I'm not sure exactly where this river originates, perhaps in the Slovak Republic, Czech Republic, or Poland, who knows, but it very long and winds it's way diagonally through Hungary. It is not especially clean nor spectacular in any way… unless it's flood season. Basically, it's a glorified storm-drain (not as bad as the LA River (of debris). Which brings me to the quandary of why I felt the strong urge to take a swim in this mucky river, but I did, so I DID! As disgusting as it was, turns out it was also rather dangerous- and actually forbidden. Apparently, it is well known that people drown each year due to unusual undertows that strike unsuspecting sewer swimming enthusiasts like myself. The good news is I escaped from the river of death unscathed and without any sort of river-disease symptoms. The shore just across the main city bridge from Szeged, plays host to a tiny "beach" which seemed to me to have all the elements of a cruising spot: somewhat secluded, a Hungarian interpretation of a beer cabana, and men in Speedos. The catalysis, which prompted the discovery of this spot, was when Ashlee, Mylo and I decided to go to the waterpark, which ended up being really expensive, and looked crowded and not partcularly fun. Thus we ventured on and found a public pool, which was closed for swimming lessons, which by the way, we considered taking, just for an opportunity to use the pool. This occurred during the time of the onset of the killer summer heatwave ,which dictated a lot of our activities in the month to come. After two failed attempts I was desperate to not be sweating, which is why I rolled right past the sign that said no swimming (in Hungarian) and cannonballed right into the sewer stream. I peer-pressured Aislee to come in too, who seemed somewhat concerned about the safety of the water, but was equally sweaty, and therefore accepted the risk. Mylo on the other hand wanted no part of it, and said he would only save us from drowning when and if a cute Hungarian girl happened to be watching. After we emerged from the big Tiz, and returned to our temporary beach camp, he commented on how we smelled bad, and moved his towel away from us. After our dirty swim, we past a sign on the way to the portos, stating the unlawfulness of swimming in the Tisza.
Back at the Sik later that night, I proceeded to brag about my recklass bad-assidness to the random Hungarians who were conjuring up some elaborate meal, (which seemed to me like pretty advanced cooking for college students). They listened, giving me incredulous looks as I boosted giving them the details (against their will) of my Saturday swim adventure. If I could read their minds, I'm sure they were saying "stupid foreigner...I'm busy...go away."
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