Day 12 Budapest (Sunday 13 February 2011)
Ten o'clock on Sunday morning: I am delayed and waiting to leave Bratislava station. My train should have got away at 0954 but instead I am one of a group of would-be passengers stood uncomfortably staring up at the departure board, clutching our pockets and bags as the small group of persistent beggars circle us. Only half an hour later I am relieved to be under way on the two and half hour journey towards Budapest, Hungry, and my fifth country in twelve eventful days.
Hostel Marco Polo at 6 Nyar utca is not far from Keleti train station, just off Rakoci ut - the main street running between the station and the centre of Pest. Over the next three nights I will be sleeping in a twenty-bed dormitory; larger than those I have slept in thus far. A bit crowded maybe, but for 9 Euros a night its a bargain. These dorms are partitioned between sets of bunk beds so provided your bunk-mate is not insane or, worse still, that lad from Croydon it is actually quite private and pleasant. My bunk-mate is Minke, of the petite American female variety as opposed to the thirty foot whale variety. All in all, though, the dorm is pretty good and thankfully nothing at all akin to the London lodging-house dormitories I am reading about in Down and Out, where Orwell describes sixty to seventy men sleeping not more than two feet apart, breathing straight into each other's faces.
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| St Stephen's Basilica |
As recently as 1873 the Hungarian capital was established with the name of Budapest following the unification of former cities Pest and Buda on opposite banks of the Danube. This afternoon I am exploring the Pest side of the river walking around some of the most striking sights of my journey. Budapest is a place in which it seems you are rarely a few feet from something of interest, whether it be architecturally, culturally or socially. Make you own way and you cannot fail to be disappointed with what you see and do. St. Stephen's Basilica, named after the first king of Hungary (975-1038), was completed some years later in 1905. Very impressive; yet stood looking up at this Neo-Rennaissance church I can be forgiven for almost forgetting where exactly in Europe I am standing. A far more singular and distinctive landmark building is the Neo-Gothic Parliament building on the bank of the Danube. Visited from where it stands in Pest I cannot fail to be impressed, but when viewed from Buda it is a breathtaking sight and one of the most vivid images of my trip thus far. Go see it.
Pest is a fairly legible place and one would have to go some way to loose one's bearings. Public squares tend to be large and formal and not lacking in statues. Connecting two such squares, Bajcsy-Zsilinszky near to the Basilica in central Pest, and Hosok Tere, or Heroes Square, to the north-east is Andrassy ut, a long tree-lined busy boulevard of grand five-, six- or seven-storey town houses. Towards the Bajcsy-Zsilinszky end of the boulevard is the Hungarian State Opera where I buy a ticket for Tuesday evening's performance of a production of Mefistofele, an opera by Italian composer-librettist Arrigo Boito based on the Faust legend. Slightly embarrassed, I ask the ticket seller if my jeans and boots are suitable for the occasion, to which she replies that they are fine as “we get a lot of tourists”. Opposite the Opera house is Muvesz Cafe where I sit for a relaxing hour writing these notes and where the cheesecake does not disappoint. I contemplate how pausing at one of the hundreds of coffee and tea houses in central Budapest and selecting something delicious from the cake counter will become a daily treat while I am here.
It is getting dark by the time I have strolled the length of Andrassy ut as far Heroes Square. An enormous public place of protest, revolution and remembrance is spectacularly lit and this evening I am one of just a handful of people who have made the pilgrimage from the centre of town. This is the site where on 16 June 1989 a crowd of 250,000 gathered for the reburial of Imre Nagy, who, as chairman of the People's Republic of Hungry, had been executed in 1958 by the Soviet backed Communist Party for leading the Hungarian Revolution of 1956 that briefly overthrew the Soviet regime. Besides the tribute the Nagy Heroes Square is filled with statues to honour the many greats of Hungarian history including, in pride of place, St Stephen I of Hungary.
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| Hosok tere (Hero's Square) |
Day 13 Budapest (Monday 14 February 2011)
This morning I am on my way up to yet another high place. Having crossed over Elizabeth Bridge into Buda I start my climb up Gellert Hill from the steps beneath the statue of Saint Gellert, who stands presiding over modern Budapest. My destination is the Citadella which occupies almost the entire plateau at the summit. Today a place of mixed meaning and memories it was built after an attempted revolution by the Hungarians to overthrow the Habsburgs in 1848-1849, then a century later in 1945 the Independence Monument was erected adjacent to the Citadella in honour of the Soviet soldiers who liberated the country from fascist rule. However, just ten years after, during the Nagy-led revolution in 1956, embattled Soviet troops occupied the Citadella and fired their tanks down on the revolutionists Hungarians below.
