Someone finally shows up, and tells us there are no lunch items - only what’s on display at the counter - then he buggers off. Five minutes later he’s back and we manage to order coffee and a bag of chips. We’ll do better next time.
We’re on our way to Budapest, and I have no idea why. It was a late addition to the itinerary. I think someone said, “Oh you must go to Budapest, it’s lovely”. And so we are. I’m embarrassed that I know so little about Hungary and Budapest. Once part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, part of the Eastern bloc after WW2, Buda sits on one side of the Danube and Pest on the other, but I don’t know which is which. Data not found error - that’s all I know.
So I’d better find out. Ulmon City Guides, Google and Wikipedia are my friends. With Pauline I drop stars on my iPhone map, with the first two being the railway station and our AirBnb accommodation, which is superb - a huge apartment on the top floor of a traditional block. Suzy welcome us, and Gergo shows up the following morning in bike gear. He rides a 650 Versys, so we have a bit to talk about. With Gergo’s additional input, we have a few more stars on our map, so it’s time to join them up.
We’re on the eastern Pest side of the Danube, and the first landmark, the Citadel, in the western Buda
I’m reading the sign board at the Citadel, and shuffle a bit closer to read the English language section. A woman senses my presence, and edges away from me. Pauline, watching from a few metres away, reckons she’s scared, and that I look a bit like someone from the Bulgarian mafia.
But how can this be? I’m wearing a Canadian beanie, an Italian shirt, a Greek jacket, NZ trousers and holding a Japanese camera - truly an international man of mystery. Yeah - baby! Pauline edges closer. Good girl.
On to Buda Castle - this one’s 14th century vintage, and the home of Hungarian kings and an
The Fisherman’s Bastion terrace completes our trip through the Buda side. Built around 1900, the seven towers represent Magyar
tribes.
With aching legs after all the hill work, we take the funicular back down to the river.
So what have I learned? Not a lot, apart from the fact that Buda is hilly and has a lot of impressive monuments.
Saturday morning, first day of November, and time to explore the Pest side. Our strategic location on the top floor of an apartment block means we weren’t hassled by trick or treaters the previous night, so the celery and carrot stick treats I’d specially prepared weren’t required.
We are tricked though - we get to the House of Terror to learn about Hungary’s repression under the
Soviets just before the 10am opening time. A group of tourists are milling around, and guards come in and out a few minutes before opening. It’s 10:05 and no sign of activity. We wander around looking at the Iron Curtain sculpture, a remnant of the Berlin Wall, and memorials to those killed in the 1950s. At 10:10 we decide our time in Budapest is too precious to hang around. Perhaps it’s not opening today? There are no special signs, but we know some places are closed as it’s All Saints Day - a public holiday. But wouldn’t a guard have told us or put up a sign?
We are tricked though - we get to the House of Terror to learn about Hungary’s repression under the
I may have complained about Asian tourists in Prague, but they’re nothing
compared to the Segway suicide squads. Barely in control of their oversized scooters, they bully pedestrians off the footpath and generally make a menacing nuisance of themselves. Not that I want to see them in cycle lanes though - they’re too wide and too slow. Segways seem to be an unnecessary invention - because technology allows them to exist, should they exist? Just like we build skateboard parks, perhaps we should build Segway parks so these devil's spawn have somewhere to go. But in saying that, I’d quite like to have a go on one. How fast can you wind them up? Can they do jumps? What are they like in sand and mud with knobbly tyres?
On the other hand, it’s great to see the Hungarian “Go Trabi Go” Club on
the road. Importantly they stay in line in the slow kerbside lane. As the lights change, most traffic accelerates away (including cyclists). The Trabis merely gather speed - slowly. With much grinding of gears and clouds of blue smoke, they’re lucky to get through the intersection before the lights change red again.
While I had issues with the Jewish Cemetery in Prague, the Shoes
on the Danube Promenade is both accessible and poignant. In hiding at the end of the war in 1945, a group of Jews were discovered nearby by Arrow Cross fascists, lined up on the side of the Danube, ordered to remove their shoes, and shot so their bodies fell in the river. This iron shoe sculpture certainly provides pause for thought.
