Budapest

Kathleen today!

Up until this point in our travels, trains had (much to my dismay) lost out to buses as the cheapest form of transportation. However, we wanted to experience the joys of an overnight train, and the opportunity had finally presented itself from Ljubljana to Budapest.

That’s how we found ourselves getting acquainted with a Hungarian family in the close quarters of a sleeper train cabin at midnight. The mother conversed with the train car attendant on our behalf and showed us how to make our unfolded beds. Sleep wasn’t the greatest, at times the melodic thumping rocks you asleep but periodically a train whistle jolts you back awake. Still it was far from the worst sleep of the trip!

With a couple hours before we had access to our hostel room, we gladly left our backpacks and roamed nearby. We were disappointed by the sour cream-smeared langos but thankful for a shady respite from the sun in the central market. Another heatwave was upon us!

Enticed by the promise of some much needed variation in our diet, we shopped at an Asian grocery store across the street from the hostel, breaking the budget with green tea ice cream mochi and stir fry ingredients.

After overslept naps, much needed showers, and a homemade dinner, we arrived for our walking tour of Buda (albeit a bit late due to public transportation confusion). Our poor tour guide Lisa ended up with one part of our group cancelling last-minute and then waiting 10 minutes for us to show up. We were floored to find out that Lisa was from Patagonia, so portions of our unexpected private tour strayed into info about our upcoming South American leg. Nevertheless, we learned quite a bit about Hungarian history- its formation, language etiology, and various occupations endured- while visiting St. Mattias’s Church, Fisherman’s Bastion, and Buda Castle along the way.

After parting ways with Lisa, the sound of techno beats lured us to a DJ pop-up outside the castle walls. We clamored up onto the base of a statue and watched the crowd grow from our perch, stunned by the castle backdrop. Eventually, we pried ourselves from Buda and attempted to make our way to Pest, though delayed by a series of Escher-esque stairs.

Marko and I made our way to the infamous ruin bar Szimpla Kert where we rested our tired feet on a windowsill overlooking the eclectic courtyard and sipped drinks out of goblets. Conversation bursted from every corner of rooms covered in graffiti and stickers. Nearby, half a bathtub acted as very imaginative seating. We danced for all of three songs before skedaddling to Instant to explore floor after floor of genres thanks to a recommendation by Lisa. After sampling all the music in the maze of rooms, we alternated between floors playing throwback pop and rock bordering on heavy metal. The dancing was good and desperately needed after a few failed attempts at clubbing. When we left the packed dance floor to enjoy the cool evening walk back to the hostel, the line stretched to the end of the block. We climbed into our last bunk beds of this European leg exhausted and vowed to start the next morning slowly.

Sleeping in past everyone else in our hostel room, we only felt compelled to leave to stock up on food for the next couple of days. We then made use of the balcony off our dorm room for breakfast and strategizing until some curious yellow jackets joined.

Back inside and almost immediately out to explore City Park with some newfound energy before delving into the Pest half of history. To our surprise, it was Lisa who greeted us at Heroes Square! Apparently, the guide originally scheduled to lead our tour had called out and Lisa had stepped in to ensure the tour wasn’t cancelled. Over the next two hours, we marveled at Budapest’s largest cathedral, oldest metro train, and eye-catching Parliament building. Interwoven were stories of Hungarian oppression and resistance during the Nazi and Soviet occupations.

We headed to the House of Terror next, wanting to continue our learning about those fascist and communist decades in Budapest’s history. Hours later when we finally emerged from the museum, Marko and I agreed we had been too desensitized by the atrocities documented in the Museum of Crimes against Humanity in Sarajevo to feel the full effect. We vowed to return one day to give the museum the attention it deserves.

Clinging to the shade as we headed to the trolley stop, the soreness in our feet and legs momentarily disappeared at the sight of the chimney cake stand. Bees buzzed around thin dough baking on cones behind the counter. Finished cakes coated in sugar, coconut flakes, and nuts lined the front of the stand. Notably, there was no ice cream, which Lisa had warned was a sure sign of a tourist trap. We opted to split a sugared chimney cake, still warm from the heated cones.

