Hungarian Lore

And we're back.

That is, we left and now we're back. After completing the course, a small group of girls decided since we don't have jobs (or homes in some cases), why not take advantage of the time to explore a little? We hit Budapest Tuesday afternoon and spent three days playing tourists.

The four girls I was with are all adventurous and used to travel. Between us I think we've conquered most of this continent already. Now, usually when I'm in a foreign country, I try to blend as much as possible, but we threw off those restraints and made it obvious we weren't locals. Cameras out, pictures of everything, tours, traditional food and running through the city till we couldn't walk. In fact, we started Budapest with a walking tour-- it was free and we were asked in leiu of payment to tell our friends, so here it is: Take a tour! It was excellent and covered a ton of Budapest complete with historical insight and its random little quirks no guide book will ever print. Because they're a little...distinct? I posted some videos of our tour guide if you'd like to know the history of Hungary.

One thing that surprised me was our guide's quick mention of the benefits of communism. Every public memorial we'd seen concerning communism was incisive and aggressive, especally the House of Terror, a museum made out of the house at 60 Andrássy that served as the headquarters for both the Nazi Party and the Soviets. As you descend through the house's levels, the exhibits, dark music and dramatic lighting make the descent into fascism feel like a descent into hell. Even the Hungarian flag is sometimes flown with a hole in the middle, to show where the hammer and sickle were cut out when Communism fell. Our guide, on the other hand, said the House of Terror is one-sided and there are aspects of Communism the people appreciated.

The tour ended at the Palace, where we caught up with a lavishly Gothic style church and a series of startling white arches that wrapped up into turrets overlooking the Danube and the sprawl of what was once the city of Pest.

In our wanderings, we kept stumbling over places Sarah knows from a list of 1,000 places you must see before you die. Which, if you think about it, is kind of eery.

One of these places is the Hotel Gellért, which looks on the outside like it stretches for miles. We have yet to figure out what makes it so famous (so far I've found nothing but “this hotel is very famous.”). The lobby was nice and a huge stained glass window adorned the first landing,
but I think on my death bed I'm unlikely to sigh with relief that I saw the Gellért.

Our last attempt on her list for Budapest was another hotel, but this had nothing to do with lodgings. It was dessert we were after, at the Gundel Restaurant. We met up with a friend of a friend and he led us to the place, in a roundabout fashion, and we arrived just in time to find the doors locked. The cries of agony were unbearable and, unwilling to accept defeat on our last night in Hungary, we went around to the side of the building. As I learned long ago, you must always find another door and try the knob.

Success. We were in, and we just kept walking until we came into the empty dining room, spotted a warm body through a doorway and came out into another large room. This one contained people and, even better, desserts. They were closing but said we could order to go. And when we finally bit into our torts, truffles, cakes and pies, we found the quest was worth the reward. I have to admit, chocolate may be ruined for me forever. My grandmother would be proud.

The rest of Budapest meant more discoveries and included a day trip to a tiny village called Danube Bend (the river did, in fact, bend there), home of the world's largest Marzipan Museum. It was quaint and cozy and littered with falling leaves all golden in color over cobblestone streets that wound up and down lazy little hills, crowded by shops and restaurants.

By night we stayed in a hostel with some Canadians, an Australian and a professional conspiracy theorist. Really.

Three days in Budapest and we said goodbye, but it wasn't a sad parting. Our eyes were now set on Vienna.