On the other hand, it’s great to see the Hungarian “Go Trabi Go” Club on
While I had issues with the Jewish Cemetery in Prague, the Shoes
Continuing on to the Hungarian Parliament building, I’m surprised to see bullet holes in steel plates, with 1956 also punched through the
steel. Interest piqued, I make my way down the steps to a memorial of the Kossuth Square massacre. I was just seven weeks old when this occurred, and until now I’ve been sadly oblivious of this piece of Hungarian history. Unhappy with Soviet repression, a peaceful protest of around 10,000 unarmed civilians took place in the square, only to be met with a hail of bullets from tanks, APCs and snipers from the roofs. Over 1,000 died. A very moving memorial, with eye witness accounts on TV screens, and an ominous silhouette of a tank manoeuvring, positioning its turret straight at you, and opening fire. The picture of the dove shedding a tear generated one of mine as well.
On a lighter note, we stumble on a changing of the guard outside the Parliament buildings. All very
formal and correct, and some stirring Hungarian at the end of it. Then the English translation. “Thank you for attending our changing of the guard. Have a nice day, and enjoy the rest of your travels in Hungary. Feel free to draw closer if you’d like a photo”. Nice!
Those of you contemplating an electric vehicle will be aware of range anxiety. A similar feeling comes over you as a tourist with a cup of coffee under your belt and you’re a long way from a cafe for fluid I/O. As we make our way to Margaret Island in the middle of the Danube, my bladder starts wondering if there’s a public toilet available. My brain reassures it there is.
Hmm - lovely fountain. Hmm - nice leafy trees in their autumn colours.
And look - there’s a squirrel.
On a lighter note, we stumble on a changing of the guard outside the Parliament buildings. All very
Those of you contemplating an electric vehicle will be aware of range anxiety. A similar feeling comes over you as a tourist with a cup of coffee under your belt and you’re a long way from a cafe for fluid I/O. As we make our way to Margaret Island in the middle of the Danube, my bladder starts wondering if there’s a public toilet available. My brain reassures it there is.
Hmm - lovely fountain. Hmm - nice leafy trees in their autumn colours.
Bugger the squirrel - where’s the sodding toilet!
And there, in a little hut in the middle of the park, is a WC.
Brain to bladder, “Relief is in sight!”.
But wait - that’ll be 180 Forints please (about $1) before you can go in. I fumble in my pocket, and all the coins I have add up to 110 Forints. Sorry.
I race out to Pauline for more cash. As bad luck would have it, all she has is a single 20,000 Forint note. The attendant glares at me. She doesn’t have change for such a large amount. In a torrent of unintelligible English I let her know that her attitude isn’t doing much for international relations. She shrugs.
Bladder to brain, “What’s going on here? I can't last much longer. There are some nice bushes over there”.
Then I spot the rate card. As well as Forints, Euros are also accepted. I sprint back out to Pauline, who’s now laughing so hard she’s almost wetting herself. I think I know the feeling.
With a one Euro coin in my increasingly hot and sweaty hand, I pace steadily and determinedly back to the hut. Another glare, and for what seems like an eternity she fossicks for 30 Euro cents change. She can’t find any.
Impasse. I look at her. She looks at me. I say, “Keep the change”. She gives me the Euro back and motions me to a cubicle. She figures it’s her problem now.
Grin. You know that feeling…
We wander back past the House of Terror. Still closed, but at least there’s a sign on the door now. Closed for Public Holiday. Great - thanks for putting it up so promptly.
Our host Gergo has recommended Zeller Bistro, a popular local restaurant. So popular in fact that we can’t even get a booking for Saturday night, so settle for a late lunch instead. I go for the crispy lake fish - slightly bigger than whitebait. Pauline has the carpaccio. Both delicious. That’s just the entree. Pauline has the lamb for the main, while I have duck. Both delicious. In a surprise move, Pauline orders a cottage cheese dessert - normally she can’t stand the stuff. Delicious.
Washed down by a local lagers and wines, this place is great - attentive service too. With coloured pencils we play games and draw doodles on the paper table cloth. I’m warming to Budapest. Apart from self-inflicted pain, we’re having a great day. I settle up the bill with a generous tip, promise to tell everyone in NZ how good their restaurant is, and pop in to the toilet on the way out.
Gergo has also recommended the Szechenyi Thermal Baths - a Budapest special. I’m interested -
when I was in Istanbul I thought of taking the waters there, but the thought of the large Turkish pool attendants put me off.
As we go in, all the information is in Hungarian. All we want is to hire some gear and have a swim. We spot some English language posters, but they’re for private rooms and massages, with prices to match. We ask the cashier if we can just pay to go in for a swim. No, you can’t pay up front by Visa. Pay the entry now, and more once you’re inside for hire gear. And by the way, all the lockers are full.
With our dwindling Forints, Pauline and I look at each other and decide to flag it. Better just going to the Poly Pools in Rotorua when we’re back home. What happened to customer service for tourists? Why do the Hungarians have to make this so hard? Or is it just a way of fleecing tourists into the expensive packages?
