Buda or Pest?

Friday 18 September

[I cocked this up - read Hurtling towards Hungary first if you haven't already]

Pest it turns out. Arrival was a little hairy. Keleti station was once obviously very grand, but it’s now pretty dilapidated and just a bit seedy. On leaving the train I was immediately approached by unofficial taxi drivers coming in from a side entrance - I’d already decided to get the metro as it was only one stop - and one was especially persistent, though in fairness responded when I told him firmly but politely to leave me alone.

Of course, to get down to the metro, or even the lift to the metro, you have to go down steps, and Nellie can be particularly awkward at times. I certainly didn’t need the sweltering heat or the first lift being out of order, but I managed it in the end and proceeded confidently to metro line 2 past all the ticket machines. At many stations in Budapest we found a pair of inspectors man the top of the escalators to check you have a ticket or pass, and in this instance it worked in my favour as they were happy to sell me tickets on the spot and one of them was especially keen to make sure I knew where I was going.

Before I descended I noticed I had several missed calls from Agi, the owner of the apartment I’d booked through booking.com. Turns out she’d misread my emails and thought I wasn’t going to be there until 3pm, which was almost 2 hours away, but I said I’d head over anyway and find somewhere to eat. Common problem on arrival at a large metro station - which exit? A kind soul helped me bring Nellie up the steps, and it all then got a bit confusing as I consulted the map and then set off purposefully in the wrong direction, though in fact I’d more or less got the right exit.

The area was a bit run down, and they don’t make it very easy to be a pedestrian - very few dropped kerbs, and quite tricky to find somewhere convenient and safe to cross the road., which became a priority when I called Agi for help and it was clear I needed to retrace my steps. There were quite a few other people pushing trolleys, but sadly they were much dirtier and hairier than me and their life possessions were in a few carrier bags and the trolleys were the supermarket variety. Homelessness and the begging that often accompanies it are fairly prevalent in Budapest - and I know that’s true of any major city these days but I can tell you that the majority of the poor souls you see in London look in far better shape than their Hungarian counterparts. Sweaty and slightly stressed as I was, I counted my blessings.

I found a lovely little restaurant in the same street as the apartment with a smiley waitress and a dual-language menu. (And yes, I am very ashamed that I don’t speak the language at all - but I kind of excused myself a little when I found out that Slavic languages such as Hungarian bear no resemblance to Romanesque so it’s really difficult to decipher as we don’t have common roots.) My French toast feta cheese sandwhich came with a rocket salad and was much nicer than it sounds, and I’d just finished my beer when I got a message from Agi’s husband Paul saying he’d managed to get to the apartment early.

The apartment was on the ground floor of a 4-storey tenement building, overlooking the central well. From the outside it’s pretty shabby, but these are places which I guess are being snapped up and done up because they offer so much potential. The apartment was massive, a huge contrast to the compact and bijou rooms I’d rented in Ghent, Amsterdam and Vienna, really well equipped, with funky furnishings and spotless - just lovely. I think we paid about 90 euros for two nights, and it was worth every cent. I even managed to get 2 loads of washing done.

After settling in, armed with a tourist map that was only slightly rubbish, I strode off towards the city centre and the Danube, passing the famous synagogue and Deak Square, where we needed to meet for our free walking tour next day. Fortified by an Aperol spritz overlooking Buda and the castle, I walked back again via the Spar shop for provisions, having vaguely orientated myself, to await the arrival of Neil, who was bang on time at 7pm. 

After much squealing with delight at seeing each other and our lovely apartment, and a celebratory glass of extremely cheap wine (alcohol is ridiculously cheap - I think it cost me less than 2 quid for the bottle), we hopped a couple of stops on the metro back down to the embankment for dinner.

We found a nice Italian-Hungarian place where the food was good and the entertainment gave us the giggles. The couple playing electric piano and singing karoke style to standards from the last century appeared stuck in a 70s time warp from their hairstyles and clothes to their style of music, but it was inoffensive and in tune so we didn’t mind too much. A nightcap at the Buddah bar near the Elizabeth bridge rounded off the night and we walked home excited to be somewhere new that felt just a bit edgy and exotic.

A rude shop sign