Budapest

My time in Bucharest had come to a close. Again, while waking up every hour, I finally reached 3:00 AM when I could gather my things and head to the airport. It was here where I fully acknowledge my white privilege. Since there was no way an Uber would be able to pick me up at my hostel as it was on a pedestrian street, I entered a hotel with my bags and sat in the lobby, freely using their Wi-Fi to hail one. The reception desk did not give me a second glance. My Uber arrived and I was whisked in the pre-dawn light through this beautiful city one last time. 

Given the “developing nation” status of Romania, I was not at all surprised I was unable to use the Tarom website (their national airline) to check my bag online. However, I was incredibly surprised when I arrived at the counter and they told me it would be 50€ to check it. To add insult to injury, I could not pay right there but had to wander around the terminal to try and find the pay desk. Finally finding it, I begrudgingly paid and waited for my flight. When the time came, I boarded the plane, found my seat, and immediately passed out. 

After my up-and-down flight, I got my bags and headed out into Budapest. I found a bus that would cheaply take me to the city, then hopped the metro to the stop by my hostel, Oktogon. I grabbed my things and entered the establishment. I could tell I was going to like this place. There were young people all over, board games, a guitar, a bar, and a kitchen. It was still too early for me to check in, so I asked if it would be OK if I could sack out in the lounge area. The nice young lady said I could, but there was still some time to grab some complimentary breakfast. I thanked her and went into the kitchen to grab some cereal, juice, and fruit before I stretched out in the lounge.

About an hour later, I was roused from my slumber by the lovely hostess and was allowed to check-in. I was then taken to my room which was a collection of 2×2 bunk bed units with a partition between them. It would do. I dropped my stuff and unencumbered, headed out into the hot June morning. I immediately walked to the Danube, the dividing line between Buda and Pest. As I was on the Pest side, I immediately walked to the Buda side so I could get a look at the Parliament Building.

The Hungarian Parliament is possibly one of the most beautiful buildings in this part of the world. It began construction in 1885 and was completed in 1904, only after the architect Imre Steindl went blind and died. It was an incredibly impressive jewel in the empire of Astro-Hungary. 

I walked along the Buda side, seeing the Palace on the hill but it was hot and I was thirsty. I found an incredible bar that was themed on the 1956 Hungarian Uprising. I had a cider and just took in the panoramic mural of freedom fighters. I continued walking and came to another bridge that had an offshoot towards Margaret Island, a small island in the middle of the Danube named after Saint Margaret which now houses a pretty impressive park.

I headed back to the bridge to get back to the Pest side of the river when I noticed there was something affixed to the bridge. Upon closer inspection, it was a bouquet of flowers. When I got even closer, I could see there was a note written in Hungarian, English, and Korean and a flag of South Korea. The letter conveyed sorrow for the lives that were lost by the South Korean tourists that died in the cruise accident that I saw on the television when I was in Dubai. 

I headed back towards my hostel and was able to find a supermarket to get some dinner. I cooked up myself a bag of Ramen and some canned meat before I retired to take care of some work. I handed in my laundry and after work, I went to bed a little early.

The next morning, I got up and did a little work for a client, then planned what I would be doing in with my time in this wonderful city. First things first, I decided to go get a coffee. Only it would not just be any coffee.

I walked to the New York cafe which was already crowded with people having breakfast. I got a table and sat down, ordered my drink and waited. To say this place was opulent would be an understatement. It was magnificent. The waiter then brought me what I ordered, a 24 karat gold-dusted cafe Americano. As I sipped, I began to think about why this town was so extravagant. Maybe because it was the farthest East the Roman Empire ever got or was one of the last imperial cities at the close of World War I; the center of the great Austro-Hungarian Empire, one of which my ancestors were subjects. But no matter. Here I was enjoying a fantastic cup of coffee as a Hungarian classical quartet serenaded all of us. 

After the coffee, I headed to the closest post office I could find to mail postcards to my nephews. The first two I tried were closed, but the third time was the charm. I then headed back to the hostel and tried to go to a museum, but their credit card system was not working and I decided to come back later. I was hungry in Hungary, so I decided to go have a little lunch.