Night falls quickly in autumn - it’s only 4.30pm but it’s dusk already. We take a long circuit back to
our apartment to see the sights at night.
There’s no doubt Budapest is a beautiful city. It’s a monumental city. Everywhere you look there are impressive buildings, bridges, statues, sculptures, castles and cathedrals. It doesn’t have quite the same charm as Prague, and not quite the same bustle as Berlin - a bit of an amalgam of the two. It has history, it has good food (when you find it), it has good service (when you find it), it has friendly people, and it has cycle lanes, hire bikes and you can cycle over the river, but you really wouldn’t call it cycle-friendly. Better than Auckland, though.
It’s definitely worth a visit if you’re in central Europe, though it wouldn’t be the focal point of your trip. But I’m pleased to say I’ve now been to Hungary, and I’ve been to Budapest, and my knowledge of the world, its people, and its history has expanded just a little.
But wait - that’ll be 180 Forints please (about $1) before you can go in. I fumble in my pocket, and all the coins I have add up to 110 Forints. Sorry.
I race out to Pauline for more cash. As bad luck would have it, all she has is a single 20,000 Forint note. The attendant glares at me. She doesn’t have change for such a large amount. In a torrent of unintelligible English I let her know that her attitude isn’t doing much for international relations. She shrugs.
Bladder to brain, “What’s going on here? I can't last much longer. There are some nice bushes over there”.
Then I spot the rate card. As well as Forints, Euros are also accepted. I sprint back out to Pauline, who’s now laughing so hard she’s almost wetting herself. I think I know the feeling.
With a one Euro coin in my increasingly hot and sweaty hand, I pace steadily and determinedly back to the hut. Another glare, and for what seems like an eternity she fossicks for 30 Euro cents change. She can’t find any.
Impasse. I look at her. She looks at me. I say, “Keep the change”. She gives me the Euro back and motions me to a cubicle. She figures it’s her problem now.
Grin. You know that feeling…
We wander back past the House of Terror. Still closed, but at least there’s a sign on the door now. Closed for Public Holiday. Great - thanks for putting it up so promptly.
Our host Gergo has recommended Zeller Bistro, a popular local restaurant. So popular in fact that we can’t even get a booking for Saturday night, so settle for a late lunch instead. I go for the crispy lake fish - slightly bigger than whitebait. Pauline has the carpaccio. Both delicious. That’s just the entree. Pauline has the lamb for the main, while I have duck. Both delicious. In a surprise move, Pauline orders a cottage cheese dessert - normally she can’t stand the stuff. Delicious.
Washed down by a local lagers and wines, this place is great - attentive service too. With coloured pencils we play games and draw doodles on the paper table cloth. I’m warming to Budapest. Apart from self-inflicted pain, we’re having a great day. I settle up the bill with a generous tip, promise to tell everyone in NZ how good their restaurant is, and pop in to the toilet on the way out.
Gergo has also recommended the Szechenyi Thermal Baths - a Budapest special. I’m interested -
As we go in, all the information is in Hungarian. All we want is to hire some gear and have a swim. We spot some English language posters, but they’re for private rooms and massages, with prices to match. We ask the cashier if we can just pay to go in for a swim. No, you can’t pay up front by Visa. Pay the entry now, and more once you’re inside for hire gear. And by the way, all the lockers are full.
With our dwindling Forints, Pauline and I look at each other and decide to flag it. Better just going to the Poly Pools in Rotorua when we’re back home. What happened to customer service for tourists? Why do the Hungarians have to make this so hard? Or is it just a way of fleecing tourists into the expensive packages?
Night falls quickly in autumn - it’s only 4.30pm but it’s dusk already. We take a long circuit back to
There’s no doubt Budapest is a beautiful city. It’s a monumental city. Everywhere you look there are impressive buildings, bridges, statues, sculptures, castles and cathedrals. It doesn’t have quite the same charm as Prague, and not quite the same bustle as Berlin - a bit of an amalgam of the two. It has history, it has good food (when you find it), it has good service (when you find it), it has friendly people, and it has cycle lanes, hire bikes and you can cycle over the river, but you really wouldn’t call it cycle-friendly. Better than Auckland, though.
It’s definitely worth a visit if you’re in central Europe, though it wouldn’t be the focal point of your trip. But I’m pleased to say I’ve now been to Hungary, and I’ve been to Budapest, and my knowledge of the world, its people, and its history has expanded just a little.
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