Budapest: Exploration Highlights

I have regaled you with probably too many tales of Hungarian spas. Cross my heart, I swear I spent quite a lot of time in Budapest exploring other than in my bathing suit. It was a beautiful city and here are some highlights.

A little overview, to start. In my mind, Budapest has a somewhat similar layout to Prague. Divided in half by a river (Danube river--two sides: Buda and Pest), huge castle on the west side, a large hill just south of it with a lookout, a main drag bridge, Jewish quarter, etc. However, it is much less concentrated than Prague in the central area—making it easier to avoid tourists. Also, the buildings are beautiful, but not as bright as the deep peach roofs of Prague. Brief and oversimplified, that is my impression of the city.

The Castle:
We went exploring in the castle district and enjoyed the beautiful vistas and quaint cafes and shops. The Mathias of the Budapest castle is different than St. Vitus in Prague. It is decorated with a Turkish influence (back from their occupation) and has strange frescos of bold reds, blues, greens and golds combined with Gothic influences. Whereas St. Vitus is a prime example of gothic architecture and the stone walls are adorned with color from the stained glass windows.

Here are some pictures of this castle district. It made me want to bring my Disney-princess crazed little neighbors and show them that there were real castles. Enjoy.

The exterior of the castle.






Mathias Church Inside…








Gorgeous views.




The Parliament:
Touring Parliament was a hell of an experience.
It all began when we casually began walking in the parking lot haphazardly enclosed with a few feeble chains. Not even thinking it was not permitted; when the Hungarian guard approached us we were in disbelief. Even more so when he began to grab his gun. He had a complex.

Then the ticket fiasco. Just having missed the English tour, we split into our respective second languages: Russian, Spanish, and German. Luckily an on-demand English tour group was formed. With sticks up their butts, they only let one ambassador go buy tickets for the group accompanied by a guard. The man behind poor Robin impatiently yelled at her, and she came scurrying back.

Finally inside, we were glad to be marveling at the red-carpeted building that spanned a sizable chunk of the riverside. Careful to obey the no-flash rule, I documented the architecture. Until my photography faux pas near the 10TH CENTURY ROYAL CROWN!! It was all fine and flashless until I poised my camera confidently on the pride of Hungary—FLASH. With stern eyes and a sharp tone, I was alerted of my mistake and cowered for a while. When the ceremonial guards came, I was certain I would become a prisoner of the Hungarian government.





The beloved crown that my flash damaged.



Cigar holders numbered for the representative outside of the meeting hall. Isn’t that convenient? Men.



Beautiful session room.





Vaci Street:
Here is the very European main drag of shops and cafes. Adorable.




Not on Vaci street, but the beautiful tile roof of the Museum for Decorative Arts. Too bad the sun wasn't out.



Budapest Club:
A few of us went to a fun open-air club at the end of one of the bridges. It was fun and swanky. A few friends we met at our hostel hung out with us – and it was a blast.



The Synagogue:
Robin’s main objective for the trip and one of the most memorable highlights was visiting the Dohány Street Synagogue—second largest in the world. Besides being a breathtaking building and having a touching weeping willow Holocaust memorial, what was best was the personal touch from our tour guide.

A lady I would never dare to mess with, she was the Hungarian version of a weathered New Yorker. Just like any tour, we battled off eavesdroppers and learned interesting facts. But for a moment she softened and revealed to us a very personal fact as we passed the cemetery where many of those who died in the treacherous Budapest Jewish ghetto. Her father, a Christian, had saved several hundred Jews from the Ghetto and deportation during the Holocaust. During which, he met her Jewish mother, and married her after the war. His name was carved into the marble memorial of those who saved many Hungarian Jews. My whole body tingled as it filled with goose bumps as she told us.

Inside.



Her father’s name: Marton Istvan.



The weeping willow memorial with the names of people who perished in the senseless Holocaust. Some have listed where they were killed.





As that Sunday afternoon came to a close, Robin and I boarded the bus feeling accomplished. We drove through Hungary on our way back to what seems more and more like our home abroad, Prague. As we drove through the Slovakian countryside, we watched the sun set over the mountains.