One of the first episodes of Anthony Bourdain’s show I remember was when he went to Budapest. He mentioned a small restaurant by the river and from what I recalled it looked very good and typically Hungarian. And so I walked to Belvarosi Disznótoros. It was a small restaurant with a counter and much like I had done in other countries where I did not know the language, I smiled, pointed, and paid. From what I could tell, I ordered blood sausage, chipped potatoes, and pickled beets. It was utterly amazing, hearty food. After lunch, I headed back to my hostel only to realize that my walking tour of the city was in 30 minutes, so I turned back around and headed from whence I came.

I met Orshe (the Hungarian form of Ursula) and the rest of my tour mates in a small park by a beer garden. She was born in 1981 and much like me, had seen the tail end of the Cold War. She started the tour with a bunch of questions gauging our knowledge. When Orshe began talking of how during the course of socialized medicine in Communist Hungary that people had to bribe doctors and nurses to get better care, the one American girl in a Bernie t-shirt shirt was aghast. Orshe was a wonderful guide and did not mind my many, many questions. I learned serval interesting things.

The first is that 1919 saw the first Hungarian Communist government, no doubt aided by the USSR. It was no matter because they were ousted from office after only some 100 days. Later in 1948, after Hungary was already enveloped in the Iron Curtain, the Communists were “voted” back into power. Mainly because they cheated. But, Hungarian Communism was not as bad as Romanian Communism in that people could buy Cokes, jeans, other Western goods and could travel. They nicknamed it Happy Communism or Goulash Communism. However, it was still Communism and the Hungarians felt that Kruschev’s remarks regarding the evils of Stalin supplied them an opening to throw off their chains. This was when there was the Hungarian Uprising in 1956 that was then brutally squashed by the Soviets. It was during this time that the Summer Olympics occurred in the Southern Hemisphere city of Melbourne in November/December where Hungary took the gold medal after a Russian player broke a Hungarian player’s nose. Needless to say, this was quite the spectacle given what was occurring back home. It was not until some years later, when the Soviet Union was going bankrupt in the graveyard of Empires known as Afghanistan, that their grip on Hungary began to loosen. In October of 1989, the Fall of the Berlin Wall was televised throughout Hungary with the execution of Nicolae Ceausescu coming in December of that year. Communism in Hungary was all but over. When the party finally was dissolved, the Socialist Party took up the reigns, but people were not too keen on it after some 40 years of it. 

Orshe walked and showed us the sites from the history of which she was talking. Our first stop was a bronze statue of Ronald Regan in a plaza that just happened to be overlooked by the Russian embassy as a kind of Hungarian fuck you. She then showed us the topside entrance of the bunker F4, which was a nuclear bomb shelter in the middle of the city. It had the capacity to hold roughly 2,2000 people and since it was quite close to the parliament, I imagine it was designed to shield government officials. We continued the walking tour and she showed us bullet holes and tank shell holes still in buildings left over from the 1956 failed uprising. Our tour ended at the backside of the parliament building as there was an outdoor concert going on.

Even though the tour was over, Orshe directed us to go down a flight of stairs to the free Uprising museum. The museum was small, but powerful. They had uniforms, weapons and flags from the era, but the most powerful display was a 3D movie of a Soviet tank rolling down a side street of Budapest. During the film, the tank passes the viewer, then backs up and starts coming down the street right towards you. Suddenly it stopped, aimed its canon complete with electrical whirring, and fired. There was a cloud of smoke, then blackness.

After the museum, I started on my way back to the hostel along the Danube. Close to the Parliament on the edge of a pedestrian walkway by the river, were dozens of bronzed shoes. I recalled that this was supposed to symbolize the murdered jews of Budapest during the Nazi invasion. What happened was that family members were often tied together. The Nazis would shoot one, and push the pair into the river as the other would surely drown. This was because they wanted to save bullets. The collection of shoes ranged from work-boots, wingtips, high-heels, sandals, and most sadly, baby shoes. 

