Budapest! 1.10.10

I just got back from Budapest a few hours ago and I’m exhausted, but I wanted to try to blog a little before crashing. *Edit: This post has taken me nearly a week to write and I don't really want to go back and change everything as if I'm writing it now instead of then, so I might blend my experiences in Budapest with this past week. Hope you don't mind.*

Friday morning, before waking up for a crack of dawn (7:30 AM) departure, I decided that it would be an even better idea to wake up earlier and make it to the Charles Bridge for sunrise. I convinced a few people to join me and we made an outing of it. Sunrise on the Charles Bridge is one of those things that was on my Prague Bucket List, so I’m really happy that I can cross it off and say that I actually got to see it. Of course, I also want to see sunrise on the Charles Bridge with snow, so I’ll just have to do it again.

What is typically a congested scene with hundreds of tourists and dozens of vendors at any given time is a peaceful oasis in the morning hours before the sun comes up, and it was a really amazing experience. Of course, I’ll post pictures as soon as I can.

We made the bus without difficulties and found our seats. The bus ride is not a particularly easy one, though the accommodations were actually pretty good. We had movies, a free hot beverage, and most importantly, seats that reclined.

When we finally arrived in Budapest, I had to figure out a way to contact my parents, but I didn’t have any credits on my phone. I ended up getting a hold of them and got a chance to see them (for three minutes) in Budapest. I’m never going to complain about a chance to see my parents, and this was no exception. Unfortunately, it was only for a few minutes because they had to catch a train to Rome.

Now, where was I? Frazzled, in a foreign city, no way to contact anyone who knew where we were staying; a formula for success by any estimation to be sure. Fortunately, I’m resourceful and unafraid to ask for help. Some guys may have pride, but I don’t bother myself with such a foolish concerns and freely ask people who appear as if they might be friendly enough to respond. I had the address to my hostel, so I showed it to the ticket lady and she pointed me toward a stop on the blue line. Believing her to be knowledgeable on the subject, I heeded her advice and wound up a mile and a half north of where I needed to be.

I’m not going to say I was thrilled when I discovered how far away the kind ticket lady had led me, but it actually proved to be a blessing in disguise as I got my camera out and played tourist for an hour.

We stayed in a nicely located hostel. It wasn’t in the center of the city, but for the prices we paid, it probably should have been in the exburbs at least. Instead, we were just a few blocks from the oldest underground train line in continental Europe (England has the oldest in the world), Hero’s square, a square dedicated to Hungarian heroes of past eras which replaced a communist memorial at the end of the communist era, and a very large park with a zoo, Turkish baths and other cool buildings in it. To top it all off, on Sunday morning, the Budapest marathon started only a few blocks away from us, so a few runners stayed in our hostel.

Friday night we did a little exploring and found a small little restaurant that was well within our means as students to dabble in the local cuisine. After a main course of Goulash, we had “Golden Dumplings” in a cream sauce. It reminded me a bit of bread pudding but not as warm. Honestly, I think I would have enjoyed them even more if they had been heated, but I won’t complain since they were still delicious.

Following dinner, we looked for a place to relax and on our way encountered a nice fountain to play in. The type of fountain that invites to playing in – not the kind where it’s frowned upon, don’t worry. The water shot up from the brick in timed intervals creating a rectangular enclosure with walls of water. After the fountain, we made our way to a little park and played on the playground, which had a few toys like a train and a spinny-thingy, before sitting and talking.

I might mention at this point that the group was 10 people strong. I don’t know about the rest of you, but when I travel, I much prefer to be in smaller groups. Then again, I like smaller groups for just about everything, so maybe it’s just me. When I’m traveling in big groups like that, I find myself shying away to the shadows and talking much less than I would in a group of two or three. I’m not proud of it, but I just feel like I impose on people when I speak in a big group, but have no issues with a smaller group. Anyway, as a result, I was pretty quiet the whole night and stayed inside my head instead. I still had a good night; I just also spent a lot of time thinking about home and such.