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| Chain Bridge lion |
From the summit of Gellert Hill, looking north across the valley, I can see Castle Hill and the medieval fortified town of Buda, and start to get a strong sense of where I would rather be. Once I have made it down to the bank of the Danube I cross back over Elizabeth Bridge into Pest and walk north along the bank of the Danube as far as the Szechenyi, (or Chain) Bridge. It was this crossing, in 1849, that first unified the two cities, and it seems fitting to make my approach to Buda in this way. There is a antiquated funicular railway that takes people up and down the steep Castle Hill, but I choose to walk the winding path that takes me through the parkland that covers the hillside. Buda Castle on the southern side of the hilltop does little to inspire me but I find plenty to explore in the adjacent medieval town. Almost entirely the domain of tourists, it reminds me of my experience of Bratislava in that it feels like an open air museum. Should you ever visit, be sure to see Matthius Church and also the peculiar named Fisherman's Bastion, so called after the fisherman's guild that defended this stretch of the Danube from the Middle Ages. Reaching the Fisherman's Bastion I discover it to be a viewing terrace of many levels and towers stretching along the edge of the hilltop, from where the view over the river
to the Parliament is superb.
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| Hungarian Parliament |
Minke, the American, lives and works as an Au Pair in Paris. While the family are on holiday with their daughter (the girl Minke takes care of) she has a couple of weeks off, and has decided to travel to more European cities. She tells me about her life in Paris, where she is part of a small community of English speaking Au Pairs that work for wealthy Parisian families. In Paris she lives in her own flat on the top floor of the apartment building owned by the family who, by the sound of it, live a vogue lifestyle. She tells me how the little girl can be a nightmare to look after and attributes this to how the parents will spoil her rotten at weekends but through the week they are never at home, frequently going Sunday evening to Saturday morning without seeing their daughter. I can tell that she does her best for the girl, who she is clearly fond of but also feels quite sorry for. It is a tough situation she finds herself in and I can see that Au Pair work has taken her into a different world from that she is used to from her own up-bringing. She is clearly upset by the girl's mother, who she tell me, is extremely proud at having taught her five-year-old “how to play hard to get with boys”.
Day 14 Budapest (Tuesday 15 February 2011)
Today I have decided I am going to spend a lot of time doing nothing at all. Backpacking has energised and refreshed me physically and mentally, but along the way the body can feel tired and this is why today is all about relaxation and taking things easy. At Café Central, on Károlyi Mihály utca, lunch is delicious and fantastic value for money. For the first time on my journey I feel my money goes far here in Budapest. So good is the value that even on my modest budget I can enjoy treating myself to some really fine meals without worrying about the bill. Allied to this is that Budapest's food culture is, in my opinion, far better and more international than the countries I have visited thus far. Here I have a greater choice, not only in the restaurants, where the food is fabulous, but also at food stalls and in the ubiquitous cafés and bars found in almost evey street.
In the afternoon I walk over Independence Bridge to Buda where I am visiting the Gellert Spa and Thermal Baths. During one of Michael Palin's TV travel shows he visits the Gellert Hotel and does a sketch on the absurd complexity of the process of visiting the thermal baths. Having watched his sketch, and remembering today's mantra to relax, I am prepared to take it all in my stride. To make life even easier for myself I have already bought my admission ticket from the reception at my hostel.
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| Gellert Spa |
On arrival at the Hotel I go to the spa entrance, which is in the north facing façade of the building. It would be an easy mistake to make to go to the front entrance for Hotel guests but I am too smart for this. Passing through the entrance there is a kiosk on my left, between the outer and inner sets of double doors; it is closed so I continue into a large lobby with a high vaulted ceiling where I notice several people walking around in bath robes. I approach the ticket desk, thinking it must have become simpler since Michael Palin's visit, and hand over my prepaid voucher. The women behind the desk looks down at my voucher and, with an air of disdain, quickly hands it back. She will not admit me but points me in the direction of the information desk. Here information is the last thing I receive. At first they do not seem to know what I am to do with my voucher and utter something about the “tourist kiosk outside” before adding “on the right”. I walk back outside the entrance but all I see on the right is a brick wall. I walk further along the street but still no tourist kiosk. Maybe they mistakenly said right but had meant left - perfectly understandable - after all I do not know my right from my left when said in Hungarian. So I walk back up the street the opposite direct, but still to no avail.