As I was walking home, I realized that there was something missing from my Hungarian bucket list. I walked into a restaurant and asked for a table on the patio. I sat down, ordered a beer and a dish of probably one of the most Hungarian foods possible, Goulash. Goulash is a meat and vegetable soup or stew with paprika and other spices. Hungarian goulash is a staple food not only in Central Europe but also in other parts of Europe. This is one of the national dishes of Hungary and an internationally recognized symbol of the country. Honestly, it was fantastic and exactly what I was expecting. 

After I headed back to the hostel and just chilled. There was a small bar and the bartender enticed me to try a fruit-flavored Hungarian spirit called Palinka. It was very good. One of the things about Budapest is that it is a party capital of Europe. In our hostel, there were groups of young salespeople called party brokers, 20-somethings basically getting free room and board if they pushed the other residents to go out for parties. Some were on boats, others were in dance clubs, some were even in baths. To help prime bad decisions, they offered free happy hours with drinking games. I was invited to join in on a game of cards. One young lady by the name of Lisa was a very cute Irish lass that although was lovely, was doing a very hard sell. Unfortunately for her, after my long day, I had to decline her invitations to go out drinking as I had plans for the next day. I would soon find out something very interesting about her quite soon. Afterward, I headed up to the room to go to sleep. 

I woke up the next AM and decided to head to the beautiful thermal baths at Gellërt. One of the many Roman customs still in practice, this Hungarian bath establishment was both great and beautiful. They had indoor baths, outdoor baths, thermal pools, ice pools, lounge chairs, and saunas. It felt incredibly civilized sitting in waist-deep water looking up at the frescos that lined the walls and domed ceilings. It was definitely worth the price of admission for a relaxing time.

After the bath, since I was on the Buda side of the city, I decided to do a little hike up to the top of the overlooking hill. Frankly, I should I planned it better by going to the baths after as I was a hot sweaty mess by the time I got to the top. Standing in front of Freedom statue in all her glory looking at the picturesque panoramic of such a beautiful city was truly a highlight of my adventure.

I walked back down the hill, took the tram back to my hostel and dropped off my things. It was now time to do one of the hardest things I had ever done on my trip. I hopped on another tram and headed out to the other side of Budapest away from all the touristy stuff where the real Hungarians lived. I got off the tram and with my handy Google guide found where I was heading, Pléh Csarda. This again was another one of Anthony Bourdain’s stops. It was a hole-in-the-wall restaurant that only had seating outside. When I walked in to place my order, I notice on the wall there was a picture of the man I was talking to arm in arm with Mr. Bourdain. I smiled to myself and he looked at me and smiled back. I went outside and sat down while I waited for my meal.

Due to Hungary’s proximity to Austria and Germany, they have adopted a lot of their culture, one of which included some food. When the proprietor came to my table with my order, my mouth fell agape. I had ordered a schitnzel. For those unfamiliar, it is basically a breaded veal chop. What this man placed in front of me was a breaded surfboard. I looked at him and he looked at me and said in his broken English, “Enjoy.” Now, despite my skinny appearance, I can put food away. But, this was a challenge. However, after some breaks and probably making all the competitive eaters I know beam with pride, I finished it all. Unfortunately, I could only do about half of the included rice. Now, I would not need to eat for a few days like a boa constrictor. I rolled back to the metro and headed back to the hostel. 

After taking a nap, I went back to the kitchen to see what was going on for the night. I figured it would be a good night to do a bar crawl through the “ruins.” Ruins were the term given to any structure built during the Communist era that had since been abandoned. These included both factories and apartments. Enterprising Hungarians turned them into drinking establishments to serve the need of those that came to their country to party. 

While I was not too keen on getting plastered, I was in seeing these places as well as interacting with the foreigners and locals that inhabited them. Our guide was Anna. She was 27, a little hefty, but very sweet in that she did not mind me hanging around her asking a bunch of questions about the state of the world according to a young Hungarian. 

