A Summer Break in Budapest: Part 1

 6 min. read

The Chain Bridge, Budapest
(image courtesy of The Savvy Backpacker)

Thursday 27.07.2023:

Another year. Another summer. Another birthday. Another excursion to Eastern Europe. This year it’s a toss up between Prague and Budapest. I’ve heard wonderful things about both. Ultimately, it’ll be my budget that decides. Despite these otherwise straitened times, I am able to plan a modest birthday break thanks to yet another tax rebate. Travel is a lot more expensive post-COVID and Putin’s invasion of Ukraine. I'm therefore blessed to find a reasonably priced indirect flight to the Hungarian capital and a bargain studio rental on Airbnb. (I have been trying to wean myself off the site but hotels proved too expensive. That said, now I’m more aware of Airbnb’s complicity with oppressive regimes, I have greater motivation to avoid the platform in future.)

I'm in desperate need of a change of scene. Just before my trip, I receive bad news regarding what seemed to be a very promising job prospect. The disappointment shatters me. It takes me a couple of days to regain any perspective, thanks to family -church and biological – and some divinely-inspired words of encouragement. Still. My life feels too complicated at the mo’. Roll on an excuse not to have to think about what comes next, at least for a few days.

I spend another night at BXL airport so there’s no chance of missing my early a.m. flight. The airport is active throughout the wee small hours; customers and rough sleepers alike. I’ve never seen it this busy at this time. An elderly woman keeps locking eyes with me, hostile. There’s too much activity. I barely sleep a wink. It’ll catch up with me on the first flight, sandwiched in the middle of two other exhausted travellers. I use the long-ish layover in Vienna to listen to podcasts and some R&B Gospel hits. 

The distance between the Austrian and Hungarian capitals is so short, I feel guilty for covering it by plane. They were once part of the same empire, after all. 

I have a window seat, nobody next to me. I permit myself the chocolate treats distributed by the flight attendants. Guilt once again. It’s tough snapping out of diet mode, even for a justifiable reason. 

It takes a while to work out the best route to my accommodation. I arrive three hours after touch down. The basement studio is discreet and clean enough. All I miss is the regular interaction that I would enjoy in a hotel.

I’m knackered. After, praying, unpacking and taking a shower, I pass out. Siestas don’t usually come so easy these days. My supposed power nap is prolonged. 

I decide to stay local tonight. The sun still beckons. The forecast for Budapest these coming days is mercifully much better than the miserable weather I’ve left behind in Belgium. Before stepping out, I hastily research survival phrases in Hungarian. I should have done it beforehand. I need more time to memorise the basics.

Apart from the nearby majestic Keleti pályaudvar train station, my immediate surroundings seem on the sketchy side. I see a lot of unidentified liquid on the ground (I'll come to realise that Budapestians are very fond of small dogs). Plus, I receive one too many dodgy, slack-jawed stares.  An elderly German-speaking man keeps stopping to look at me, muttering some rubbish about “Afrika-Frau”. I make up my mind to not spend too much time in the area. Just pass through and go home.

On the upside, the neighbourhood is extremely well serviced by public transport. I also find a pleasant enough residential area on the next street with a playground, shopping centre and indoor market. I am also cheered by the sight of multi-purpose German store, DM. I'll spot more branches here than I recall seeing on visits to Germany. (Tesco is also popular in Budapest, for some reason).

I stop off at a supermarket for groceries. A friendly shop assistant wants to practise his English with me. I wonder what he’d have done if I weren't Anglophone. He asks if I’m wearing dreads.

Dinner is at a Turkish café in the vicinity. Convenience and familiarity. Traditional Hungarian food will have to wait.

The personable staff at the café also automatically communicate with me in English. Meanwhile, I try to get my head around all the zeros of the Hungarian Forint currency.

Friday 28.07:

(image courtesy of Rearview
Mirror)

I've booked my first official tour of Budapest this morning. Our huge group is divided into two. Mine is led by a cheery and petite brunette, Lara. She condenses a thousand years of Hungarian history into the first 10 minutes of the two and a half hour tour. We hear of the country’s earliest inhabitants, a nomadic people believed to have originated from what is now central Asia. Since then the Ottomans, Austrians, Nazi Germany and the Soviets have all wanted a piece. The diverse Hungarian aesthetic reflects the many centuries of invasion and occupation they’ve endured; from pale, stereotypically Nordic features to olive-skinned and dark-eyed like Lara.

Budapest (Buda = a slavic word for water / Pest = ‘cave’ or ‘oven’) came into existence in the late 19^th Century; an amalgamation of three smaller towns. The city is still split economically, with Buda being the more gentrified half. Pest is the newer part, having been rebuilt 150 years ago after a devastating flood. Like Bucharest, much of the cityscape takes inspiration from Paris. We learn of Hungary’s ceramic and porcelain industries and the difference between the two.

Hungarians pay up to 40% tax, similar to Belgium. Unlike Belgium however, the tax revenue seems to be better invested; a comprehensive health care system (including dental) for example, and up to two years paid maternity leave. Yes, paid.

We reach the riverside, overlooking the castle district. The city’s famed beauty finally comes to light.  High up in the distance is Hungary’s own Lady Liberty statue, repurposed after the fall of communism in the early 90s. Lara claims, without irony, that she represents true democracy and freedom today. It rings somewhat false given that a Far-Right wing PM with authoritarian tendencies has been in power for the past 12 years.

Later we hear Hungary boasts at least 16 Nobel Prize winners. The world can also thank inventive Hungarians for soft contact lenses, Biros (ballpoint pens), vitamin C and the Rubik’s cube, amongst others. 

At St. Stephen’s Basilica, I’m surprised to discover Hungary is mostly RC; one of a few Catholic enclaves in a region either historically associated to the Eastern Orthodox tradition or with state-enforced atheism. We stop at a controversial war monument. Lara mentions in passing that it’s contested, without going into much detail. I glimpse an English language explanation. Prime minister Orbán is accused of erecting a memorial in 2014 under clandestine conditions and without consulting the community, in an attempt to whitewash Hungarian history-presumably its complicity with Nazi Germany. 

Lara does speak in more depth about the atrocities committed during the puppet Soviet regime, as well as subsequent revolutions. The tour ends outside the Parliament building. I am not expecting it to be so stunning. I say farewell to Lara and a lovely fellow solo traveller from Holland, kind enough to make conversation during the tour. 

After refreshments, I follow Lara’s advice and hop a number 2 tram from which I can view several of Budapest’s famous bridges. I spend the rest of the afternoon tram-hopping, enjoying the sun-soaked, picturesque scenes along the Danube river. I beat the rain on returning to my accommodation. 

Budapest Parliament building
(image: Viator.com)

I'm back out that evening for a Meet-Up event in town. I’m a bit apprehensive on arrival. The bar is so small that most clients have to stand outside. It’s also largely male. I chat to an Italian who unintentionally identifies himself as the one in charge. The real host, rumoured to be the bar owner, is nowhere to be seen. I ease up as more join, including another Italian and an amiable woman from Strasbourg, my old stomping ground. Several of us are tourists. I find that curiously comforting.

I leave the group to look for a nearby restaurant serving traditional Hungarian food, recommended by the tour guide. It’s a self-service set-up, where you pay by weight. A clever way to overcharge, especially when weighing salad in ceramic bowls.

It’s a Friday night after sunset. I have a well-needed, post-supper jaunt around the lively old Jewish quarter, before taking a circuitous route back to my lodgings.

Soundtrack: Radio Sechaba by Bokani Dyer + After Dinner We Talk Dreams + Side Dishes by MICHELLE

Part 2 + Part 3