Re-entering the lobby I am told, with much greater certainty, that I need the ticket kiosk on the right back through the double doors. I am now starting to question whether it is my eyesight or my sanity that is failing me. Outside for the second time I keep walking to the right until I find another door which, to be honest, I already suspect is not what I am looking for. My instincts are correct; were I able to read Hungarian I may not only understand left from right but also the words 'no' and 'entry'. Inside a moustachioed man notices I am lacking a wristband and am still fully clothed, boots and all. Catching sight of my ticket he also shakes his head and ushers me back outside. He at least explains in English that I have come through the 'exit only' door from the members' changing area. He also assures me that my voucher will be exchanged for a wristband at the tourist kiosk. If only I could find the damn tourist kiosk! Against my better judgement I head to the main entrance of the hotel and into the lobby. Now, given that this is a minimum 200 Euro per night exclusive hotel, when I, now ever so slightly disgruntled, march towards the concierge waving my voucher in one hand and with my swimming shorts inside a orange Sainsbury's carrier bag in the other, I get the distinct impression that I am not terribly welcome here. The concierge is good enough to look at my voucher and tells me “this is the hotel entrance, you need the Spa entrance, outside and turn left”. He says not to worry, “tourists are always doing this”. My determination to take things easy today is now being severely tested.
Back once again at the Spa entrance a girl is now seated in the kiosk on the left between the outer and inner set of doors. Taking a deep breath, I smile, hand her my voucher and she happily exchanges it for a blue wristband. Inside the lobby I am ready to glare at any of the staff that catch my eye, but it seems I am now invisible to them. Until, that is, a youth stops me at the turnstile and wants to see my ticket. The ticket I have finally exchanged for this wristband. He is probably wondering why I am waving the wristband in front of his face with such vigour but thankfully he gets my point and tells me I need the next door along. I walk along a corridor, down a spiral staircase, through a door and at last I am safely inside the changing rooms hidden deep in the bowels of the Gellert Spa. There are women wandering around but I am sure that is fine and that the changing area is mixed. I try a cabin door: it is locked. Another: it is locked, one more: also locked. Turning on my heels I walk back to the entrance where a women is now seated. (Do they see me coming and hide?) She takes my wristband and scans it over a bar code reader. As she does this the number 106 flashes up. Hallelujah! I get it, my band opens cabin 106.
Once changed into my swimming shorts it dawns on me that I have not brought a towel with me. I have seen plenty of bathers with their Gellert Spa issue towels so I enquire: Can I have one please? They cost 600 HUF to rent. Fine, where can I get one? I should have got one from the lobby upstairs (What was the mantra of the day again?). I return to cabin 106, put my clothes and boots back on, walk up the spiral stair case, along the corridor and into the lobby, where the staff happily hire me a towel. Fortunately, after all this, my time in the thermal pools is completely relaxing; I spend three hours bathing and resting and this does wonders for my sore achillies tendon. As I leave the Spa, my revenge for the earlier shenanigans is in the shape of a Gellert Spa issue towel, concealed in an orange carrier bag.
Day 15 Budapest (Wednesday 16 February 2011)
Last evening the opera, Mefistofele, was an impressive show, it was sung in Italian with Hungarian surtitles, but none the less I enjoyed being witness to the spectacle and the pomp and circumstance of the event. This is my last day here in Budapest and the hostel wants me to check out by ten o'clock so I am up and about early. There are thirteen and a half hours before my night train leaves for Belgrade but, thankfully, there is still plenty to do and see. I had planned on visiting Statue Park, the final resting place for the thousands of statues that were pulled down after the Communist party fell in Hungary, but unfortunately I do not think I have time on this occasion. A shame, but perhaps it is good to leave out something that will tempt me back here one day in the future. Instead I am visiting the city's most infamous address at 60 Andrassy Ut. Now a museum but previously the headquarters for both the Nazi Arrow Cross Party and a few years later the Communist Political Police or AVH. At times the exhibitions are brutal in portraying the notorious history of the building. Three hours pass and I am completely engrossed, as I rarely am by museum collections, and although I would not describe myself as enjoying my visit it is an absorbing and moving experience. A Budapest must see.
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| 60 Andrassy ut, former HQs of the Arrow Cross & Communist secret police |
(c) Robert Beardsworth
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