She told me all about Hungary and the problems they are facing. She grew up after Communism so the only stories she had about it is from her mother, who she lives with. Apparently, the Hungarian government is pressing the people her age to settle down, start a family, and buy a house using a government-backed mortgage. Sheʼs not a Trump fan, which was not really a big surprise when she told me she dated a black Muslim, but her countryʼs president is. He is also a fan of Putin and the leader of Kazakstan. Probably for the energy. Anyway, she said that housing was really expensive here and that there is no way people like her can afford a place of their own. She said she can go out and get pregnant anytime she wants but thatʼs not a family. 

During the course of our conversation, no less than three Germans were escorted from the premises by Budapest’s finest in handcuffs. This was a reminder again of how much of a party city it was.

In total, we went to 5 bars around town, and one club, that was split into 4 more bars. The first place that I ended up going back to at the end of the night to pee was Ellato Kert. It was a patio bar. I met two Asian girls from California named Tia and Chanel. There was also this super annoying American named Nick from San Diego. He was an ass. We then went to another bar named |A|. I met a Columbian named Hector that told me about Belgrade, my next stop on my trip. I also met Owen and Charlie, two Brits. Tia bought us all tequila shots. There were two other people on the tour, a bald dude with his tattooed girlfriend. She fed me drinks so she was alright by me. We then went to the party hostel Hive where a few people were staying. Nick mentioned his displeasure numerous times. Some girl, not of our squad, had to be actually carried out of the bar due to a mix of drinks and probably drugs. As we were walking to the next place, Tia informed me she was on a quest for coke or molly and tried to enlist my help. I played it off. We got to the next place which was a hostel with a lovely courtyard. I got a drink and chatted more with Anna. She told me more about how weird Hungary is. I told her about New Orleans and how similar they are; people going there to do the things they canʼt do at home. Like in Vieux Carre.

It was then that Anna shared an interesting tidbit about Lisa, the young Irish lady from before. She was an artist, but since that was not paying the bills she decided to come to Budapest and work for the party brokers. It was here, at this hostel/bar that she got a little tipsy one night and shared her dream to all those that were around her. She said it was her fantasy, her calling, her life’s purpose to paint an orgy. Never thinking her opportunity would come, she felt her heart was broken. That was when the proprietor of this establishment shared aloud and unashamed that he hosts one at the hostel every month. He puts up a signup sheet and anyone that cares to participate can join. He said that even a friend of his that is a dwarf often comes. Lisa was ecstatic. Her dream would come true.

As Anna was sharing this, I imagined a Titian Rennasaunce masterpiece that would hang in the foyer of this hostel. Sadly, the date of this extravaganza would occur well after I had left Budapest. However, it only cemented my return to hopefully see it. 

We walked to the last place that was 4 clubs in one. Lots of nooks and crannies, bunkers, pool rooms, etc. I would have liked to see it in the daytime instead of filled with drunk sweaty Irishmen that wanted to fight. The last straw was charging a deposit for cups and to take a piss.

As I left the club, I meandered through the streets of Budapest. There was an attractive woman (at least in the dim light) that said hello to me. I said hello back. Her next word, “Sex?” I declined, clasping my hands together as I had always done for people offering carnal pleasures on the street. I headed back to the first place, the patio bar, to cash in my last free drink coupon and use the pisser. I sat down, avoiding drunken belligerents. They were playing classic hits and Hungarian classics. I then turned around and headed home.

The next morning, I got up, went down and had breakfast and headed to the House of Terror at 60 Andrassy Street. This address was infamous. It was not only the Nazi headquarters in Budapest but became the Communist Secret Police headquarters after the war. 

The building looked like any other impressive structure from the outside, but like many things, what it held told the true story. The House of Terror was half history museum, half art installation. It was incredibly moving to be there. It outlined all the history leading up to the Nazi Occupation to the Soviet. One of the more disturbing was the history behind the Iron Cross, portrayed by a spinning uniform with a Swastika on one side and a hammer and sickle on the other. These men were brutish Hungarian Nazis that were then given the choice to start working for the Soviets, as they noticed their talents. One of their favorite methods of sadism, I hesitate to say torture as that is supposed to serve some end, was tying people up in the woods and forcing knitting needles into their spines. This proved once again that some men hide behind a thin ethos simply to inflict their base natures on others. 

