May 28-June 1: Budapest

Finally, a taste of continental Europe: Budapest! Its peaceful tree-lined stone boulevards bring to mind Paris, albeit with slightly less fashion sense.

Make that significantly less.

The House of Terror Museum gave us a sobering introduction into Hungary’s history, focusing mainly on the “double occupation” – first the Nazis, who invaded Hungary in 1944 to harness the country’s resources for its war efforts, then the Soviets, post-WWII, who crushed any hopes for true independence by backing a powerful pro-Communist regime. The atrocities committed by the police and authorities during these years included deportations, anti-Semitism, forced secularisation of the church, and intimidation of political opponents. The basement exhibits of dungeons, prison cells and execution rooms, and the videos of Hitler juxtaposed with footage of piles of corpses being bulldozed into graves, were shocking. An emotional experience.

Some of the victims of the secret police.

Puccini’s Tosca, at the lavish Hungarian State Opera House, was our first taste of opera. Sadly the Magyar subtitles didn’t help us with the Italian lyrics, but fortunately a previously-downloaded Wikipedia summary helped us follow the saga. More intriguing was the behaviour of the cast. At the end of each of the three acts, each lead actor emerges after the curtain falls to receive their due applause. Does this normally happen at the opera? A bit self-indulgent? The lady who played Tosca received three ovations (non-standing) and two bouquets of flowers. Bonus!

Budapest’s prime place of worship is the Basilica of St Stephen, a lovely gold-and-marble creation, and the home of St Stephen’s right hand. The Holy Right Hand (actual name) has been venerated by the Pope and has its own chapel dedicated to it, and for the bargain price of 100 forint (70 cents) you can see the shrivelled relic lit up within its bejewelled home for two minutes. For those unable to afford the privilege, here is a photo.

Basilica of St Stephen. Bonus points if you can translate the Latin.

In an effort to quench our passionate thirst for medical knowledge, we paid a visit to the Semmelweis Medical History Museum, which traces the progress of medicine back to the days when wearing an anklet to cure colon cancer was a good idea. Apparently there is a patron saint of toothache sufferers (Apollonia, the only saint with his own pliers).

The hills of Budapest rest on mineral springs, and there are several old baths in the city which siphon steaming mineral water from below the earth for the benefit of tourists and locals alike. Gellert Baths is Hungary’s most ornate bath-house, featuring wall-to-wall blue tiling, cathedral-like high ceilings, and pools of varying temperatures. We won’t forget the combination of the spooky 40-50ºC steam room (spooky = silent, middle-aged men in Speedos, like ghosts, barely visible, because of the thick steam), immediately followed by the 8ºC plunge pool. Also mildly regrettable was our decision to bring our hotel’s hand towels.

Vicky’s birthday, on our final full day in Hungary, was a festive day of gift-giving and general touristry, culminating in a celebratory dinner in a somewhat-nice restaurant. Hoping to end the night with a small, discreet, surprise, Limmy secretly requested a birthday candle atop the shared dessert – baked ice-cream (which is incidentally not as good as it sounds). The “candle” turned out to be possibly the largest sparkler in Europe, producing a brilliant, attention-grabbing halo of light which blinded all adjacent alfresco diners. Limmy wisely turned down the offer of “birthday singing” from the same waitress.

Vicky with complimentary orange blanket provided by restaurant. Note oversize half-finished cocktail in foreground.

Other highlights and noteworthy happenstances:

Crossing the Danube three times on three different bridges.

Budapest’s rich treasury of statues, ripe for tomfoolery.

Castle Hill, home of the National Gallery (nice paintings), the Fishermans Bastion (great views) and the Siklo (world’s shortest cable car ride), and many more green horsemen statues.

Watching a Budapest cyclist miraculously survive a hit-and-run from a car running a red light. Not an achievement as such.

Limmy’s desperate shopping blitz at West End City Centre Mall, the Chadstone of Budapest, the day before Vicky’s birthday.

A bizarre infestation of hundreds of tiny mosquitos in our apartment on our last night, forcing us to sleep in the foyer of our room. Plague?

Limmy with orange drink of his own.