Communists, Croissants and Other Disasters: Confessions of a Budapest Innkeeper

Put this book down if you are looking for a profound spiritual guide, because this isn't it. But if you want a funny, brutally honest holiday read about failing upwards and surviving the public, grab a glass of wine.Running a European B&B sounds glamorous, but it's actually a hostage situation. It turns out the only thing more exhausting than a collapsing political regime is customer service. From naked Frenchmen and rogue tampons to hallucinating Americans, my life became a daily masterclass in the bizarre reality of the human species.How did I end up there?It started in 1980s Hungary, where the ultimate luxury was an East German car made from sawdust and glue and "fine dining" meant chewing on a stale block of pig fat. Armed with terrible lime-green trousers and an alarming amount of confidence of the mentally ill-equipped, I somehow stumbled my way into the world of hospitality—and accidentally became a top-rated innkeeper in Budapest.Welcome to Budapest. Check-in is at 2:00 p.m. Read more