We were then lead to the basement that served as both holding cells and execution chambers. It was difficult to say the least to be in the same room as the gallows that killed so many men, women, and even children as the death sentence age was reduced to 16.

After the museum, I walked to Hero’s Square. Hero’s Square was a large park with a collection of statues representing the greats of Magyar (ethnic Hungarian) history. It was very impressive. As it had been a long day, I headed back to the hostel. 

I went to the kitchen and met some people at the hostel for dinner. As I needed a little levity after my day, we then played a drinking game called Pizza Box. The object was to toss a coin on a writeable surface. Where ever the coin lands, one writes a rule. If it goes off the page, the person has to take a drink until it lands on the page. This was perhaps one of my favorite memories from my trip. I landed on a rule I wrote called A capella Karaoke, which meant one had to sing without any backup. I belted out the Humpy Dance and the table filled with 20-year-olds had no idea what hit them. They loved it. Another rule was Baby Bird where one had to spit beer into another personʼs mouth. The same girl had to do it twice, once to her boyfriend, and once to Lynda, a Swedish girl that I met at dinner.

After the drinking game, I did not want to go out binge drinking. I made a friend named Laetitia. We were closer to the same age and since we got along, we decided to go out and have a civilized drink at one of the bars I went to the night before. We got some beer and sat at a table. It was a popular place. We chatted about her life in Ghent, Belgium with her boyfriend and cat as well as what she was doing in Hungary. She had sponsored a young Hungarian with developmental problems and sent her family money and supplies every month. She was a really good person. What astonished me is that it was so close to Western Europe and yet these problems were so much more severe here, even in an EU member state.

We talked about my travels and what I had seen so far. Then, she got a call from a friend as we were finishing drinks and we decided to go meet her. As we arrived at the bar across the street where all those Germans were arrested the night before, we got another drink and started talking some more. It was then her beautiful blond friend showed up. It really is amazing just the subtle cultural differences. Laetitia introduced me in Flemish and before I even said a word, her friend leaned in and kissed me on both cheeks, as was the Belgian custom. The friend then addressed me in Flemish. Then French. Then Laetitia said I was American and the friend’s demeanor slightly changed. They chitchatted for a bit in Flemish, but the friend I imagine said that there were other people waiting for her. They both hugged, then the friend hugged me and that was that. I then asked Laetitia if me and her friend were dating now playing on the lack of close physical contact amongst American greetings. She just laughed. Since it was late we headed back to the hostel.

The next morning, I got up and headed down for breakfast. It was very crowded. I chitchatted with Hector until Laetitia came down and had a tea. A young Texas lady who was about to go to the Air Force academy sat with us. She asked if any of us had gone to the baths and I told her about my experiences.

After breakfast, Laetitia and I decided to head over to Margaret Island. We took the tram there then found a shady spot in front of the dancing fountain. We were there for about an hour together. Since it was my last day in Budapest, and there were still some more things I wanted to see, I bid her my leave but we made plans to have dinner later.

My next destination was Memento Park. Seeing how we were having a similar problem in the United States, what does a city do with statues they find repugnant? While the answer in New Orleans was to warehouse them, Budapest’s answer was to put them in a park about an hour away from downtown and charge admission. It took a tram and a bus to arrive to this location. When I got off the tram, there was a little Shetland pony just chomping on the grass outside of the tram doors. I then walked to the bus stop and waited for a few minutes until one picked me up. Another few minutes and I was there.

Contained within some brick walls was Memento Park. It was a collection of Soviet Era statues, murals, and reliefs. They even had a pair of Poppa Joe’s boots that the Hungarian Revolutionaries tore down. It reminded me of that Saddam Hussein statue. The largest and most impressive was a giant bronze statue of a Soviet soldier. While not overly impressive, it was still wonderful to see this history and worth the student admission price I paid to get in.

I traveled back to the hostel where Laetitia was waiting. We went and grabbed a drink, then I took her to the restaurant where I got Goulash. It was late when we got back to the hostel. Since Laetitia was leaving early for Belgium the next day as I was leaving for Serbia, we said our goodbyes. I then crawled into bed, read a little, then went to sleep.