On Saturday, we went on a “free” walking tour – in quotes because tips are strongly encouraged and they mention how much other walking tours cost multiple times throughout the tour, just so you know how much you should tip. Either way, the tour was still cheap and very informative. Starting at the opera house and ending at the castle, we spent nearly 3 ½ hours wandering the streets of Budapest. The opera house is gorgeous, and though smaller than the opera house in Vienna, I can’t imagine (and the tour guides argued against the notion) that is less impressive – I guess I’ll just have to see for myself when I go to Vienna! We saw some cool examples of Art Nouveau architecture, including one for a shopping center that was converted from an old casino – fortunately though, the casino's pit floor was retained, because it’s gorgeous and in a style that contrasts starkly with the rest of the building (pictures coming).

On our way to the Jewish Quarter, I had my favorite moment of the trip. We stopped at a block party where they were cooking goulash in the street and music was playing. There weren’t too many people there yet, but the cooks were out stirring their pots. One of the pots had two children helping cook. Donning aprons, these kids were freaking adorable. The little girl looked so mature – her proportions were those of a late-teen, early twenty woman and she wore acid washed jeans and a t-shirt under her apron. The little boy looked considerably more his age, but that only helped to magnify how cute he was. Since I had my camera, I tried to snap a few photos of these kids playing soccer. When the little boy caught sight of me, he ran over and started talking to me. I smiled and didn’t say much (I don’t know a word of Hungarian). Soon his attention shifted to my camera and he started playing with it, touching buttons and looking through the viewfinder, even trying to take the flash off. We were crouched in the middle of the street while a car tried to inch past us. As the car got closer, the little boy clutched onto me in a hug and I couldn’t help but hug him back, keeping him out of the way of the car. The best part for me, since I’ve never had much of an affinity with children – unlike my brother, was that the boy didn’t let go even after the car had passed. It was then that I turned around to see if any of my friends were witnesses to this that I realized my entire group had left and disappeared around the corner.

Fortunately, Laura (don’t know if I’ve mentioned her yet, but she’s Meghan’s friend from school) picked up her phone when Meghan didn’t and directed me back to the group. In the Jewish quarter we saw a Lubavitch shul nestled in between two non-descript buildings. As it was the first Shabbat of Sukkot, the congregation had migrated across the street into a vacant lot in which a Sukkah had been constructed for the holiday. The shul allowed our tour to enter and look around as long as we didn’t take any photos – it was Shabbat after all.

Though I’ve had limited, if any experience, with orthodoxy in my personal life, I have spent many Saturday mornings in a synagogue through the years for the high holidays and bar/bat-mitzvahs. That experience is apparently not as ubiquitous as my upbringing would have led me to believe. I walked through the sanctuary with Drew and was surprised to learn that it was his first time in a synagogue, period. I know there are plenty of Americans who have never met a Jewish person before, but by beginning my education at a Jewish day school only to transfer to a private secular institution for high school with a not insignificant Jewish minority before attending a large state university and promptly joining a Jewish fraternity, I have never been far from a Jewish community. Drew’s lack of interaction with a Jewish community served as a poignant reminder that we all have our own story, our own history, and they’re all different. Something that may be completely normal for me may be equally novel for someone else.

It’s moments like that, which inspire me to be a journalist. I find it so interesting to learn where people come from, their personal histories, their daily lives, their educational history, and their thoughts on current events – the ultimate goal, of course, being to answer the question why. Why are we this way? Why do we think that way?

Okay, skipping ahead a little. The walking tour concluded at the Castle, but since they didn’t have time to take us through the palace or cathedral on the hill, Devin, Harrison and I signed up for a second free walking tour. Adam, one of the guides from the morning edition, led this tour, which focused on the palace. The cool thing about this tour was that it was just the three of us and Adam (as opposed to our group of 20 for the first tour) so we got to ask a lot of questions and Adam shared some personal anecdotes too. We were talking about the Hungarian revolution of 1956 against the Soviet government when Adam tossed in the tidbit about how his parents had both participated in the revolution. That is so cool and Adam just included it in conversation as if it were completely normal. Maybe it’s just me, but when you can claim direct heritage to revolutionaries I’m going to think you’re pretty cool. Of course it depends on which revolution, but the Hungarian revolution of ’56 is a pretty legitimate one and from the slanted point of view of a western capitalist, a just one.

