problem I had encountered while checking in. However many times I punched in the code, the door to my apartment did not open.

Not the ideal situation at 3 am when you are buzzed, tired and in need of sleep.

I contacted Airbnb, who said they had informed my host, who was not responding at that hour. Frustrated, I asked the company to find me a reasonable solution.

Around 3:30, Airbnb suggested I find a nearby hotel and check in. So I went out to find the closest hotel. That one appeared to have the main gate locked with no visible sign of an active reception. I moved on.

The next hotel was a posh one that said a night — essentially a few hours at that point — would cost me close to 400 euros. I asked Airbnb if they would reimburse me the full amount. The customer care person said they could promise 200. The rest, they could consider but not guaratnee. I was not ready to spend 200 euros out of my pocket when I had already paid for a bed to sleep in for the night. I decided to return and sleep in front of my door until my host woke up.

Spending the night at the door.

To cut a long story short. I spent over five hours standing, walking back and forth, sitting, and occasionally dozing off in front of my apartment before my host responded around 8:30 am and gave me a different code to get in.

I got in, took a shower, and jumped into bed for some well-earned sleep.

(All photos by author. This article was first published in travelandy.com)