It occurred to me recently that I’ve never played golf in Hungary. Not even once in almost two years. And the more I think about it, the more I think that this fact is even more tragic than my handicap. Even in New York I made it to Chelsea Piers a few times a year. So why haven’t I played in Europe, ever? I guess I was busy exploring other—equally preppy—activities. But none of them were really sustainable. Squash was great at first, but I tore my achilles tendon nice and thoroughly after one hour, and now I’m downright scared of it. Badminton was an entertaining Saturday morning activity during the summer, but I could never really take it seriously. My husband says it’s a sport, and if you do it right it’s a good workout. I say, whatever, lazy ass.
Since I had the day to myself and the urge to swing a club, today I was determined to trade one birdie for another, get back to my roots (shout out to my dad and Papa Curly here)…and play some golf. Or at least drive some balls.
Just a few minor obstacles of note:
- It’s November.
- Golf is not at all popular in Hungary. I only know one person who plays, and he’s also American.
- My golf clubs are at my parents’ house, having not been touched since a fateful instance this summer involving my dad, a floating golf ball, and a kayak.
After a bit of digging, I settled on Pannonia Golf Course, which looked to be beautiful, if somewhat of a drive. More importantly, they responded to my inquiries, so I knew the driving range was open and they had clubs for rent. I fueled up at Coffee Heaven and then drove a full hour to Alcsútdoboz. The day and drive were gorgeous, but the village—with its golden oaks and quaint houses—was the best part. So good, in fact, that I spent another hour lost just touring the place, before finding heading to the golf course. The golfing itself, on the other hand, was a classic case: more fun in theory than in reality. Turns out it is a globally infuratiating sport. It doesn’t matter where you live.
Golf will tick you off.
A handful of shots were respectable, but the rest oscillated between sub-par and embarrassing. Halfway through, I started to wonder why I had been craving golf so badly to start with. I decided that golf must be somehow like childbirth—your brain blocks out all the bad parts so you’re willing to do it again. Anyway, the mechanism worked. It wasn’t so bad, the more I think about it. Next time I’ll play a full round, and maybe I’ll get back into the game more seriously next summer. It’s less of a workout than squash, but it’s sustainable and safe. For me, at least. If you’re within 200 of yards of me, in a kayak, I really can’t make any promises.
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It would have been WAY more fun if you would have had someone go with you. Golf is never fun when played alone…. Regardless, this was oh so entertaining to read and a true pleasure (^_^) Thank you for sharing. Have a good week.
pretty sure the floating golf ball/kayak incident will forever be one of my favorites. it’s so very “amy”
haha
Thanks Kalan. Have a great week as well. Bre: When I was writing this, I swear I must’ve laughed out loud three times just thinking about it.
If you are planning to go next time and nobody to go with you just give me a call
love to join 
I want to see a post about the golfball kayak! Miss you and LOVE reading your blogs, even if I am behind. Someday, when you move back to America, you can simply write a blog about your dad!