Later that evening, I attended the Turkish baths with Cyrus, Sarah, Bara and Tessa. Initially, it looked like the baths were simply outdoor pools, albeit in a very pretty building nestled into the park behind Hero’s Square. Looks can be deceiving. The coolest hot pool had a whirlpool in it. Not a whirlpool like the bathtubs you find in America, but an actual whirlpool where the water flowed counter-clockwise carrying anyone in its current around and around in a tiled alleyway (imagine a round-about with only one entrance and exit and air jets in the “curb” propelling the turn rather than the engine of the car).  Allowing the water to spin us round and round for nearly ten minutes, we stopped only when the jets turned off. The still water served as the impetus for our further investigations of the baths in which we discovered an abrasively hot sauna, a few smaller hot tubs and an aromatherapy steam room among other delights.

Sunday, our final eight hours in Budapest, could have gone better. I should have taken a hint when the day started with the realization that I had no idea where I put my keys to my flat in Prague. After frantically searching through my possessions I finally found them in the last place I looked (see what I did there?) – the pocket where I keep my lock key in my backpack (smart right?). Breathing a little easier, we set off to grab breakfast at the art nouveau building in the old casino. I tried to snap away while in the room to capture some of its majesty, and when I finally get around to editing some photos, I’ll see how successful I was – either way, I’m hoping there will be at least one serviceable photo.

From breakfast, which was really just coffee for those who wanted it, we went to the world’s second largest synagogue. The largest is apparently in New York and quite honestly I’m shocked. I have no idea how any congregation can afford to pay the property taxes for a building even larger in New York. This synagogue was enormous! Interestingly, the synagogue was the only building in Budapest where people formed a cue for entry – at least that we noticed during our sojourn. It wasn’t an insignificant cue either, but a line of nearly 100 people waiting patiently for their chance to see the synagogue and its accompanying cemetery and museum.

Here’s where the trouble begins. When we left the hostel in the morning I knew that I would likely need three tram tickets, one to the synagogue, a second one to return, and a third to reach the bus station. For whatever reason, I decide to buy two tickets in the morning knowing that I could always buy a third one. On the way back from the synagogue we have to take the metro to the only transfer point in Budapest. Whereas in Prague, the metro police validate your ticket on the way out of the tram, in Budapest, it had appeared as if they check them on your way in. Well, at the stop we used to reach the transfer point, there were ticket checkers and I made the (idiotic) decision to try my luck and free ride on the metro planning to save my ticket for the trip to the bus station. As I already mentioned, luck was not on my side on this day, and at Deak Ter, the transfer station, they checked tickets on the way out too. Apparently, I looked suspicious and was asked to present my ticket. I had kept every single ticket I’d purchased during my stay, so I just kept handing them to the officer hoping for some sympathy. I received none. The thing about these public transportation systems is that it always makes sense to buy a ticket than risk facing a fine. What should have been $1.50 ride ended up costing me $31.50, and I still needed to buy a ticket for the bus.

Oh! While I was trying to scrounge up 6000 florin, which I didn’t have, the ticket lady took my passport and bus ticket and started copying down what I can only imagine was my visa number. Fortunately, Harrison had blundered on the first day in Budapest and instead of withdrawing $50, withdrew nearly $500. The good thing about that is that it meant he had 6000 florin to loan me. The bad thing is that I had to borrow the money in the first place. Money in hand, my passport was returned and I was left to sulk and kick myself for my mistake.

An hour later when we arrived at the station and were cueing up to board the bus, imagine my surprise when I realized that the ticket officer had kept my bus ticket! I think I’m normally respectful to law enforcement, even if they have never treated me with any particular kindness, or even respect, but when I thought that this ticket officer had just cost me the ability to return to Prague, let’s just say, my typically rosy picture of civil servants passed under a cloud. In the end I was able to convince the stewardess that I had previously purchased a ticket for this bus by locating my seat on the manifest and matching the name to my passport, so everything worked out – except that my wallet was $30 lighter.

And that was Budapest!