Within minutes of arriving back to the hostel, Marko was asleep and I was prepping for my turn at dinner duties. I had daydreamed of our second helpings of tofu stir fry after delicious results the evening prior. As I assembled the ingredients, I was gutted to realize that our tofu was no longer in the fridge. Nor was it in the trash, which I dug through in the hopes I’d find it still in the packaging and cold. As a rule, most hostels require guests to label food so kitchens can periodically be cleaned out to make space for newcomers. Earlier in the trip, we’d had the unfortunate experience of finding our label dislodged at the back of the fridge and our leftovers tossed. I scoured the fridge once more and couldn’t even locate the label that had once reserved the tofu as ours. Seething, I prepared a vegetable stir fry that we supplemented with nonperishables from our growing collection.

With tickets for a Danube cruise that evening, we weren’t grieving the tofu for long. Marko had reluctantly agreed to what he considered to be the most overrated touristic venture in Budapest, tied with Sparty at Széchenyi Bath. We arrived at the dock 15 minutes prior to departure and were met with a seemingly-endless line snaking back from the gangplank. There were audible groans from both of us. By the time we reached the terminus, I was no longer questioning if we’d score a coveted spot at the railing but whether or not we’d be permitted on board. We watched as people crowded the side of the boat facing the illuminated Parliament building, leaving space at the opposite rail. Our tofu-tarnished luck had turned!

There was just enough space for us to squeeze in when we charged the upper deck. We leaned on the railing and enjoyed an hour of stillness while the sights of Budapest floated by. Was the evening river cruise the most exciting activity in Budapest? No. The Parliament building is decidedly the star of the show with a grandeur unmatched by anything else along the route. Do I regret forcing Marko to take part? Nope, not for a meager 11€ per person.

After such an eventful day, we relished in our centrally-located hostel for one final night. We would still be able to enjoy the city for a couple more days but opted for a more affordable location in an outlying neighborhood. Nightly rates had skyrocketed around the time of our stay to capitalize on attendees of Sziget, one of the largest music festivals in Europe. The next morning, we woke, packed our bags, and bid our festival goer roomies goodbye.

Having hours before our Airbnb check-in, we strolled along Budapest’s streets to a nearby falafel restaurant for a late breakfast. Then, we devoted the rest of the morning and early afternoon to figuring out logistics for the next leg of our journey, a South American roadtrip. Reluctantly, we saddled ourselves with our various packs and bags and set out for an hour-long odyssey of public transportation to the Airbnb. The trip was extended slightly by a curmudgeon of a bus driver who refused to open the door at our stop but was otherwise uneventful. We would have curled up in our private room with A/C for the remainder of the day if not for our lack of food. A quick walk to the neighborhood convenience store remedied that.

I woke up early and excited for our last full day in Budapest with an itinerary of highlights planned, including the highly-rated Museum of Music History, renowned coffee and cake, lesser known thermal baths, and a goulash dinner. My hopes for an idyllic day were dashed when we arrived at the Music Museum to the news that the permanent exhibit on the history of music was closed for renovations. Maddening. Nowhere on the museum’s website or social media pages had this closure been posted. Not even the whimsical ear statues climbing the museum’s exterior could make me crack a smile. Marko sure got a kick out of them, though.

After a brief pity party, we headed to our next stop, determined to salvage the day. Ruszwurm is the oldest cafe in Budapest, first opening its doors in 1827, and kept relatively intact with furnishings from the nineteenth century. We shared cakes featuring thick layers of chocolate cream and impossibly thin caramel.

Hunger quelled for the time being, we meandered the nearby residential streets until we found the brilliantly yellow Lukács Baths. We purchased our passes via gestures and were left to wander the expansive complex in search of locker rooms and pools where swim caps weren’t required. It wasn’t long before we were soaking in water hailed as healing since Ancient Romans inhabited the area. After dedicating an hour to timed soaks in water of varying temperatures, we headed to an outdoor pool complete with jetted recliners and a circular lazy river.

Rejuvenated, we bid the thermal baths farewell and headed to the grand finale of the day- goulash! Marko is ambivalent, but I am confident I could eat goulash every day for eternity. Marko found a spot serving the traditional food with local wine and outdoor seating. I was in heaven. Ever a lover of cherries, Marko chose beef braised in a hearty helping of the stone fruit. The delights of the day made packing our bags much easier that evening!